#blade smut

[castielsloversblog]

MDNI: NSFW, smut, breeding kink, fandoms: jjk, twst, bllk, hsr, genshin, dol. (Does this count as yandere? Yes. I see this as yandere childe ngl)

-Men who absolutely use your hole like a personal cumdump even after you've already fucked for hours in every position imaginable just to make damn sure it's ovulation time and you're primed to get properly knocked up with their seed.

-Men who love ruining your hole, having your face-down in doggy style, pounding you from behind while they pin your fingers hard against the bed, interlocking theirs with yours so tight you can't pull away even if you wanted to, skin slapping skin relentlessly

-Men who go completely feral at the thought of you carrying their kid, belly swollen with their baby and the idea of your tits heavy and leaking milk makes their eyes roll back while fucking you

-Men who baby-trap you because they're selfish piecrs of shit, lonely as hell, and desperate to give you a permanent reason to stay by breeding your cunt and tying you to them forever

: Toji, sukuna, nanami, NAOYA, malleus, leona, kaiser, bunny, sae?, shidou, blade, jing yuan, Aventurine, Tartaglia (Childe), flins, Wriothesley, Zhongli, whitney, kylar, EDEN

[mewnbuns]

BODY TEMPERATURE | BLADE

⸺ ⟢ blade x fem! reader. pussy jobs. minors do not interact. soaking with blade in the hot springs. a little teasing and such but mostly just something to feed my friends. this is a little rushed so i apologise (i wrote this with one hand honestly).

⸺ ⟢ wc. 2.1k words.

You can just about make him out even from this distance. Perhaps it’s the sheer size of him, the mass of Blade’s muscled back and shoulders easily drawing your attention even as you slowly approach him from behind.

It had been your idea, to stop over in the hot springs while you were both nearby— hoping to lose yourself in a good, warm soak after all of your muscles were screaming at you for a break. Blade hadn’t put up much of an argument about it, and perhaps it’s because you think he could do with the soak too. Either that or he was just happy to oblige your request, but you’re not curious enough to question him on it.

Not when you get to admire the way the damp press of Blade’s hair clings to back of his neck, his body sinking lower into the warm water as you feel the warm air begin to brush over your own nakedness.

You try your best to stay as quiet as possible, even as you slowly creep over the cobblestone that leads you towards where he is, hoping that you may reward yourself with a few more seconds of being able to admire him unnoticed.

But you know Blade hears you, as he always does, acknowledging you with a subtle turn of his head as if his ears are perking up at your approach. He doesn’t move nor shift though, akin to the way a predator might remain still as to not alert their pray.

But if you’re the prey, you seem to be giving yourself up quite willingly.

It only takes a few more silent steps before you come to the lip of the springs, face to face with Blade and immediately you can feel it aswell as see it— the undisguised desire, hot and earnest in his eyes as he takes you in. He’s shameless in his admiration, much as you are to him.

Every look is slow and hungry, and the unwavering admiration is enough to make you shake when you take that first trembling step into the springs to join him.

Blade doesn’t miss a moment of it, not when he can watch how the water line clings to your breasts and molds to your bare straining nipples as you take a breath in. He watches you sink all the way down into the water, until you sit on a ledge at the other end of the spring where your thighs squeeze together and make an alluring, not so mysterious y-shape hiding your center from view.

It’s deliberate on your part, the distance. A detail that you know Blade won’t stand for, especially given the way his gaze is already devouring you completely. But it gets you the reaction you hope for almost immediately; a drop in Blade’s brows, a heat of something darker in his gaze and his jaw tightens before you speak.

You wave your hand through the water, transfixed by the ripples it creates beneath your touch, the shapes reaching all the way across to your lover at the other side.

“How does it feel?” You ask after a moment, “Better?”

“Mmph.” Is all Blade offers, stubborn. But it only makes you feel all the more playful, admiring the way his broad, scarred chest rests above the water.

His voice is much deeper when it calls your gaze back, and his huge body shifts. “Something wrong?”

“Nope.” You answer too quickly, tilting your head. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“Is something the matter with you? You’re scowling.”

It takes Blade a second to respond, you watch the lines of his neck and arms flex before he’s relaxing again, and your brows rise at him.

“Come.” He grunts, obviously unamused as he motions to a place by his side. “Closer.”

“This isn’t close enough for you?”

You swear you see the muscles in Blade’s jaw clench.

“No.” He grinds out.

“Are you sure? I thought maybe you’d appreciate some alone time.”

“Don’t toy with me, girl.”

You can’t help yourself, can’t help but rile up the same man many would consider to be a weapon because you see the way he looks at you, notice the way his heavy, half-hard cock is already twitching beneath the surface of the springs.

You could keep going for longer if you wanted, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to deny yourself of what awaits you either. Not when you can see the way the temperature of the springs have caused parts of Blade’s features to take on a pink flush, and his chest is rising and falling with his deep breaths.

It’s mouth-watering. So although prematurely, you find yourself closing that distance in only a couple of steps— perhaps driven by your own eagerness as Blade spreads his legs a little wider in anticipation.

You take your new seat by his side before giving him a look.

“Better?”

Blade returns it with one that’s equal parts unamused and full of desire before he motions with his eyes again. To himself this time.

“Here.”

And without a second thought, you do as he says.

Blade sinks into the warm water as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and climb on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his hips as you situate yourself down. Too close to his hard cock for it to be accidental, but he’s more than eager to have you slink into his lap and rub yourself against him.

His body feels like silk beneath you, water sloshing as you feel the first silky grind of his hard cock split through your folds before it’s catching on your clit, making you gasp and moan at the wet, tacky sound that follows.

His eyes all but burn through you.

“How about now?” You ask in a dreamier voice. “Is that what had gotten you so upset?”

“I have no patience for your games.” Blade grunts and grips your waist as you shamelessly rub your pussy across his cock beneath the water. “Teasing me is a bad habit of yours.”

“I thought you liked that about me.” You giggle, but it breaks off into a moan with the next clumsy thrust of your hips, the shaft rolling languidly through your split folds in a way that makes your toes curl.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, the feeling of Blade’s larger body beneath yours accompanied by the temperature of the springs. He feels so rough and safe and warm. You whine his name, nuzzling down into his damp hair and you feel his mouth catch on your soft breast as you lean yourself back to offer him more of it.

Blade’s mouth works at you tirelessly, lapping and kissing at your perked nipples until your thighs quiver, accompanied by the lurid back and forth sway of your hips in his lap as he mindlessly helps you rock back and forth along the length of him. He presses along your lips and the bump of your clit catches on his swollen cockhead, making you both twitch and your whole body jolts when he nips at your tits with his teeth.

“You’re disobedient. This will not end well for you.” He murmurs against your breasts, full of want.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into your own arm with a lazy, lewd swirl of your hips. Blade’s brows come down as his kisses find their way to your jaw, lips parting to grind out another groan and tease skin with teeth while his rough hands curl into the plush softness of your ass.

You press slow, soft kisses against his forehead, down over his nose and mouth and neck, following the valley of each scar, old and new. Blade lets his head fall back and a deep, guttural growl vibrates against your lips. “Know your limits.”

You pet his shoulders and chest, hum in question that’s way more convincing than it should be for just one sound, and ask in a sweet tone, “And if I don’t?”

“Then when you surrender it will be amusing. Do not test me.”

The depth of Blade’s gaze, accompanied the deep tone of promise in his voice almost burns you, making your pussy twitch from where you’re pressing hard against him. You moan, your toes flexing as they curl up behind you and your nails dig into his arms.

You feel his cock throb at the eagerness of your movements, and then he’s helping grind you against him again.

But it’s almost too easy for Blade to make you into a mess. To make you whimper and keen, peering at him with your forehead against his.

The soft bouncing motion of your body on his cock alongside the saccharine rub of his skin against yours makes you feel delirious. The humid air of the springs fills your lungs with your next inhale, and your breaths turn to rushing pants that make your head spin.

But you can tell that Blade’s enjoying pushing himself up against you, to help you bob and thrust across the length of his cock while you struggle to keep his pace. The catch of his sensitive head and folds of his frenulum against the plush, slick petals of your pussy makes it easy to forget about his prior warning, to ignore the way water splashes over the edge of the springs, to not be affected by what would be embarrassment if anyone were to choose tonight of all nights to indulge in a warm soak.

You feel Blade slip down low in the water, applying pressure to a different angle all while he luxuriates in simply letting you ride him and take your pleasure and give him his. All while he gets to watch your breasts bob and your eyes flutter.

But it’s all too much, too much when the head of his fat cock is pressing through your folds just right and his huge palms are grabbing at your ass to ease himself through it. His hands are pulling you apart, spreading out your pussy from behind to make sure you can’t run from your fate and it makes your heart kick at your chest, you’re beginning to feel boneless above him.

“S-slow down…” You crumble, pleading against Blade’s jugular, but your hips never stopping their hypnotic motions. His chest jumps with an inhale.

“This is what has become of you?” There’s an air of something dark to his tone, his lips smearing against your cheek as he wills your body to keep moving. “Is this all it takes to whittle away one’s resolve?”

Your choked moans of Blade’s name ratchet up in pitch, but squeeze down to a whisper, almost like your whole body is twisting up. He gathers you close and squeezes strong arms around you, you’re gripping tight to the back of his neck and hair while he’s helping hitch your hips impossibly closer to his with a slap of flesh against water.

It’s all too much, the way the tendrils of your orgasm rush towards you with reckless abandon, the pleasure mixing with the rising temperature of the hot springs only making you more lightheaded and pliant. Blade takes in the almost helpless look on your face and all but craves to devour it; mouth smashing onto yours when your head falls forward to allow him the reach.

It’s an intense haze of messy kisses and moans, hands wandering and squeezing, shared growls and shivers despite the heat. The head of his cock catches on your hole, and you moan at the way the simple contact is enough to tease you with the stretch. It makes something grasp deep and agonizing in your gut at the hint of what you could have, hunger rushing fast and quick through his blood as you feel Blade’s cock throb and thicken against you.

“Please…. I—“ Your lips curl, legs shaking as your body bounces against his, you’re so desperate for him to just slip deep inside of you.

But before you can shift your hips just enough to position yourself to allow it, Blade grabs at you— deliberately applying pressure to your clit with the next tangible press of his cock through your folds.

“Not yet.” He almost barks, voice wound tight and cock throbbing as he holds your bleary gaze. “First, I will make something else of you.”

[sylure]

── ❦. Armonia | Blade x f!reader

─ ❧ GENRE: smut, pw/op

─ ❧ READ WITH CARE: mdni, semi-public indecency, dry humping, handjob, edging, shifting power dynamics, banter, marking, somewhat of a brat enabler Blade (he has a lot of patience for once)

─ ❧ WORD COUNT: 5.1k (I DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IM SORRY)

𖤝 PREMISE: restraint and longing are Blade's dearest companions, but something about the warmth of the mountain springs and the heated passion of his lover's touch unravels him faster than he might have ever anticipated

Thick steam wafts slowly across the surface of the hot spring, crafting a curtain of allure that blurs the edges of the mountain surroundings and hides the inn behind dark silhouettes underneath the night sky.

The entire world feels far away here in this near forgotten place, which is barely more than a refuge for people trying to catch a break.

Far from the endless cycle of violence that follows Blade like a curse, far from the constant ache buried beneath his ribs, far from the exhaustion that settles into his bones whenever memory turns its claws on him again, he relaxes in the natural minerals that embrace his weary bones almost as tenderly as his lover could... if only she was here.

The spring is quiet except for the soft overflow of water spilling from the rocks and the distant rustle of wind through pine branches. Here, he sits submerged beneath the heat with his eyes half lidded and one arm stretched lazily along the edge behind him.

His damp hair clings to the lines of his throat and collarbones, while droplets of water trace slowly over scarred skin before disappearing beneath the surface. Though his expression remains unreadable in that familiar way of his, there is something distinctively softer about him tonight—as well as a thick layer of impatience.

Yet that doesn't mean his senses have grown mellow. He still hears you long before you enter the spring, that familiar sound of your movement announces your (late) arrival. Blade also registers the telltale hitch in your breathing as the heat of the water reaches you, as well as the rustle of thin fabric shifting against your skin.

However, he does not turn immediately despite the way every sense of his focuses on your approach.

He tells himself he is unaffected, that he has simply grown accustomed to your presence after travelling together for so long without interruption. Yet the moment your scent reaches him through the steam and unwelcome distance, the first of many locks inside him loosens with an humiliating ease.

Warmth spreads low in his chest before he can entirely register what is happening, causing his fingers to flex once against the edge of the spring. After another, intentional moment of avoiding you, does he slowly glance toward your shape from beneath dark lashes.

For one suspended moment he devours the view you spoil him with while your figure emerges through the drifting mist as you pause near the edge of the spring.

Suddenly, you feel more aware of yourself beneath his attention despite all the confidence you usually carry. The chemise, which hugs your body, is thin enough to feel indecent under his stare even before the water touches it. It is concealing and revealing in equal measure, and you almost regret choosing it at all… almost.

But then you become aware of how intensely Blade notices you. To anyone else he may seem unchanged, but you have been with him long enough to notice the gentle flex of his jaw and the flustered way his gaze flicks across the water's surface. He acts as if he has no interest in looking at you at all, which only makes the truth far more obvious and amusing.

