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@rollingforromance
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Negotiations
a closed starter for @ask-the-monster-nest
Renzaru’s heavy footsteps echoed against the stone as he climbed the steps, each one measured but unbothered by the eyes that trailed him. He looked out of place — feral, almost — among the polished elegance of the town. Bare feet touched cool marble with no shame, and his wild white hair framed his face in a storm of untamed strands. The red-skinned oni wore a dark kimono that clung to his broad frame, its fabric whispering with every step.
He didn’t care how out of place he seemed. He never had.
When he stepped into the hall, the hush was immediate — a tension that hung in the air, thick and waiting. Renzaru didn’t flinch. His crimson gaze swept across the room until it landed on the blue-haired male standing off to the side. That smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, casual but unmistakably sharp. Like he was used to being the most dangerous one in the room — and had no interest in pretending otherwise.
“I’ve come to speak with the leaders of this area,” he said simply, his voice low but firm, the kind of tone that left no room for dismissal. Calm, but heavy with presence — like a storm biding its time.
Renzaru watched the other man from across the table, chewing thoughtfully as he enjoyed the meal laid out before them. His crimson eyes flicked up with amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. The food wasn’t half bad for a city tavern, but it was the company that really kept his attention. He leaned back slightly, lifting his drink for a small sip, still watching the knight with a teasing glint in his gaze.
“You know,” he said with a low chuckle, “I think my clan would be a bit too much for someone like you. City folk—no offense—tend to be a little soft when it comes to rough living.” Renzaru nudged the other man gently, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. “And trust me, it’s not just the lifestyle you’d have to survive. If I brought you back home, I’d have to fight off half my clan. You're too pretty for your own good—men, women, doesn’t matter. They’d be lining up to try and claim you as a mate.”
He leaned closer over the table then, lowering his voice with a sly grin. “Not that I’d let them. If I dragged someone like you all the way out into the forest, I’d be keeping you for myself.” There was a teasing warmth in his words, but also a flicker of something more sincere in his gaze. He sat back again and reached for another bite of food, clearly pleased with himself—and maybe a little curious how the knight would respond.
Starter for @rollingforromance
Quincy had been preparing for the tribes moon festival. He went to the forest shrine and cleaned up around it. He wasnt expecting anyone to be there. Topper sat on his shoulder and he got down and tried to help as well. The two continued to clean till the place was completely clean.
The dark-skinned elf wandered the room with quiet steps, her fingers trailing gently along the edges of shelves and old stone walls, but never prying. She didn’t snoop—only observed, curious but respectful. After a while, she returned to her seat by the fire, the warmth a comforting balm against the evening chill. Lirael opened her journal again, flipping through her neat notes and soft sketches, before settling into another page. Her gaze shifted between the page and the man resting nearby.
She smiled to herself as she watched him sleep—his breathing steady, features softened by slumber. There was something unguarded about him now, something she hadn’t seen when they first met. Her fingers moved slowly across the page, shading in his jawline, the fall of his hair, the way one arm had fallen across his chest. The drawing wasn’t perfect, but it was intimate—an honest attempt to capture a moment of quiet she knew she wouldn’t want to forget.
Sleep came gently for her, creeping in like mist. Her head dipped forward, her breath evening out. The journal slipped from her fingers and fell open in her lap, the half-finished sketch still visible on the page. In it, he looked peaceful. Content. Much like he did now, with the fire casting soft gold over them both, and the night wrapping them in a silence neither feared.
Quincy woke up a bit later and stood to put a blanket on her and he noticed the drawing. He looked at it briefly and smiled before watching her sleep. He went to make some tea and snacks and set her cup next to her.
She was beautiful there was no denying that. He looked her over observing her. He was quiet to not disturb her sleep.
Lirael blinked groggily as the soft thud of her journal hitting the floor pulled her from sleep. She stirred on the couch, curling instinctively into herself, the remnants of her dreams clinging like fog around her thoughts. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the soft light of the room. The scent of herbs and old parchment still lingered, grounding her in the familiar safety of her home. When she saw him—still there—her heart gave a quiet, grateful flutter.
“I apologize,” she murmured, her voice still touched with sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, the motion delicate and dazed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” A small flush touched her cheeks as she glanced down to see her journal now resting on the ground, half-open. She reached for it quietly, hoping he hadn’t seen the sketch she’d been working on before sleep overtook her.
Her gaze drifted back to him. The man hadn’t vanished like a dream, and there was comfort in that. “How long was I asleep?” she asked, her voice a bit stronger now, but still gentle. She tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear and straightened her posture, trying not to appear as vulnerable as she felt. “Did you rest at all?” Something about the way she looked at him—soft, questioning—hinted at a tenderness she hadn’t meant to reveal so openly.
From @crests-playground
💿
Sigurd and Urza, please.
send me a 💿 and i'll shuffle my music and write a starter based on the first song i get!- Genie in a bottle; Rain Paris for @crests-playground
Urza perched on the edge of the bar like she owned it, her thick, muscular legs swinging slightly as she took a casual sip of her ale. The goblin's ragged clothing left little to the imagination, but her confidence was what made her truly striking. Her sharp orange eyes gleamed with mischief as she studied the one who’d caught her attention.
