hey there, loca! (I'm sorry, It's never not funny saying that)
this is a blog of mine where i could be moody, horny, random and a crackhead that i am—with my awful jokes that only i find funny (if you find it funny, I'll kiss your nose)—legally. apparently. i will also reblog or post about stuff from my fandoms. i watched a lot of stuff—not that kind of stuff, get your head out of the gutter 🤨🫵🏽—name it. anime, movies, tv shows, books, games, kdrama, manga, manhwa, manhua, webtoon. look forward to it, maybe we'll have something in common and if you wanna talk about it just hit the button below my description. anyway, here's the awaiting introduction i guess.
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ann/nina (it's up to you what you wanted to referred me as). she/her. nineteen. an introvert in disguise of an extravert. enfp. cancer. a writer with lots of unfinished WIP.
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and that's all, folks! I'm afraid that's all i can tell you about myself for an introduction, or else it'll be too long.
Kita Shinsuke never rejects you in your offer or requests to make love to you.
No matter what time of the day it is or where you are, he will make love to you as per the heart eyes you give him beforehand. Shinsuke has made love to you in almost every flower field, his own rice field and the great oak tree in the middle of his countryside. You still remember that day on the daisy field that he intertwined his hand with yours along with the daisy he picked for you and said “You are a flower of a kind yourself, no one will notice,” and kissed you deeply before his hands lifted the hem of your sundress.
Shinsuke has made love to you in the rain, in front of the fireplace while it snowed heavily outside and on a heated summer night out in the fields as cicadas chirped. He is a man deeply in love with his wife and will never say no to making love with you. It's barely dawn and you made love the night before but you want him again? He's more than happy to oblige. Sure he's tired but he will love you passionately. But of course you never try to force him or take advantage of his love.
On the days he's tired, you take it onto yourself to take care of him. And he always takes in that love. Shinsuke is a man who is in love with his wife everyday. The initiation does not only come from your side but from him as well. He loves you no matter how you look, even on your bad days or the days you smell like cows and hays from working in the farm, this man absolutely melts seeing you in that dirty apron on with your cotton frock and will kiss you right there in front of all the barn animals, while his hands untie the apron.
You could be doing the most mundane thing but it will still get Shinsuke to act. You're in the kitchen cooking? He will come from behind and place a quick kiss on your neck, then another and then another, his hands going up and down your arms. And if you're helping Shinsuke in his rice field, he looks at you with so much love and adoration and later will show it to you that night how much he appreciates you.
He is very shy about initiating. “Can we make love tonight.” Is very adorable when he says fhat. Gets all red and shy and is very respectful throughout it all. Will make sure you're okay with everything beforehand. This man will ask for consent before every step. It sometimes bothers you because you love him and he need not be so formal with you, but for Shinsuke it's not formality. It's love and respect together. He wants you to feel safe with him, not just in physical matters, but in an emotional space as well.
If there are times you end up crying or feel insecure about yourself, he will give you space if needed or will help you overcome it by listening to you and understanding your point of view.
Shinsuke is very vocal and direct about his feelings. Will tell you he loves you when he's giving you aftercare, being the best aftercare giver he is. Man has a whole routine for aftercare. Will clean you up first with a hot wet cloth. If you prefer showers, he will prepare a hot bath for the two of you and change the sheets and everything beforehand. Makes sure you're hydrated and that your body is okay. He will fall asleep after you, holding you close to him and the next morning you both bask in the afterglow.
Shinsuke's favorite act is to give forehead kisses when he's making love to you. The very first time you made love and it was painful for you, he kissed your forehead and kept asking if you were okay, if he should stop. He loves intertwining your hand with his, he feels safer that way. You feel butterflies in your stomach when he wipes away the tears in your eyes from the pleasure he's giving you. He is absolutely smitten for you.
୨ৎ kita shinsuke is so vocal when it comes to you.
“oh my god—“ he’s such a loud mess while you run your tongue over his shaft, thick cock throbbing against your tongue as you trace his veins. he whines when you suck his tip as if it is your favourite candy.
your drool runs down his dick, his balls drenching as you make out with his tip, moaning against it and never breaking the eye contact. “angel, please” he whines, his hand caressing your hair. the sight is perfect, he’s trembling under your gaze and his lips are swollen after he keeps biting his lower one.
you smirk before pushing it into your mouth, his hand fisting your hair as his hips immediately jerk up to meet your mouth. he fucks your throat mercilessly, your whines sending delicious vibrations to his cock that only coaxed louder ones from him. he fills your throat, making you gag slightly.
your tears run down your cheeks, your nails dig into his thighs as you keep taking his harsh movements. your clit throbs and your pussy clenches around nothing when he moans, glossy eyes looking down at you “shit, baby—! that’s it. please, don’t stop” he whimpers, and you swallow with him inside. your nose grazing against his pelvis before your hand makes its way towards his balls, teasing him, “oh— fuck”
the sounds he makes are delicious. moans fill the room and he starts trembling, feeling his ecstasy approaching. kita pulls your hair and shoves himself out of your mouth with a soft pop, and before you can speak, he lifts you to his lap and slams his lips against yours. you smirk into the kiss, swallowing his moan before you both share a sigh when his cock pushes inside your pussy. “please. god— baby, ride me.”
his vulnerable state is all you need to obey, your hips bouncing on top of him as he lifts his own to meet yours. you moan, the stretch still burning inside you and blending in with the wave of pleasure this implies. you can feel him getting closer and closer, dick twitching inside your tight walls, adam’s apple bobbing when you kiss his neck and suck his flesh. “angel, i—“ he cries out, and you feel his warm seed spread in your insides. “that’s it, just like that” you purr, riding him slowly to milk him dry. he whimpers, and tears start running down his cheeks before you kiss them, his grip on you tight.
“wanna make you cum too” he whispers, his body squirming beneath you. “just keep being loud and you’ll do it”
kita shinsuke is very very very healthy, so he rarely ever does. but on the rare chance that it happens, you’re all over the moon.
pale lips cough against you as you cup his face, kita shifting back to consciousness as he looks up at you.
“you’re hot, shin,” you say, concern lacing your tone as your brows furrow, covering up the excitement bubbling within you.
the man in question only nuzzles up to you, closing his eyes. “you smooth talker.”
“no, literally. are you feeling sick?”
“...” he opens his eyes now, seemingly avoiding your gaze. “well... i have been feeling a little under the weather, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
“no!” you almost yell. “i mean— no. um... i’ll grab the thermometer. you stay here, okay?”
“...okay?”
and rush, you do. you grab the thermometer, already plotting your next scheme.
“okay, baby, your temperature is... thirty eight point four,” you sigh, caressing his cheek. “looks like you’ll have to stay home and let me take care of you for the whole day.”
and kita chuckles, because of course that was what you were after. “oh, is that so?”
“mhm. so i’ll go ahead and make you some breakfast, we can eat together and you can drink some pills, okay?”
“you’re enjoying this too much, aren’t you?”
“you never let me baby you!” you whine in defense, hand travelling to his chest as you feel his heart beat against your palm.
shinsuke looks down, placing his hand atop yours before looking back up at you, his gaze hinting.
Kita would eat you out on his birthday. Multiple orgasms later, you're sobbing, shaking, barely able to think. You're pushing his head away asking for a break - not even to stop, just for a second to catch your breath. He'd pout up at you, bottom lip jutted out, swollen pink and shiny with your slick, and he'd say "but it's my birthday". If you weren't so delirious, you'd notice the smirk he's trying to fight and the devious glint in his puppy dog eyes.
i suggest reading prequel of this fic— SOULMATE? HOLEMATE! —for better understanding.
❞ summary ⠾ You and Caleb reunite at Gran’s house and BOOM—turns out those sketchy toys were secretly linking your dicks and pussies the whole time. Months of ghost-fucking each other? Mutual. Both virgins? Also mutual. Gran leaves for 3 days? → instant horny apocalypse. You two lose your V-cards in the most depraved, “gege/meimei” way possible :3
❞ wc ⠾ 7.7k
❞ content warnings ⠾ pseudocest, heavy og “gege / meimei” / big brother-little sister dynamic, explicit smut, heavy dubcon, usage of toys, toys connected to each other's dick and pussy (portal panties), virginity loss, oral (m! receiving), toy play, double penetration via toy + real cock, squirting, creampie, face-sitting, spanking, cum play, overstimulation, rough sex, voyeurism, theft of panties, reader's a brat, possessiveness, emotional intensity, overall just straight up filth with plot
❞ cherry’s note ⠾ thanks to @kingraspberry12-blog for commissioning this piece. I never thought I'd drag my ass down to actually write a part two but it is what it is. Here's the most awaited part two of soulmate?holemate!. I've lost count of how many times I've crashed out during this fic lol. My brain's so fried actually, need to sleep it off.
The summer drags like molasses this year, thick and sticky, every hour stretching longer than it has any right to. Maybe it’s the heat rolling in off the Bloomshore coast, maybe it’s Gran’s ancient air-conditioner wheezing like it’s on its last legs, or maybe—more likely—it’s because you’ve spent the last two days fucking a perfect silicone replica of your gege’s cock in the room right next to his, walls so thin you can hear the creak of his mattress when he shifts in his sleep.
You’re both on the living-room couch now, same faded floral pattern you used to fight over as kids, same throw blanket draped over your knees like nothing’s changed. Except everything has. The space between your thigh and his feels charged, electric, like the air itself is holding its breath. Neither of you looks directly at the other. Your eyes keep sliding to the TV screen—some mindless rerun neither of you is watching—then dart away before they can land on his profile, on the sharp line of his jaw, the way sweat beads at his temple and trails down the side of his neck.
Caleb breaks first.
He clears his throat, the sound rough, like it’s been stuck there for hours.
“Hey, pipsqueak…” His voice is lower than usual, careful. “How’s life out in Linkon? Big city, more people, all that noise?”
He chuckles, soft and awkward, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s nervous. You used to tease him about it. Now it just makes your stomach twist.
“Don’t tell me you don’t miss your gege anymore…”
You glance up—too fast. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping up from his collar. He looks… shy. Almost boyish. It’s so unfair.
Your own face burns hotter. You look away quick, huffing a breath through your nose like it’ll cool you down.
“How can I not miss you…”
The words slip out quieter than you mean them to. You press your lips together hard, trapping everything else that wants to follow.
You miss him so much it hurts.
You miss you in ways you're not supposed to.
You miss you so bad you shove his dick—fake, warm, veiny, perfect—inside you every night and cry his name into the pillow while you hug that stupid apple plushie he won for you at the fair when you were fourteen. You clamp down around it until your thighs shake and your vision whites out, pretending it’s his arms pinning you, his chest against your back, his breath on your neck. You come so hard you sob, and then you feel guilty for hours, but you still do it again the next night. Because you're broken and you want him and you hate yourself for it.
But you don’t say any of that. You just stare at your knees and let the silence thicken.
Gran’s voice saves you both.
“Kids!”
You jump. Caleb straightens like he’s been caught doing something wrong.
She’s standing in the doorway, dressed in her going-out blouse, small rolling suitcase at her side.
“I’m headed downtown for three days. Something came up. Emergency stuff. You two will be fine, right? Like always.”
She’s said the same thing a hundred times over the years. Back then it meant popcorn fights and falling asleep to horror movies on the couch. Now the words land differently. Heavier.
The front door clicks shut behind her. The sound echoes.
Suddenly the house feels too quiet. Too big. Too empty except for him.
You’re hyper-aware of every inch of Caleb next to you. The sleeveless shirt clings to his chest from the humidity, dark at the collar where sweat’s gathered. His shorts ride up just enough to show the thick muscle of his thighs. His arms—God, his arms—flex every time he shifts, biceps rounding, veins standing out against his skin. He’s broader than last summer, taller, filled out in all the ways that make your mouth dry and your core ache.
You stare out the window at the garden like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking at him.
He notices.
Caleb chuckles again, softer this time, and reaches out. One finger brushes your cheek—light, teasing, the same way he used to when you pouted as a kid.
“Aww, is my meimei sad? Mm… I’m here. We can spend some quality time together—”
The touch is barely there, but it burns straight down your spine. Your whole body jerks away like you’ve been shocked.
Caleb freezes, finger still hovering in the air. His eyes widen.
“Pipsqueak… are you okay?”
You can’t look at him. Your face is on fire, heart slamming so hard you’re sure he can hear it. Your nipples are already tight under your thin tank top, traitorously visible, and you cross your arms quickly to hide them.
“I’m—fine,” you mumble, staring at the floor. “Just… hot.”
He swallows. You hear it—the dry click of his throat. His gaze drops for half a second, catches the outline of your nipples, then snaps away like he’s been burned too.
“Right. Uh… yeah. Hot.” He exhales, rough. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen. Lemme know what you want for lunch.”
He stands. The couch dips and rises with his weight. You watch his back as he walks away—broad shoulders rolling under the shirt, the dip of his spine, the way his shorts hug the curve of his ass and the powerful flex of his thighs with every step.
The second he disappears around the corner you clench your thighs together so hard it hurts.
You’re already wet. Have been since he sat down. Since he said your nickname. Since he touched your cheek.
You need a shower. Cold. Now.
You bolt upstairs before you can think better of it, lock the bathroom door, strip in record time. The dildo is already in your hand—pulled from under your mattress like it’s been waiting for you.
The water’s barely warm when you brace one foot on the edge of the tub, line up the thick head, and sink down with a broken moan.
It stretches you open in that perfect, filthy way—veins dragging, curve kissing your front wall, heavy balls nudging your clit on the downstroke. You fuck yourself fast, desperate, water pounding your back, free hand braced on the tile.
“Gege—fuck—gege—”
You don’t even try to be quiet. The house is empty except for him, and part of you hopes—prays—he hears.
Downstairs, Caleb grips the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turn white.
The second you disappeared upstairs he felt it: that familiar phantom squeeze around his cock, hot and wet and impossibly tight. Then the rhythm starts—fast, shallow, greedy.
He’s hard in seconds, leaking into his shorts, breath coming in short pants.
He glances toward the stairs.
He knows what you’re doing.
He knows because he’s been doing the same thing to your toy every night.
And now you’re both home.
Both alone.
Both breaking.
He doesn’t go upstairs. Not yet.
Instead he leans his back against the counter, the cool edge biting into his spine like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His cock is painfully erect under the thin fabric of his shorts, the obscene bulge straining forward, tenting so hard the waistband digs into his lower abs. Every shallow breath makes it twitch, every phantom slam of your hips upstairs sends a fresh jolt through him. He moans—low, broken, helpless—each sound punched out of his lungs as your rhythm rocks him from the inside out. His knees buckle once, twice; he catches himself on the edge of the sink, knuckles white, hips grinding forward into nothing like he’s fucking the air.
He reaches down without thinking, palm cupping the thick ridge through the cotton. One rough stroke and his head falls back, throat working on a groan. The wet spot at the front of his shorts spreads fast—dark, sticky, obscene. He grinds harder into his own fist, hips rolling in slow, filthy circles, eyes fixed on the mess he’s making, precum soaking through until the fabric clings transparently to the flushed head.
Upstairs, you stand frozen under the cold spray for a long minute, water pounding your shoulders, doing absolutely nothing to dull the ache between your legs. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, still fluttering around the memory of double penetration, still greedy for more. The shower did jack shit. You shut off the water with a frustrated huff, towel yourself off in jerky movements, and stumble back to your room naked, skin pebbled, nipples tight from the chill and from want.