"You're avoiding me," you murmur eventually, and try your hardest to cover your own nerves behind a thick layer of teasing confidence despite the butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

"You took long enough," he replies instead, in a voice that is almost too smooth. Blade's gaze shifts at the darkened sky with maddening composure while entirely unwilling to acknowledge the accusation, though the slight roughness beneath his tone betrays him anyway.

The first step into the spring sends warmth curling around your ankles and calves immediately, which eases a soft breath from your lungs as the heat seeps into your body. Chased away is the the cool mountain air with every step you take, but the stone beneath the water is smoother than expected and your balance falters briefly.

Before you can steady yourself, Blade lifts one hand toward you through the steam without even looking directly at you. As much as he may feign disinterest beautifully, he still offers you everything all at once. The gesture feels so natural that it reveals how caring he can be under all the gruff layers.

Your fingers slide into his palm, and his grip tightens instinctively around your hand with a warm and certain hold the moment your skin touches his. It is then that Blade finally looks at you properly, now that you descend further into the spring. This time he fails to conceal the way his stare clings to your curves as the water soaks through the thin fabric instantly.

His eyes flick downward before returning quickly to your face as if he resents his own lack of control, but it is already too late. The view is seared into his mind; how the chemise clings to every curve of yours, outlining your body while a single droplet slides slowly along your throat and collarbone.

To him it feels like another eternity has passed until you finally settled beside him in the water, close enough for your shoulders to almost touch while the spring envelops you completely in a soothing heat. For a long while neither of you speak at all, you can't even remember the last exchange before silence became your closest companion.

Yet, the sound of silence has never frightened you with Blade; these moments have never felt empty. Rather, they are rich with the tells of his breathing, the awkward shift of his body, and eventually a curiosity when he feels safe.

Steam drifts between your bodies while the scent of cedar and salty minerals wraps itself around you both, and little by little you begin closing the distance yourself. Your knee brushes against his first beneath the water, then your shoulder nudges his in the most innocent of touches. Were it not for the accidental graze of your fingers against his own, Blade might have ignored all your cues entirely.

But instead, you receive a reaction, however subtle it may be since Blade seems to freeze further. Until you turn your palm upward beneath the water, an offering without words that his eyes understand now that he gazes toward the movement before they lift up slowly back to your face.

There is always hesitation with him when tenderness is at play. Not that he means to reject you, but rather that intimacy requires him to surrender to something much more scary. As though he still cannot understand why softness continues reaching for him despite all his sharp and ruined angles.

Yet after a pause that stretches long enough, his fingers finally slide against yours and intertwine carefully beneath the water. The contact draws a slow breath from him that he tries unsuccessfully to hide thanks to the comforting notes of your scent that have begun to mix with the steam of the hot spring.

"You look tired," barely more than a soft murmur while you trace your thumb along his knuckles. Blade's lashes begin to feel heavy at the faint touch, his body instinctively seeks more of you rather than the hard stone.

"I'm always tired." He tries to sound dismissive as per usual, but his hand feels impossibly warm despite the spring as it lightly squeezes yours even at the tough act he wants to upkeep.

"That's not what I mean." A gust of air sings between the cedar trees as silence follows before Blade exhales through his nose, not quite amused and not quite resigned either. "You notice too much."

"I'd rather call it... that I only have eyes for you." It's another one of your playful attempts to loosen the tightly wounded knots around his heart, and sometimes, like tonight, it works.

Blade's gaze shifts toward you again with that familiar unreadable intensity that always causes your pulse to stumble once he arches a brow at you.

In these unguarded, private moments Blade has the habit of looking at you like someone who is trying very hard not to need something; trying very hard not to want someone.

So you lean in closer, in careful stages, since rushing won't ever do you any good with this Blade. Eventually, your shoulder presses fully against his, and your free hand rises slowly to brush a damp strand of dark hair away from his face.

Blade closes his eyes for the briefest second at the contact before reopening them again, yet he looks at you much softer now.

"You don't have to act unaffected with me," you whisper while allowing your fingertips to linger against his temple. "We play this game every time where you try your hardest to convince me that you don't want things. I know you want things."

Blade sighs softly at that, and the first response he can offer is a gentled headbutt in a flustered attempt to get you off his case. But you don't cease, you press, you cradle, you care. Which causes Blade's jaw to faintly tighten before responding with honesty. "Every time we touch, every time I want, I wait for things to end badly."

"Not this," you resist softly, with such honesty that Blade has to wonder where you find the audacity to trust in him so much. "I can promise you this won't end badly," another insistence of yours that tugs at the corner of Blade's mouth.

He turns his face slightly into your touch before seeming to realise what he is doing, and the restraint that snaps right back into its place makes you ache for him even more. It's like playing cat and mouse, though the cat doesn't realise it's a predator.

"If I didn't know you any bettter, I would assume you to be fishing for compliments," you go on while tenderly pushing your fingertip against Blade's cheek. "I'm not-" He begins, only for you to continue."You make me feel good," a quiet confession, because your voice feels nearly drowned out by the sound of water moving around the rocks. "Wanted. Safe. Happy." Your fingers drift lower against his jaw. "I wish you would stop behaving like wanting me is something shameful."

Blade stares at you in silence after that, he seems almost offended at the choice of your words.

You watch the conflict move behind his eyes while your thumb strokes slowly across his cheekbone, and eventually his hand leaves yours beneath the water only to settle against your waist instead. Large fingers spread over the soaked fabric clinging to your body before tightening gradually, to pull you closer between his spread knees until the warmth of him surrounds you entirely.

"Shameful? Is this your way of provoking me tonight?" He wonders in a soft murmur. Your mouth stretches into a small grin before you simply dare to giggle right into death's face. "Yes, apparently only drastic measures work with you."

Blade exhales close to a laugh before his eyes flick briefly toward your lips. His restraint hangs by threads now, you can confirm as much through every lingering touch, every prolonged stare, every measured breath against your skin.

So you kiss him first. Kiss him slowly, so sweetly which would allow him to pull away if he wishes so. But he never does—once you're in, he is falling.

The sound Blade makes when your lips meet is lithe enough to disappear beneath the steam, yet you feel it vibrate through his chest as one arm slides firmly around your waist and the other lifts toward the back of your neck.

Then he is kissing you in response, his infamous restrain unravels second by second the longer you remain pressed up against him. Each slow give of his mouth against yours grows heavier with all the wanting Blade usually buries beneath silence every day. His fingers flex against you through the fabric of your chemise while your own hands drift over his shoulders and throat, where they trace scarred skin and discover old tales.

You lose count of how many times your mouths meet. The only thing you are certain of is that Blade follows you whenever you part slightly for a breath of air while he greeds for more kisses, more touches, more you.

"Needy," you whisper against his lips eventually, yet your tone is covered in honey, decadently drenched with affection more than teasing. Blade opens his eyes just enough to fix you with a deep look that utterly fails to conceal how affected he is. "This is your fault," nothing more than a wanting rasp whispered against your lips since he already seeks you out again.

"Whatever happened to your restraint?" You whisper then as you deny him the kiss by leaning back, only for his hand to tighten warningly at your nape. The gesture causes a soft laugh to bubble from your throat.

Blade's forehead lowers briefly against yours, in a way that leads to an intimacy which nearly steals the breath from your lungs entirely. You feel him exhale slowly against your mouth before his hands finally guide you fully into his lap until you straddle him.

The heat appears to increase once your thighs settle against his own beneath the water. Now, your soaked clothes cling between your bodies while Blade leans back slightly over the stone edge of the spring to look up at you properly.

A fierce surge of unparalleled want rises through you at the beautiful sight painted in front of you: He looks so full of want and strange surrender beneath you. Damp and dishevelled hair frames his face, while kiss-swollen lips beckon for further attention as unbearably gentle eyes swallow you whole.

Your fingers drift slowly along the scars crossing his shoulders and chest, where his palms roam your body with increasing confidence as they slide over your hips and waist in attempt to memorise the shape of you through soaked fabric and heated skin alike.

It is then that you kiss him again. Again. And again. Every kiss slower than the last, deeper than the last, until the world beyond the spring disappears entirely thanks to the overwhelming lust overtaking every flicker of doubt.

The pressure of his hands, the warmth of his mouth, the subtle shift of his breathing whenever your hips move unconsciously against his beneath the water makes restraint seem like a folly.

In a moment where his lips are inhabited, Blade's head tips back briefly at one particular movement before he catches himself. Though you saw the moan he swallowed thickly, felt the dig of his fingers as they clung to your thighs… and you definitely feel the growing hardness insisting on your attention.

"There you are," you breathe so light like cotton candy and smile so sweetly against his jaw as embarrassment finally flickers across his features for the briefest moment. "You enjoy this too much." Oh, how Blade tries to make his voice sound like a warning, but it's gentled down now, mellow from his desires he always attempts to keep in check until the last minute.

"And you are cute when you lose composure." You whisper the words with nothing short of unbridled adoration; yet how come such words drive a man into madness? Blade lets out another low exhale that nearly resembles laughter before one hand slides upward along your spine beneath your wet hair, pulling you flush against his chest until your heartbeat presses directly against his own.

Heat blooms immediately between your bodies now that there is no defence zone to remain while your thighs spread wider across his lap. When your hips shift instinctively against him this time, the reaction you draw from him is impossible to miss. A rough breath catches low in his throat, one that you feel much more rather than hear it since Blade is an expert at stifling his sounds against the curve of your neck.

Here, he presses slow lingering kisses against damp skin that make your entire body melt into him without resistance. The sensation of his lips against your pulse feels unbearably intimate in the drifting steam and mountain silence, while his hands worship your body with a hunger that becomes harder to conceal.

Though the truth spills from him in dozens of tiny betrayals once you learn where to look. The slight furrow appearing between his brows whenever your nails scrape along his shoulders and back, or the way his eyes lower whenever you praise him too sincerely. His entire body grows still when you hold him gently, as if part of him still cannot believe tenderness remains aimed at him.

You can feel him wanting more. Feel it in the way his grip tightens whenever your hips shift against his; feel it in the way he breathes your name against your skin. Then he kisses you once more with enough longing behind it to leave both of you breathless.

The spring grows hotter the longer you remain tangled together, though perhaps it only feels that way because Blade has finally stopped pretending he is unaffected by you.

His hands no longer hesitate when they settle along your waist, and his mouth no longer pulls away quite so quickly after kissing you. Even his gaze changes little by little beneath the lantern glow, growing heavier each time your hips grind against the heavy bulge hidden underneath the soaked towel wrapped around his waist.

Though the sweetest indulgence of all is how terribly responsive Blade is to softness. Every time your fingers comb through the damp strands at the nape of his neck, every time your lips brush slowly against the corner of his mouth, and every time your eyes lock with his, you feel his hands tighten around you in silent demand for more.

The final nail in Blade's coffin is the moment your hand settles lower beneath the surface. His stomach tightens sharply beneath your fingertips while the muscles along his thighs tense underneath yours, and suddenly the restraint he has been clinging to all evening is nothing but a frighteningly fragile memory.

Sudden, crude touches have never unravelled Blade. No, what does it for him is the slow, certain descend of your hand—the only hands whose touch he welcomes. At least with you he can be a glutton, greedy to feel your touch all over while your mouth continues kissing him with unbearable gentleness, as if you are comforting him and teasing him apart all at once.

Your hips have been rolling against his lap for several minutes now, the soaked fabric trapped between you doing absolutely nothing to lessen the sensation. Every slow drag downward has him swallowing sharply. Every careless grind of your hips pulls another strained breath from him. The water disguises how desperately his body responds to you, but not completely, at least not from you.

Then, finally, the mask slips entirely as his fingers dig into your hips, firm enough to still your movements for one suspended second. His lashes flutter lower as one hand clamps hard against your waist, and the other braces against the stone edge behind him like he suddenly requires the support.

You feel him growing harder beneath the heat of the spring every time you shift against him, feel the subtle jerk of his hips whenever your body presses too perfectly into his. And now your hand is making matters worse—much worse.

But you would be insane to let him retreat now, not when he is this affected. No, you chase him, you lean in over his body and press your breasts flush against his chest as your lips find his all over again. "So responsive," you whisper over his lips rather than kissing him once more, unable to help the smile that pulls at your mouth.

Blade opens his eyes just enough to fix you with a stare that might have felt intimidating if his hands were not still clutching you with such obvious need. "You enjoy provoking me."

"You make it so easy tonight." Shot back too soon, too sure of yourself which causes him to smirk in response as pure want flickers in his body. "Brat," he breathes out before the clashing of your lips as a soft sound escapes him then, indecisive whether it be exasperation or reluctant amusement, but you feel the tension inside his body loosen another fraction.

Blade rarely laughs outright, but moments like this come close enough to feel precious. You brush your nose gently against his before kissing him all over again, this time slower to savour the way he immediately follows your mouth when you attempt to pull away again. He cannot help it anymore, cannot keep himself from bucking his hips against your willing hand as the wanting in him has risen too close to the surface.

He drops his forehead heavily against your shoulder while your fingers curl more purposely around his girth beneath the water. A rough sound leaves him then, low and strained and startlingly vulnerable compared to his usual nature.

He is trying so hard not to lose himself; proven in the unsteady grip against your waist, in the uneven rhythm of his breathing against your throat, in the visible effort it takes for him not to move helplessly into your touch.