"What brings someone like you into a place like this?" she asked, voice husky and playful. There was a grin tugging at her lips as she tilted her head, her short black hair falling to the side. The way she spoke wasn’t just curiosity—it was challenge, invitation, maybe a little tease wrapped in velvet.
“Food, ale, or fun?~” she asked again, dragging out the last word, letting it hang between them like bait. Then came the smirk. “Although… some fun may be a bit too much. Depending on what you can handle.” She took another drink and licked a bit of foam from her lower lip, still watching, still waiting.
Urza moaned into the kiss, her small body shivering as the last waves of her orgasm rippled through her. Her lips parted around a ragged gasp when his fingers finally slipped free, leaving her slick and empty—and then she felt it. The thick, hot weight of his cock pressing against her soaked entrance, so much larger than anything she’d ever taken.
Her orange eyes fluttered wide, her breath catching as he began to push inside. The slow stretch made her arch her back, her green fingers scrabbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. Inch by inch, he filled her, the sensation so overwhelming she couldn’t hold back a strangled, needy cry.
“So big!~” Urza whimpered, her voice thin and desperate as her walls clenched around the thick length driving deeper into her tight, trembling heat. Her thighs tried to close around his hips, but he held her open, every slow thrust sinking her down further onto him.
She dared a glance down and felt her breath stutter at the sight—her small, slick folds parting wide around the thick cock stretching her open, her body swallowing him inch by inch. A broken moan spilled from her lips as she clung to him, her heart racing with dizzy, helpless pleasure.
He grunts as he finally hilts himself, wondering if *maybe* he should've transformed himself into a smaller species first.
Urza's almost painfully tight around his shaft, leaving the 22-year-old scared to move.
"F-fuck~ L-let me know... When I can move." The words are forced through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the bed to stabilize himself.
Urza moaned softly, her small green body trembling as she shifted. Her orange eyes glanced down, widening at the sight of the bulge pressing against her stomach—a stark reminder of just how deep he was inside her. He was almost too much, stretching her in a way that made her thighs quiver, but the raw fullness only sent a rush of heat pooling low in her belly.
Her breath came in quick, shallow pants as her body slowly adjusted to his size, the initial sting melting into an aching pleasure that made her toes curl. She tilted her head back slightly, her dark hair falling into her flushed face, and bit her lower lip as a shiver ran through her.
“Go ahead and move,” she whispered, her voice trembling but laced with need. Her small hand settled on his thigh, steadying herself, while her other hand traced over the faint bulge on her belly with a mix of awe and desire. The sensation of him so deep inside her made her pulse quicken.
“I want to feel you~” Urza moaned, her body already rocking slightly, eager for the stretch and drag of his thick cock moving through her tight, wet folds. Her grip tightened on his thigh, her hips giving a small roll to urge him on, eyes half-lidded and burning with want.
GDM's M/F 3C Seraphina and Antony
Rituals of flesh; Seraphina romance for @skullboysfinale
Seraphina gasped, the breath catching sharply in her throat as he pressed deep into her rear. The sensation struck her like a jolt—foreign, intense, and all-consuming. Her slender frame tensed instinctively. Blue eyes widened in surprise, the heat rising to her cheeks in a swift, burning flush.
She brought a hand to her mouth, muffling the soft, startled moan that broke free. “I… I do not think…” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of her own heartbeat. “It’s not… I do not think this is meant for this…”
The words weren’t protest, but wonder—an awed disbelief, as if something sacred had been broken open inside her. The cleric had lived by restraint, by duty, by quiet, obedient control. But here, in this moment, she felt none of those things. Her body was no longer following holy rites or rituals—it responded to something raw. Something real.
It was a new sensation. And one she would not forget.
Antony could have any women he wanted, yet he focused his lust on Seraphina; not only was her a beautiful angel, but a woman devoted to her faith. No better way to mock her religion than making her fall into the temptation she asked the believers not to fall into. The vampire had great plans for her, and for her now tainted body.
Pulling her hair to force her to arch her back and press herself against his body, Antony licked her neck before baring his fangs, sinking them into her delicate skin, drawing some of her blood. Unlike other vampires, Seraphina wasn't going to be turned because of his bite, it was merely his way to mark her and plant the seed of doubt in her mind; to make her question her faith even more, and simply accept her place as his lover from now on.
☥ "From now on... I will come to you every night. It doesn't matter where you try to hide, I'll be there. In the darkest catacombs or in the holiest of altars, you shall not escape me, no barrier will keep me from claiming you over and over, until you willingly renounce to your vows and accept me as your only lord and savior..." He whispered those words in her ear, the only other sound around them being that of their bodies clashing, echoing through the church.