You don’t even close the door all the way.
You crawl onto the bed, legs splaying wide, knees bent and feet planted so you can watch yourself take it. The dildo is still warm from earlier, slick with your earlier mess. You line it up, tease the fat head through your folds once—then slam it home to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your back arches off the mattress with a choked cry, pussy clamping down like a vice, walls rippling around every veiny inch.
Down the hall, Caleb sucks in a whimper so sharp it hurts. His eyes roll back; he has to brace both hands on the banister to keep from collapsing right there on the stairs. The phantom grip around his cock returns—tighter, hotter, wetter than before—and he knows exactly what you’re doing.
He climbs the last few steps on shaking legs, drawn like a magnet. Your door is cracked open. He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t.
He looks anyway.
And everything inside him fractures.
There you are—his sweet, innocent meimei—legs spread obscenely wide on the childhood bed you used to share during storms, tits heaving with every frantic roll of your hips, pussy stretched wide around a thick, veiny dildo that looks exactly like his cock. Down to the upward curve, the heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass with every thrust, the flushed brownish-pink head disappearing inside you over and over.
He can see the way your walls cling to it when you pull back, the slick strings connecting silicone to your swollen lips, the way your clit peeks out swollen and red every time you grind down.
“Mmhhh gege! Ahhh gege fuck—need you—mmpphhh!!”
Your voice cracks on his name, back bowing, tits bouncing wildly as you fuck yourself stupid, chasing that edge with desperate, sloppy thrusts. The sheets are soaked beneath you, wet patch spreading.
Caleb’s sure he would have moaned loud enough to wake the whole coast if he hadn’t bitten his lower lip bloody. It’s better than any porn he’s ever seen—hotter, filthier, because it’s you. His pipsqueak. His meimei. Ruining herself on a perfect copy of his dick.
The realization hits like a shockwave.
It was you.
All this time.
The ghost pussy milking him dry every night.
The way it clenched exactly when he needed it.
The way it knew his rhythm, his kinks, his breaking point.
And he’s been doing the same to you.
He shoves his shorts down in one rough yank; his cock springs free, angry red and leaking, veins standing out thick and pulsing. He wraps a fist around the base, strokes once—hard—and has to slap his free hand over his mouth to muffle the groan.
“Mmhh pipsqueak…” he whispers, voice wrecked, hips thrusting into his own grip like he’s fucking you through the doorway. “Such a needy little meimei… arghhh—it was you all along, huh?”
He can see every detail from here— the way your thighs tremble, the way your fingers dig into the sheets, the way you arch and sob his name like a prayer while you slam the toy deeper, chasing the stretch he’s been giving you in secret for months.
And he’s glad.
Fucking glad.
Because it’s mutual.
You out-freaked him first—ordered a replica of his dick and rode it until you cried his name—but he matched you, customized a perfect copy of your cunt and fucked it raw while whispering yours.
You’re both freaks.
Two depraved, lovesick freaks who’ve been secretly fucking each other stupid across hundreds of miles, and now you’re under the same roof with no Gran to stop you.
He strokes faster, matching your rhythm—every time you slam down, he fucks up into his fist. Precum drips over his knuckles, slicking the way. His balls draw up tight, aching.
You’re close. He can tell by the way your moans turn high and broken, the way your hips stutter, the way your pussy visibly flutters around the toy.
He’s right there with you.
One more thrust—yours, his—and you both shatter at the exact same second.
You come with a muffled scream into your pillow, body convulsing, squirting around the dildo in messy pulses that soak your thighs and the bed. The toy stays buried deep as you ride the aftershocks, whimpering his name over and over.
Caleb’s knees finally give out. He catches himself on the doorframe, biting his fist as he comes hard—thick ropes painting the floorboards, his hand, his stomach—while the phantom squeeze of your pussy milks him through every pulse.
He slumps there, panting, cock still twitching in his grip, eyes locked on you through the crack in the door.
You’re still trembling, legs limp, toy lodged inside you, chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
But the door creaks just a fraction wider under his weight.
And your eyes—glazed, wrecked, still teary—slowly lift.
They meet his.
For one endless heartbeat, neither of you breathes.
Then your lips part on a soft, broken whisper that carries straight to him,
“…gege?”
And everything that’s been building for months finally snaps.
You freak out the second your eyes blink from eye contact.
The sheets fly up in a frantic scramble, bunching around your chest and thighs as you yank them to your chin. Your cheeks ignite—burning, scorching hot—while a high-pitched squeak tears out of you like a startled animal.
“What are you—!”
The door, already ajar, swings wider under Caleb’s unsteady weight. He loses his balance completely—arms windmilling for half a second—then crashes forward with a loud, graceless thud, face-planting straight into the floorboards.
You squeak even louder, the sound shrill enough to rattle the windows.
He groans, low and pained, and slowly lifts his head. Blood trickles from his nose in a thin, bright red stream, dripping onto the wood. He blinks once, twice, dazed, then pushes himself up on shaking arms. His shorts are still shoved halfway down his thighs from earlier, so his dick—half-hard, flushed dark, still glistening at the tip—bobs free with the motion, jumping against his stomach like it has a mind of its own.
Your breath snags in your throat, sharp and audible.
You stare. You can’t not staring.
When you’d scrolled through that sketchy website a month ago, trembling and horny and stupid, you’d picked every detail from memory—the exact length you’d felt pressed against your hip during too-long hugs, the slight upward curve you’d glimpsed once through damp sweatpants, the heavy hang of his balls, the thick veins that stood out when his forearms flexed carrying your luggage. You’d thought it was obsessive fantasy.
But seeing it now—in the flesh, real, twitching, leaking a bead of precum that rolls slowly down the shaft—you realize with dizzying clarity—they didn’t just make a replica.
They made an exact fucking match.
Everything clicks into place like a lock tumbling open.
The “ghost” sensations.
The double penetration every night.
The way your toy always seemed to know exactly when he was close, clamping down harder, milking tighter.
The way his phantom cock always mirrored your rhythm, pounding deeper when you slammed down hardest.
Caleb hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He notices your wide-eyed stare locked on his cock and flushes darker than you’ve ever seen him—red creeping from his collar to his ears. With a rough, embarrassed jerk, he yanks his shorts back up, the waistband snapping against his hips, but it does nothing to hide the thick outline still straining forward.
“Pipsqueak…” His voice comes out hoarse, cracked, half-lidded eyes dark and glassy. A thin trail of blood slides from his nostril, curving over the bow of his upper lip. He doesn’t wipe it away.
You snap back to yourself with a jolt.
“Caleb—your nose is bleeding!”
You scramble forward on your knees, sheets slipping dangerously low as you reach for the box of tissues on your nightstand. One hand presses a wad against his nose while the other clutches the fabric to your chest—but not fast enough. The sheet drops just enough to bare your breasts again, nipples peaked and flushed from everything that’s happened.
Caleb’s gaze drops instantly.
He stares—openly, hungrily—for one long heartbeat before you yank the sheet back up with a mortified squeak. Only then does he drag his eyes back to yours, pupils blown wide.
“It’s not because I fell,” he rasps, voice thick. “It’s because of…”
His stare rakes down your body again—slow, deliberate—taking in the way the sheet clings to your sweat-damp skin, the dark patch between your thighs where you’re still dripping, the toy still half-buried inside you under the covers. You squeak again, smaller this time, thighs pressing together instinctively.
“Caleb!”
“Okay—okay, I want you to stop freaking out and listen to me—”
You look away fast, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. You don’t know how to explain this. How to admit that you’ve been coming undone on a silicone clone of him for months. That you’ve whispered his name like a prayer while your pussy clenched around fake-him, imagining real-him pinning you down. That you’re terrified of what it means now that the secret’s out.
Who fucks a replica of their gege’s dick?
You do.
You really, really do.
Before you can spiral further, Caleb’s hands—big, warm, calloused from flight controls—cup your cheeks. Gentle. Steady. He tilts your face up until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.
They’re soft. Guilty. Desperate. Everything at once.
“We need to figure this out, okay?” he whispers, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “Wait—I need to show you something.”
And just like that he’s gone—bolting out of your room, bare feet slapping the hallway floor, leaving the door swinging wide behind him.
You’re alone again.
The room smells like sex and shame and him.
Your thighs tremble. The dildo is still inside you—warm, thick, stretching you open—and every tiny shift makes it drag against your oversensitive walls. You clench once, involuntarily, and a fresh trickle of slick leaks out around it.
You can hear him in his room now—drawers opening, something thudding to the floor, a muffled curse.
Your mind races.
He’s going to show you something.
You already know what it is.
A possible pocket pussy.
The one he’s been fucking every night while you rode his replica. The one that’s been milking him dry from three hundred miles away.
And now it’s here in this house with both of you.
You swallow hard, heart in your throat.
The floorboards creak as he comes back down the hall.
You don’t move.
Don’t pull the toy out.
Don’t cover up any more than you already are.
You just wait—sheets clutched to your chest, thighs still spread, pussy still stuffed, pulse roaring in your ears—while the footsteps get closer.
When Caleb steps back through the doorway, holding the black satin box like it’s evidence in a crime scene, eyes locked on yours with something raw and unguarded…
You know.
There’s no going back now.
Not for either of you.
Caleb steps back into your room, the black satin box cradled in his big hands like it’s both a confession and a trophy. He doesn’t hesitate—doesn’t even try to play coy. He flips the lid open right in front of you.
Your eyes blow wide. Your mouth drops into a perfect, stunned little ‘o’.
Nestled inside, glossy and obscene, is the pocket pussy—soft silicone lips parted just enough to show the glistening pink interior. And draped over it, stretched across the entrance like a filthy bow, is one of your missing lace panties. The pale pink ones with the tiny bow at the front. The ones you swore the washing machine devoured months ago.
Caleb—shameless bastard now that the mask is off—hooks two fingers under the waistband and tugs the fabric aside. He drags the pad of his thumb slowly along the outer folds, parting them gently, stroking the slick entrance like he’s petting something precious.
The sensation hits you like lightning.
A surprised, broken moan rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Your pussy clenches hard around the dildo still buried inside you, walls fluttering wildly, fresh slick leaking out around the base.
Caleb flushes darker—cheeks, neck, ears—but his grin is pure sin. He chokes on his own spit when your inner muscles clamp down again, the toy translating every spasm straight to his cock.
“You get it now?” he rasps, voice wrecked.
Your brain kicks into overdrive, thoughts crashing faster than light.
You’d spent months drowning in guilt—convincing yourself you were the only freak here, the only one twisted enough to order a perfect replica of your gege’s dick and ride it until you sobbed his name into your pillow. You’d hated how much you wanted it, how wrong it felt, how right it felt every time you came clenching around fake-him.
But look at him.
Look at your freak of a gege standing there holding a replica of your cunt, wrapped in your stolen panties like some depraved keepsake. He didn’t just buy it—he customized it, scented it, fucked it raw while thinking of you, and then he kept your underwear like a trophy.
“CALEB YOU STOLE MY PANTIES?!!?” The scream explodes out of you, eyes huge, accusatory, betrayed.
He squeaks—actually squeaks—scratching the back of his head with his free hand, sheepish grin wobbling.
“Umm… well… I rescued them to wash but uh… hehehehehe—”
You lunge.
Your fists rain down on his chest, shoulders, arms—smacking him over and over, forgetting the sheet, forgetting the toy still stretching you open, forgetting everything except righteous fury.
“YOU JERK!!! I KEPT BUYING CUTE PANTIES AND YOU STOLE THEM?!??! HOW DARE YOU!!! I THOUGHT THE WASHER WAS EATING THEM!!”
“Ow—ouch—ouch—pipsqueak!”
He’s half-laughing, half-squeaking, trying to shield himself but not really fighting back. The sounds are ridiculous, boyish, so much like the old Caleb that it almost hurts.
Then his arms snap around your waist.
One hard yank and you’re flush against him—chest to chest, hips to hips, the thick ridge of his cock pressing right against your lower belly through his shorts. Your breath punches out of you in a startled gasp.
“I can buy you new ones, yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping low, rough. “Anything you want. But right now… we need to talk about this, meimei.”
The name hits like a shockwave.
You stop breathing.
His eyes are locked on yours—dark, molten, stripped of every layer of pretense. You feel every inch of him: the heat radiating off his skin, the hard planes of his chest, the insistent throb of his cock trapped between you. And lower—the dildo still lodged deep inside you, making your walls flutter every time you shift.
“Take it out, pipsqueak.”
Your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll combust. You shake your head frantically—no, no, no—too embarrassed to move, too mortified to pull the replica of him out of your dripping cunt while he watches.
Caleb frowns, impatient.
His hand slides down—big, warm fingers wrapping around the base of the dildo where it’s buried in you. He groans low in his throat at the feel of your walls gripping it—gripping him, then yanks.
The toy comes free with a wet, filthy pop.
You gasp sharply—sharp enough to hurt—your pussy clenching around sudden emptiness. Slick gushes out in a messy splash, coating your inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets, making everything even more obscene.
“Come on,” he chuckles, dark and teasing, holding the glistening dildo up between you like evidence. “I know you weren’t shy fucking this replica in Linkon, huh? No wonder the ghost was so needy…”
His eyes drag over the toy—taking in the way it’s coated in your arousal, veins shiny, base slick—and then rake back up your body, slow and hungry.
“I should’ve known it was my naughty little pipsqueak. After all… it’s only meimei who takes this much from her gege, hmm?”
His voice drops to gravel.
You gulp, panting softly, chest heaving. You pout up at him—bratty, defiant—and smack his chest again, weaker this time.
“But… you had a replica of mine too!”
Caleb laughs—low, rough, relieved.
“In that case… I’m guilty too.”
Then he moves.
One step forward and your back hits the mattress. You both go down in a tangle—sheets ripping away completely, your naked body splayed beneath him, still sweaty, still flushed, still smelling like sex and shame and him.
He braces on his forearms, caging you in, face inches from yours.
“Then we should share this sin together, right?”
His hips settle between your thighs. The hard length of him—real this time—nudges right against your soaked entrance, hot and thick and leaking through his shorts.
You whimper—small, broken, needy.
His mouth hovers over yours, breath mingling.
“Tell me to stop, meimei,” he whispers, voice trembling just enough to betray how close he is to breaking. “Tell me and I’ll walk out right now. We’ll pretend this never happened.”
Your hands slide up—fingers curling into his shoulders, nails digging in.
You don’t push him away.
You pull him closer.
“Don’t you dare,” you breathe against his lips.
And that’s it.
The last thread snaps.
Caleb’s mouth crashes down on yours—hungry, desperate, years of pent-up want pouring out in one bruising kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming, tasting, while his hips grind forward, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds.
You arch up into him with a sob, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper.
He groans into your mouth—raw, wrecked.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—been waiting so long—”
Caleb pulls back just enough to drink you in—really drink you in.
You’re sprawled beneath him like a fever dream: lips swollen and glossy from his kisses, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants, eyes glassy and half-lidded with want. His gaze drags down slow—over the flushed peaks of your tits, the soft curve of your belly still trembling from aftershocks, then lower, to where your thighs are parted and your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing. Slick shines on your inner thighs, dripping down toward the sheets in lazy rivulets. The toy’s absence has left you empty and aching, walls fluttering visibly like they’re begging to be filled again.