"You're trembling," you note too casually as you speak softly into his damp hair. "It's cold outside," Blade mutters hoarsely against your skin, though the words lose all sharpness when his hips betray him with an involuntary thrust beneath the water.

He makes you chuckle against his temple as affection spills through your chest at the terrible excuse. "Liar." But you kiss him all the same before he can retreat behind embarrassment, while your hand continues to pump along his erection with agonising patience.

Blade melts into the kiss instantly, his mouth parting against yours with a rough inhale before he suddenly takes over control. His hands roam your body almost desperately, to squeeze your ass and slide the drenched fabric of your chemise further up your hips like he needs to feel you whole, right inside this very open space of the hot spring.

Spread deeper over his lap, the movement presses you directly against him for heat to shoot through both of you at once. A breathless gasp slips from your throat this time, now that your hips rock more fully against the prominent hardness trapped between your bodies, and Blade nearly breaks apart from it.

His eyes shut tight while the friction turns messy quickly after those slow rolling movements become deeper without either of you consciously deciding it. Your thighs tighten against Blade's lap while his hands guide your hips helplessly against him again and again.

"You feel too good," he breathes eventually, his voice carrying a roughened cadence that makes you wish he were to always sound like that. "Stop feeling so good, stop moving like that," Blade tries so hard to regain his mind, his composure, under your relentless kisses as your mouths continue meeting between words.

Which only makes teasing him even more irresistible. You shift against him again, slower this time, to bring a strained breath forward while his hands flex hard against your thighs, trying (and failing) to steady either of you properly.

"Careful," he warns quietly, though the word sounds entirely too wrecked already. "You say that," you murmur while brushing your lips along his jaw, "but you're the one holding me down in your lap. You want this even more than I do."

The statement dissolves into another low sound when your fingertips threaten to undo the knot of his towel the same moment your hips grind down into his lap again. One trembling exhale leaves him then, and his head tips back far enough to expose the long line of his throat to you entirely.

He looks beautiful like this; ruined by softness, ravished by wanting.

Unable to resist, you kiss along his throat, while his hips jerk once more beneath you despite all his attempts. Blade curses softly under his breath, though the sound gives way for another ragged inhale when you suck gently at the pulse beneath his jaw.

"You're cruel tonight." A grin spreads slowly across your mouth at the accusation because he sounds genuinely overwhelmed, his usual composure reduced to shaky breaths and grasping hands. "You're really that close?" you whisper against his skin with obvious delight, and Blade opens his eyes just enough to glare at you through visible embarrassment.

"You have your hand wrapped around me. How do you expect me not to be close?" He spends so much of his existence holding himself together through sheer force alone that witnessing him unravel willingly inside your arms feels intimate in a way words could never capture.

"And?" You seem entirely unbothered though, almost coaxing in the way you wait for him to fill the rest of the sentence as you give him another, generous grind of your hips.

Blade exhales sharply at that, as a faint flush finally appears high across his cheeks beneath the lantern light. "And you keep grinding against me like you want me to lose control," his eyes narrow at you with wounded dignity.

"You're adorable tonight," you murmur before kissing him again, so faint he is not sure if it truly happened. "All desperate."

"Watch yourself. I am not desperate." The great terrifying Stellaron Hunter sits half-submerged in steaming water while growing visibly more flustered because you called him adorable, or maybe it was the way you said desperate.

You cannot help the soft laugh slipping free against his mouth and Blade actually groans afterwards, dragging one hand down over his face briefly while his chest rises and falls harder than before. "Don't laugh at me."

You kiss him before he can regret saying it aloud. Though this collision is messy, needy, wilder as your fingers cling to damp hair while Blade nips on your lower lip, while his tongue conquers that filthy mouth of yours, and his intent steals your thoughts.

Too much happens at once, to the point it is hard to tell apart instigator from victim. One moment he, once again, encourages the grind of your hips as he moans into your mouth and bucks his heavy length up into you, before he just as suddenly forces your movements to still completely. His fingers are firm at your waist now that he presses his forehead against yours and exhales shakily through his nose.

"Enough," he mutters eventually, yet his voice still sounds wrecked. Blade is trying to regain control, trying very, very hard to the point you cannot find pity within you. "If you continue, this ends badly for me," he adds to get the message across, "and you."

"Ow," you whisper but the chuckles make it impossible to appear compassionate. "That sensitive?"

Blade lets out a low groan before lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes again, visibly struggling to steady himself while steam clings to his lashes and damp hair shadows his expression. "You need to stop."

"You don't sound very convincing." You brush your nose gently against his, while smiling so sweetly it only makes his expression grow more tortured.

"We are in public." The strained seriousness in his voice only causes the devil in you to do its worst. "There's nobody here," You sound so smug, so sure to get away with driving Blade to the brink of madness with your constant grinding and how nicely, very nicely, your fingers pump his length.

"There are rooms directly above us." He looks genuinely torn now, caught somewhere between desire and self-restraint while your fingers remain trapped gently inside his grip beneath the water.

"But you're not stopping me, not really," you whisper near victoriously. Blade's composure has unravelled so thoroughly that even his usual sharpness appears softened around the edges, buried beneath warmth and embarrassment and the terrible realisation that you know exactly how much power you hold over him tonight.

"You are enjoying this far too much," he mutters against your throat while closing his eyes briefly since the sound of your laughter alone might undo him all together. Then he exhales slowly before releasing your wrist beneath the water, but his hand immediately settles possessively at your waist again.

"Because you're cute when you're overwhelmed," a whisper filled with enough love it causes Blade to slowly open his eyes again. Successfully lured out of his spot, he locks you down with a stare that is more dilated pupils than anything else. The embarrassment remains, yes, but it has shifted after being teased so thoroughly.

The sight of him makes desire curl through you all over again, with damp hair falling into his eyes and lips swollen from kissing, while his cheeks remain flushed from how close you pushed him in the water.

"You won't be laughing later," he warns quietly, but before you can respond properly, Blade catches your mouth in another kiss and drags you flush against him again. One final slow grind of his hips against yours pulls matching breaths from both of you then as you feel exactly how hard it is for him to stop here.

How badly he wants to let go beneath your hands and mouth and praise. Yet somehow he manages it anyway, burying his face briefly against your neck anew while his breathing steadies little by little against your skin.

"You're insufferable," he murmurs, though his hands refuse to let you go. "And you love me." The statement calls for a pause, before his response almost disappears beneath the sound of the lapping water. "Enough to let you get away with this once," Blade answers against your mouth.

Once.

Your pulse stumbles instantly beneath his threat, but you would be caught in a web of lies were you to confess your regret over the torture inside the hot springs. Never has he ever let you get away with mischief close to the level of tonight, which makes this all the more precious.

Blade brushes one final kiss against your mouth before deciding. "We should go inside." The way he says it leaves very little room for misunderstanding, causing you to smile immediately despite the heat rushing through you. "Finally giving in?"

One of his hands slides slowly along your thigh beneath the water while his eyes remain fixed on yours. "You've spent the entire evening provoking me," he murmurs. "You can deal with the consequences."

Anticipation spreads through your body at the sound of his promise, and at the thought of the night that waits ahead. Blade appears almost playful beneath all that lingering restraint, loosened enough by affection and longing that a lightness finally peeks through the cracks.

You kiss him once more before his hands slide slowly down your thighs, where he lifts you carefully from his lap despite your soft protest. The moment you stand from the water, the soaked chemise clings transparently enough to your body that Blade visibly loses his train of thought for a second time that evening.

His eyes drag slowly over you before he exhales sharply through his nose and looks away with obvious effort. You cannot help your grin, cannot stop judging how cute he appears to be tonight. Before all that cuteness vanishes as the sudden predatory grace to his movement when he reaches for your hand to throw you over his shoulder and carry you inside your room.

Not a hint of that flustered man from the hot springs remained ever since.

[riricatria]

Hello, hello~

"Freaky Shit They Do" as in... Freaky shit they do. Essentially, smut with very little plot for all of the yandere men. Literally all the men I write for. I just really wanted to write smut ok 😭😭😭 Anyway, come get your food y'all ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

☆ Some of these have some plot, and some go straight into action; there's some variation between each part. The content warnings are difficult to mark here individually, so I'll instead mark them under each name in the post. There are, however, certain reoccurring themes which appear in all or most of the parts, so I'll list those here!

Characters include: EVERY SINGLE ONE; Anaxa, Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Gallagher, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Moze, Mydei, Phainon, Dr. Ratio, Mr. Reca, Sampo, Sunday (Pre-AE), Sunday (AE) and Welt General content warnings include: SMUT, NONCON, cisfem!Reader (all parts), general yandere themes (possessiveness, obsessiveness, manipulation...), coercion, more kinks than you can list, various types of bindings, and (bringing my favourite tag back) this is 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴. ⋆ Around 20,1k words, which means around 1,0k for each man. Minors, do not interact. ⋆ Genre: Humble and honest horny content

˗ˏˋ ★ Anaxa

☆ Content warnings include: A fucking machine, bondage, overstimulation, and he's really mean in this one.

You detest him. Most of the time, you’re mostly a bit startled by his presence, if not outright scared of him — he has a certain, obnoxious kind of domineering aura to him that has your heart rate picking up — but right now, you can’t help but hate the man to his core. 

The device Anaxa has set out for you is utter torture. For the better part of the last hour, the phallic tip of the machine has been ramming right into your most sensitive spot without as much as a minute’s break. You’re certain that he angled the thing like that on purpose, too: He knows your body inside-out, he’s aware of every last erogenous zone of yours, down to the ones you yourself didn’t even know existed, and he has taken advantage of that fact wholly. 

Your knees chafe against the ground due to how you’re set. The man was merciful enough to provide you with a short stool to rest your chest against, but even then, the position can’t exactly be called a comfortable one. He didn’t grant you the luxury of supporting yourself with your arms, of course: Your hands are neatly connected to the collar locked around your neck.

You have long since lost the will to resist the unrelenting pleasure or trying to tune out the inplacable haze of overstimulation. The proof of your predicament lies between your legs in a clear puddle consisting of both your own essence and artificial one, which Anaxa now decides to add onto.

Yet again, he walks over to you from where he has been sitting and enjoying the show with a much-too-obvious bulge in his pants. As he passes your front, he makes sure to dangle a small bottle right in front of your nose, taunting you with a complacent grin on his face. You would snap at him, spit unimaginably vile insults at him, but unfortunately, he prepared for that exact scenario: You’re unable to get a single, coherent word out through the metallic, ring-shaped gag in your mouth. 

Disappearing from your field of view, Anaxa makes his way to your back where the device is thrusting into your entrance. Popping the container in his hand open, he tips it over your behind until yet another, generous glob of lube lands on the base of the machine’s tip. The liquid is immediately swallowed by your cunt with a nauseating, sloshing sound as the thing continues filling you up over and over again.

”Ahn-ash-a”, you try to call out for him, but with the gag, the task proves impossible.

”Oho, that’s most certainly the most unique variation I have heard of my name”, Anaxa walks back over to your front, sneering down at your tear-stained, flushed face. ”Though, I don’t recall giving you the permission to call me that.”

He doesn’t bother to even crouch down in front of you — a gesture like that would be far beneath someone like him. Instead, he settles for bending over a little to be able to grab your jaw. You let out a pitiful whine in response to the action, but it only serves to widen the smirk on his face. 

”Let us give an attempt to it together, then”, Anaxa says, tilting your chin so you’re looking him in the eye. ”A-nak-sa-go-ras. Anaxagoras.”

You hiss out an unintelligible string of profanities and pleas which the man answers with a shake of his head and a disapproving tut of his tongue. 

”That’s not quite it. What’s the matter?” he cocks his head to the side. ”Is it truly that daunting of a task for you?”

You’re only barely able to stomach the way Anaxa looks down at you without bursting into tears. His natural ability to provoke, to arouse commotion with a single glance is nothing short of unhinged. The person in front of you is the definition of vociferous, and with how skilled he is at picking you apart, you’re certain that sooner or later, you’re going to lose your mind for good. 

Anaxa lets go of your jaw, allowing your chin to fall to your chest. He then proceeds to circle you in slow, daunting steps like strolling around in an exhibit. It’s probably quite close to what you are to him, anyway; a piece of interest to poke and prod at for his own entertainment.

A sigh breaks past his lips as he leans to the side to be able to trail his fingers down the curve of your back. Unhurriedly, he makes his way to the machine behind you yet again. 

”I suppose you’re ready for another one”, he then speaks, kneeling down beside your lower half.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you start flailing around to the best of your ability, hysterically yanking your hands against where they’re connected to your neck, but to no avail. Desperately craning your neck to see what’s going on behind you, you catch the way Anaxa rolls his eyes with an amused snort before he snakes his hand around your stomach. 

Reaching for what’s between your legs, he uses his index and ring finger to spread your labia apart before setting the middle digit on your clit. There, without a further warning, he begins rubbing the pearl in a rapid, precise motion. 

You shriek through your gag, doing your best to clamp your thighs shut and push his hand away, to get him off of you, but it does nothing to stop Anaxa from forcing yet another climax out of you. With methodical motions, he knows just where to press to get you to fall apart under his touch, and no matter how you try to fight the stimulation, you can’t loosen up the coil that’s building up in your abdomen. 