@rollingforromance
Seraphina moaned, her voice breaking into a breathless cry as each slow, deliberate thrust rocked her body. The thick heat filling her stretched her open in a way that left her mind hazy, her pale skin flushed and damp with sweat. She braced herself against the bedding, her golden hair spilling in tangled waves over her shoulders, every nerve alight with raw, sweet ache.
When his hand fisted in her hair and pulled her back, a shiver coursed through her spine. Her soft whine turned into a gasp as her back arched for him, her hips instinctively pressing closer to the thick cock claiming her. Her blue eyes fluttered open, glassy with lust, and lifted to meet his gaze—so close, so hungry, so impossibly commanding.
She felt her pulse stutter at the look in his eyes, her lips parting as though she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the pleasure building higher with every slow, devastating push inside her. “I…I will be yours…” she mumbled, her voice thin and trembling, but certain. Her lashes lowered, her mouth falling open around a helpless moan as her body quivered against his.
The words felt like a surrender, soft and absolute, as her walls clenched around him. She felt like she was melting, owned and cherished all at once, her world narrowing to the relentless heat of his cock moving deep inside her and the hand holding her so firmly in place.
The vampire smiled once more as he heard the saint surrender; she finally gave in... no, it was more precise to say she finally admitted how much she loved this. To be owned, to be used, to be loved like any other woman... Sure, she could be worshiped by many as an angel, a virgin or a saint, even as a goddess, but she was condemned to a gilded cage where no one would ever make her feel the joy of being cherished, or to be fucked until she passed out with a smile, knowing that there was a man ready to keep claiming her as soon as she regained consciousness.
A woman like Seraphina wasn't meant to be worshiped by many as a saint. She was meant to be worshiped as a woman by him, and as a queen goddess by humanity, if she succumbed and became his lover for eternity.
☥ "Say it again. Swear to me that you'll be mine forever, as you say my name. Antony, your king, your Lord, your God... your lover." The vampire whispered in her ear, his dark skin glistening with sweat in the dim light of the holy, now desecrated sanctuary. He then made her turn around so she could see the altar of her church: all those so-called holy symbols and effigies, judging them, condemning them... He simply grinned as he grabbed the woman's face with his hand as he suddenly started fucking her faster. He wanted her to reach the most intense orgasm of her life in front of those images of saints, of those things she used to believe in, as a sign of her new-found loyalty to him.
As he kept fucking the holy woman in front of the altar, Antony's breathing became heavier, his body trembling despite his strong grip on her; his cock was now throbbing so intensely in her ass, she probably knew what's going to happen next. Clinging onto her, Antony looked with her at that altar, a cruel grin on his face, before he finally arched his back and released a thick, hot string of semen deep into her tight ass. His laughter mixed with his pleased groans echoed across the church, knowing that Serpahina, that holy woman everyone adored for being so kind and pious, was now his lover, a defiled failure of a priestess.
@rollingforromance
Seraphina moaned, her voice breaking into breathless cries as each rough thrust drove her forward, her hands gripping the altar’s edge for balance. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the sacred space, loud and obscene, each slap of his hips against her ass sending a shudder of pleasure rolling through her trembling frame. Her blue eyes were wide at first, staring at the altar before her as though it could ground her, but soon they fluttered half-shut, dazed with need.
“Antony~ I am yours!~” she cried, her voice thick with surrender and bliss. Her body squeezed around him, each punishing stroke pushing her closer to the edge until her legs quivered, barely able to keep her upright. Every growl from him, every sharp thrust only made the heat in her belly coil tighter, threatening to unravel her completely.
Then she felt it—his release spilling hot and thick into her ass, the sudden warmth making her arch her back with a sharp, helpless scream of pleasure. The sensation pushed her over the brink, her own orgasm tearing through her as her body clamped down, trembling violently as she came.
Her blue eyes rolled back, her lips parted in ragged cries as the waves of ecstasy left her trembling against the altar, her breath broken and shallow while the heat of his seed seeped deep inside her.
Seraphina swallowed softly, her flushed throat working as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she lifted her gaze, taking in the sight of him—still flushed from the last time, and yet already hardening again, the heavy length stirring against his thigh. Her blue eyes went wide with a mix of awe and shy, heated curiosity. So soon?
A soft cough slipped past her lips as she cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice despite the warmth pooling between her legs all over again. She met his gaze, and despite the pink blooming across her cheeks, she offered him a sweet, almost reverent smile.
“Do you…wish for me to continue to help you?” she asked, her voice quiet, threaded through with soft devotion. She shifted closer on her knees, her golden hair spilling forward over her shoulders in a silky curtain as she leaned in.
Her lips brushed the tip of his cock in a delicate, worshipful kiss, feeling him throb under her mouth. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, her own body already aching to feel him again. She looked up at him through her lashes, voice barely more than a breath as she whispered, “You can have any part of me you want.”
Looking down at the sister now that she had finished, Junsui really couldn't help but admire how hot she was. That beautiful blonde hair clinging to her, those plush lips that had just been pleasuring him, the large chest hidden in her clothes.... No wonder he was feeling so pent up and needing to release.