His whole body burns—not just from the heat of the moment, but from the sheer, dizzying reality of it. His wildest, most shameful dream is right here: you, naked and wrecked and his, finally letting him see you like this. Touch you like this. He’s drowning in emotions—guilt, relief, raw hunger—but he forces himself to focus. He wants this to be good for you. Better than good. He wants to feed every filthy craving you’ve both been hiding, satisfy the hunger that’s been eating you alive for months.
“So pretty,” he stutters, voice cracking as two fingers glide down your slit. He parts your folds gently, watching the way your clit twitches under the lightest brush.
You yelp, thighs jerking inward on instinct. “Caleb!”
He shakes his head, firm but soft. His free hand comes down in a sharp spank to the plush meat of your thigh—hard enough to sting, soft enough to make the flesh jiggle.
“Oh no no no no,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Don’t go hiding from me now. You’re beautiful, pipsqueak. I want to admire all of you.”
You bite your lower lip hard, cheeks flaming, but you don’t close your legs again. You watch—breath hitching—as his fingers continue their slow exploration: tracing your entrance, dipping just inside to feel how soaked you are, then sliding lower. He gropes one ass cheek shamelessly, kneading the soft flesh before landing another weak, appreciative spank. The jiggle makes him groan low in his throat.
“Aw damn…”
You huff, mortified and turned on in equal measure, and reach up to grab his ear—tugging hard.
He yelps instantly. “Ow ow ow—what’s wrong? Did I hurt you—”
You scoff, cutting him off, and slide both palms under his shirt. Your fingers find the hard planes of his pecs, cupping them shamelessly, thumbs brushing over his nipples.
“Take off your clothes too, dummy,” you mutter, voice bratty and breathless. “I don’t wanna be the only one naked.”
Caleb blinks once—then grins so wide it’s almost stupid, ear-to-ear and boyish despite the filthy situation.
“Fair enough.”
He yanks the sleeveless shirt over his head in one smooth motion, muscles flexing under sweaty skin as it hits the floor somewhere behind him. Next come the shorts—hooked thumbs in the waistband, frantic tug downward. The fabric slides off his thighs and his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his lower abs with a wet smack.
You gasp—sharp, involuntary.
It’s exactly like the dildo. Down to the last detail: the thick veins, the slight upward curve, the flushed brownish-pink head already leaking, the heavy balls hanging low. Your pussy clenches hard around nothing at the sight, a fresh gush of slick trickling out.
“Like what you see, huh?” he smirks, voice hoarse and wrecked. He grips the base and smacks the fat head against your dripping folds—once, twice—coating himself in your mess.
You whine instantly, hips jerking up. “Ahhh fuck—Caleb—mmmpphhh!!”
But instead of pushing in, he pulls back. You frown, confused and needy—until you see him reach for the dildo again.
With a slow, sinful smile, he lines it up and slides it back inside your tight cunt.
“Hai—ahhhh—Caleb!?!”
You can only stare up at his face—pleasure twisting his features, mouth falling open in a perfect ‘o’—as he pushes the toy deeper. A low, rumbling groan escapes him.
“Fuck… exact feeling…”
He keeps going—slow, torturous—watching your face the whole time while he feeds inch after inch back into you. Your walls stretch around the familiar silicone, fluttering, sucking it in greedily until it’s buried to the hilt again: tip kissing your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush against your ass.
Only then does he stop.
But he’s not done.
He manhandles you with easy strength—big hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You squeak as he repositions you properly on the bed: flat on your back, head near the pillows, legs spread wide. He climbs over you, straddling your chest, knees bracketing your shoulders.
His cock hovers right above your face—hard, twitching, leaking a fat pearl of precum from the slit.
Your brain empties completely. All you can do is stare: at him, at the dick that’s been haunting your nights for months, now real and inches from your lips.
“You’ll suck it, right baby?” he rasps, voice trembling with restraint. “Mmmh… suck gege’s dick while the replica stretches you open.”
He lowers himself slowly. The swollen head smacks against your lips—hot, sticky, salty.
You open immediately.
Your mouth wraps around the tip, tongue swirling, sucking gently at first. Caleb throws his head back with a guttural sound.
“Ohhh fuck—dual sensation—ahhh… shit!”
His fingers slide into your hair, gripping gently but firm. He starts fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts—careful not to choke you yet, but deep enough to make your eyes water.
“Fuck baby… take it deeper. I know you can—ahh… you’ve been swallowing that dick down your throat, haven’t you? Hah…”
You can barely think—pussy stuffed full and throbbing around the toy, mouth stretched around the real thing, taste of him flooding your senses. But you obey.
Your hands fly up—gripping the firm meat of his ass, nails digging in as you pull him forward. You relax your throat and swallow him to the base in one slow, greedy glide.
Your nose buries into the neatly trimmed, newly shaved patch of pubic hair. His scent—musk, clean sweat, him—overwhelms you. Your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering, fingers sinking deeper into the thick muscle of his thighs while tears of effort slip down your temples.
Caleb’s head snaps back, face contorting in raw pleasure—jaw slack, brows furrowed, a broken moan tearing from his chest.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—good girl—fuck—”
He holds himself there for a heartbeat—letting you feel every thick inch pulsing on your tongue—before he starts to move again.
Slow, deep thrusts into your mouth while the dildo stays buried in your cunt, every rock of his hips making the toy shift inside you just enough to drag against your walls.
You’re stuffed at both ends.
Full.
Claimed.
His.
And he’s not stopping until you both break again.
Caleb keeps fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips—balls smacking wetly against your chin on every deep thrust, the filthy sound echoing in the quiet room. His moans are low and ragged, pleasure ripping through him in waves as your throat flutters around his length, tongue pressing flat against the underside, sucking greedily.
You snap your hips forward uselessly, clenching desperately around the dildo still buried deep in your cunt. The dual fullness—mouth stuffed with real him, pussy stretched by fake him—has you trembling, thighs shaking, slick dripping down your ass in steady rivulets.
That’s when he breaks.
Caleb’s whole body locks up, shaking violently. His fingers tighten in your hair—almost too hard—burying himself to the root until your nose presses flush against his pelvis. A guttural groan tears from his chest as he starts cumming.
Thick, hot spurts flood your mouth instantly—salty, bitter, overwhelming. Your eyes roll back so hard you see stars, throat working frantically to swallow it all, but there’s too much. It overflows the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin in messy strings.
He doesn’t stop.
He pulls out with a lewd, wet pop—cock still jerking—and shoots the last few ropes across your face: warm streaks painting your cheeks, your nose, your swollen lips. You gasp for air, tongue darting out instinctively to lick what you can reach, tasting him everywhere.
Caleb pants above you, chest heaving, staring down at the mess he made. You look wrecked—face covered in his cum, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted and shiny. He knows he should feel ashamed. He should apologize, clean you up, stop this madness.
But fuck—you look so hot like this it’s rewriting his brain chemistry. Ruining him for anything else.
You flutter your lashes up at him, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing your lower lip to catch another drop. The sight snaps something inside him.
He groans, low and broken, and reaches for the dildo. One rough yank and he pulls it free from your overstimulated pussy.
You arch violently off the bed, hips jerking, a gush of slick squirting out around the sudden emptiness. “F-fuck—Caleb—!”
He stares, mesmerized. “Fuck… you’re so hot, meimei. I think I’m losing my mind.”
You’re panting, trying to catch your breath, body still twitching with aftershocks. Guilt crashes over him like cold water—he reaches for the tissue box on your nightstand with shaking hands and starts wiping your face clean, gentle despite everything.
His cheeks are crimson, burning with embarrassment and leftover heat. “Ah shit—sorry pipsqueak, didn’t mean to… fuck… I’m sorry, okay?”
You just stare up at him—brain fried, body humming—and reach out. Your fingers wrap around his still-hard cock, slick with spit and cum.
He hitches a sharp breath. “Ahhh—oh god—mmhh—”
You give him lazy, teasing strokes, smirking mischievously through the haze.
“I want it, Caleb,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “I want your dick.”
He groans, hips snapping forward into your touch. Hearing you talk like that—filthy, needy—makes him throb harder in your palm.
“Say it again, meimei,” he rasps, voice trembling. “Say it… properly.”
You bite your lower lip, thumb flicking over the sensitive head, circling the slit, smearing precum.
“I want your dick, gege,” you purr, slow and deliberate. “Please?”
You don’t stop. Somehow you sit up—legs shaky—free hand sliding up his arm, over the thick muscle of his shoulder, then flicking his hard nipple. You lick your lips again, eyes locked on his, and climb into his lap.
“Need you inside, gege,” you breathe against his throat. “Not the… toy. Need your dick to fuck this pussy—mmhh!”
Caleb snaps.
Since when did his sweet pipsqueak become this seductive little tease?
He hauls you up the bed in one swift motion—then slams you back down onto the mattress. Not too rough—just enough to make you squeak in surprise, tits bouncing with the impact.
“Fuck—look at that sultry expression,” he growls, voice dark. “You’re such a tease, meimei. Such a dirty girl begging her gege’s dick.”
His palm comes down in a sharp smack against your pussy—wet, obscene. You whine, arching hard, the sting turning into molten heat that makes you even wetter.
“You bought a dildo to fuck this needy little cunt, huh?” Another smack—harder. You sob, mindless, hips grinding back toward his hand. “Used a replica of your gege’s dick to train this pussy?”
You can only nod—whimpering, desperate—grinding shamelessly against his palm.
“Fuck—but who am I to judge?” he chuckles darkly. “I’m a freak too, ain’t I?”
He presses the fat head of his cock to your entrance—hot, leaking, real—and snaps his hips forward in one powerful thrust.
You both nearly scream.
The bed shakes beneath you as he bottoms out—thick, burning, stretching you in ways the toy never could. Your walls clamp down instantly, fluttering around every veiny inch.
Caleb grips the headboard above you, knuckles white, hovering over your body. His other hand slides between your legs—fingers finding your clit, pinching and flicking with his thumb while he watches your face twist in pleasure.
“Good thing is… I don’t have to train you for my dick anymore, hah,” he pants, hips rutting in sloppy, messy thrusts. “You’re nice and ready to take me full… fuck… I never thought—”
He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut. Tears well at the corners—not from pain, but from too much everything: pleasure, relief, fear.
He’s terrified he’ll cry in front of you. Terrified you’ll disappear when this ends. Terrified he’ll lose you after finally having you.
So he fucks you deeper—hands roaming everywhere: groping your tits, spanking your ass, squeezing your thighs. Rough, unpracticed, desperate. He can’t help it. He’s never done this before—not like this, not with anyone.
Suddenly he stops—mid-thrust, sweat dripping down his chest in rivulets. He looks down at you, panic flashing in his eyes.
“Hey—hey hey hey, pipsqueak… hah… are you like—feeling actually good? Like… or…”
His whole face is on fire. He gulps, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.
Your brain is too fried to process deeply. You just grin—mindless, blissed-out—and grind back against him with a small, innocent smile.
“Mmhh… best big brother ever…”
Caleb’s mouth falls open. He chokes on a laugh—or maybe a sob—then shakes his head and goes back to fucking you.
He’ll ask when you’re sober. Right now you’re too drunk on his cock to think straight.
He finds your clit again—rubbing tight circles—and feels the telltale shiver in your hips. You’re close. He can see the faint bulge in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, and it makes him shy and so fucking turned on at the same time.
The fact that he’s claiming you like this—fucking you so deep you’ll feel him for days—makes his head spin. He prays this isn’t a fever dream.
His own brain is melting from the pleasure, the sensation, the sight of you taking him so perfectly.
He reaches down—presses the heel of his palm against the bulge in your belly—and pushes.
Both your eyes roll back at the same instant.
Broken moans spill from your tongues as you cum together—hard.
You squirt violently—soaking his cock, his abs, the sheets in messy arcs—walls clamping down like a vice around him.
Caleb comes with a shattered whimper—hips stuttering, spilling inside you in thick, endless pulses until it leaks out around his base, dripping down his balls and onto the ruined bed.
He collapses next to you—breathing ragged, eyes half-focused and glassy.
After a long moment he reaches over—gentle now—brushing damp hair off your face. A soft, satisfied smile curves his lips.
“Thank you…” he whispers, voice hoarse and raw.
You turn your head—still panting, still trembling—and press a lazy kiss to his palm.
“Gege…”
He pulls you close—bodies sticky, tangled, hearts hammering in sync.
Caleb’s hand comes up slow—almost reverent—caressing the side of your face, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he’s memorizing the texture of your skin. His breath hitches when he feels the warmth, the realness of you still flushed and glowing against him. A low, stuttering rumble escapes his chest.
“Did you… like it, pipsqueak?”
You’re draped over him now—breasts cushioned against the hard plane of his chest, cheek pressed to the thick swell of his pec, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat slow. You grin lazily, voice cracked and hoarse from all the moaning, all the screaming his name.
“I fucking loved it, Caleb.”
His smirk falters—just for a second—something soft and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. His thumb circles lazy patterns over your hipbone, the touch grounding and possessive at once.
“Me too.” He swallows. “I thought I was pushing things too fast… making it uncomfortable since I’ve never—”
Your eyes shoot open. You half-scream, half-gasp, bolting upright so fast your tits bounce against his chest.
“WAIT—you… YOU MEAN YOU WERE A VIRGIN?!?!”
Caleb’s whole face ignites—crimson flooding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut in pure mortification, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward in a faint, sheepish grin.
“Yeah yeah… first time got my dick wet. Kinda nervous.”
You beam—bright, wicked, delighted—and crash your mouth to his in a messy, giddy kiss. Then you’re scrambling off him, lunging for your phone on the nightstand.
“Wait—lemme take a picture of us losing our virginities together!”
Caleb’s mouth drops open. You were a virgin too. The realization hits him square in the chest—funny, warm, possessive—and a smug grin spreads across his face before he can stop it.
You flip the camera to selfie mode, crawling back into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. His arms snake around your waist immediately—tight, claiming—pulling you flush against him while you stick your tongue out in a naughty little pose.
“Say cheese!”
He looks straight at the lens—smug as hell, eyes half-lidded and dark with leftover lust—while you giggle and snap the photo.
Caleb huffs softly after, nuzzling into your neck. “You better not show this to anyone.”
You wiggle your eyebrows mischievously. “Oh, I’m gonna show it to any guy who’ll bother me like—you should be scared of my big brother.”
He wheezes—chokes on his own spit—and bursts out laughing, arms squeezing you until you squeak in protest.
“Diabolical.”
His palm comes down in a light, playful spank on your ass—watching the flesh bounce with open delight.
“You’re a menace to society, you know that?”
“I get it from you.”
You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips back slow—grinding your slick folds along his still-hard cock. He groans low in his throat.
“Fair enough.”
He dives back in—kissing you deep, tongues tangling messy and hungry. You both moan into each other’s mouths, hands roaming, relearning every inch now that the barrier’s gone.
“Fuck… I’m gonna miss you when I go back to Skyhaven…”
You grin against his lips, crawling higher up his body until you’re straddling his chest. Your hand wraps around his cock—still slick, still leaking—and guide the head to your mouth.
“That’s what the toys are for, gege.”
You hum as you wrap your lips around him again—slow, teasing—tongue swirling over the sensitive slit. Caleb lets out a low, rumbling moan, hips twitching up into the wet heat of your mouth.
“Ahhh… I almost forgot…”
His fingers slide down—two thick digits pushing into your dripping pussy without warning. You moan around his cock, the vibration making him curse under his breath.
“Three days left… fuck, I can’t get enough of you, meimei…!”
Neither can you.
The next three days blur into one long, feverish haze.