Within seconds, he has you coming on his hand with a shrill, tearful cry. The rush is sudden and intense, much like the previous ones he has pulled out of you, but even then, he doesn’t let you rest for the least bit. On the contrary, he wishes to prolong your suffering: He strokes your clit through the high, making sure you feel every last bit of the orgasm he just gave you. For good measure, he pulls back the hood of your bud and pinches the bared bit in between the pads of his fingers. It’s only when your sobs get loud enough that he deems the round to be a success and detaches his hand from your sore cunt. 

You can hardly hold your head up by the time he stands up from between your legs and returns to his spectator seat with a vile smirk on his features. He sits down, crosses his legs, and gets comfortable waiting for when the machine is about to collect yet another climax from you, and so the cycle begins anew. 

˗ˏˋ ★ Argenti

☆ Content warnings include: Fingering, a mirror, and rose thorns (lol).

Argenti isn’t one to ever hurt you. He wouldn’t dare to lay a single finger on your ethereal beauty, fearing that even the smallest touch could ruin you forever. You’ve grown to trust that sentiment, to lean against it when you defy his whims, but alas, he, too, has his limits. You have come to see that though he has sworn to never do harm to you, it doesn’t mean that he won’t utilize the threat of pain if it means the results will be in his favour. 

You rest in his lap, back against his chest, on the plush sheets of your shared bed. Though the position is comfortable, you find it hard to relax against him due to how coils of thorny vines snake along your naked legs and wrists. The prickles are just shy of digging into your most sensitive bits, lingering mere millimiters above your skin — given that you don’t move an inch, that is. 

You find it difficult to keep still with how much is going on around you. Aside from the bindings, there’s Argenti’s feather-light yet all the more intense touch lingering on you: The pads of his fingers glide back and forth along your inner thighs, raising goosebumps in their wake. His bright red hair falls over your shoulder and down your chest in thick waves as he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, greedily inhaling your scent. 

Even that isn’t enough for him. Though you’ve been doing your best to avoid the sight, your gaze wanders to the foot of the bed yet again where the most intimate part of your undoing lies. In the reflection of the tall, crystal-clear mirror he has set out for you, you meet your own, hazy gaze. Not only does the view of your bare body against his own make you want to hide yourself away forever, but your heart staggers uncomfortably as your eyes stray upwards and settle on the deep flush that covers Argenti’s cheeks. 

He sighs against your skin. The air tickles your neck, but you don’t get much time to focus on an individual detail like that as his hands have begun making their way inward. 

The one bit of mercy he has graciously granted you is that his actions are never capricious: His goal never is to catch you off-guard, and so, he makes sure to take his sweet time caressing the skin around your core before even entertaining the idea of dipping in. His fingertips travel over your hips and along the bend of your groin, just shy of touching where you’re the most sensitive. 

Then, his touch abandons your lower half and instead moves up your waist, your sides, and finally, to your chest. 

A light caress over your nipples has you twitch involuntarily. You choke out a quiet yelp, catching yourself just in time not to have the thorny vines sink into your thighs. Argenti hums into your shoulder, singing an unknown melody in his rich, soothing timbre. His long lashes finally flutter open, and he leans forward to be able to catch a glance at your face. 

”Does it feel good, my love?” he asks in a breathy voice, his smile as gentle as ever. 

You can’t find it in yourself to answer him. Instead, you swallow down the lump in your throat, let out a near-silent whimper, and squeeze your eyes shut. Though he has done nothing worth instilling fear in your fragile being, you can’t help the way your heart races in something akin to panic when he looks at you. 

He brings his hand to your jaw. Tenderly, Argenti takes hold of your chin and directs your attention forward to where the mirror stands.

”You’re as breathtaking as the last rays of a scarlet sunset”, he muses as his free hand creeps down your stomach and slips in between your thighs. ”I could sing you praises until my tongue shrivells up.” 

His words go in one of your ears and right out of the other. It’s difficult to concentrate on anything else but the way the pad of his middle finger presses directly against your clit in a terribly gentle yet all the more intense touch. It’s what he excels in: Even at the start, it didn’t take him long to learn how to have you come apart under his attention.

Your breath hitches as Argenti begins moving his finger back and forth along your slit. He takes immense care to apply precisely the correct amount of pressure to dance the line between too much and too little, and oh, does he bring honour to his title with how he does it. It’s so easy, it comes so naturally to him.

You suck in a sharp gasp of air as his fingers hit a particularly good spot. Your reaction seems to please him, and as his touch once again slides lower, his digits carefully breach your entrance. 

He makes sure not to go too fast — he spends his sweet time slowly wiggling his way in with one finger before adding another — and then, with a hauntingly dexterous movement, he curls them right into your sweet spot. 

Your back arches off Argenti’s body. The vines once again threaten to pierce your skin, and he has to softly coax you to settle down and lean back against his chest. Though, he makes no effort to stop what he’s doing: Instead, he puts all his attention into prodding the front wall of your insides, gently massaging the spot without a hurry in the world. Even with how the head of his cock is pressing up against your lower back, he doesn’t dare rush the experience; not when it comes to you.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to return to your reflection once again. Right in front of you, staring back at you, you’re presented with every single inch of yourself, all in your impuissant glory. You can’t help the way your gaze strays lower and lower until you’re met with the sight of Argenti’s fingers sliding deep into your hole while his thumb circles your clit in slow, meticulous circles.

Argenti smiles against your skin. 

”I am most glad”, he responds to your unsaid words, just as he begins working another finger in.

˗ˏˋ ★ Aventurine

☆ Content warnings include: Toys, bondage and overstimulation.

It’s not easy to balance on one’s knees only. It’s the unfortunate reality you have come to face as you have yet again been subjected to one of Aventurine’s whims. If there’s one thing to be said about the man, it’s that he doesn’t do minimalism, and that fact is precisely why you have ended up where you are. 

Your entire lower body trembles from the strain of trying to keep yourself upright in the awkward position he has forced you into. Having taken care to strap your calves against the back of your thighs, the man has made sure you’re not going anywhere under his watch. The case is the same with your arms: His belt connects your wrists behind your back in a neat yet sturdy loop.

It’s not the bindings that are the most alarming part of the setting, however. The main attraction stands in between your legs, inches away from your bare bits. The wildly vibrating saddle-like apparatus that’s situated directly underneath your tottering body is difficult to ignore. If you were to lose your balance, even for a single moment, the surface you would land on is none other than the seat on the sybian.

”Hey now, don’t be difficult”, Aventurine sings behind you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders. ”I spent quite a fortune on this one, don’t you wanna try it out?” 

You would answer him with a retort if it wasn’t for the 8-ball-shaped gag stuffed in your mouth. You’ve gathered that, out of his vast collection of toys to use on you, it’s among his very favourites. It’s not even because of the actual function of the item — it’s way more about the humiliation factor. 

Aventurine’s hands move lower, trailing down your sides before resting over the curve of your hips. Gently, he urges your bottom lower, pressing down on the front of your thighs with just enough strength to waver your posture. You let out an alarmed squeal in response, shaking your head and trying to somehow convey your distress to the man, but alas, he seems to take a twisted sort of pleasure in witnessing your struggle. 

”C’mon”, he nudges a little harder. 

The phallic tip of the sybian grows closer to your entrance with each second as Aventurine shifts more and more force on you. His laboured breathing blows against the shell of your ear, and you can feel the way his hard-on presses against your back. His chin rests on your shoulder as he takes in the sight of you with a frenzied, hungry glint in his eyes. 

”Hey, it’s not even that bad”, he insists, wrapping one of his arms around your waist to keep you still. The side of his face is warm against your jaw. ”Plus, that’s only the lowest setting, you know? We’re in for so much fun tonight, so relax a bit for me, hm?”

He looks at you expectantly, one brow raised in an expectant expression. You don’t offer him an answer, however, nor are you able to properly meet his gaze with how you’re concentrating on staying upright. With how your legs tremble, you know that you’re on the brink of collapsing, but even then, fighting against the strain, you remain standing. 

Aventurine lets out a small, amused puff of air through his nose. 

Suddenly, he forces his entire weight on you, and with the shift, your thighs finally give in under the stress. A singular, strangled yelp is the only thing that makes it out of your mouth before your entrance is speared on the sybian’s rod, and your cunt is pressed flush against the ribbed surface of the saddle. 

The sensation is instant and unbelievably intense. Your entire lower half rumbles along with the device as the vibrations reach deep into the pits of your stomach and fry every last nerve ending they make contact with. It’s way too much, beyond anything he has ever had you go through with his regular tools, and your immediate, reflexive response is to try to get yourself off of the toy. It’s a futile effort, however: Aventurine keeps you still against him and snugly seated on the saddle, preventing you from as little as correcting your position. 

One of his palms rests down over your stomach where he feels how your rapid, uneven breaths force your muscles to go tense. Leaning into the side of your head, he lets out a mocking, whiny moan directly into your ear. 

”Mmh, that must feel so nice, yeah?” Aventurine groans, punctuating the words with a wet kiss on your temple. 

As if the torment wasn’t already cruel enough, the hand on your abdomen creeps down to where your cunt connects to the sybian. There, he slides his fingers between your folds and pinches your clit between the pad of his thumb and the ribbed saddle of the machine.

Ignoring your wails and cries, he presses his chest against your spine and begins rocking you back and forth against the seat, all the while making sure that your cunt stays firmly connected to its textured surface. He hisses out loud, biting his lower lip as he watches the way your bits tremble along with the toy. 

You try to find a better posture, any position in which your clit doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off, but each one seems to feel more excruciating than the last. The rod inside of you nudges directly against your sweet spot with every push Aventurine gives you, and with how he drags your cunt along the bumps on the saddle, to your horror, you come to realize that the torture has begun building up to a climax. 

He seems to be very aware of the same fact as well. You don’t need to do as much as glance at his face to understand what the implication entails. In a desperate attempt to postpone your rapidly approaching ruin, you try to rise back onto your knees, but instead of succeeding in your endeavour, you only fall back against the saddle. Aventurine lets out a mean laugh at your failure, landing a sharp smack on the side of your thigh as a punishment. Your broken sobs are muffled by the ball in your mouth. 

In your delirium, you can barely out the sweet nothings he utters in your ear as he continues urging you closer and closer to the edge. No matter how you try to drown out even a bit of the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure raking your entire lower half, before long, you understand that there’s only one outcome that the man will find satisfactory. 

Soon, the simultaneously rapturous and excruciating sensation bursts in the depths of your abdomen. Your back arches against Aventurine’s body as your whole being tenses in response to the sudden, unbearably powerful climax. 

However, what pleasure was to be found in it is soon overshadowed by searing overstimulation. The sensation evokes the same sort of panic as if you were being tickled, but instead of being able to pull away, the feeling is completely inescapable. Your muscles constrict against their bindings in a desperate, uncoordinated effort to get away from the source of the affliction, only to be forced to weather it even more as the man presses you further down the toy. 

Though, even that doesn’t satiate his hunger: With a tremulous gasp, as if he was the one on the receiving end of the suffering, he reaches to the side for the control box in an awkward manoeuvre. A nearly inhuman shriek erupts from your throat as the sybian’s vibrations suddenly spike even higher. 

”That’s more like it”, Aventurine pants in your ear, stroking his hands up and down your weakly twitching thighs. 

Your eyes roll back into your head. Tears have long since spilled past your lashes, and your head falls back, resting limp against his shoulder. Letting out a dreamy sigh, he plants his lips on your cheek with an overly emphasized “mwah”-sound, all the while his hand slides back in between your thighs.

˗ˏˋ ★ Blade

☆ Content warnings include: Cockwarming, mild manhandling and little size kink.

Your sobs and sniffles are the only thing that can be heard in the small room you and him are spending the night in. At the start of the evening, you were afraid of the noise travelling to the other side of the wall, but the concern for that has long since dissipated into unadulterated panic that fills the entirety of your chest and causes an uncontrollable jitter in your limbs. 

You’re sitting on Blade’s lap with your back resting against his chest — though ”resting” is a bit of a generous term: Every last muscle in your body has gone tense from terror, and in his usual fashion, he has set his large hand over your eyes to obscure your vision. His bandages scratch against the bridge of your nose as you quietly weep, staining the torn fabric with your distress. 

His cock sits heavy inside of your cunt. Not only are you not the least bit relaxed, but with his size, it’s nearly impossible for you not to have an overwhelming need to squirm off of him. He doesn’t let you, though: His bicep is loosely wrapped around your neck, just shy of but uncomfortably close to pressing up against your throat. In the back of your affrighted mind, you know that he won’t actually choke you — at least as long as you don’t give him a reason to — but the threat itself is enough to set your anxiety haywire. 

A strangled, shrill cry erupts from your throat as Blade adjusts your position in his lap, unintentionally bouncing you up and down on his dick. He lets out a deep groan in response to the noise as if you were being a general annoyance to him, and the arm around your windpipe tightens the slightest bit. You immediately click your jaw shut, even though your pursed lips can hardly hold back the wails that are about to spill out. 

You’re not sure where you should put your hands, and so, they find solace in hanging onto his forearm like your life depended on it. His presence is much too overpowering to escape by dissociating yourself from the situation, and the only way you can hope to ground yourself is to latch onto him with all that’s in you. He doesn’t seem to mind the way you grip him; on the contrary, he loosens his own hold on you the tiniest bit, allowing you a little more space to rest.

You feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Using the hand over your eyes to tilt your head to the side, he buries his nose into your hair before inhaling deeply. The sensation makes your skin crawl violently, and your cunt clamps down around his cock. A hiss slips past his lips. 