At her question, his face flushed bright pink and a brow raised. He had expected her to reject him, or to tell him to repent... Not to offer more. He swallowed nervously and nodded.
"Please sister... I need your help... I must release these sinful thoughts...." His own voice gentle and desperate too, as he brushed his hand through her hair when she gave the kiss. His cock shivering at the touch. "M-May I use your pussy then please....? I do not know if oral is enough to satiate these urges... "
Seraphina hesitated for only a moment, his words echoing in her mind before she found the courage to act. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat loud and unsteady as she rose to her feet. With trembling fingers, she slid her panties down the soft curve of her thighs, her breath catching when the cool air kissed her already heated skin.
The blonde cleric moved to the table, her movements shy but deliberate, and eased herself onto the edge. Her robes bunched around her waist, pooling like soft clouds as she parted her legs, her slick folds glistening in the candlelight. Her blue eyes flicked up, uncertain but filled with trust, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.
“Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the quiver in her body. “Use it however you wish.” The words left her lips with a mix of nerves and something almost pleading, a bright pink flush spreading across her cheeks as she fought to hold his gaze.
“Please…be careful,” Seraphina added, her voice shaking slightly as her fingers curled against the table’s edge. “I am new at this.” Her lips parted in a shallow breath, the vulnerability in her tone as plain as the way her body trembled in anticipation, open and waiting for his touch.
A priestess despoiled
closed starter with @rollingforromance
The day that had been fortold was finally here, the screams of the temple-palaces inhabitants and the laughter of their attackers filled the smoky air. The walls had fallen over an hour ago and while the templeguards fought bravrly, they were severly outmatched by the warband of veterans the horseman had brought.
Then finally, the doubledoors to the inner sanctum flew open, the bar holding it shut splintering like a dry branch, revealimg a truely intimidating sight.
Krieg was large enough to almost fill the entryway, permitting only small glimpses at his troops behind him. Each head of his massive axe contained enough steel to forge dozents of swords... allthough little of the metal was visible underneath the plentifull blood. The segmented armor his muscular body was incased body contained enough material to arm an srmy.
His head however was bare, short dark hair, messy and cacked in blood and a dowright mad grin upon his face he took a couple steps into the room... and the floor quaked.
"Oh yes... you do look like a high priestess..." he laughed, shaking the blood off his axe. "... a hint too lithe and lightskinned for a proper darkelf but that can be fixed."
Lirael stood very still, her slender shoulders held in a careful, practiced poise that didn’t match the tremor in her breath. For a moment, she just looked at him, violet eyes dark and searching, as though she were trying to find some sign this wasn’t truly happening.
But when she turned her gaze to the soldier standing guard just beyond the threshold, something in her face went quiet—like a lantern being shuttered. She drew in a soft, shaky breath, her tanned skin flushed across her cheekbones. Then, with a grace that looked almost too controlled, she lowered herself to her knees on the polished floor.
Her heart felt tight—too tight—like someone had driven a blade into her chest and left it there to burn. She didn’t let it show, not fully. Only the smallest quiver in her lips betrayed her as she lifted her chin and met his eyes again.
“I am yours, master,” she whispered, the words tasting as hollow as they sounded. Her voice was honeyed, rich as ever, but it clung to something brittle she couldn’t quite hide. “I will do whatever my lord wishes of me.”
Lirael kept her back straight, her palms resting delicately on her thighs, her violet gaze steady even as something behind it fractured. The edges of her mouth trembled before she forced them back into a careful, perfect line. And though she looked the part—composed, obedient—her eyes told the truth: that every word felt like a wound she had to swallow.
"Good~" Krieg murred with a cruel smile and turned his head to the waiting soldier.
"Cull the wounded enemies, collar the girls and women." the order was quick, precise... practiced. Then his gaze returned to Lirael, the smile had gone. "You could've been at this point two weeks ago without any dead you know?" he asked almost softly as the man left, closing the door behind himself.
"You could've stood by my side and announced your cities submission to your people but now... now I'll have you declare your surrender in front of them. Question is... would you like that to be your first rape? Or would you like to get used to your new purpose right now?"
Lirael's knees ached against the cold temple floor, but she barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on the figure standing before her—the man whose presence had brought fear crashing down on her village like a storm. Her breath trembled in her chest as she reached toward him, magic drained, hands empty. She had never begged like this before, never fallen to her knees before a man. But she would do anything—anything—to stop the suffering outside. The screams still echoed in her ears, and guilt clung to her like a second skin. “Please…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please don’t hurt them anymore…”
His reply didn’t make sense at first. Her thoughts were spinning, but his words sliced through the panic. Lirael’s eyes searched his face, trying to understand. Was this some kind of game? Some cruel test? Her breath caught painfully as her heart pounded harder. Her entire body tensed, caught in a moment between surrender and confusion. Why wouldn't he ask for something a warlord would? She’d heard of tyrants who demanded gold, ancient relics, even priestess blood for their rituals. But this man—he didn’t ask for any of that. He only looked at her. He wanted something else.