You fuck like rabbits—hours bleeding into hours, positions changing, surfaces shifting—bed, floor, shower, kitchen counter when Gran’s still gone, even on the old couch in the living room where you used to watch cartoons together as kids.
He eats you out until your thighs shake and you’re crying his name.
You ride him slow and deep until he’s begging.
He pins you against the wall and fucks you standing until pictures rattle on their hooks.
You suck him off in the hallway while he tries—and fails to stay quiet.
Every time one of you starts to flag—exhausted, sore, spent—the other just reaches over, touches, whispers filthy encouragement, and the fire reignites.
Even after Gran comes back—bags in hand, cheerful questions about your “quiet week”—you keep sneaking.
Late-night tiptoes down the hall.
Muffled moans pressed into pillows so she doesn’t hear.
Quick, desperate fucks in the bathroom while the shower runs to cover the sounds.
His hand over your mouth while he grinds into you from behind, whispering “quiet, meimei, or Gran’ll hear how much her good girl likes her gege’s cock.”
When the vacation finally ends, you stand on the platform watching the train to Skyhaven pull away.
Caleb leans out the open window one last time—hair mussed, eyes soft and dark—and presses a final, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Be good,” he murmurs against your mouth.
You grin, wicked. “No promises.”
The train starts moving. He disappears down the track.
You stand there until it’s gone, thighs clenched tight—still feeling the fresh load he stuffed you full with this morning before dawn, warm and thick and leaking slowly down your inner thighs under your skirt.
You shift your weight—feel it drip a little more—and smile to yourself.
Three hundred miles apart again. But the toys are waiting. And now you both know exactly what the other needs. You turn toward your apartment in linkon, already counting the days until the next break.
SYNOPSIS: in the midst of a hiking trip, you decide to take caleb into the depths of a waterfall for something quick. but it's never quick with the two of you.
WC: 2.1k
BE WARNED: porn no plot, semi-public sex, waterfall sex, marathon sex, riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, switch!caleb, switch!reader, cum eating, really really freaky fucking.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Weeping balls of sweat dripping down your skin mix with the ricocheting water pelting onto your back. Everything feels so wet and so hot that your mind is solely focused on one thing.
You should hate that it’s stupidly freezing your skin to the point where goosebumps coat your entire body. You really should. But the way Caleb’s cock shoots flashes of pleasure so far up your spine, that feeling is worth every damning thrust he gives you.
Your bodies are between the water and the rocks in the small cave of the waterfall you’re very poorly hidden behind, skin clapping loud as you bounce on him, taking all the tantalising girth and length he has just for you.
You’re straddling his hips with whatever strength is still in you, riding his cock like your life depends on it. The cascading sound of the water behind you is almost deafening and yet your moans seem so much louder.
You had lost track of how long you’ve been hiding behind the waterfall you found in the midst of your hike. It was supposed to be quick. A short makeout session away from peering eyes, but one by one, your clothes disappeared along with your inhibitions leading to you sitting comfortably on his face, which he refers to as your throne.
You insisted that there is a far better throne than his nose and tongue, even if it can make you cum three times in a row. Caleb wouldn’t have thought — at least not at the time — that the demon between his legs would be your favourite seat.
“F-fuck,” Caleb grits through his teeth, struggling to find the coherence to form a sentence— you’ve been clamping down on his cock to keep him inside you. “Pussy’s so tight! I can almost hear her talkin’ to me.”
It must be from how your cunt basically screams that she’s soaked through and through and expressing just how much she’s loving the ploughing she’s getting. The sounds are obscene, from the squelches of your pussy screaming around his cock as it goes deeper and deeper into you to your moans raising in pitch every fucking second.
“M-More.” You whine right into his ear, to which he can’t help but croon in response. “She needs more, ‘leb— I need more!”
“More?” You can’t tell if he’s genuinely concerned or too overstimulated to have heard you correctly. “You came so many times already, baby— fuck— you need more?”
“Mhm!”
You’re just so full of him that trying to talk would just sound like cockdrunk moans. Like, look at him. He’s already pussydrunk.
That pretty face of his drenched in both water and sweat, sticking his hair right onto his forehead, similar to how he’d look fresh out of a shower or a rough session at the gym. His chest is literally heaving up and down, a clear indication that you’ve been at this for longer than intended.
You wouldn’t know since you have been praising his sexy reactions alongside admiring all the disrespectful love bites you’ve speckled all over him.
A loud smack! sounds around the little not-so-enclosed space of yours before the sweet sting tingles on your plump ass. He’s got an iron grip on you, fondling and massaging it with both hands to push you down as his hips jut up to thwack up against you with each bounce.
If his eyes aren’t on yours, they’re locked on the sticky mess connecting you to him in raunchy matrimony. Strings of his cum mixed with your own makes his grip on you tighten even more. Why are you so damn sexy?
“Gotta give this pussy what she needs, yeah?” Caleb’s lips split into a lazy smile, all cocky-looking and yet his eyes about to roll deep into his skull. “She gettin’ so hungry for my cock, isn’t she?”
He’s been drunk on your cunt for quite some time, watching his cock disappear deep into you only to return soaked in three orgasms’ worth of cum — from both of you — soaking him in a coat of white, leaking onto his hips and the ground beneath you.
“Gonna… need to— fffuck!”
He’s just seconds from begging you to choke his cock more with your pussy. You’re not any better than he is.
“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb—“ You chant his name like a spell, circling your hips to write your name to mark him as yours permanently as if it’s the first time. It isn’t. You’ve done this ten times before. “How’re you— ngh! How’re still so fuckin’ hard?!”
“I love you, that’s why.” In the midst of the lewd, risky, sex you’re having, it must be a skill for him to make your heart flutter simultaneously with your pussy. “Love you so— aah!— much, just wanna make you cum till you can’t anymore… don’t care how long it takes either.”
It’s almost too much for you to keep riding him so relentlessly that you drop until your chest is pressed snug against his, rubbing your sensitive hard nipples up and down as he continues to plough your cunt with his cock, gripping your thighs tight.
Your lips latch onto his neck, sucking and biting into his unmarked skin until you hear him whimper loud. Your nails claw on his biceps, relishing in them tensing whenever your touch becomes as harsh as his thrusts.
“Love you ‘leb,” You moan deep into his skin, licking your way up from his neck, along his jawline, to his lips. “Fuckin’ love you so much!”
You kiss sloppy, just the way he likes it, sucking bruises into his lips and swallowing his groans as he consumes your own. Your tongues collide and teasingly fight, not caring for any clashes of teeth while pleasure dominates your senses.
Your hands creep up to his dampened locks, tugging at every thrust that pushes his leaky cockhead to kiss your cervix again and again. It’s almost pornographic to hear how needy you both are.
Something about you being so noisy with him just sets him off. His ears are so red he can feel the heat radiating right off him. If it weren’t for his cock twitching every time you clenched around him, he’d be able to notice his body almost shaking from the number of times you’ve drained his cum from him.
“Pips,” Caleb groans nice and deep in your ear with a hint of neediness brimming deep in his throat. He can barely think when you sound so naughty and yet so sweet. “So… so damn insatiable.”
He can feel his balls, heavy and full of cum despite all those previous orgasms, tighten yet again just begging for release. Six white rings layer up his shaft as you bounce on him, marking the number of times you’ve cum around him (from his cock alone).
You just have this hold on him to give you whatever you want whenever you want it. You need hugs? You get hours of cuddles. You need food? He’s meal prepped.
You need his cock to keep you in bed for days? Well, what d’you think he’s doing now?
Your nails dig into the muscle of his large chest, carving lines into his skin just deep enough to stay in place for days. Each scratch and pierce of those claws of yours pulls out strings of lust-brimmed curses and moans from his lips.
“Mmmh— fuck, if you keep this up, I— please, pips— I’ll cum again!” He slurs, gripping your hips like a vice. You look a goddess from this view, glistening with sweat and cum soaking your skin in the glare of the setting sun jumping through the falling water that hides you from the passing hikers.
If he could stay here with you like this, he’d be overjoyed to stay like this forever.
“You’ve still got some in you?” You pant with a devilish grin. If he didn’t see you as a heavenly creature, you would definitely be a succubus waiting to take his soul. “Good.”
The whimper that escapes his lips is more than enough for you to cum on the spot, intoxicating you more than any drug would.
It brings out that back-arching, name-screaming, nail-scratching kind of moan that drives Caleb insane. In moments like these, he relishes in the hard work he’s put to get you to cum hard enough for your thighs to tremble and twitch from his love.
But that’s just Caleb for you. Always reminding you how much he loves you while he ruins your soaked cunt over and over again until it memorises every damn vein that bumps and rubs on your spongy, sensitive spots.
Unbeknownst to him, you still kept your ears open for unwanted guests moving near the waterfall mid-orgasm. The symphony of your love making is just loud enough for someone to hear the moans escaping your throats. The last thing you want to do is have to deal with the consequences especially when you’re so deep in him satiating your need for your love.
But you’re a little bit hungry.
Caleb lets out a frustrated whine as his girth slowly slides out until his bulbous tip lands on his abs with a pop!
“No, no, no, please— need more—“ He’s unintelligible at this rate, babbling and begging for your pussy again while his cock punishes him with almost painful throbs and twitches, leaking globs of cum in desperation.
“Shh,” You press your fingers on his lips, slowly lowering your hips until his shaft slotted perfectly between your folds.
All that hot, thick cum that you keep fucking into yourself slowly leaks onto him as you rock back and forth until your swollen clit bumps his blushing cockhead. The sensation alone is more than enough to cease his whines in an instant.
“Oh, ffffuucck.” Caleb groans deep from the base of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs over and over as you move so painfully slowly that he wants fuckin’ beg. “You’re so… cruel.”
“Yeah?” You pant, watching him tense up every time your clit grinds over the sensitive spot between his tip and shaft. You’ve studied him so well that it’s a no-brainer that you’d eventually attack his weaknesses.
“You like when I grind on you here, baby?” You guide his hands to your hickey-marked chest. He almost makes grabby hands, moaning like he’s finally touched heaven. “You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?”
Still fixated by your mounds being massaged by his large hands, the best he can do is nod and whine for you all while drooling from how lost he is beneath you. He just loves when you make him so stupidly needy and overstimulated.
“You have to promise not to be loud, there’s hikers moving around.” Your voice drops to a low whisper, grinding faster and deeper until even you begin to break just from how good it feels. “F-fuck, you’re so thick. Wanna make you cum so bad. You’ll be quiet, yeah?”
“I promise!” He’s so quick to give you what you want, practically whimpering it out. “C’mon—ah, fuck— I need it, baby, need to cum.”
And that’s all you need to hear. The moment you bring your hand down to rub torturous circles into your overstimulated bud, just a fraction of the friction sets him off like fireworks.
A broken cry slips out his lips as his hips jut up in twitches. Ropes of cum spill onto his abdomen, creeping as far as his collarbone, hot, thin and sticky from all the times you made him break.
It’s all too good. So good that he’s trapped in an orgasmic heaven where you are the goddess he prays to. So good that tears fall from the corners of his eyes in pure ecstasy and his grip on your hips tighten so much that you might bruise.
“Insatiable,” He croaks mid-moan, still deep in his orgasm. Cum leaks from his tip in weak, short spurts until the hikers are long gone, leaving you both to the ambience of the waterfall shielding you.
“I told you this was a good idea,” You grin, swirling your finger around the puddle of cum before you, scooping just enough to cover your index.
Looking him dead in the eye, your lips part and make way for your cum soaked finger to touch your tongue. You softly moan at the taste, still warm to the touch, and slowly, seductively, lick off what remains from your hand like a cat licking milk from her paw.
“Fuck, pips.” Caleb pants with a twisted grin painting his exhausted face. You can feel his cock starting to stir beneath you, ready for yet another of the many coming rounds. “You can’t do that to me after all this.”
“We should take care of the mess I made, shouldn’t we?”
In a matter of seconds, you find yourself on your back with that deliciously bulbous tip of his pressing into your cunt and slips in like a returning beloved guest.
“Definitely,” He presses a hot kiss on your forehead and makes the first of many endless thrusts for the night — or whatever time it is. “You’re so… insatiable.”
synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.
warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.
wc: 2,3k
a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.
Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.
Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.
“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.
“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.
“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—
“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—
“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”
“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.
Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant.
What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.
But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore.
You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.
Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.
He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it.
“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”
Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.
The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now.
You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish.
“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little.
“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.
You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.
Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.
“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest.
“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.
“Please…”
“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do.
You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?
With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”
“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.
“If you’re grossed out—“
“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”
That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”
“The millisecond.”
His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”
“I’ll put a poet to shame.”
“Pull my hair?”
“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”
A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”
Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.
It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.
The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens.
But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?
You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours.
You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again.
“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.
“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.
He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.
Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it?
His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.
Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”
“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”
You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.
It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.
Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.
Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!
You love these fucking supermoons.
“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”
“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“
“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”
He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”
“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.
“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.
You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”
Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”
“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.”
summary: you and zayne make the most of your time in the northern territories.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, vaginal fingering, masturbation, oral sex, hand job, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity, historical au, entwined kites continuation
wc: 9.7k
a/n: this is kinda late but zayne was so scrumptiously perfect in it that i had to! i hope you enjoy!! <3
also on ao3!
“Are you making it a habit to lounge on every roof we come across?”
You shift, head poking over the edge of the snow-laden roof to find Zayne peering up at you. He raises his brows, eyes twinkling with amusement when you simply sprawl over the roof a little more, perched on the rafters contentedly.
“They are quite comfortable,” you say, fingers gliding through the snow, pushing it towards the edge, watching as it falls, snow dusting over Zayne’s hair delicately.
He huffs out a soft laugh, brushing the snow from his hair, his hand reaching out for you soon after.
“Be that as it may be,” Zayne murmurs, “I should not wish for you to become ill, my beloved. It is too cold. Come down, won’t you?”
You hum, sitting up and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Zayne’s warm fingers slip through yours, holding tightly before he tugs gently, stepping closer when you slide off of the tiles of the roof, his arms wrapping around your waist to catch you.
“You’ve become more comfortable saying that,” you tease airily, flushing lightly when his hands smooth over your robes, brushing the snow from the thick, woven fabric. “Am I truly that precious?”
“You still doubt that?” he sighs, his hands reaching for yours once he’s satisfied with your robes. “We flew a kite together, did we not? The Lady of Anlan should know by now how she is worth to me.”
Pouting, you lean into him, eyes fluttering shut when he cups your hands with his, squeezing and rubbing to warm your chill-ridden hands. Zayne mutters something under his breath but you can’t catch it with the way the wind picks up around you, howling loudly.
It’d only been two days since you’d arrived in the Northern territories, winter having already set in whilst you had made your journey here from Anlan. You thought you’d be staying in some sort of lavish inn, but when the hours had passed and you’d travelled deeper into the North, Zayne had informed you that this territory was also his – a generous gift provided to him by the Imperial Court.
Zayne’s efforts during the war must have been second to none, given the fact that this mansion was almost the same size as the one in Anlan, erected atop a snow-covered clearing, deep into the mountains. You’d never seen anything so beautiful. Anlan’s spring was often windy, the air laden with the scent of blossoming flowers and ripe fruit. The air here though, was crisp and so startlingly fresh that every time you took a breath, you were sure you could taste the snow on your tongue.
“Stop moving.”
Zayne’s voice is low in your ear as he pulls you inside the warmed quarters, his brows knitted together as he pulls gloves onto your hands, the fine garment patterned with different colors of layered cashmere.