”Sorry, sorry, please-please-please, I’m sorry”, barely intelligible apologies fall out of your mouth as an automatic response. The reaction has grown so customary that you hardly even register uttering it out before the words have already been spoken.  

Blade’s brows knit together against the side of your head. Concurrently, the arm around your neck lets up even more, and his hand trails down your stomach to where his body connects with yours. Your thighs quiver wildly as you feel the rough pads of his fingers settle over your clit. For a moment, he merely listens to how your gasps grow more and more hysterical by the minute, and as he begins rubbing your pearl up and down, you give up the fruitless efforts of trying to hold back your cries. 

His cock twitches inside of you as a series of sobs spew out of your mouth. You hug his arm like a lifeline, digging your nails into his coat’s sleeve, but he hardly reacts to your movements. Instead, he settles his chin on your shoulder, presumably to observe what his hand is busied with in between your thighs. 

”Please-please-please...”, you continue your mindless babbling, unsure of what you’re even begging him for. 

You hear him grunt against the side of your head. Next, his fingers leave your clit in favour of being able to slip his arm beneath your knees. You’re far too gone to understand what he’s doing until he bunches your legs up and lifts your body up his chest. A tiny gasp is the only thing that makes it past your lips as his cock slides out of you along with the movement, all the way until only his tip is still inside — and then he drops you back down.

A wail echoes around the room. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to his length, the stretch is just as unendurable as it has been for the past half an hour. No matter how hard you’ve tried to will your lower half to relax, it’s an impossible endeavor to see through; it’s impossible with him. 

Blade doesn’t say a thing — he never does. Instead, with a low grunt, he moves the arm under your knees around your waist before leaning forward. In a somewhat clumsy movement, he forces you on your hands and knees with his cock still inside of you. Paying no mind to how you whimper out pleas for mercy, he instead presses his hand down just above your pubic phone, feeling the shape of his cock underneath.

”Stay still”, he snarls in your ear before he begins thrusting into you.

˗ˏˋ ★ Boothill

☆ Content warnings include: Rope, biting, and a tiny bit of blood.

Your neck is straining against the grip Boothill has on your hair. His metallic fingers have bunched up your locks, tugging on the back of your head surprisingly gently, just shy of crossing the line of being painful. It’s not that he’s trying to make it to be that way, necessarily: It’s more that his focus is elsewhere — he seems to be more keen on seeing what’s going on on your face. 

You weren’t exactly aware that he was skilled with rope, but considering his profession, it should have come as no surprise that he would know his way around lassos. You have gotten to witness it with your very own eyes: A rope is snugly coiled around both of your hips, connecting your butt to his crotch with not as much as an inch in between, and — more saliently — it’s making sure that his mechanical cock doesn’t slip out of your cunt. 

Holding one end of the rope in his fist, Boothill pulls the thing taut. The movement causes his dick to slide even deeper into you, eliciting a quiet mix of a sob and a moan from you. Your arms tremble from having to support the weight of your upper body, and your head is drooping limp against the pillows at the head of the bed. A sigh slips past his lips. 

”What’s with the tears, Sugar?” he asks you, tugging your hair back enough to force you to reveal your face. ”Did I bite too hard?”

A bright red indent of a row of razor-sharp teeth adorns the side of your neck. Speckles of blood have risen onto the skin at the points where his fangs sunk the deepest. 

”N’aww”, Boothill leans down next to your head with a much too obvious smirk on his features. He then gives a long lick to the shell of your ear, all the way from the base to the top. ”Sorry, pretty thing. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Eagerly, he thrusts his hips forward. His steel-hard cock works its way further into your insides, unforgiving in its intrusion. Unlike one of flesh, his member doesn’t cut you any slack: Your cunt is unable to adapt to the foreign shape of it, and the metal doesn’t give in even the slightest bit. Taking the foreign nature of his bits into account, it could be considered a miracle that he even managed to fit the thing in your slit. 

”You’re really forkin’ tight down there”, he then comments on the matter, letting go of your hair in favour of landing a spank on your rear. ”Loosen up for me, will ya?”

You bury your face in the cushions as Boothill pushes down on your upper back, coercing your arms to give out from under you. Consequently, his cock bends into a different angle, now prodding against the back wall of your core. You whine out your discomfort, weakly reaching for the bedpost ahead of you for something to hold onto, but he doesn’t let you have even the smallest bits of solace. 

”Don’t flee from me, Darlin’”, he warns you with a frisky click of his tongue, giving another tug to the rope that connects the two of you. ”Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

As if making a point, he snaps his pelvis forward again. However, this time around, he doesn’t pause his actions: Twisting his hips into a more comfortable slant, he starts fucking into you with steady, vigorous thrusts.

Your hands ball into fists as you gather up handfuls of the sheets to hold onto. Desperate for relief, you whine out a piping, disconsolate plea for him to go gentler on you, but your complaints go on deaf ears. Instead, Boothill disciplines you with a few harsher thrusts directly where he knows it feels the best for you, all the while he yanks on the rope so hard that it chafes against your hips. In the midst of his fun, he lets out an amused snort, reaching down to your head to ruffle your already matted hair. 

”That’s the spot, yeah?” he taunts you, once again grabbing a fistful of your locks. ”Yeah?”

He repeats his words with a tenacious tug on the strands, causing your chin to tilt up from where you’ve hidden it in the bedding. Cracking one of your tightly shut eyes open, you get to watch the way he swipes his long tongue over his teeth in a wolfish manner.

”Think I’m gonna have to get something for your mouth the next time”, he then remarks, moving to idly nibble on your earlobe. ”I’m not plannin’ to share you with the wall neighbours.”

You let out a disconcerted yelp, craning your neck to look back at the man with wide eyes, but he pushes your body back down on the mattress with very little regard to the amount of force he uses in doing so. Again, he lands a smack on your behind — on the side of your thigh, this time. Simultaneously, his teeth abandon your ear and instead go for the back of your neck. 

”Settle down, Sweetheart”, he tells you, languidly thrusting into you. ”Am gonna take care of you.”

Boothill latches his lips onto your shoulder, harshly sucking on the bitemark there. The spot is still far too tender, and though he’s taking care to watch his gnashers, the ferocious way in which he suckles on the mark brings you very little pleasure. Half unwillingly, you make your discomfort known with the whimper you let out, but even then, he doesn’t seem to be too concerned with your reactions, as he’s much too busy chasing his own enjoyment. WIth the same enthusiasm, he puts more vigour into his thrusts, driving your spent body deeper into the mattress with each movement.

You’re not certain what it is that he gets out of fucking you — you’ve gotten the image that the mechanical cock doesn’t quite function the same as a human one — but regardless, the intent behind his actions isn’t a detail you’re actively concentrating on. As you mentally prepare yourself to take all he has in store for you, the man continues his joyride without a care in the world.

˗ˏˋ ★ Dan Heng

☆ Content warnings include: Double dihh and double penetration, and an extra warning for the thalassophobes.

The grip you have on his shoulders is trembling wildly. You’ve latched your hands onto the man like a vice, holding on for dear life as your bodies slowly sink into the chilly waters of Scalegorge Waterscape, one polished stone step at a time. Goosebumps cover the entirety of your bare body — a notable contrast to Dan Heng, who doesn’t seem to be the least bit bothered by the temperature. 

His long hair spreads over the sea’s rippling surface like oil. Fixed on the sight of the vast sea ahead, his eyes have gone cloudy. Though you have already seen his Vidyadharan form a handful of times, you still haven’t quite gotten used to the subtle change in his aura: His mere presence demands your attention.

You can’t help but wince when the water rises over your waist. In a desperate, reflexive attempt to postpone the inevitable, you wrap your arms around your captor’s neck, scrabbling at his head to find something more stable to grasp onto, but your flailing only serves to splash the water around.

Having grown agitated with your squirming, Dan Heng tightens the hold he has around your waist, hoisting you into a better position. 

”Dan-, Dan-Heng-Dan-Heng-Dan-Heng-stop-!” you squeal his name in an alarmed, shrill tone as you do your best to climb up his body, all the while he immerses the two of you deeper into the Scalegorge’s waters. 

He doesn’t respond to your pleas. He does, however, let out a small, exasperated grunt as one of your restless hands finds leverage in his dragonic horns.

”Stop”, he simply commands, digging his sharp nails into the sensitive skin of your hips as a warning. ”You’ll get used to it.”

”No, Dan Heng, I don’t want-!”

”I said stop.”

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head before shoving your face against the crook of his neck, effectively silencing you. Without much of a reaction, he listens to your rapid gasps of air as the rocky stairs finally run out under him. With one last stride, he surrenders the two of you to the swirling of the gorge’s waves. 

Your knuckles have gone white, both due to the cold and the iron grip you have on him. Your thighs squeeze around his waist with every last bit of strength you hold, hopelessly trying to prevent yourself from sliding off of his body, not even daring to think what would happen if he were to let go of you. It’s not like he would let you fall, of course — he if anyone is accustomed to the unpredictable patterns of the currents — but you’re unable to beat down the terror growing inside of you, even when it’s what you should be the least worried about.

At the very same time as you remember the actual reason for your visit to his kin’s sacred home, Dan Heng proceeds to the next step of his ritual. As he once more adjusts you in his arms, you feel not one but two somethings poking at your behind. 

”No-no-no-no...”, you rapidly shake your head, hopelessly trying to squirm your way out of his grasp.

Sighing, he sets his hand on the back of your head.

”You’re fine”, he claims, clearly making an attempt at comforting you, but the stoic nature of his words does very little to alleviate your panic. ”It’s not going to hurt.”

It’s an empty promise. Regardless of how many times he has taken you, you don’t think you’ll ever get accustomed to having both of his cocks inside of you. Each time feels like it was the very first: The stretch is always a feat to overcome, no matter how long he spends preparing you for the deed.

Choking down a sob, you hide your face in Dan Heng’s shoulder as he aligns the heads of his members with each of your holes. With his free hand, he caresses the nape of your neck in a soothing motion.

Your lower half is much too tense to allow the intrusion. Even as he takes his time, gently coaxing your entrance to give way to him, he’s unable to push into you.

Letting out a soft huff as if he was disappointed in your performance, he makes the decision to take you straight to the deep end. With a swift nudge of his hips, he has you fall onto his cocks in a single motion. 

Your breath lodges in your throat, and the shriek that nearly erupts from your lungs instead comes out as a barely audible, repressed cry. The inescapable feeling of fullness empties your head of all thoughts, rendering you unable to do anything but gasp for air in short, spasmodic wheezes. Dan Heng listens to your hiccups silently, floating still in the water as he allows you a brief while to get used to the invasion. 

”There you go”, he pats your back as you sniffle into his shoulder. ”You’re fine.”

The sickening taste of salt lingers on your tongue. Your wettened hair clings to your face like a mat, concealing your pitiable expression and quivering lips from the man. You shiver against his body, fluttering like a leaf. 

His hand moves to the base of your head where he softly tugs at your hair, urging you to withdraw from your hiding place. Weakly, you raise your face from the crook of his neck to peek at him. Although you’re sure he notices the misery swimming in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on the matter. Instead, after wordlessly observing your features for a few moments, he leans in.

You dodge the attempt at a kiss, and in consequence, Dan Heng’s lips land on the side of your jaw. Displeased with your show of resistance, he proceeds to grab a fistful of your hair before forcibly pressing his mouth against yours. 

His unnaturally long dragonic tongue slides into your mouth and down your throat. At the same time, you feel him realign your bodies, and finally, he lets the two of you sink under the waves. The only thing you can hear is the relentless murmuring of the water filling your ears as Dan Heng finally releases his impatience upon you.

˗ˏˋ ★ Gallagher

☆ Content warnings include: Drugging, alcohol (not consumed), anal, fingering, and he's a prick.

You don’t have the faintest idea on what exactly was in that drink. It looked identical to the ordinary ones he makes for you every now and then, and you had no reason to be suspicious of him — at least not until the tingling started. Not long after, your entire body fell to the floor, flushed and unable to move. 

No matter how you try to will your mouth to open, how you beg your vocal cords to work, no coherent sound comes out from between your lips. You want to say something, anything, to get him to stop his torment, but the drug coursing through your veins has proved itself much too potent. It has rendered you completely helpless, utterly defenseless at the man’s mercy.

Nevertheless, the effect itself isn’t even the worst part of it all, no. By design, the concoction hasn’t messed with your sense of touch at all, and because of that, you’re able to feel every last inch of the cock inside your ass. 

A high-pitched, garbled whine spills out of your mouth as Gallagher hits you with a particularly mean thrust, going as deep as he’s possibly able. He then proceeds to grab your hips, holding your lower half up and flush against his, grinding against your butt in steady, unhurried movements.

He has to hold your body up in general, to be perfectly clear: Due to the drug, you’re unable to even wiggle your fingers. With your ass up and the rest of your body lying limp on the wooden floor beside the bar counter, there’s not much you can do other than take every bit of him as he has his way with you. He lets out a deep, complacent groan, and next, you feel yet another glass of wine poured over your bare back. 

Gallagher pays no mind to how his loosened tie is stained by the drink as the piece of fabric hangs over your body. The sickeningly sweet liquid sticks onto your skin and drips down onto the floor where it gathers under you in a puddle. He leans down, pressing his chest against your spine before licking a long stripe all the way up from the juncture of your nape to the base of your ear. He chuckles against the side of your face, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheekbone. 