A different kind of fear crept into her chest then—fear of the unknown. She remained there, vulnerable and exposed, but now it wasn’t just her people she was trying to protect. A dark curiosity bloomed beneath her fear, rising alongside a strange shame she couldn’t name. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to sound brave, but the words came out barely more than a breath. Her voice wavered as she met his eyes, heart pounding like a drum. If he had demanded her life, she would have offered it without question.
Lirael moaned, her dark lashes fluttering as his voice curled around her like something warm and unshakable. The way he spoke—steady, so sure, promising her she didn’t have to worry—made her chest tighten with something she didn’t dare name. She nodded, biting her lip as she braced herself, but when she rolled her hips back into him, she hadn’t been ready for how deep he’d reach.
The new angle made her mind haze over, her breath stalling in her throat as his thick cock pushed into her soaked, quivering core. Every slow, deliberate thrust sent white-hot pleasure rippling through her, her body clenching tighter with each stroke. She tried to keep moving, tried to hold onto her focus, but it was already slipping through her fingers.
Her sex fluttered in a frantic warning she couldn’t have stopped even if she’d wanted to. “Jordi!~” she cried, her voice breaking as her body locked around him, a rush of liquid heat soaking them both as her orgasm ripped through her. A string of Elven tumbled out between ragged gasps, her words pleading and unrestrained as her thighs shook around his hips.
“Don’t stop—please, gods, don’t stop~” Lirael sobbed, as she rolled her hips again, needing every thick inch of him even as she came undone. Her whole body was shaking, her soaked folds pulsing around him in helpless, desperate waves.
Promises made, promises kept. He doesn't speak just for the sake of speaking. Every word murmured contributes to a meaningful conversation in some way, shape, or form. The Inquisitor groans audibly, his breathing caught in the back of his throat as every rhythmic thrust propels his thick, pulsating shaft into her soaked, glistening folds. Jordi readjusts his position, a forearm securing itself around Lirael's midsection, maintaining her stability as their bodies undulate in tandem.
The crescendo reaches its climax. She cried out his name as she orgasms, soaking both of them in her essence. Between a rush of Elven dialect tumbling from between her rosy lips, and the Aegir's own heavy pants, a twinge of satisfaction washes over him. But her words are pleading and unrestrained, begging the medic for a prolonged continuation of their tryst. ❝ I won't stop until you tell me so. ❞ He whispers sweetly into her ear, before withdrawing out of her entrance. Lumen bit his lower lip, suppressing a groan at the loss of warmth.
Positions switched, Jordi now sat at the edge of the table, legs splayed and stiffened member on full display, a singular bead of precum dotting the surface. He guides Lirael towards him, shimmering golden eyes meeting her amethyst gaze head-on, countenance softening. ❝ An Aegir like myself can go on for quite a while. I... ❞ The medic's sentence culminates abruptly, as he rolls his hips again to meet hers, the tip of him pressing achingly into her slit—a slow back and forth grind against her outer folds.
❝ Ride me, Mi Tesoro. ❞ An affectionate term of endearment slips through his lips, the Iberian accent thickening his words as both hand reach for Lirael's, palms facing upward and fingers intertwining with hers. ❝ I trust you. ❞ Enough to relinquish control and lower his guard around her.
Lirael whimpered softly as he slipped from her, the sudden emptiness making her thighs twitch and her breath hitch in protest. Her body still ached with the ghost of him inside her, slick and tender, but when he shifted back and settled into that new position—inviting her in—her heart gave a small flutter.
Blush coloring her tanned cheeks, she nodded wordlessly and moved to straddle him, her movements slow and careful, as though savoring each moment. Her hands found his shoulders first, then slid around the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair as she leaned down to kiss him—soft, slow, reverent.
As she began to lower herself onto him, the thick stretch made her gasp, a trembling whimper slipping past her lips as he filled her again. Her arms tightened around him, needing the closeness, needing the grounding of his body against hers.
Her hips settled fully, her breath catching as her forehead came to rest against his. “You feel amazing...” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her body began to rock gently, holding him close as if afraid he might fade if she let go.
Nyssaria moaned, her voice breaking into ragged, breathless cries as Jun began to pound into her harder, faster. The wet slap of their bodies colliding echoed around them in a feverish rhythm. Her golden hair sticking to her flushed cheeks, her violet eyes rolling back with every delicious, punishing stroke.
“Jun—” she gasped, the word dissolving into a sharp scream when he bottomed out, the thick length of him grinding perfectly inside her soaked, fluttering heat. She couldn’t hold it back anymore—the way he moved, the raw hunger in his voice, the heat pooling low in her belly. Her thighs trembled around his hips, every muscle tight with desperate, aching need.
“I’m gonna—” Her sentence fractured on a broken, high moan as her orgasm slammed into her all at once. Her body jolted on top of him, back arching as her cunt clamped down around him in frantic, pulsing waves. “Fuck—fuck, I’m cumming!” Nyssaria sobbed, her voice bright and raw as her release soaked him.