“I’m fine,” you insist, trying to pull your hands free only to receive a stern look from Zayne, his fingers lacing with yours. “I won’t fall ill, I am much stronger than you think me to be.”
“Any self-respecting husband would not allow his wife to catch her death,” he replies just as stubbornly, a smile pulling at his lips as you tug him through the hallways, towards your shared quarters.
The maids have a penchant for staring, you’ve realized. Unlike Anlan, the maids here seem more brazen, emboldened by the harshness of the cold. Still, they hadn’t bothered you and Zayne, hadn’t done anything in particular other than stare when they could, so you let them.
There’s a bath drawn for you behind the patterned screen the moment you step inside. Your gaze darts to Zayne’s, fingers tightening in his grasp, refusing to let him go when he moves towards the fire.
Your cheeks flush lightly as you pull at his robes, tugging him down to your height. “Would– would you like to join me?” you ask, feigning innocence as your fingers splay against his chest, eyes lighting up when you feel the stuttered beat of his heart through the fabric. You lean into him, voice lowering, “you were right, my lord. I am quite cold… perhaps you ought to keep me warm.”
Zayne’s brows shoot up in surprise, a noise rumbling low in his throat. His hand slips over yours, pulling it away slowly.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, his head lowering, nose brushing against yours. “I thought you were well? You said you would not fall ill.”
Your eyes narrow when you see the mirth in his eyes. “I– I might!” you sputter, glancing around to watch the last of the maids filter out of your quarters with a polite bow. “They say body heat is the best remedy for–”
He interrupts with you an amused huff, his hands moving to stroke your sides. You frown when he shakes his head, tugging the gloves off irritably before moving begrudgingly when he pushes at your back with an insistent touch.
“The bath water was drawn from the springs nearby,” Zayne says, standing behind you when you flop down onto a daybed. “It is said to be blessed by the gods.”
“The gods?” you echo, face twisting with discomfort when you feel a twinge of pain from pulling out the ornate hair pins buried firmly in your hair.
“Yes,” he replies, his ministrations gentle as he brushes away your hands, beginning to pull out the pins himself. “The gods are said to dwell in the mountains nearby. We are quite close to them, so naturally it has been thought that the springs that come from them are also blessed.”
“I think I may be blessed,” you sigh dazedly, eyes drooping shut every now and then as Zayne runs his fingers through your hair, soothing away the tangles and knots. Your head lolls back when he strokes your hair, bleary eyes blinking up at him as you smile sleepily.
Your gaze flickers to his lips, breath hitching when his fingers smooth over your cheeks, tracing the curve of your jaw. You’d thought that Zayne would have kissed you by now, but he had become strangely artful in avoiding your advances. Perhaps he wasn’t ready yet for such a relationship… perhaps his assessment of you had changed… the very thought is brushed away as soon as it comes, your distracted mind now latching onto the soft, fleeting press of his lips against your forehead.
“Indeed,” Zayne whispers, voice deep and lilting, his lips skimming over your skin to kiss your cheek. “You must be if I have been led to you.” He smiles against your cheek. “The gods have been particularly generous.”
His words have you swallowing harshly – a weak attempt to dispel the rapidly swelling lump in your throat.
“You… you think I am a blessing from the gods?”
Zayne hums, his head tilting as he stares down at you. “Yes,” he says bluntly, his brows furrowing as though concerned by the breathlessness present in your voice. “You may very well be more auspicious than my jade seal.”
“Have you lost your mind?” you hiss, moving up onto your knees, leaning towards him. “If someone were to hear,” you lower your voice further, “not to mention relay such words to the Imperial Court of all things–”
“Then I would be glad,” he retorts, his hands cupping your cheeks once more, head dipping to let his nose brush against yours. “The Lady of Anlan holds a revered position within my heart, after all.”
A desperate, violent shudder racks through your body and you reach for his robes roughly. Zayne’s eyes widen in surprise, and you can hear the way his breath stutters, his lips parting. They look so terribly inviting – pink and unblemished – and you can’t resist the way your head tilts just enough to–
He pulls away.
“You always do that!” you protest, throwing your hands up as frustration sparks in your eyes. “You cannot just say such things and not expect to want something from you.” Your voice dips into something demanding, back straightening as you stand. “Kiss me, Zayne.”
“We… we mustn’t,” Zayne says, sounding hoarse. He distances himself, hands clasping behind his back, cheeks faintly dusted with a light shade of pink.
“And why is that?” you ask testily, stepping towards him. “You had me sit in your lap, Zayne. You said that I was near and dear to your heart. You–” it’s embarrassing the way your voice wavers, “you brought me here so we could watch the aurora.”
“I know,” he rasps, looking stricken. “I did all of those things because I wanted to. And now, I cannot help but think I may overwhelm you.”
“Overwhelm me?”
“There are many things I want from you,” he murmurs, reaching for you, his arms slipping around your waist. Your breath hitches when he nudges his nose into your cheek before he nuzzles closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Terrible, wicked things,” Zayne whispers, “I cannot stop my mind from wandering when it comes to you. Every thought is consumed by your presence.”
You stand, completely and utterly frozen. The depth of his words leave you reeling, your fingers twitching at your sides helplessly. You had had passing romances before, when you were younger and naive and easily enraptured by a handsome smile, but this– Zayne has your heart lurching and racing unsteadily, the blood in your veins blistering newly with an unfamiliar sense of longing.
He lifts his head a few moments later, warm, calloused hands sliding over your cheeks with a gentle caress. Zayne mutters your name – softly, slowly, ardently – every syllable rolling from his tongue like the sweet nectar from flowering jasmines.
“Zayne–” you choke out desperately, “I–”
A knock on the door of your chambers interrupts you, an attendant’s voice filtering through the crevices to request Zayne’s presence elsewhere. You begin to shake your head, an irritated noise leaving you when he begins to pull away once more.
“I shall accompany you,” you say, still slightly breathless and frazzled, “and perhaps then we might finish this conversation.”
“Later,” he promises, giving your hands one final squeeze. “You are still cold to the touch. Go and bathe, if you wait any longer the bath will have cooled.”
You huff out an irritated breath. “You aren’t being very agreeable.”
“No,” Zayne agrees, a small smile pulling at his lips, “I suppose not.”
When the attendant calls for him again, you sigh, pushing at his chest lightly. “Go then. But I will be waiting for you.”
Your eyes widen when he suddenly moves, hands settling against his chest when Zayne spins you around, crowding you in against the wall. Lips parting in confusion, you suck in a sharp, stuttered breath when his hand slides over the nape of your neck to cup the back of your head.
“You tempt me too much.”
And then he’s kissing you, lips pressing against yours feverishly. You stiffen, just for one startled moment, before you’re drawing him closer, fingers curling into his robes. Zayne groans, his body shifting to press flush against yours until the hardness of the wall digs into your back.
Zayne kisses you like he’s been starved, soft, pillowy lips slotting over yours again and again until your head spins. You can’t move with the way he’s cornered you, can’t breathe with the way he’s kissing you. It doesn’t matter, you think hazily, managing to wrap your arms around his neck, dazed eyes fluttering open when he draws away, panting heavily.
His forehead rests against yours, and the heat of his body does nothing but set you alight. Leaning in, you capture his lips once more. It’s slower this time as you tilt your head, guiding the kiss until he’s tipping your head back to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing against yours fleetingly. You sigh into his mouth, fingers slipping into his hair when Zayne breaks away to trail heated kisses down the length of your neck, his hands squeezing at your waist.
“I must go,” he rasps between kisses, his thumb digging into the underside of your jaw to feel your unrestrained, racing pulse. You jolt at the scrape of Zayne’s teeth over your skin, his tongue following soon after, soothing the bruised skin. “I… I really must go, my beloved.”
“Then go,” you murmur dazedly, any sense of urgency lost on you as your back arches, head tilting to offer up more of your neck. “I said– ah– I would wait.”
He hums, mirroring your languidness as his hands move deftly, pulling your robes apart until he’s able to see the curve of your body through the thin slip of your undergarments. His jaw works, a muscle in his temple fluttering as he stares.
“You are welcome to stay,” you whisper, biting your lip. “After all, I am in need and is it not a Lord’s duty to take care of his wife? To cherish her?” You move, letting your robes fall from your shoulders, the heavy fabric pooling at your feet.
Zayne swallows, his hand coming to cover the lower half of his face. You smile faintly, your hands brushing against your breasts, drawing his attention to your hardened nipples. The low hiss he lets out is barely audible and you whine softly, batting your lashes.
“You may very well drive me to madness,” he mutters, reaching towards you, letting his thumb brush the underside of one of your clothed breasts before his hand jerks back like he’s been scalded.
A soft laugh escapes you and you step closer until it's you that’s crowding him, breasts squishing against his robes. “Perhaps touching me more… thoroughly would alleviate such an ailment?”
“I know what you are doing,” Zayne scoffs amusedly, shaking his head, “have you employed such tactics before?”
You smile, eyes twinkling. “Only on handsome, royal lords who are exceedingly stubborn.”
“Is that so?” Zayne’s voice deepens, his nose brushing yours. “The thought does displease me.”
You raise your brows, eyes sparking with mirth. The hint of jealousy in his voice has nothing but hot arousal swirling in your stomach, your thighs clenching together involuntarily. Your smile grows wider when you spy the restless flex of his fingers by his side.
“That will not do,” you murmur, reaching for his hand. “I am your wife, after all.”
Blinking up at him innocently, you guide his hand under the hem of your undergarments, between your thighs until his palm presses against where you want him. Zayne’s breath hitches, his brows furrowing when he feels the heat of your bare pussy, his lashes fluttering uncertainly.
“You…” Zayne sounds choked, “you are this aroused?”
“Mhm,” you watch him carefully, a soft gasp leaving you when his fingers move suddenly, slipping through your damp, puffy folds.
You try to keep your eyes open but it’s difficult with the way he’s taken to exploring you, lithe fingers gliding and rubbing, pressing and caressing. His fingers circle your clit experimentally, his brows raising minutely with interest when your hips jerk towards him.
“Here, then,” he whispers, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours. “Is this where you need me, my beloved? Or perhaps…” Zayne trails off, his fingers moving until they prod against your fluttering hole, “here?”
“Y– yes,” you whimper, shoving your face into his chest as your hips rock against his palm, clit catching along his calloused skin. “Yes, anywhere, just– just please touch me!”
“How desperate you’ve become,” he clicks his tongue, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Have I reduced my wife to begging?” He lets out a heavy sigh, lips pressing against your ear. “How unbecoming of the Lady of Anlan.”
A needy whine leaves you, your hazy eyes finding his as he circles your clit faster, the pads of his fingers brushing over the swollen bud. You try to speak but the words are stuck in your throat, a moan sounding through the chambers instead. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, you blink blearily when you see a smile playing on Zayne’s lips.
“I– nghh– suppose you are enjoying this, husband,” you grit out, panting against his mouth when he kisses you roughly.
“I am giving you what you want, am I not?” Zayne rasps, a finger pushing against your clenching pussy once more, gently easing it in. “I am abandoning my duties for you, my beloved.”
You paw at his robes, eyes widening when he slips another finger inside, beginning to thrust them in and out of your pussy lazily.
“Zayne–”
“Do you think they can hear us?” he asks, lips dragging over your neck once more. “The debauched noises that you are making? Perhaps that is why they have not called for me… because they know that I must stay to satisfy my insatiable little wife.”
You manage a poor attempt at a scoff. “I am not insatiable! I simply wanted you to–”
“Bed you?” Zayne interrupts, his arm winding around your waist when your knees buckle as his fingers curl and thrust into you harder.
“Ah– fuck–,” you mewl, stumbling backwards as he walks you towards the wall, pressing you against it once more. Your eyes roll back when he bites your neck, chest heaving uncontrollably as his lithe digits crook further inside of you.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against your throat, thumb finding your slippery clit. “Is that what you want, love? For me to bed you? To take you until you know nothing but me?” He groans when your hand slides down to grip his wrist, desperately trying to deepen the press of his fingers into your leaking cunt.
You nod jerkily, faintly embarrassed by how wet you are, thighs dripping with your slick and Zayne’s knuckles coated with it.
“P– please,” you gasp, rocking up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him sloppily. “You have teased– ngh– me enough have you not?”
“I had no such intentions,” Zayne whispers, tugging your head back to kiss you deeper, his lips capturing yours in a feverish kiss, one that leaves you gasping for air. “I… I was waiting,” he admits softly, brushing the strands of hair clinging to your sweaty skin, his fingers never slowing their pace. “I thought perhaps after seeing the aurora it would be more,” he trails off, flushing pink, “romantic.”
“Romantic,” you echo breathlessly, nodding dazedly as he fucks his fingers in and out of your aching pussy, his fingers finally brushing right where you need him, the ministration making your eyes roll back. “Right– fuck– of course.”
“Alas, you could not wait so now here we are,” he rumbles, thumb brushing over your lower lip as he watches you intently. “The Lord of Anlan with his fingers inside of his desperate, lovely wife’s cunt.”
You shoot him a scandalous look, unused to such words from a man who is usually so stern and composed and above using such language.
“I spent years at military camps,” Zayne explains when he sees your expression, his breath hot against your forehead. “Naturally, stories become abundant and imaginations begin to wander.”
“Did– ahhh– did you ever take a lover?” you ask, brows furrowing irritably at the thought.
“Never,” he sighs, his hand moving to cup one of your breasts through the thin undergarment, squeezing. “You are the first, my beloved.”
Zayne smiles when he sees the shock flickering across your face, continuing to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple with ease. He lowers his head without warning soon after, mouth latching onto your breast through the fabric. You moan loudly, fingers sliding through his hair as he sucks, tongue flicking against your nipple, his fingers slipping from the hold of your clinging cunt to press against your swollen clit.
“I–” you choke out, toes curling against the soft rug underneath you. “I– ah! am going to cum!”
“Then cum,” Zayne says softly, guiding his fingers back into your fluttering cunt with ease, curling them before he plunges them into you at an unforgiving pace. “I should like to watch my sweet wife come undone.” His mouth finds its way to your other breast, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling and flicking and teeth scraping lightly, just enough to have you seeing stars behind your closed lids.
You pull at his hair roughly drawing a wince from Zayne, but he doesn’t seem to mind when you do it again, instead mouthing at your clothed breast, his fingers scissoring inside of you when he feels you clench around him uncontrollably.
“Show me,” he murmurs hoarsely, “show me how I make you feel. Fall apart for me, love. Let me see what I have reduced you to.”
You can’t think straight, not with the way he’s taken to whispering into your ear, filth and sweet nothings pouring from his mouth as he fucks your cunt with his fingers and plays with your swollen clit. You try to peel your eyes open to watch him but it’s too difficult with how close you are, with how good it feels to have his fingers inside of you, reaching places that you never could.
“Let me hear you,” Zayne coaxes, his voice low and soothing. “You feel so lovely around me, my beloved. My sweet wife.” He kisses your cheek delicately and then your mouth, huffing amusedly when a ragged moan tears its way out of your throat. “That’s it, love. Just like that. Cum for me.”
You don’t need further instruction, squeaking when he pinches your nipple, thighs trembling violently and legs shaking as you fall into him. The force of your orgasm isn’t like anything you’ve experienced – so violent, so consuming that you can barely feel the stroke of his hand on your hair.