”Look at you”, he sighs contently. You can feel the curve of his smirk against your temple. ”How is it?”

He knows you’re unable to answer him, yet he still questions you out of pure malice. Tears sting at your lashline, and there’s hardly anything you can do to stop them from falling. 

”Aww”, Gallagher brings one of his hands to your hair, ruffling it until there’s a huge, wine-soiled tangle at the crown of your head. ”Does it feel nice?” 

He then slides his arm down your stomach and over to where your bodies are connected. There, his large fingers dip down into your cunt while the pad of his thumb begins drawing lazy circles over your clit. 

Fat tears roll down your cheeks and catch on the pillow he has so graciously placed under your head. As heartless as the man is, he isn’t as evil as to have you bang your skull against the floor with each of his thrusts. Though, the gesture hardly brings you any further comfort as you feel his free hand on the back of your neck. Pressing his hips even flusher against yours, he forces your back into a deeper arch and starts fucking into you with newfound verve.

A tiny, whimper-like sound is the only thing you can muster in response. As if trying to console you, the fingers that work on your cunt hasten their pace. Gallagher rolls your clit in a routinely manner, targeting just where he knows will feel the best for you. It doesn’t take him long to have your bits start quivering around him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is deafening. Even as you feel the peak of your climax approaching, you’re unable to muster up the strength to lift yourself off the ground. Instead, your arms lie uselessly by the sides of your head, unable to even bend the slightest bit. 

Moans slip out of your mouth as the pleasure grows greater and greater. Gallagher seems to encourage the act: His fingers leave the entrance of your cunt in favour of properly rubbing your clit in a swift, steady rhythm. His cock drives deep into your ass with every snap of his hips, and soon enough, you feel yourself being driven over the edge. Your lower half convulses wildly as you come around his dick. 

”Ahh, that’s what I’m talking about”, he leans down into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to a lazy, even rhythm. 

His touch on your cunt is on the verge of becoming overstimulating, but as if sensing your discomfort, he pulls his hand away. Similarly, his dick slides out of you with a wet, squelching sound. 

”Don’t worry, pretty thing”, he sighs into your hair. ”The drink’s gonna wear off in an hour or so. You’ll be alright.”

˗ˏˋ ★ Gepard

☆ Content warnings include: Sort of bondage, rimming, plus Geppie is losing aura.

In normal circumstances, considering the alternatives, you have very little complaints about Gepard’s behaviour. He rarely ever gets harsh with you — you don’t think he would be able to, even if he tried — and moreover, he isn’t one to be unpredictable. He takes vast pride in having you rely on him fully, and that can’t include him doing just anything he wants. 

He does, however, have a tendency to fall into temptation every once in a while. It’s not that he means to frighten you with his actions but the fact that he’s just completely and utterly unable to practice self-restraint at times. 

It didn’t even worry you too much when he pushed you down on the bed. The man occasionally has his moments, and though he sometimes gets impatient, you didn’t know to expect anything too out of the ordinary. 

”Gepard”, you speak out his name in a much more alarmed tone than you would like. 

Your hands are stuck above your head in a clump of his peculiar, blue ice. Strangely enough, it isn’t exactly freezing, but the pointy crystals are digging into the delicate skin of your wrists, mildly threatening. Moreover, you’re much more focused on the fact that your bottoms now lie in a pile on the floor beside the bed; you’re entirely bare from the waist down. 

He sits on his knees in between your legs, shirtless, and with a heavy blush travelling all the way from his face to the base of his neck. His hands are trembling visibly, and his mouth is hanging ajar. Most notably, though, the way he’s staring at you with hazy, unblinking eyes evokes the most concern in you. 

”Gepar-, Geppie”, you call him by his nickname in hopes of appealing to his gentler side. ”Please, Geppie, listen to me!”

To your dismay, you come to find that the trick holds very little effect. You’re about to call for him for one more time, but coincidentally, at the same time, your attention happens to travel from his face to his lower body. There, your gaze encounters the sight of his cock pathetically twitching in his pants. If the way his thighs quiver is anything to go buy, your words only managed to make him more excited. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you helplessly struggle against the ice around your hands. He watches your actions with an unreadable, detached expression. 

”Geppie, please, I’m-, I’m scared”, you speak to him, mustering up your best commanding tone. 

You swear that with your own two eyes, you see his pupils expand as the sentence leaves your mouth. Not only does the reaction itself evoke fear in you, but what follows raises the hairs on the back of your neck. 

”I’m... I’m sorry, I just need to...”, Gepard speaks in a thin, desperate tone that’s a far cry from the assertive front he puts up for his duties.

His hands settle over your knees before he coils his arms around the back of your thighs. A drop of drool hangs at the corner of his mouth. 

”I’m so sorry, just please let me...”, he looks down at your alarmed expression with clouded irises. 

Without a further warning, Gepard pushes your legs back, effectively folding your entire body in half. You shriek out in surprise, nearly landing a kick at the man’s face, but the grip he has on you is as unforgiving as his ice. 

With your eyes blown wide open, you’re about to question his actions, but quickly he answers your concerns without even hearing them: His eyes drop to your exposed ass, and with one more split-second worth of consideration, his mouth latches onto your rear hole. 

He goes from zero to one hundred in the span of a single moment. There’s nothing that could even remotely be called a warm-up: Trying to reach as deep into you as possible, the man urges your thighs apart and wriggles his tongue inside your ass like it’s the last thing he will do in his lifetime. His brows fall flat in something akin to relief. 

You’re much too nonplussed to do anything more than stare at the ceiling with your mouth wide open. The feeling of him breaching your most vulnerable points with so little prudence has you utterly incapable of forming even a single word to stop him. 

A string of saliva connects his lips to your hole as he comes up to inhale in the midst of devouring you. He briefly holds shaky eye contact with you before diving right back down. 

Though you do your best to force him off by clenching your thighs together, he isn’t deterred by one bit. Moreover, he snakes his arms over to your breasts where he greedily grabs handfuls of the mounds. He catches your nipples in between his fingers, gently rolling them around with his thumbs, all the while his mouth is busy licking and sucking everything it can touch. 

In your disoriented state, you barely make note of the way Gepard has begun humping against the mattress like a dog in heat. He’s whining out loud against your ass as he fucks you with his tongue, and with the vigour which he performs the actions with, you’re hardly able to fight the pleasure he provides you with. 

”Sorry, sorry, sorry...”, he mumbles between gulps of air, continuing to eat you out like his life depended on it. 

˗ˏˋ ★ Jiaoqiu

☆ Content warnings include: Drugging, sounding, and a needle is used.

Though Jiaoqiu is unable to actually lay his gaze upon your body, not once with him have you had the privilege of truly evading his scrutiny. It’s not about the way his undivided attention is on you — it’s never about that — but about how he seems to be able to pick you apart with as little as his presence alone. The terrifying mix of tenderness and cruelty never fails to get under your skin, just as it does now. 

An empty syringe rests on the nightstand beside the bed you’re lying on. It’s not often that he resorts to using it, but occasionally, he deems it necessary. He wasn’t cruel about injecting the drug to you this time around, either: On the contrary, he made sure to go as gently as he could, even giving you a countdown before the needle pierced the skin on your upper arm. 

In a tender, sort of compassionate manner, Jiaoqiu brushes his hand through your hair before moving a little lower to swipe his thumb under your lower lid where a few of your stray tears have leaked past your lashes. He looks down at you with a soft tilt of his head and a sympathetic expression, but something tells you that he isn’t exactly apologetic about his actions. 

You attempt to move your face away from him, pursing your lips together and averting your gaze, but your body only listens to your commands in sluggish, uncoordinated nudges. You’re certain he’s aware of the same fact, but out of courtesy, he doesn’t show it on his countenance. Instead, he gives you his usual, unintelligible smile before proceeding to reach for something on the shelf beside the bed. 

”What are... you...”, you try to speak out, but the words slur together as if you had just consumed copious amounts of alcohol. 

”Worry not”, Jiaoqiu responds to your incomplete question, his voice a little too cheerful to your taste, considering the situation at hand. ”There is nothing to be frightened of.”

It’s what he always says, regardless of what he’s about to do. Though, when your gaze flickers to his hands, you can’t help but dread that the black container he has picked up from the ledge doesn’t entail anything pleasant. 

With a small sigh, Jiaoqiu sits down by your feet on the mattress. He sets his free hand on your bare thigh, caressing along the limb for a moment before his touch creeps further up and under the hem of your flimsy gown. There’s not much you can do to resist as his fingers find the trim of your underwear, nor are you able to fight him when he pulls the garment down your legs. 

”I know it must not be pleasant”, he says as he lays his palms on each of your knees before gently nudging them apart, ”but it’s crucial for you to be still for this.”

He clicks the container open. For a brief moment, you can’t make sense of the thin, metallic item he pulls out, but as you slowly come to understand what you’re looking at, your eyes fly wide open. 

”No-no-no, please...”, you plead, trying to get your legs to rise off the sheets, but the most you’re able to do is have your thighs twitch a few times. 

”As I said, there’s nothing to be frightened of”, Jiaoqiu reassures you as he  proceeds to lather the metal rod in a clear substance. ”Relax for me, please.”

His words do very little to ease your panic. He has an unfortunate habit of using a sort of clinical language with you from time to time, and while it doesn’t usually bother you, right now, the professional part of him instills more fear in you than anything else possibly could, especially as you feel the cold tip of the tool prodding at your cunt. 

A fresh wave of tears gathers at your waterlines, spilling past your lashes and rolling down the sides of your head as you squeeze your eyes shut. Jiaoqiu isn’t deterred by your reaction, however: Instead, he uses his thumb to gently pull back the hood of your clit to reveal the tiny opening of your urethra beneath it. With a steady hand and precise movements, he inserts the sound into where you thought you would never be penetrated. 

You let out a tiny, strangled noise at the intrusion, making an attempt to tense the muscles in your abdomen, but it’s a futile effort. A sob makes it past your lips. 

”Are you in pain?” Jiaoqiu then asks you, not even bothering to raise his attention from the task at hand. As an offer of consolation, he swipes a few, quick circles over your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

”Feels-... Feels bad”, you squeeze out in a wavering voice. 

”But it doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jiaoqiu cracks his eyes open for the slightest bit; just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his yellow irises. 

You don’t answer him. Not minding your lack of a response, he simply gives you yet another, unbothered smile. He then draws a few more measured circles over your clit, but the push of the rod doesn’t relent. The cold metal presses up against spots you never knew could even be touched, and with him as your guide, you come to find that they’re oh-so-sensitive.

˗ˏˋ ★ Jing Yuan

☆ Content warnings include: Shibari, fingering, implied cunnilingus, and improper use of his glaive.

You lie on the soft sheets of your shared bed. Bright red, ornate patterns of rope adorn your nude body, crossing over your stomach, travelling between the mounds of your breasts, connecting your wrists to the headboard. “Embarrassed” would be an understatement to how you feel at the moment, but then again, considering your captor, it’s no wonder that you’ve ended up where you have: The person guilty of putting you in such a position is none other than the General seated in between your open thighs. 

Finishing the last bit of his handiwork — namely, tying a secure knot on the point that attaches one of your ankles to the end of his glaive — he leans back to admire the fruit of his labour with a content smile on his face. 

”Is anything too tight?” he asks, swiping his hair over his shoulder. 

You know better than to lie to his face. You have tried that before, attempting to delay what awaits you, but something like that is of no use with him: Jing Yuan sees right through your bluffs, even more than you would like to admit. 

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of answering him, you hide your face in your upstretched arm. He lets out a gentle hum, conveying something akin to endearment at your show of diffidence. 

”It would be best if you refrained from moving your legs too much”, he then says, stroking his warm hand along your thigh. ”I did the best I could, but the rope is prone to slipping.”

You don’t know where in the world he got the idea of using his weapon as a spreader bar. The General isn’t usually one to deviate from his usual patterns, but the case seems to be different today. Though the blade of his weapon is sheathed to protect your foot from getting sliced open, you’re not keen to find out what would happen if the cover were to slide off. 

You don’t get to dwell on the details for too long, however: With a thoughtful hum, Jing Yuan lifts the haft of the glaive enough to be able to duck underneath it. The heat radiates off of his body as he climbs over yours, and with his shirt long since discarded on the floor, his bare skin presses against your chest. 

”What would you like today?” he inquires in his deep, gentle voice.

You wince as he leans into you, shuddering at the way his breath tickles the shell of your ear. He seems to take note of the reaction, but instead of giving you space to breathe, he nudges the bridge of his nose against the side of your head in a loving manner. 

Travelling a little lower, he sets his lips on the spot beneath your jaw, planting a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive skin. He then continues downward, licking a stripe up your neck, leaving a wet trail in his wake. Simultaneously, you feel his hand creep to one of your breasts where he begins tenderly caressing around the general area of your nipple. 

”No preferences?” he quirks his brow at you. 

You remain silent. 

”I think I know what to do, then.”

Jing Yuan presses a final, languid kiss on the side of your face before he withdraws. 

Retracing his previous movements, he gently lifts the glaive’s handle over his head and pulls back from your body, but you only get a quick moment to breathe before he suddenly raises the haft in the air. Before you can speak out a protest, he presses the bar towards your head, effectively folding you in half and — more acutely — revealing your bare bits to his hungry eyes. 