“Don’t stop—Jun—gods, don’t stop!” she begged, her hips rolling to meet every deep thrust even as her body convulsed. Tears welled in her lashes as she shuddered, her voice a ragged plea. “Fill me—please—fill me!” she cried, her hands sliding down his back to hold him tighter, needing to feel every last heartbeat of him inside her.
Lords.... Her moans were so attractive!! As was her body, and the increasing raggedness of her hair and expression as they continued to fuck. He returned the moans himself, as his rapid pace continued.
As she screamed his name once he began hitting her womb, he did his best to sloppily and passionately leave kisses on her neck. His hands doing his best to fondle her. But all of this proved difficult as he kept his primary focus on pounding her as deep and lustfully as possible. The sounds of his skin against hers echoing in the room.
And finally, as she released and he felt her wonderful juices surround his erection, he knew that he too was close. Now that she was begging for it, he smirked. "Nyssaria....! I-I...! Me too!!!"
Her wish really was his command. After a few more thrusts between the two of them, just as his cock reached its deepest point inside her walls, he finally came - releasing a huge load in her as he screamed her name in pleasure; gripping her tightly until finally he had let it all out. Before giving a few last thrusts.
"Fu-fuck!!!!" He moaned in pleasure.
Nyrissia cried out softly, her breath hitching as she felt the warmth of him spill deep inside her. Her legs trembled around his hips, her body tightening instinctively to hold him there, to savor every pulse of his release. As his movements began to slow, the intensity of the moment gave way to something quieter—something sweeter.
She panted, her chest rising and falling as she let her hands drift into his hair, her fingers weaving through the damp strands with gentle affection. Her touch was slow, grounding, a silent way of saying she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“That was… amazing, love,” she whispered, voice thick with the softness of aftermath. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips—not like the hungry, breathless ones from before, but something gentler, more tender. Her lips lingered against his in a quiet promise, her heart still racing beneath the sweat-slicked skin.
Though her body still trembled with the echo of her climax, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, holding him there in that small, perfect stillness between breath and heartbeat.
A New type of dance
closed starter for @askcyndaquil
Zarimah had felt that gaze on her all night, lingering in the smoky lamplight as she moved across the worn wooden stage. Every sway of her hips, every slow roll of her belly had been for the crowd—but it was them she kept glancing back to, savoring the way their eyes followed her like a touch.
When the music finally faded and the last of the coins clattered onto the stage, she slipped down the steps, her bangles chiming a soft, secret rhythm. She crossed the tavern floor with the same easy grace she danced with, her dark hair spilling loose around her flushed face.
“Did you enjoy the show?” she purred, her voice low and honeyed as she stopped by the edge of the table. One tanned hand settled lightly on her hip, her thumb toying with the drape of her dancer’s skirts as she tilted her head, studying them through thick, dark lashes.
“Would you like a more private viewing, cutie?~” Zarimah asked, her smile widening as heat bloomed in her chest. She let her gaze drift down their throat, then back to their eyes, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “I promise I’m even more fun up close.”
Logan had only come down to get a drink and some food in him before bed. But the moment he heard that voice, he was entranced. Her every word, every movement of her body - it was hypnotizing to him.
The fox was so lost in the beauty of the dancer that he didn't even noticed the music had faded. He didn't even realize that she was walking towards him until she spoke.
Even through his blue fur, his blush could be seen. Instantly forming as he was snapped out of the stupor. "O-oh y-yes! I-it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life..." He stammered, unable to take his eyes off of her.
"A...p-private...v-viewing?" Against all odds, the fur on his cheeks turned from blue to purple thans to how deeply he was blushing. Logan squirmed under her gaze, squeezing his thighs together to hide what was growing between them. "Are you sure you want...me...?:
Zarimah nodded, her expression softening as she reached out, her fingers warm and sure as they curled gently around the other's hand. “Of course I want you,” she said, voice low and earnest, the words carrying more tenderness than teasing now. Her thumb brushed a slow circle against their palm before she stepped back, never letting go.
“I have a room upstairs,” she murmured, tilting her head as her amber eyes searched theirs, “but if you'd rather I come to yours… I’ll follow.” The choice hung between them like a promise, her voice velvet-smooth, inviting without pressure.
Then she turned, her hand slipping free only once she knew they’d follow. She ascended the narrow stairs with a dancer’s grace, hips swaying in a slow, deliberate rhythm that begged to be watched. Each step was quiet, controlled, but her confidence shone in every movement, every flick of her hair and the subtle glance she cast over her shoulder.
Zarimah didn’t need to ask if they’d come. The heat in her smile said she already knew.
"Wait, so you're a fairy druid? Huh, I don't know how to react to that. Then again I'm half vampire, and dragon blood coursing through me," Sariah looked at Kyra
Kyra nodded eagerly, her delicate wings giving a little flutter behind her as she smiled up at him. Even standing on tiptoe, she barely reached the height of a local goblin, but she carried herself with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly where she belonged in the world.