“Good girl,” Zayne whispers, kissing your cheek as his fingers slow their movements, slipping out of your pussy carefully.
You whimper when he rubs your clit gently, drawing out the last few aftershocks that rack through your body. Breathily heavily, you use Zayne’s arms to steady yourself, shivering when he kisses your forehead. Just when you tilt your head, you catch the movement of his arm, jaw slackening with disbelief as you watch his fingers disappear into his mouth. Your throat feels uncomfortably dry when Zayne sucks his fingers slowly – the very same ones that you had made a mess on earlier – cleaning them thoroughly while he stares down at you.
“Oh,” you breathe out, staring blankly when he licks his lips.
A surprised yelp escapes you when he picks you up suddenly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he walks behind the partitioning screen, setting you back onto your feet. He helps you into the bath and by some miracle it’s still hot, steam curling from the surface as you undo your ruined undergarment and sink down into the heated bath.
“You won’t join me?” you ask poutily, nuzzling into his palm when his thumb strokes over the curve of your cheek.
“I’m afraid you have made me avoid my duties for long enough,” Zayne sighs, shaking his head. “We may not be at war but there are still certain things I must look after as the lord of this territory.”
“That was hardly my fault,” you protest, although you’re unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face before you lean over the edge of the bath and kiss him sweetly.
“No,” he muses, standing up to straighten his dark robes, “I suppose I cannot blame you for befitting your role as the Lady of Anlan.”
You watch him quietly, stifling a laugh when he shifts uncomfortably, catching his narrowed gaze. He drops a fleeting kiss to your forehead before he turns to leave, his hair swaying prettily.
“And when you come back,” you call out teasingly, sitting up in the bath, “will you do all those terrible, wicked things to me, Zayne?”
He pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you. You don’t miss the way his gaze drops – just for a moment – to take in the swell of your bare breasts before he turns, striding towards the doors.
“Yes.”
–
“Where is it?”
You grumble under your breath, rifling through your garments and robes that had been brought here, shoving your head into the cabinet to try and find the offending garment.
You were sure you had brought it, especially following the knowing glances your maids had shot you, their giggles soft as they had helped you pack. A few more frantic rummages later, you find what you’re looking for, the sheer, silk nightgown nearly slipping out of your hands.
Zayne had to be returning soon, you were sure of it. At least an hour had passed since you had bathed, the lanterns outside glittering prettily in the growing darkness of the night. Shedding your robes, you slip into the nightgown, adjusting the straps before smoothing your hands over the thin garment.
It left little to the imagination, similar to your undergarments, although the fit was far more flattering. You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully, trying to channel an air of grace as you wait for Zayne to return.
But when the hours pass and Zayne is nowhere in sight, you groan, slumping back against the pillows. There’s a dull ache in your shoulders from trying to stay upright in that awkward position, although it’s nothing compared to the ache between your thighs.
You squirm, still aroused even after the bath, pussy clenching longingly as you feel the phantom brush of his fingers against your skin. Glancing at the door, you will for him to come striding through the doors, eyes narrowing in concentration. The doors stay stubbornly shut, unbending against your will and you huff out a breath, unable to wait any longer, hand disappearing under the hem of your nightgown.
You’re already wet, slick beginning to drip through your folds as you slide your fingers between them, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. The press of your fingers against your clit is enough to take the edge off for now, hips bucking when a thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine.
It’s already warm inside your chambers, but when the image of Zayne’s face materializes behind your eyes, you feel hot. Arousal curls around your body – heady and unforgiving – drawing a soft whine from your lips as you rub at your clit desperately. It’s nothing compared to Zayne’s fingers though, his lithe digits knowing as they had explored you despite his inexperience.
Even so, the thought of Zayne being all yours has a moan escaping you, your pussy clenching as you slip two fingers inside, beginning to pump them in and out. They don’t reach as deep, don’t satisfy you the way Zayne’s had.
“Z– Zayne,” you whisper, cheeks flushing with slight mortification at being so wanton.
But when your clit pulses, throbbing for attention, you whimper and move your fingers, letting them slip back up to rub at the swollen bud feverishly.
“Zayne,” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut. “Zayne… ah– I need you.”
“I see you have begun without me, my beloved.”
You shriek, flailing as you sit up, pulling your hand free from between your thighs. He stands at the edge of the bed, somehow looking like a heavenly vision, his hair loose and flowing over his shoulders, the black robes a stark contrast against his pale skin.
“Zayne, you’re here,” you laugh breathlessly, brushing your hair out of your face, “I… I was waiting for you.”
“Wearing that?” he murmurs, gaze dark as it travels over your body hungrily. “You truly have no shame, love.”
“Shame?” you echo indignantly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You did not have any shame when you were sucking my breasts through my undergarments!”
Zayne hums, his head tilting as he watches the way your thighs squeeze together. Your arms drop, the mattress dipping under your weight as you crawl towards him, settling near the edge of the bed.
“You need not stop on my account,” Zayne says finally, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “I want to watch you. May I?”
“You… you want to watch?”
“Yes.” Zayne’s voice is soft when he answers, a pretty flush of pink sitting high on his cheeks, the tips of his ears reddened.
His request has heat pooling low in your stomach, your fingers tightening into the blankets before you nod slowly, moving to sit back against the pillows, spreading your thighs for him.
Zayne inhales sharply when he sees you, nightgown pulled up to your hips, pussy spread open for him.
“Only if I can watch you,” you whisper, biting your lip as you let your fingers drift over your puffy folds.
You half-expect him to protest, but you receive a curt nod instead, your eyes widening as you watch him shed his robes and silks, breath catching when you finally see him bare.
A few scars litter his muscled chest and abdomen, similar to the ones streaking across his forearms. You swallow harshly as you follow the lines of his body, gaze dipping down to find his cock already hard. It’s longer than you’ve ever seen and thick too, pre-cum glistening at the tip as it bobs gently, struggling with its own weight.
“I do not think it kind of you to hide something like this from me,” you manage out, unable to look away from his fat cock, your fingers beginning to move against your own will, rubbing at your clit.
“My body?” Zayne murmurs, his hand wrapping around his cock as he begins to stroke his length, pace lazy and relaxed. “The opportunity never arose.”
You whimper softly, hips beginning to roll as your fingers move, circling your clit faster, hazy eyes watching as Zayne’s hand tightens around his cock, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with every stroke.
“You look beautiful like this,” he whispers hoarsely, watching as you squeeze your breast through the nightgown. “Spread open and wanton for me to gaze upon.”
“Only for you,” you mewl, thrusting your fingers inside your aching cunt with a needy moan. “I need your fingers, Zayne,” you gasp, beginning to rub at your clit with your other hand, trying to spread your legs open wider, “mine– nghh– do not reach deep enough.”
“I am too weak to resist you,” Zayne groans, stepping forward, his fingers brushing yours aside as he sinks two digits inside of you without pretense.
Your toes curl, hands pawing at his thighs before you find his cock, fingers greedily curling around the fat length. “I like it,” you murmur, hips rocking into his hand as you stroke him uncoordinatedly, “your cock.” Your eyes light up when it twitches, gasping softly when a glob of pre-cum beads at the tip, rolling down the side of his cock.
You surge forward without thinking, tongue dragging up along the length of his cock to catch the glob, lashes fluttering at the heady taste that spreads over your tongue. Zayne’s moan startles you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stares down at you.
“I thought you were innocent,” he rasps, pushing your hand away when you reach for his heavy balls with interest. “I thought you were sweet, my beloved. But it seems as though…” Zayne trails off, leaning over you as he quickens his pace, fucking his fingers in and out of you, his eyes glinting when you cry out, thumb pressing hard onto your clit, “my wife is a temptress.”
“Then– ahh– fuck– you ought to be glad I am wed to you, Zayne.”
A low snarl tears its way out of his throat. “Eternally, love.”
You squeal when he drives his fingers into you roughly, the snap of his wrist audible before he’s kissing you eagerly. Your noises are muffled by his mouth, Zayne’s lips searing as he kisses you, his hand sliding up to settle around your throat loosely. He licks into your mouth the moment your lips part, stroking and taking until you’re left dazed and breathless.
“I wish to taste you,” he mutters gruffly, his nose brushing against yours as he kisses you again. “Will you let me, my sweet?”
“Yes,” you slur, nodding and whining at the loss of his fingers, “I need you, Zayne.”
As though he’s been waiting for this very moment, Zayne drops to his knees, guiding your legs over his shoulders. Your fingers slide into his hair when he kisses your thighs, cleaning the slick smeared over your skin messily with a broken groan.
“Are– are you sure?” you squeak out, thighs trembling when his hot breath fans over your fluttering cunt. “You need not– Zayne!”
His name leaves you in a wail, your elbows giving out underneath you when he buries his face into your pussy. Your back arches, toes curling as you try and cling onto something – his hair, the sheets, anything – eyes rolling back when his tongue glides through your warm folds.
“You taste divine,” he rasps, thumbing apart your folds, his lips pursing before he spits down onto your messy cunt. “Like the finest nectar.” A low groan escapes him as he presses his face into your pussy again, the bridge of his nose shoved against your clit, his tongue lapping at the velvety skin of your pussy before his lips move, suctioning around your clit.
Your hands slam against the bed, hips bucking uncontrollably as your inhibitions are pushed aside with every movement of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands around your thighs.
“You– oh– you said you did not take a lover,” you whisper dazedly, fingers fisting his hair to pull, one of your hands moving to press his face harder into your throbbing pussy, head tipping back when he moans. “How did you learn such things, Zayne? Your tongue– fuck!”
“The Imperial Library holds a great wealth of information,” Zayne murmurs, kissing your clit gently, drawing back to watch the pitiful clench of your pussy around nothing. “And a royal education covers… many things.” He glances up at you, the lower half of his face shining with your arousal, your cheeks flushing when he smiles up at you tenderly. “I only want the best for my wife.”
“The best,” you echo, mouth dropping open when he spits once more, spreading it all over your cunt as though it were something normal, “of course.”
“Are you not pleased with my efforts, my beloved?” he whispers, his voice lilting as he laps at your pussy, tongue prodding against the fluttering hole.
“Quite ahhh– the contrary, dear husband.”
It is wicked, you realize, the way he’s able to draw such debauched noises from you, to have your body moving so wantonly to his ministrations. The coil of pleasure in your lower stomach keeps winding tighter and tighter, your breathing growing more violently ragged, thighs squeezing around his head.
Your legs jerk when he presses his tongue into your pussy suddenly, eyes flying open in a panic to find him watching you, always watching, his tongue beginning to fuck in and out of your cunt.
“Oh my–” you whimper, sweat beading over your skin, your body shaking as he holds you down by your hips, rising up to shove his face between your thighs deeper as though trying to force his tongue in further. “Zayne– Zayne!”
“Are you close?” he asks, words slurred with how his tongue is still buried into your cunt. “Hm? Will you cum for me once more? Fall apart on my tongue, my sweet?”
You let out a strangled noise in response, trying to grab for his hand, guiding it to your clit. Zayne understands immediately, his fingers beginning to rub in quick, tight circles while his tongue works into you, his free hand sliding up over your chest, long fingers pressing into your mouth.
Your lashes flutter at the unexpected intrusion, but you suck before you can stop yourself, grasping his wrist as you let your tongue swirl over the digits, hips rolling to meet his mouth. Zayne grunts when your thighs tighten around his head involuntarily, feet slipping over his back until his mouth finds its way back to your clit.
The harsh suck he delivers to the throbbing bud of nerves sets you alight, a hoarse scream echoing through your chambers as your back arches off of the bed, your teeth sinking into his fingers as you writhe on the bed. You can vaguely hear Zayne’s wince and a slight tug has you releasing his fingers in a daze.
“If anyone is driving another to madness, it is you,” you mumble, refusing to look at him when he kisses your cheek, your body hot with embarrassment.
“There is no reason to be shy,” Zayne whispers, smiling against your sweat-slick skin, his hands rubbing over your sides and back when you curl up.
“No reason to be shy?” you retort, swatting his chest. “Everyone must have heard!”
“It is snowing,” he soothes, his fingers adjusting your nightgown, “the wind is deafening and no one is stationed outside our chambers, my beloved. You may be as loud as you wish.”
“That is not the issue!”
“You were not concerned with propriety earlier,” Zayne counters, his eyes shining when you sputter.
“Propriety is one of my greatest concerns,” you say indignantly. “I am extremely passionate about propriety, Zayne.”
He laughs, pulling you up into his lap, your eyes widening when you feel the brush of his cock against your thighs. “Is that why you infiltrated my home?” he asks, his arms wrapping around you to draw you closer to his chest. “Hm? Is that why you scale walls and–”
You surge forward, shutting him up with a kiss, mewling when he sighs into your mouth. His hands can’t seem to sit still, wandering over your body but never straying as he deepens the kiss, fingers tangling into your hair.
“Be quiet,” you whisper, your hand slipping between your bodies to grasp his cock, still hot and hard.
“As you wish, my love,” Zayne murmurs, his head tipping back when you begin to stroke his cock.
You follow the length of his neck, down his muscled chest and abdomen, biting your lip as his cock twitches in your hand. Leaning forward, you kiss his neck delicately, smiling when you hear his breath hitch.
When you squeeze his cock, drawing out a spurt of pre-cum, a whine slips free from Zayne, his eyes fluttered shut and cheeks darkening in color. You click your tongue, teeth scraping over his neck in chastisement when he whines again, glancing up to find his teeth buried into his lower lip in an attempt to muffle the sound.
“Are you have a hard time staying quiet?” you ask teasingly, your free hand reaching down to cup his throbbing balls, smiling when his abdomen tenses and his hips buck. “It is almost as though you are… desperate, Zayne.”
“Gods,” he groans, his hand cupping the back of your head when you kiss his neck again, your breasts pressed against his chest through the sheer, silk fabric. “How is one to stay quiet when his wife plays with his cock?”
“You do make such pretty noises,” you coo, smiling up at him when he glances down at you with half-lidded eyes.
Not looking away, you let your tongue loll out, spit dripping lewdly from the tip of it, coating the head of his cock. Zayne moans, his fingers tightening around your hips as he pants, his forehead pressing against yours heavily.
“That’s it,” you murmur when Zayne whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut when you pump his cock faster, taking in the unbidden pleasure flickering across his face. “You’re doing so well, my love.”
“You– hahhh– you are using my own words against me.”
“And you are enjoying it,” you muse, spitting down onto his cock again, your pussy clenching when his cock throbs and leaks with heavy globs of pre-cum.
It coats your hand, his cock slick with his own arousal and your spit, leaking over your knuckles and down to his balls, staining the sheets below you. His cock twitches and you can feel his thighs tremble beneath you, the press of his fingers into your flesh becoming almost painful.
“You’re making such a mess, Zayne,” you sigh, kissing him sweetly, mewling when he whines into your mouth. “How unbecoming of a royal lord.”
“You– ahh– are wicked,” he rumbles, inhaling sharply when you squeeze his fat cock hard. “Such a wicked wife.”
A contented hum leaves you, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you lick and suck, your hips rolling with need as you continue to play with his cock, your thumb swiping over the head of it. Zayne groans loudly, lurching into you as your wrist twists, dragging your hand along the length of his thick, hot cock.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hand finding yours, trying to slow your movements. “You ought to stop.”
“Why?” you pout, teeth scraping along his jaw roughly, tongue laving over the fine stubble that lays across his skin. “Do you not wish to cum?”