A faint blush covers his chiselled face as he gazes down at the sight, taking in every last detail of your form. The way he looks at you has a certain, distinct quality to it: How he observes you, how his eyes wander over your form — it never fails to leave you feeling horribly self-conscious, no matter the context. 

”Try to relax a little”, he instructs you as his free hand creeps along your inner thigh, inching closer to your cunt. ”I’m going to be gentle.”

Your stomach lurches as you feel two of his fingers breach your entrance in a slow, careful motion. He wastes no time pressing his thumb against your clit to aid you in allowing the intrusion, and even with your best efforts, you can’t fight the way he curls his digits into the front wall of your insides. Having long since learned your body by heart, he immediately begins massaging the spot with his usual, tender yet strict manner. 

You crack open one of your eyes to peek at the man’s expression. Coincidentally, you do so just in time to see a strange glint in his gaze. 

The glaive prevents you from squeezing your thighs shut as Jing Yuan leans down in between them, bringing his face to where his fingers are already deep in you. He lets out a soft, content sigh before his mouth makes contact with your cunt.

˗ˏˋ ★ Luocha

☆ Content warnings include: Bondage, sensory deprivation, lowkey sadistic man.

There’s a blindfold over your eyes. It’s thick enough for you to not see proper outlines through the fabric, but at the same time, it lets in just the tiniest bit of light. Through the hazy filter, the only thing you’re able to see is Luocha’s form flickering in and out of your field of view. 

Much like he likes to do nearly every time, your hands have been tied above your head with a silk ribbon. Though the material doesn’t dig into your wrists — he always takes utmost care to ensure you’re comfortable — the notion itself has you dangling on the edge of hysteria. You hear him shuffle around you, clearly preparing something. His steps are eerily quiet, and you’re having a hard time determining where exactly he is. 

A hand sets itself on your knee. You jolt at the contact, involuntarily tugging against your restraints. Luocha, taking a seat by your side on the bed, lets out a short, amused sigh as he draws idle circles along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tracing his fingers along the veins. 

”Did I startle you?” he asks in his serene voice. 

You purse your lips together as you feel a stray strand of his hair land on your abdomen, right on the bare patch of your stomach that peeks out from under your top. It tickles, and an involuntary shiver has you raising your back off the mattress. 

”I hope I did not”, Luocha continues, moving to caress the side of your hip.

It’s remarkable how he’s able to spew such thinly veiled lies in a perfectly calm tone. You’re certain that the man takes pleasure in seeing your heart jump, but with how impeccable his facade is, it’s incredibly challenging to fight back at his whims. 

His touch withdraws from you. Inhaling deeply, you anxiously wait for his next move, holding your breath and trying to listen for the tiniest sound he might make. 

”I’m going to move to your abdomen now”, he then informs you, releasing you from the present suspense — only to create another right after. 

You shudder as Luocha’s fingertips make contact with your side. Gently, he slides his digits under your top where he traces the shape of your ribs underneath your skin. His hands are cold, and you can’t help but twitch away from him as his fingers near your chest. 

His free hand settles over your stomach to keep you still as the other finds your nipple. Tenderly circling the bud with his thumb, he teases it until it pebbles up, and only then does he move to the other one. You take it all without a single sound making it past your lips, biting the inside of your lower cheek and fighting the inexplicable sense of terror that threatens to rise into your throat. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Luocha slips the hand resting over your stomach beneath the waistband of your bottoms, and with that, you finally let go of your composure. Letting out a meek wail, you shake your head from side to side, squirming away from his prying touch. 

He follows your movements, however. No matter which direction you try to move in, his hand comes along, and you’re unable to rid yourself of him. Silently, he ignores every single one of your pleading “no”s and “don’t”s, firmly keeping his skin against yours. Patiently, he waits until your little fit of disobedience is over, and only then does he proceed. 

”I’m not going to hurt you”, he assures you in the same, calm tone as always. 

However, the tiny, off ring in his voice tells you that he isn’t completely unaffected by your struggling. You’ve come to recognize the tiny, nearly unnoticeable shift in his tone when his patience is starting to run thin. 

Confirming your fears, his fingers creep closer and closer to your bits underneath your clothes. With little dwadling, his fingers crawl past the waistband of your bottoms and continue downward until they slip in between your folds. You hold your breath.

The hand on your breast moves to the middle of your chest where he gently presses down, urging you to rest back on the mattress. It’s easier said than done, though: In between your legs, his rigid touch has found exactly where you’re the most vulnerable. Paying very little mind to how your bottom lip quivers at the feeling, wordlessly, he gets to work.

With ease, Luocha plays you like an instrument. With each tiny caress, he coaxes a reaction out of you, whether that be a shiver, a moan, or a sob. He takes his sweet time searching for the spots that draw the most intense sounds out of you, poking and prodding around until your jaw clenches and tiny, wet dots appear on your blindfold. 

The hand on your chest moves up to your head where he begins gently weaving his fingers through your hair. Tenderly, he combs the strands out of your face and behind your ear, quietly humming as he continues to torment you. The contrast between his actions is much too great for you to comprehend, and soon, you’ve been reduced to the sniffling, whimpering mess he seems to enjoy seeing so much.

Listening to your sobs, Luocha’s hand moves past your face and beneath your neck where he finds a tiny curl of baby hair. Gently, he begins twirling the strand around in a comforting manner. 

”Breathe”, Luocha instructs you, all the while the pads of his fingers dance along the underside of your clit. ”It’s going to be far more pleasant for you that way. As I said, I won’t hurt you. Settle down.”

His digits slip into your entrance.

˗ˏˋ ★ Moze

☆ Content warnings include: Daggers, a little blood, fingering, and fearplay.

The blade of his dagger is a mere inch away from sinking into your exposed throat. Looking down with wide eyes, you’re just barely able to see the metallic sheen of the weapon as it lingers right above your carotid — an unrelenting threat. 

The position Moze has put you in is nothing short of straining: Beads of sweat have risen onto your skin from having to balance on your toes with your chest pressed against the wall of your shared bedroom. You’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to keep the posture up with how your legs are trembling, and as if the physical aspect itself wasn’t enough, your captor seems to be putting his best efforts into getting you to falter. 

He has slid his hand inside the back of your bottoms, and two of his fingers are knuckle-deep inside you, prodding around to find any spot potent enough to shake your resolve. His chest is glued flush against your back, trapping your body in between him and the pale yellow wallpaper. 

Moze truly appears to want you to waver, to allow your neck to fall victim to his dagger with how insistently he’s playing with your bits, but then again, it’s now like he would ever actually let you. The act is about the sense of power it grants him — nothing less, nothing more. 

”I wouldn’t move too much if I were you”, he comments in his nonchalant tone, taking note of how a tremor travels up your leg. ”The blade will pierce you like butter.”

You’re unable to offer him an answer, much less a nod. With how your head is craned all the way back to avoid your untimely demise, it’s nearly impossible for you to move in any direction; certainly not forward. 

”Your blood would splatter all over the walls. It would be a hassle to clean up”, he continues the macabre remarks without a single hint of sympathy in his voice. 

You clench your teeth together and bend your back into a deeper curve as Moze attempts to wiggle a third finger inside you. His task proves difficult, however, as it's a challenge for you to loosen up with the imminent doom lodged against your pulse. 

As his efforts bear no fruit, his digits pull out of your entrance and instead curve around to reach your clit. He nudges the pearl back and forth in a somewhat tender motion while his thumb opts to sink into your cunt instead. At the same time, he inches the dagger further up your neck until the flat side makes contact with the tip of your chin. A tiny, choked sound escapes your mouth. 

”How does it feel?” Moze breathes directly into your ear, raising the hairs on the nape of your neck. 

You would be unable to speak out your answer, even if you had one: You’re afraid that if you were to open your mouth even the tiniest bit, the blade would sink into the underside of your jaw. 

He doesn’t cut you the least bit of slack: He clicks his tongue in a nearly performative manner before jabbing the thumb inside you and against the front wall of your cunt, persistently massaging the spot in circular motions. The stimulation is enough to draw a frightened whimper out from between your pursed lips, but even that doesn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. 

”Does it scare you?” he presses, all the while he continues mercilessly fiddling with your bits. 

You cave in. 

One of your legs gives out from underneath you, and you reel to the side. Just as your life flashes before your eyes, Moze is lightning fast to pull the dagger away from your throat, quite literally saving your life. 

Unexpectedly, though, he doesn’t support your weight as you fall: Instead, he allows your body to stumble down on the floor with a quiet thud. Bracing yourself for the impact, you squeeze your lashes shut, but at the very last moment, he catches you by the back of your neck. Gently, he lowers your body down on the ground. 

As you weakly prop yourself onto your elbows and open your eyes, you come to find that the torment isn’t over quite yet. Blinking a few times, you take a moment to comprehend that you’re staring at the needle-sharp tip of the dagger pointed directly at your pupil. 

”Lie down”, Moze then commands, edging the blade closer to you, forcing you to rest flat on the floor. 

You gape at him with your mouth ajar, softly shaking your head and silently pleading with him, but it’s no use. His expression is as cold as his blade — although, it would be impossible not to notice the flush that plays at his cheekbones. 

Climbing on top of you, the man glares you down as the point of his weapon creeps closer and closer to your face until it settles in between your eyes. The metal makes contact with your skin, pricking a minuscule pinhole on the bridge of your nose. The touch is so steady that you barely feel it pierce your skin, but you become aware of the wound as you squint your eyes and see the dot of blood that rises onto the nick. 

You swallow thickly. Looking up at him through the sheen of tears gathering at your lashline, you can’t make sense of the look on his features. The moment only lasts for a second or two, however, as next, you feel his hand slide underneath the waist of your bottoms yet again.

˗ˏˋ ★ Mydei

☆ Content warnings include: Penetration, anal, improper use of his crystal thingies, mild degradation, kinda rough boombayah, predator/prey dynamics.

Your breath is wheezing so bad that you wonder if your throat is going to close in on itself soon. Even as you’ve been running for the better part of an hour, your legs are still going, though they have long since gone numb from the exertion. 

Despite the murmur of your blood coursing through your veins drowning out the majority of other sounds, you can still distinctly hear the clinking of Mydei’s armour behind you. The steady thud of his footsteps is right on your tail, unwavering in pace. Even though you understand that your efforts are futile, you can’t help but entertain the tiny slice of hope you have of outrunning him — but, alas, your journey is to end nowhere else but the destination he has set for you: His crystal-clad throne in the middle of Castrum Kremnos’ arena. 

Slowly, your steps grow slower and slower as you arrive at the centre of the stadium. Still holding onto the last bits of your dwindling spirit, you frantically look around, trying to find any direction to make your escape in, but quickly, you come to realize that there’s nothing but vast, open space to be found around you. 

”Have you finally admitted defeat, woman?” you hear Mydei roar from behind you as he, too, comes to a halt. 

You don’t answer him. Instead, you bolt for the throne. You don’t exactly have a plan in mind — it’s more of a reflex, more of an instinct to directly run away from the dangers that is him — but nevertheless, you don’t make it far. Just as you reach the deep red crystals, you feel a hand on your back.

Mydei forces your stomach against the throne’s flat surface, bending your arms behind your back with one hand. In his feral state, he hardly pays any mind to how you wail out as he yanks your flimsy nightwear aside in favour of getting to your bits. You can feel the heat emanating from his body; he drowns you in the sheer intensity of his presence alone.

In an act of mercy, he shakes his gauntlet off before sinking two of his fingers into your entrance. The article clanks against the ground a few times before settling somewhere next to him, but the distraction does nothing to deter him from his goal. He finds your sweet spot without delay, focusing all of his attention into pressing up against it, jabbing the vulnerable area with strength that’s right at the border of being too aggressive. 

The man growls directly into your ear, making his intentions known without having to speak a word. Having long since grown much too impatient for his own good, after a mere few moments, his digits are already being replaced by the tip of his dick. 

With a swift, forceful movement, he slides his cock into you. Your jaw falls open at the sting of the stretch, but instead of slowing down in favour of caring for you, your reactions only seem to fuel his fire.

He isn’t one to talk during the deed or really let you know what he’s about to do before he goes through with something, and that’s the case this time around, too. Rather than warning you about what is to come, out of nowhere, he takes the liberty of spitting on your rear hole. Straining your neck, you try to look at him over your shoulder to figure out what’s going on, but the only thing you manage to catch a glimpse of is a chunk of something deep red in his hand. 

”Mydei!” you call out for him in a desperate tone. 

”Weak thing”, he berates you, throwing his dishevelled hair back. ”There is nowhere left for you to run.”

You’re about to respond to him, but the words die on your tongue as you feel the warm head of a crystal — a phallic, sizable one — pressing up against your ass. A broken shriek is the only thing that makes it past your lips before the item sinks into your rear hole. 

”Mydei, no-!” you yelp out, but your sentence is cut short as he suddenly pulls back and slams the entirety of his cock into you yet again.

It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, and to top it all, Mydei pushes the makeshift toy inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. Not wasting any more time, the man begins fucking you in earnest, finally letting go of his restraint and thrusting into you with ardour unimaginable. 

The sensation is way too intense for you to bear. In a weak effort to rid yourself of him, you try to wriggle your arms out of his grasp, but he doesn’t take kindly to the effort. Instead, he lets out a deep, guttural grunt and presses you even flusher against the seat of his throne.