“Yep!” she chirped, her voice bright and musical as she brushed a stray curl of golden hair behind her pointed ear. “I’m a druid. I work with the rest of the fey to keep nature in check—heal what’s hurt, help things grow.” Her soft green eyes glimmered with pride as she spoke, the faint glow of her magic dancing across her fingertips when she gestured.
But when he mentioned his lineage, her expression transformed. Kyra’s mouth parted in a small, breathless gasp, her wings trembling with excitement as she leaned in close, nearly chest to chest with him despite their difference in height.
“You have dragon’s blood!?” she burst out, her voice warm with wonder. Her tiny hands pressed to his arm as if she needed to feel he was real. “That’s—gods, that’s incredible. What’s it like? Can you breathe fire?”
❛ Let me ruin your lipstick—and everything else. ❜ from Razhar
"Oh, the big bad dragon is going to ruin me, whatever shall I do?" Kaia mused, clearly teasing as she looked at him. She slowly disrobed in front of him, teasingly slow with her movements. "Go ahead....ruin me."
Razhar kissed her back, the heat of it softer now—steadier. Each slow thrust rocked into her with deliberate care, nothing of the earlier hunger or feral edge in his measured pace. His hips moved faster, but never rough, the thick drag of him inside her somehow even more intimate in this quiet, careful rhythm.
This was no longer the beast she’d glimpsed before, all raw need and claiming growls. This was the soldier: precise, unflinching, every movement made with purpose. His clawed hands held her hips in a firm, anchoring grip, thumbs brushing over her skin.
“I know you are not,” Razhar murmured, his breath warm against her parted lips. He dipped his head, pressing another kiss there—slow and reverent, the kind that felt like a promise. “Which is why I let this continue.”
His golden eyes opened, searching hers as he spoke, his voice low and rough with something that went deeper than lust. “I felt you would not hurt me,” he whispered, his hips rolling into her again, thick and steady, his hands tightening just enough to keep her close. And there, in the hush between their joined bodies, it was so clear—this wasn’t just desire. It was trust.
This was different then before, so intimate and close. This was something is greatly liked as she kissed him back, her soft noises muffled before he pulled away. "Hehe...I would say the same...to you...it feels so good...you inside me like this." she panted out. Kaia was always a daring type and it paid off greatly this time. "I'm yours....all yours..." she praised as she could feel the coil inside her growing undone.
Razhar looked down at her, the candlelight glinting off the scales at his jaw and the deep, molten hunger in his golden eyes. His breath came a little harder as he quickened the steady rhythm of his hips, each slow stroke growing deeper, thicker, more deliberate. Even then, there was a tenderness in the way he moved—like he was reminding himself she was breakable and he never wanted to hurt her.
“Careful, sweetness,” he rasped, his voice rough with pleasure but threaded with a warm amusement that softened the threat in his words. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he bent to kiss her throat, his fangs grazing her skin in a teasing scrape. “I may actually keep you as a bride if you keep that up.”
He shifted, bracing one big hand under the curve of her hips to tilt her higher. The angle made her walls flutter around him, tight and hot and so perfect he couldn’t quite stifle the groan that slipped past his lips. His cock pressed deeper with every thrust, the pointed tip brushing the tender mouth of her womb in a slow, maddening rhythm.
Razhar leaned over her, his breath warm against her cheek as he rocked forward again, his hips meeting hers with a wet slap that made his claws tighten on her thigh. “Gods…” he breathed, voice thickening as he watched her body arch for him. “You feel incredible.”
"Don’t tease me if you don’t plan to follow through." Ka'rokh
"What if I plan to follow through though? What then hm?" Kaia was playing with fire again but she was only being playful. "I'm not scared of hyenas. In fact, I think they are cute." She spoke the truth, she really did think that.
The gnoll watched her with that hungry, unblinking gaze as he set her down on the bed, careful in a way that didn’t match the feral strength in his big body. His broad hands lingered at her waist, claws grazing her skin before he leaned in and pressed his muzzle to her throat.
A low, rumbling growl purred from his chest as he nuzzled lower, his hot breath ghosting over the curve of her breast. He paused, letting his long tongue flick out to taste her stiff nipple, dragging slow, wet circles that made her body arch under him. When she gasped, he pulled back just enough to kiss her—deep and claiming, all teeth and heated breath.
“More…” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and rough with want. He caught her hand in his much larger one and guided it down, wrapping her fingers around the thick length already stirring again against his belly. It was still slick with their mingled release, hot and heavy in her palm.
“More,” he growled again, the word trembling with need as he pressed her hand tighter around him, his hips giving a small, helpless thrust into her touch. His golden eyes locked to hers, bright and wild, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of stopping when he’d only just begun.
❛ What if I said I’m not wearing anything underneath this? ❜ from Zarimah
Kaia blinked for a moment before chuckling softly. "Well....I'm not wearing anything underneath myself, so great minds think alike." she teased with a wink.