“Not like this,” Zayne rasps, a ragged gasp leaving him when you massage his balls eagerly, letting them sit in your hand as you rub your thumb over the silken skin. “My beloved– hahh– I… I wish to be inside of you.”
You blink up at him, hands settling on his shoulders when he moves you, laying you down onto your back. Zayne’s fingers move deftly, rucking your nightgown up until it’s up over your head, his hands smoothing over your waist and hips.
You squirm on the bed, swallowing nervously when he settles between your thighs, his cock brushing against you briefly. He pauses when he sees your conflicted expression, his hands reaching for yours, fingers lacing together tightly.
“Do you wish to stop?” he murmurs gently.
“No,” you say, shaking your head, heart thudding in your chest. “I just… I… I like you a lot,” you mumble, biting your lip. “I did not think you would feel so affectionate towards someone like me.”
“You saved me,” Zayne says, his words sincere. “It was you that delivered the keepsake. Without you, everything would have been lost.”
Your lower lip trembles for a moment, your fingers slipping over his chest tentatively before your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down towards you. Zayne’s lips find yours, soft and sweet as he kisses you, his long hair brushing along your skin.
“The gods have blessed me with your presence,” he continues, lips drifting over your jaw to place a gentle kiss to your fluttering pulse. “Do not doubt my affection towards you, my beloved. I–” he clears his throat, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, muttering your name. “I love you.”
“Oh.”
The air is punched out of your lungs as you register his words, gaze flickering as Zayne presses himself closer, like he can’t bear the thought of being kept away from you. Your stomach flips when he kisses your neck, arms tightening around his neck whilst your heart beats so violently that you can hear it in your ears.
“I…” you stare up at him when he draws back, eyes fluttering shut when he strokes his hands over your hair and down the sides of your cheeks. “I love you too, Zayne.”
He lets out a heavy breath, a small, affectionate smile playing on his lips. You smile back, allowing yourself to let out a shaky laugh when he kisses your forehead.
“Then I shall be yours,” Zayne whispers, his hands finding your hips, squeezing gently, “for as long as you wish to have me.”
You watch hazily as he grasps his cock, sliding it through your folds before he presses the head against you, his hips moving forward minutely. You bite back a whine when the head of his cock slips inside, already having begun to stretch you. Zayne groans, his heady gaze watching as your pussy stretches around the thickness of his cock, his brows drawn together as he rocks his hips forward.
“It–” you gasp, hand reaching for his blindly, your fingers entwining together, “it is too big, Zayne.”
Zayne growls, spurred on by your words as he thrusts experimentally, burying more of his fat cock inside of you. “And yet you take me so well, my love. Look at how well we fit.”
You glance down, watching with dazed eyes as his cock disappears into your pussy, inch by inch, gasping when you clench around him and realize how utterly full you are.
“Sucking my cock in so greedily, hm?” he murmurs, shifting his hips until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, massaging your waist as your walls flutter around his fat length, trying to accommodate him. “What a pretty, greedy little cunt.”
You whimper, words failing you as he draws his hips back, his hazel-green eyes watching your every expression intently.
“Feels– nghhh– good, Zayne,” you hiccup, nails digging into his broad shoulders, eyes rolling back when he drops some of his weight down onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours.
“You’re so tight,” he groans, his hand sliding over your hair to hold you in place as he begins to snap his hips harder. “So warm– fuck– entirely and utterly perfect.”
“For you,” you cry out, feeling the bed sway with every thrust. “Only– only ever for you.”
That seems to encourage Zayne more than anything, his lips pressing against your ear as he snarls deep and rough, his thrusts beginning to grow quicker. You think you may very well be seeing the aurora, let alone stars as he grips your hips, drawing back before lowering his head, mouth latching onto your breasts.
You shake when he thumbs and pinches at one of your nipples, hands flying to his hair as his tongue swirls around an areola, flicking against your hardened nipple without abandon. The dark, coarse hair at the base of his cock scratches along your clit with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass rapidly, the lewd noises erupting through your chambers.
“I want you– oh– forever,” you slur out, cock-drunk and warm under his affectionate motions, a dopey smile spreading across your lips as he kisses your cheek. “May I have you forever, Zayne?”
“May the gods have mercy,” Zayne mutters under his breath, nodding against your cheek, a disbelieving laugh slipping out of him. “Yes, my beloved,” he replies, thrusting hard, burying his cock inside of you, a groan leaving him when your pussy clenches desperately around his throbbing, fat cock, “you may have me forever.”
A satisfied coo leaves you at his answer, your legs tightening around his hips as he rocks his hips, finding an unforgiving rhythm that has you whining uncontrollably. He muffles your noises with a rough kiss, hissing when your nails rake down his back.
“That’s it,” he rasps in between kisses, fingers cupping your jaw to hold your head still, spit leaking from the corners of your mouths. “Mark me, my sweet. Make me yours, forever. Show me what I mean to you.”
In a sudden surge of boldness, you push at Zayne’s chest, shoving until he moves, falling onto his back. You’re crawling atop him before he can protest, relishing in his broken, hoarse moan as you sink down on his cock, rolling your hips without abandon.
“Gods– are you trying to kill me?” Zayne murmurs, his voice strained as you shift, shins coming to rest across his thighs as you place your hands on his chest, using him as support to let your hips rise and fall.
“I… I want you,” you slur, mewling when his hands move to squeeze your breasts, his nimble fingers toying with your nipples as you ride him. “Zayne– nghhh!! I want you, I want you, I want you!”
You jerk in his lap when his hand comes down on your ass, arms wrapping around his neck when he sits up, crushing his mouth to yours. It’s filthy and so terribly unbecoming for a royal lord and lady to be acting in such a way – so lewdly, so uninhibited.
“Then have me,” he says roughly, hands clamping onto your hips before he’s guiding your movements, dropping you down onto his cock before lifting you and repeating the motion. “Fuck– have me, my sweet. Take my cock, that’s it, good girl… take everything I give you.”
You pant against his mouth, clinging to him, hands lost in his long tresses, pulling at his soft hair as you lick into his mouth messily, letting him jerk you up and down on his impossibly thick cock.
It’s all so overwhelming, especially with the way his cock is hitting exactly where you need him, against that sensitive spot that has you moaning loudly.
“It’s too much,” you whine, face pressed into the crook of his neck, the pleasure in your stomach growing with every press of his cock inside of your dripping cunt. “Zayne, I– I’m close!”
“So am I,” Zayne whispers, an arm wrapping around your waist, his biceps flexing with every motion. “You’ve done so well for me, my beloved. Let go, hm? Cum on my cock like a good girl.”
You pull back to look into his eyes, stomach swirling in a shy, flustered daze when you see the warmth in his eyes and the soft smile that plays on his lips.
“I love you,” you mumble, hips rolling to meet every press of his cock inside of you, your brows furrowing as you watch his eyes flutter shut. “I love you, Zayne.”
“Forgive me.”
Your mouth opens to ask whatever for, but he’s moving you onto your back, hands finding yours, squeezing tightly as his hips pound into you. A sharp scream tears its way out of your throat, your knuckles whitening as you hold his hands, eyes rolling back when he buries himself to the hilt with a particularly harsh thrust.
“Cum,” Zayne snaps lowly, his lips pressing against your cheek. “Cum for me, my sweet wife. Cum on my cock and I shall make you mine in every possible way.”
You don’t need any more encouragement, body thrashing under his when his fingers rub against your clit in one brief circle, the coil of pleasure snapping as you cry out and moan. Zayne groans at the sight, his hips stuttering when your pussy clenches hard, stubbornly keeping him inside.
“My beloved, we mustn’t–” Zayne gasps, his head falling forward as a long-drawn groan leaves him, his cock twitching inside of you.
You mewl, squirming when he spills inside of you, hot, thick cum flooding your pussy as your walls continue to flutter around his fat cock, the grip on his hands loosening. Zayne pants, his head falling against your shoulder, hair sticking to his back and arms, his breathing ragged.
His softening cock slips out of you a few moments later and Zayne manages to draw himself off of you, both of you exchanging dumbstruck glances when you notice his thick cum leaking out of you slowly.
“I…” Zayne swallows, brushing his hands over your aching thighs gently, “was not intending on an heir so soon.”
You flush, thighs squeezing shut. “Perhaps it will not take?”
You poke your stomach with mild interest, squealing when Zayne drapes himself over you, arms wrapping around his neck as he peppers kisses all over your face.
“And if it does?” he murmurs, nuzzling into your cheek.
“If it does,” you sigh, cupping his cheeks, thumbs stroking over his skin tenderly, “I should expect my husband to take the utmost care of me.”
“Naturally,” Zayne smiles, his lips soft as he kisses you, a hand smoothing over your stomach.
You run your fingers through his hair when he shifts, biting your lip when he kisses your stomach. He glances up at you, and you smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You yawn as the heady, lustful atmosphere fades, replaced by something slow and syrupy in the aftermath of your intimacy, enough to have your eyes drooping shut sleepily.
But perhaps the wind was never as deafening as Zayne thought because something loud thumps against the doors to your quarters, a flurry of hushed whispers following before someone mutters something about keys.
Your eyes snap open, mortified, while Zayne pulls himself off of you, tripping over his discarded robes before he’s grabbing at them and draping the thick robes over you. You try and sit up, to make yourself look at least a measure more presentable, Zayne cursing under his breath as he finds a new set of robes, pulling them over his body.
“My Lord! My Lady! Do not fret! We have heard your distress–”
A group of maids and guards alike stumble into your chambers, their panicked expressions fading as they digest the scene before them – Zayne leaning against a wall awkwardly, you sprawled over the bed, sheets rumpled and an utter mess and you engulfed in Zayne’s robes no less.
“We are perfectly well,” Zayne manages out, pinching the bridge of his nose irately.
You smile wanly at them, your hands moving belatedly to smooth down your tousled hair.
“Perfectly well,” a maid echoes, staring between the two of you before she’s ushering everyone else out of the chambers, her head poking inside before she shuts the doors. “I shall have a bath drawn. Would you perhaps like some tea? Cake? Sweet tea? I seem to recall we had–”
You bury your face into the pillows.
Zayne sighs aggrievedly. “Please leave us.”
–
The new novel is delivered to you past midday.
You stare down at the title, rolling your eyes irritably. “The Cold Lord’s Boundless Affection: The Thrilling Sequel?” you scoff, beginning to flip through the pages agitatedly, skimming through the passages. “Why is a sequel needed? The first two were already bad enough.”
“Now, now,” Zayne murmurs, his lips brushing over your forehead as you squirm in his lap uncomfortably, “you mustn't be so easily vexed, my beloved.”
“You should be more concerned about this,” you hiss, waving the novel in his face. “This– this is a farce!” You scan a passage, finger pressing against the page roughly. “Upon noticing his wife’s distress,” you read aloud, “the cold lord swept her into his arms with such affection that she began to swoon.” You shake your head vehemently. “That is simply untrue!”
Zayne smiles up at you, his hand rubbing against your stomach. “Is it?” he asks, feigning confusion as his brows furrow, “I do seem to recall some swooning on your part.”
“I did not swoon, dear husband,” you grouse, tossing the book aside as you shift in his lap once more, trying to ease the dull ache permeating through your lower back. “If anything I was in charge of the situation and you were the one overcome with emotion.”
He laughs at that, his body shaking beneath yours and you huff out a breath, feeling warm with your own feelings of affection as he kisses your cheek.
“In any case,” Zayne says, helping you stand as you sway unsteadily on your aching feet, “my affection towards you is boundless, is it not?”
“Is that why you have given me another child?” you mumble, staring down at your swollen stomach, rubbing your hand over it gently. “I cannot do with another set of twins, Zayne.”
“You did this all on your own, my lovely wife,” Zayne muses, his hand pressing over yours, eyes shining when he feels the baby kick gently. You smile faintly, leaning back into his chest, head tipping back as he dips his head, kissing you. “Was it not you who stormed into my chambers and demanded another?”
You huff out a breath, chasing after his lips when he tries to pull back, tugging him down to kiss him deeper.
“I hardly demanded,” you whisper against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he cups your cheeks, calloused fingers stroking over your skin soothingly. “I very cordially requested that you take care of me, Zayne. You took it upon yourself to bend me over your desk.”
He hums, lowering his head to whisper into your ear. “You were wearing my favorite nightgown, my beloved. One might have been inclined to think that his wife may have been tempting him.”
You bite back a whine, pressing your face into his chest to breathe him in. “I cannot fit in it anymore,” you mumble sullenly, playing with his robes.
“And yet you look as radiant as ever,” Zayne whispers, his fingers sliding under your chin to tip your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. He smiles when he sees you pout, kissing you gently.
You sigh when he rubs your stomach again through your robes, the tension in your shoulders beginning to bleed out slowly. It’s short-lived however, the sound of a maid’s alarmed shriek making you jolt as a blur of color rushes past you.
“Young Master! Young Miss!”
Blinking owlishly, you watch as your twins – only four – laugh and run away from their maids and tutors, darting through the middle of the courtyard and behind pillars and trees.
“Again?” you sigh exasperatedly, unable to stop the fond expression spreading across your face as your children wave at you both, their little heads poking out from behind a statue, chubby cheeks rosy and eyes glittering with mischief.
Zayne smiles, his arms wrapping around you carefully, holding you tighter against him.
“They seem to take after their mother, no?”
You swat his arm, rolling your eyes. “You encourage them too much.”
A soft wince escapes you when the pain in your lower back worsens, your hand flying to your swollen stomach when you feel a strangely familiar wave of pressure beginning to press downwards.
“Zayne, I think…” you trail off, sucking in a sharp breath of air as you stagger, clinging to his arm tightly.
Concern flickers across his face, his hands moving to keep you upright as you gasp, feeling something wet rushing between your thighs until you glance down to find a small puddle of water at your feet.
You blink up at Zayne, watching as his composure wavers when he sees your dampened robes. The slight tinge of pallor to his skin and look of panic flaring through his eyes would make you laugh if not for the rapid waves of pain currently racking through your body.
You smile bemusedly, feeling the baby kick with renewed vigor.
Can you write about Nerdy!Zayne saying "Can I try something?" to you during the deed? I swear it's always the quiet ones being the most dirty ones in bed 😩
It's always the cute, nerdy, shy boys who turn out to be the freakiest guys in bed.
And Zayne was no exception.
If anyone had asked you what he was like as a partner, you’d have said sweet, gentle, respectful. After all, his whole life, he'd always had stacks of medical books, journals, and papers in front of his face, reading and absorbing knowledge like a madman. It made sense why he entered medical school at only 18 years old and breezed through it with ease; his discipline in academics was impeccable, to the point that he almost had zero to no social life.
When he started dating you, people around you always teased you about him. The way his cheeks flushed when you pecked his cheek, the way he would look away when you complimented him, or the way his hands stopped writing for a moment when you leaned your head on his shoulder. He was a wholesome lover, no doubt.
But you’d also learned he had another side. A side that didn’t surface often, but when it did, you knew you were finished.
Tonight started innocently.
He’d come over to your apartment after a grueling shift from Akso Hospital, eyebags under his eyes, his white coat draped over his arm. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the couch, rewatching one of your comfort shows.
“I missed you,” he’d murmured, dropping a kiss onto your hair before disappearing into your kitchen to rummage for snacks.
He’d barely had a chance to finish his snack before you were in his lap, kissing him. It was slow, at first, a sweet, drowsy thing. But Zayne had this way of kissing you like he’d been starved. His steady hands slipped under your shirt, and then, somehow, you were being carried to your bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours.
And then it was all over.
You didn’t remember how you ended up here, naked and folded beneath him. Your knees pressing almost to your shoulders, the world had gone blurry except for the searing heat of his length between your legs.
He had you in a mating press.
Zayne’s glasses were discarded on the nightstand, his hair loose around his face, dark and shining with sweat. His pale skin flushed on his cheeks, his chest heaving as he looked down at you like you were something to be studied, ruined.
You’d known he was focused in everything he did.
You hadn’t realized that included this.
One of his hands gripped your thigh, holding your legs open, the other splayed across your belly—right over the deep, insistent ache where he was buried balls deep inside you. You could feel every thick inch of him, pressed so deep you thought you’d explode if he moved again.
And then he did.
A slow thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs.
He groaned, low and hoarse, his thumb stroking your skin.
“You’re…” He swallowed, voice tense with restraint. “You’re taking me so well.”
Heat pooled low in your stomach, the praise going straight to your head. You were too far gone to respond with anything but a broken whimper.
His hazel green eyes dragged up to meet yours. And then he said it, in that calm, almost academic voice of his:
“Can I try something?”
A shiver raced down your spine.
He didn’t elaborate, just pressed his palm a little more firmly against your lower belly, like he was measuring the place where his length filled you.
You knew, knew, whatever came next would wreck you completely.
But you still managed a nod.
His pupils dilated, his hips drew back, almost all the way out, then he thrust back in, hard enough the headboard struck the wall.
Your vision sparked white.
“Thaaat’s it,” he murmured, as though you were just another experiment for him to study, his voice gone almost gentle despite the obscene way he was pounding into you. “I can feel myself here…” His hand pressed harder into your womb, making you feel the effects of the rhythm of his hips more significantly.
“Zayne—!”
You were barely aware of the volume of your own voice, not knowing you were screaming.
He shushed you, leaning close until his forehead rested against yours. His breath fanned hot over your cheek, his next words a soft promise:
“I’m going to keep going, sweetheart. Just…one more time. Let me feel how deep I can be. I want to make you squirt all over me. You can do that for me, right?"
And as he moved, relentless and precise, you understood something very clearly:
CW: P0rn ⭐ reader. P in V. Oral s3x. Rough s3x. 🌽 Without plot. 🔞MDNI🔞
Xavier is not included cause he has his own HCs and that one will be added later on.
WC:1,979
Pornstar! Sylus who rules the porn industry's size kink world. As the top new talent, you must fuck Sylus so everybody knows you can fit anyone after he's had you, he is the biggest of them all after all.
Pornstar! Sylus delights in seeing his filming partners squirm when they glimpse his massive size nestled between their thighs, that fleeting flicker of vulnerability in their eyes or the way their grip on his forearms wavers as he pushes just the swollen head of his cock inside, is why he reigns in his domain.
Pornstar! Sylus who prepares you, licking your pussy with an expert tongue until you're seeing stars, his fingers stroking and curling inside you until you're dripping and relaxed. But the moment he tries to guide his thick, fat cock inside no matter how aroused or loose you are, it just won't fit.
Pornstar! Sylus who has never once found himself unable to fit anyone, until now. After several attempts to fit his cock inside your willing yet straining body left you both frustrated and wanting he has to admit defeat, at least for the moment.
Pornstar! Sylus who a few days later sends you a gift. A package arrives at your door and inside you find an array of silicone dilators, progressively larger, but he doesn't stop at the basics. You also find a custom made dildo, a perfect replica of his cock. The textured veins, the fat head it's all there, a faithful reproduction cast in the softest silicone. The note reads: "Practice makes perfect, sweetie." S.Q
Pornstar! Sylus who after weeks of eagerly waiting for you to train your cunt, finally has the chance to claim his prize. He makes sure your body is ready for his cock and then positioning himself at your entrance "Show me how well you've prepared this pretty little pussy"
Pornstar! Sylus who, once you've taken every inch of his dick, wastes no time in fucking you hard and fast. The moment he starts moving he is obsessed, obsessed with the sight of your pussy lips clinging desperately to his shaft with every pull out "Such a perfect little cock sleeve, made to milk my dick." Obsessed with the bulge of his cock clearly visible beneath the skin of your stomach "This... this is my cock, kitten. My fucking cock is the one doing this to you. Stretching your little tummy into a goddamn tent"
But what truly drives him wild is the way your mouth envelops him, throat opening wide to accept his cock until your nose is pressing against the coarse hairs at the base. No training needed, no hesitation, no gag reflex, just eager, wanton hunger. "If your throat can take it this well, sweetie, I'm going to fucking ruin you."
Pornstar! Rafayel who paints the town red with his lustful antics. His name a whisper on the lips of every one in the industry. Rafayel, the man who fucks like a god and can make even the most depraved acts look like a work of high art.
Pornstar! Rafayel who is a master of his craft, and his craft is pleasure. Your pleasure. Your body and your mind, he molds them like the clay, sculpting you into a vision of ecstasy.
Pornstar! Rafayel who takes his time with you, he knows that the best art takes time to create, to perfect, so he takes his time exploring your body. His tongue traces the line of your collarbone, your sternum, circle around your nipples until they're pretty little stiff peaks begging for more.
Pornstar! Rafayel who binds you with silken ribbons, your wrists, ankles and even your waist, he adorns you with different colors that paint your naked skin like a masterpiece. Blindfolded, you're left to rely on your other senses. The scent of him, the taste of your own arousal on his lips, the sound of his voice, low and rough, the feeling of him tracing patterns on your skin with melting wax candles, the heat a delicious sting.
Pornstar! Rafayel who knows exactly how to push your buttons, to tease out every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body. His greatest skill is his uncanny ability to read people, he senses the tiniest shifts in your breathing, the subtlest clench of your muscles. He uses this knowledge to drive you to the brink again and again and make you beg.
You feel him smirk against your inner thigh as he licks, sucks and nibbles, his chin rough with stubble, scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. "Too much, cutie?" he taunts "Want me to stop?" As if. You shake your head frantically, stopping is the last thing you want, the last thing you need. You need more, always more, and he knows it. He knows that each orgasm he gives you is better than the last, more intense than the one before it.
So you take it. You take every finger he plunges into your dripping cunt, every curl and thrust and scissor. You take his tongue as it laps at your clit, as it fucks into you and makes you see stars. You take his dick, thick, hard and perfect, splitting you open. The slide of his cock into you is like the glide of a fine brush on canvas. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, designed to draw out your pleasure until you're drowning in it.
Pornstar! Rafayel who cums with a groan that starts low in his chest and builds to a loud moan. You feel the heat of it as it fills you, painting your insides with his release. Then the camera zooms in, capturing the moment in vivid detail, Rafayel watching his cum drip out of you with a smug grin.
Pornstar! Rafayel who knows without even looking that every single man in that room, from the cameramen, the lighting assistants to the props team, has an obvious erection beneath their clothes. He is that good.
Pornstar! Zayne who is not the very popular in the adult entertainment world but that doesn't mean he is not every woman's ultimate fantasy come to life. He's a pornstar who actually knows what he's doing, a rare breed in an industry filled with fakes and posers. He's got skills, the kind of skills that make you forget your own name. With Zayne, you don't need to fake an orgasm.
Pornstar! Zayne who is not just about the chase, he's all about the catch too. He knows the female body like the back of his hand, every hidden trigger point. He can make you cum just by playing with your nipples, fingertips dancing across the sensitive buds until you're shaking under him. With him, squirting is a given, not a maybe, and he makes it look so easy, so natural, like he was born to make you gush and moan his name at the same time. By the time he's done with foreplay, you'll be a panting, needy mess, desperate for him to fuck you.
Pornstar! Zayne who eats your pussy so good you have to grip his hair tight with both hands to hold his head in place. "Yes, just like that baby, don't stop! Ahhhh, your tongue feels so fucking good!"
Pornstar! Zayne who does not give in to the impatient demands of a greedy pussy. No, Zayne likes the build up, the slow burn of anticipation and need. So when he feels you start to rock your hips, trying to take his cock deeper or faster he is quick to bring you up short. "Ah ah ah, not so fast," he admonishes, his hand coming down sharply on the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, followed by your startled yelp of pain and surprise.
"Did I say you could take what you wanted?" He lands another firm smack on your other thigh, watching with satisfaction as a red handprint blooms across your skin.
"I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you. You just have to be patient and take what I give you" he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "I'm not going to let you cum until I say you can. And I'm not ready yet, so you're just going to have to wait until I decide you've earned it."
Pornstar! Zayne who knows exactly what to say to praise you "Your tits look so perfect bouncing like that" "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" And he talks you through it too "Can you feel that? How deep I am inside this tight little cunt."
Pornstar! Zayne who is seen by others as cold or too clinical because he stops mid coitus to turn his partners to face away from him. It doesn't matter if it's doggy style, with their asses up and faces down, or reverse cowgirl, where he can see the curve of their shoulder blades and the dip of their waist as they bounce on his cock. Against the wall, with their hands braced above them and their backs arched in a perfect bow. People think it's because he wants to avoid the intimacy of cumming while looking at them, what they don't know is that there's one view of the female form that never fails to make his blood run hot and his cock throb with need.
It's not the bounce of a perfect pair of tits, or the alluring sway of a woman's hips. No, it's the strong, supple curve of a woman's back, the graceful arch of her spine, and the play of muscles beneath her skin as she moves, that is enough to make him spill faster than any other stimulation.
Pornstar! Caleb who has a natural talent for porn, a charisma that just oozes sex appeal. It was in the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he looked at you with those hungry eyes that could switch to puppy eyes real fast.
Pornstar! Caleb who only had to audition once to get a role. The directors saw his potential right away, said he had a certain... something and a stamina that just didn't quit.
Pornstar! Caleb who excelled in all sorts of scenes, but taboo ones? Those were his specialty. Stepbrother, stepfather... He could make a girl believe it, the way they creamed on his cock while he called them "my little sister" was something else.
Pornstar! Caleb who eats you out through your panties "That's it, princess, grind on my face," he bites and suckles your clit over the fabric until your release soaks through the fabric and coats his tongue.
Pornstar! Caleb who loves it when you cling to him while he rails you into oblivion. Seeing you writhe on his cock, nails digging into his back, leaving those pretty red scratches, it made him want to fuck you even harder and faster. Spitting in your mouth, choking you a little? He'll do whatever it takes to make you cum on his dick. Your pleasure, your moans, your screams.. all his.
Pornstar! Caleb who steals your panties when you're not looking, taking them back to his apartment to add to his "special drawer", a repository for all those stolen treasures. He calls it his 'special collection', though it is anything but special to any of the girls he has slept with.
Pornstar! Caleb who beneath that warm friendly exterior, conceales a beast of a cock that could nearly match the size of his colleague Sylus. They were both signed to the same agency but excelled in different areas. The agency had sent offers to different girls to work with them both, but they always declined, no girl wanted to be wrecked by the biggest in the industry. You, on the other hand, felt tempted
[MALFUNCTIONING ANDROID!CALEB] overstimulates you until you cry | CW: 18+ mdni, smut, a smidge of angst, overstim, crying, light aftercare
You should have taken Caleb to the shop to get checked out after he took a fall and clipped his head against the edge of a kitchen counter. He insisted he was fine, pushing his hair back to show you his forehead, clear of scratches or dents. His pupils looked fine, no slurring, or amnesia, but you should have remembered he wasn't exactly human with human symptoms.
No, his issues appeared in different ways.
"C-Caleb!" You slur, a mess of drool, sweat, and cum staining your skin. Your aching body has been pushed past its limit for an hour now, and Caleb is still drawing out more and more orgasms from your poor, weeping cunt.
He hasn't given you a single break to catch your breath, not that you really want one. The pleasure borders on pain, overwhelming and all consuming. Usually, his heartbeat monitor would alert him of your over-exhaustion, letting him know you need a break and set him into aftercare mode, but not tonight.
He doesn't seem all the way here. There's a dullness in his eyes that you're not used to—just an android focused solely on pulling as much as he can out of your body.
You've lost track of how many times Caleb made you come. Three? Five times? All alternating between his mouth, fingers, and cock until your body trembles at the slightest touch.
You're left as nothing but a twitching, sensitive mess beneath him. Your ability to think slipped out a long time ago, probably around your third orgasm when he bent your knees to your chest and sank his cock into your creamy pussy.
Caleb pinches your swollen clit, making you squirm and gasp, tears pooling in your eyes. "One more. You can take it," he insists, rubbing your aching thigh.
"N-No, c—ah!—can't!" Your lower lip trembles as he looms over you, determined to draw another orgasm from you. Your chest rises as you attempt to take a stuttered breath. "Please, I can't anymore!"
"You can," he grunts, bullying his cock back into your puffy cunt. As much as you whimper and squirm, your walls suck him in until he's balls deep in you. "Look—she's taking it so well. I know she wants more."
"Sensitive," you whine, arching into his thumb pressing down on your clit.
"'S alright, you're such a good girl. You can take it."
Once he starts pounding into you again, your aching thighs tremble. He's pushing you past your limits, and you're having trouble keeping up. Tears spill over and run down your temples as you hiccup his name. "Ca-Caleb—ngh—'s too much!"
You sob and claw your nails down his chest when he angles his hard thrusts into your spongey walls. Something snaps in you as another orgasm crashes over you in powerful waves. "F-Fuck!"
Caleb doesn't stop though. He fucks your through it as you shake and sob around him. "Knew you could do it," he purrs, swiping his thumb at the corner of your eye.
"Yes," you gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulders. Not quite pushing him off, but hoping he can feel it enough to slow down. "No more, o-okay?"
"One more," he presses, pulling your face back when you try turning away to wipe the tears into the pillows. "You can take it."
You curse and make your decision before he can well and truly wreck you. You find the divot of his power button on his sternum and press down.
Caleb jerks as if he was shocked, body locking up, and his eyelids begin to droop as he's forced to reset.
"Sorry," you whisper when his body gives out on top of you, burrying you beneath a mass of synthetic parts and metal. Trying to slip out from under him nearly takes up all your strength, but you free yourself and catch your breath, still trembling from your orgasm and the aching feeling between your legs.
Caleb's head is turned toward you, eyes half opened—dull, lifeless. A fresh wave of tears nearly spill from you for a different reason, but the familiar hum of him coming back to life makes you wipe away any trace of them.
"Caleb?" You murmur, reaching out to touch his cheek. He's still warm beneath you.
He blinks, eyes refocusing on his surroundings before zeroing in on you and your red rimmed eyes. His own widen as he assesses the situation and recalls his memories.
"Are you alright? Shit, I'm so sorry." He pulls you into his chest as you sniffle.
You go limp, sore all over but safe in his arms. "'m fine. Sorry I… turned you off."
"Don't be. Don't ever hesitate if I do that again, you hear me?" He pulls you into tighter, running his soothing hand over your back. "C'mon lemme hear you."
"Okay," you mumble, eyes fluttering as the exhaustion finally catches up. "But we should get you checked out later."
He hums in agreement, the vibrations of his chest pulling you into darkness. "Yeah, but for now let me take care of you."
A/N — still haven’t gotten varka (whatever I don’t want that beautiful beefy tall dual wielding anemo man anyway eww yucky 😫) but I wrote this through the tears bc I miss my beloved android caleb <33 hope you enjoyed!! let me know what you think + rbs always appreciated! thanks for reading! (˶˃𐃷˂˶)