Zarimah nodded, her breath still coming in soft, shaky little sighs as she leaned in to meet the other woman’s kiss. She melted into it without hesitation, her arms slipping around the warm body pressed so close to hers. When she felt gentle fingers guide her head down to rest against that bare chest, something in her heart fluttered—small and hopeful and achingly sweet.
She smiled, her cheek pressed to the steady thud of the other’s heartbeat. A flush spread across her tanned skin as she let her lips brush a tender kiss over the slope of her breast, savoring the softness, the quiet warmth.
“Thank you, miss…” Zarimah murmured, her voice hushed and almost shy as she tilted her face up to look at her lover’s eyes. The light made her hair look like spun copper, her mouth parted around the question she almost didn’t dare ask.
“Where…where can I see you again?” she whispered, her arms hugging her closer as if she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go without knowing the answer.
[ STRADDLE ] ; the sender straddles the receivers lap. for miss Serphina
Kaia was taken aback as suddenly, the little nun was straddling her lap. Well, this certainly was a surprise but she kept calm. "Oh? What's wrong miss nun? Did I do something wrong? I haven't done anything." Of course her mere existance could be what's wrong but she wasn't bothered by it as she looked up at the girl with a teasing smile. "Do you have something on your mind?"
Seraphina moaned, her voice dissolving into a soft, broken cry as that long, clever tongue pushed deeper inside her. Every slow, deliberate stroke hit just the right place, making her slender body tremble in the other woman’s hold. Her blue eyes fluttered shut, her golden hair sticking to her flushed cheeks as she rocked her hips down, desperate for more.
The gentleness only made it worse—made her mind go hazy and sweet and helpless. She could feel her orgasm already building, heat coiling low in her belly in tight, insistent waves that had her breath catching in little gasps.
But even as her body tensed, she didn’t stop. She pressed her mouth more firmly to the other woman’s soaked folds, licking and sucking in frantic, eager strokes. Every little sound she drew out only made her own pleasure rise higher, her tongue moving faster as if she could make them both shatter together.
Her hips rolled harder, her thighs quivering as she moaned into the other’s slick heat. “Gods—” she gasped, her voice muffled and desperate. She was so close she could taste it, her whole body tight and aching as her release threatened to break her completely.
[ PUBLIC ] ; the sender touches the receiver in public. from Vaelith
Kaia wasn't phased as she felt someone touch her ass, trying to sneak their hand under her skirt. "My, my, people sure are bold these days. May I help you?" she asked, completely calm as she glanced at who was being handsy. "Usually people introduce themselves first, naughty boy."
Vaelith let out a low, satisfied chuckle, the sound dark and velvet-smooth as he watched her shiver around him. His hands slid down her thighs, thumbs brushing her soft skin before he lifted her legs and draped them over one of his shoulders. The change in angle made her slick heat clamp down so tight it pulled a groan straight from his chest, his dark hair falling forward around his flushed face.
“Fuck…” he breathed, voice ragged as he paused just long enough to savor the way her body fluttered around him. Then he rocked his hips forward again, slow at first, testing the new depth—and when he felt her squeeze around every inch, he couldn’t hold back. His thrusts grew faster, sharper, the thick slide of his cock dragging perfectly over her most sensitive spot.
The wet, rhythmic slaps of skin meeting skin filled the room, each sound driving him to rut harder into her. He leaned over her folded body, the tightness nearly overwhelming as he braced one hand by her head, the other gripping her thigh to hold her exactly where he wanted her.
“You feel—gods—so perfect like this,” Vaelith gasped, every stroke making her tighter, wetter, more impossibly sweet. The way her body clung to him sent pleasure coiling hot and unstoppable low in his belly, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
Oh, he was taking full advantage of abusing that sweet spot inside her. Kaia was trembling under him, unable to do anything to stop him. Not like she wanted to stop him but whatever. She couldn't last too long either, her moans filling the room as she came on his cock, tightening hard. He was way too good at this, she will give him credit where it was due.
Vaelith smiled, a wicked curl to his lips as he felt her body clamp down around him, slick walls fluttering in frantic pulses that milked him deeper. Her cries sent a hot thrill down his spine, and he couldn’t help the low, hungry chuckle that slipped past his lips. He kept thrusting into her, faster now, each deep stroke pushing her higher even as he lost himself to the wet, perfect grip of her cunt.
Her release coated him, making every thrust smoother, more urgent, until he felt the tight coil in his belly snap. He let out a ragged groan, his dark hair falling forward around his flushed face as he drove all the way in.
“Fuck…” Vaelith gasped, his voice raw as his cock throbbed deep inside her, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum into her quivering core. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her wide open for every shuddering pulse of release, the pleasure blinding and so complete he could only cling to her and ride it out.
For a long moment, he stayed there, buried to the hilt and breathing hard, feeling her body still twitching around him. Then he let out a shaky breath, his smile returning—softer now—as he brushed a damp strand of hair from her face.