Mydei lets go of the crystal lodged in your ass in favour of weaving his hand in your hair, gathering the strands in a good grip before pulling your head back. He doesn’t perform the action in a violent manner, however: Rather, he seems to offer you an act of tenderness with how he leans down beside your head and latches his lips on your earlobe. The gesture sends a tingle down your spine, and in consequence, your cunt constricts around his cock. You feel his grin against the side of your head.

˗ˏˋ ★ Phainon

☆ Content warnings include: Anal again, cunnilingus, he talks you through it, fingering, and lowkey manhandling.

”Come on, hey, look at me”, Phainon speaks in a tender, comforting tone — much too soft compared to the situation at hand. 

He has pinned you underneath him on the bed, one hand holding both of your wrists in an unyielding grip while the other presses down in the middle of your unclothed chest, forcing you flat against the mattress. His face hovers above yours, bright blue eyes observing your agitated expression with curiosity. 

The smile on his face is a complete contrast to how he’s treating you. The weight of his knees propped atop of your thighs keeps your legs separated, and most alarmingly, the head of his cock stands much too short of a distance away from your nethers. Having already lathered his member and your entire downstairs in a generous layer of lube, you thought it was going to be another few rounds of fucking you into the sheets, but alas, he had different thoughts in mind. 

”I’m not gonna make it hurt, you can trust me”, Phainon assures you, letting go of your chest in favour of brushing his fingers through your hair as if to console you, all while gazing down at you with way too much excitement in his countenance. ”I can put my fingers in first, and then the stretch won’t be as bad. Doesn’t that sound alright?”

”No, Phainon, it’s not gonna-, it’s-, your thing will...”, your gaze travels down your body and in between your thighs where his dick is already twitching excitedly. 

”Hey, don’t be like that”, his brows fall flat in a sympathetic expression, but you’re unable to find any solace in it as simultaneously, his hand leaves your hair and instead goes for your bits. 

Understanding what is about to come, you start doing your best to wriggle yourself out of his grasp, clawing at his hand and trying to dislodge your thigh out from under him, but it’s a useless effort. You can hardly even budge, let alone get him off of you. He isn’t the slightest bit affected, and as if the notion itself wasn’t enough, you feel his fingers circling your rear hole. 

”To my understanding, it’s not that different from here”, his touch brushes over the entrance of your cunt, a little above his eventual target, ”and as long as I go slow, it’s gonna feel so good to you that you won’t be able to get a single word out!”

You stare at the man with your mouth ajar, listening to him babble in utter disbelief. He doesn’t allow you to linger in your bewilderment for longer than a moment, though, because the following second, you feel his fingers pushing into your ass. 

”Try not to clamp down on me so hard, heh”, Phainon chuckles, stroking his thumb along your wrist in an affectionate manner. ”It doesn’t feel bad, does it? I’d give your little button right here some attention if you didn’t try to escape me the moment I do, but do your best to relax, okay?”

Facing a little resistance, the fingers in your hole pull out a little before pushing back in with a bit more force. The man’s attention is mostly on your face, busy observing for even the tiniest changes in your expression as he gently works his digits in. 

Then, out of nowhere, it’s like a lantern had lit up above his head. 

”Hold on, I guess I could...”, the gears in his head turn for a good second before a wide smile finds itself on his features. 

You watch in horror as he manoeuvres himself into a position so awkward that a weaker-bodied person attempting the same would surely have fallen face first onto the mattress. It’s of no difficulty to him, however, and with a strenuous movement, he lowers his face down to your cunt while still holding your hands above your head. 

You feel his breathing fanning in between your thighs as he inspects your bits with an embarrassing amount of scrutiny. You clench your jaw and do your best to find the heat that creeps up your lower body, all the while Phainon takes his sweet time ogling at your most vulnerable spots. You let out a tiny whine, but all it gets out of him is a warm, airy chuckle. 

”That’s better”, he then comments, right before his mouth connects with your clit. 

You voice out a startled shriek as the man immediately goes for sucking the bud, not wasting any time on allowing you to adjust to the sensation. Your hips jump in a sudden jerk, almost causing his fingers to fall out of you, but he’s quick to get the situation under control again. Utilizing the brief moment of stir, he wiggles his digits all the way in. 

”Attagirl”, he mumbles into your cunt, unintentionally stimulating you even further with how his voice vibrates against your bits. 

Despite your protests and wails, he continues to pleasure you. Pushing a third finger in alongside the first two, he pays no attention to how his shoulders ache from the difficult angle he has set himself in. Putting all of his attention into overloading you with all he has to give, he refuses to pull up to even catch his breath.

Unintelligible wails, moans and cries spill out of your wide open mouth as you weather the relentless torture he puts you through. Gasping for air like you were drowning, there’s nothing you can do when you feel your climax building up, and within moments, Phainon has you coming on his tongue like the job required nothing of him. 

Your back arches off the mattress as you finish. Your muscles spasm wildly as your hole constricts around his fingers, but even then, the man doesn’t show you a single sign of slowing down. The pleasure quickly turns into intense overstimulation, yet no matter how you try to pull away from him, his mouth stays latched onto your much-too-sensitive clit. It’s only when your wails and ”stop”s grow loud enough that he finally gives your cunt one last lick and raises his head. 

His chin glistens with the remnants of your essence as he gets up from between your legs, rolling his neck back with a beyond-satisfied grin on his face. Carefully, he pulls his fingers out of you. 

”That must have been quite enjoyable for you, I hope”, he then sighs, finishing the comment with a gentle laugh. 

You’re much too out of it to even truly register his words. Your chest heaves up and down with each of your rapid inhales, and despite the way your thighs are still quivering from the force of your orgasm, Phainon isn’t ready to slow down any time soon. 

Aligning the head of his cock with your ass once more, he leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your sweat-clad forehead. 

”You can trust me”, he hums against your skin. 

Without further delay, he starts pushing into you.

˗ˏˋ ★ Dr. Ratio

☆ Content warnings include: Bath sex, degradation, penetration and anal.

You don’t quite understand what exactly you did to warrant such a reaction from him. One moment, you were resting in his lap in the bath, patiently waiting for the man to finish the chapter on whatever book he was reading, and the next, you’re clutching the side of the porcelain tub with both of your hands, holding on for dear life as Ratio drives his cock into your insides. 

The position is awkward for both of you, even to your standards: Not only is the water splashing all around the spacious bathroom, but you’re sure that one of you is going to slip sooner or later, and the session will end up with a cracked skull. 

Though, you can’t exactly say it’s the danger that you’re focusing on. Your train of thought is regularly interrupted by a mean, resounding spank on your bare, gleaming butt. 

You let out a yelp as the palm of Ratio’s hand makes contact with your behind yet again. The water does nothing to soften the impact — the complete opposite, in fact. Both the smacks and the rhythmic slapping of his crotch against yours seem to have been amplified by the wet sheen that covers your bodies. His other hand is busy pressing your back into an arch. With each of his thrusts, your chest is squeezed flatter and flatter against the cold side of the tub. As tightly as you’re clutching the bath’s edge, you feel your knees threatening to buckle under the strain. 

”I thought I asked you to stay still?” Ratio speaks in his usual, nonchalant tone. 

”I-”, you try to get a word in, but before you can even properly open your mouth, he shuts your response down with another spank on your rear. 

“Deplorable.”

In a desperate attempt to gain even a semblance of control over the situation, you reach your arms over the tub’s border. The action rebounds, however: Ratio immediately retracts his hand from your back and instead wraps it around your stomach, pulling you right back to him in a prompt, curt movement. As a result, his cock sinks as deep into your cunt as it’s possibly able, nudging up against a spot that sends a mean sensation up your stomach. 

”You’re utterly hopeless”, he leans down to sigh in your ear. ”Are there any bright thoughts to be found in that little head of yours?”

His fist comes up to your temple. He then knocks his knuckles against your skull, adding to the mocking tone of his previous statement. 

It feels like a punch in the gut not to be able to muster up a defence for yourself, but then again, it’s not like he would take you seriously even if you did. For the greater good, you decide to keep your mouth shut for the time being, but instead of savouring the silence as he usually does, Ratio decides to reach for your face next.

Before you can do as much as flinch away, he squeezes your cheeks together so that your lips fall open, and when they do, he seizes the opportunity to push his thumb past your teeth. The pad of his finger presses down on your tongue as if in search of something. He scoffs, moving the hand on your waist to deliver a particularly harsh hit on your thigh. You whine out an incomprehensible response, weakly shaking your head, but as is common, your complaints do very little to deter Ratio from what he has set his mind to. 

”You truly are a simpleton”, he berates you. 

As a final addition to his treatment, he rubs his palm up and down along your reddened butt for a moment before his touch creeps towards the middle. For a fleeting moment, his fingers circle along the rim of your other hole, and the next second, he pushes in. 

A pathetic squeal escapes out of your ajar mouth as Ratio suddenly hooks his thumb into your ass, purposefully searching for an ankle that would feel the most intense for you. As he finds it, he takes care to squeeze his digit in all the way to the root, poking and prodding around in a near clinical manner. Simultaneously, he pushes two more fingers past your lips, staining them in your drool and reaching for the root of your tongue. 

The bathwater sloshes around along with the rhythm of his thrusts, and with each one, he makes sure to drive the digitin your ass at least as deep as his cock. Although he no longer has a free hand to smack your behind with, the force with which his hips slap against your rear nearly achieves the same effect. 

”Perhaps I should plug you up before bathing from now on?” Ratio comments, idly jabbing his fingers around in your mouth, purposefully allowing saliva to drip down your chin. ”This blathering mouth, and this here”, he curls the thumb inside your butt, ”would be much better off with ample filling, no?”

You can only whimper in response. 

”How pitiable”, he continues, scoffing blatantly. ”Though, I suppose you were never meant to be anything greater than this.”

˗ˏˋ ★ Mr. Reca

☆ Content warnings include: Fingering + fisting, bondage, praise, and he records you while you're at it.

You can’t recall you’ve ever felt as vulnerable as you do at the moment. You know the device looming right above your face is nothing more than a bunch of plates and screws, but even understanding that, you can’t help but shy away from it — or, you would if your hands weren’t tied somewhere over your head where you lie on a mattress, completely bare. The lens of the camera stares right into your soul, carefully reaching into your deepest fears and most scandalous secrets, and no matter how you try to remind yourself that it’s no living being, you feel like you’re under the scrutiny of a giant eye. 

Due to the black veil that falls around your head and cuts your upper body from the rest of it, you’re unable to see what Mr. Reca is fiddling around with, but going by the sound, you’re certain that he’s lingering in the room: The never-ending melody of his quiet humming echoes around the walls, and judging from the faint clinking, he’s tinkering with something. Unlike you, the man appears to be in very high spirits. 

You test the give of your bindings. Even as you tug on them with a considerable amount of force, your wrists don’t budge a single inch. The same is with your legs: Though you can’t see them from behind the curtain, it’s not difficult to decipher that they’re tied to something. More worryingly, you become aware of the fact that your bare bits must be completely visible to him. 

”Reca, I...”, you speak, doing your best to sound resolute, but you can’t hide the way your voice wavers. 

”Patience, Dear”, his voice rings out from somewhere in the room. ”I’m almost ready.”

”Reca, please, I don’t like-”

”Oh, hush”, he cuts off your words with a chuckle. ”Would you truly be as cruel as to deprive me of admiring such a work of art?”

Reca has always been plentiful with words, even when there isn’t exactly a need for it, you have noticed. From what you’ve seen, he has a natural, terrifyingly accurate talent of tuning into people’s emotions and acting accordingly to whatever intentions he has in mind. Typically, he would excel in the arts of getting you to calm down even under the most fraught situations, but this time around, his words do nothing to relieve the dread that’s building up in your chest. 

His footsteps grow closer to you. Next, the camera lens that looms above your face makes a small, whirling noise, and the shutter flickers. The man lets out a satisfied hum. 

Bashfully, you try to hide your face in the crook of your neck, but the job proves difficult with your body restrained. Though you’re unable to see him, it’s not hard to guess what sort of a reaction your visible discomfort elicits in him. 

”Very good, very good”, Reca comments, both to you and to himself. ”You may look in the camera or somewhere else entirely, whatever feels the most natural to you.”

”Please”, the word comes out no louder than a whisper through your quivering lips. 

For a moment, the only thing that remains between the two of you is a deafening silence. As the seconds stretch on, your plea remains unanswered. 

You jolt as you feel his fingers ghosting over your inner thigh. Notably, his hand is bare, unlike usual: He much prefers to keep his gloves on, no matter the occasion, but not this time. The sensation couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anything else. 

”You needn’t do anything more than relax”, Reca instructs you in a soft voice, gently caressing your bare hip. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat as his touch lingers on your body. Though, your anxiety doesn’t truly jump until, without as little as a verbal warning, his fingers slip in between your legs. Reflexively, you shut your thighs around his hand, but you’re unable to prevent the intrusion: The man merely chuckles and gives your knee a fleeting, consoling pat. 

The camera stares you down, observing even the tiniest details of your expression with great curiosity. It records the way you squeeze your eyes shut as Reca tips a generous amount of lube over the general area of your core, supposedly messing around on purpose. 

”Relax, relax”, he sings, all the while his now slippery thumb strokes along the dip between your hip and thigh, taking his sweet time savouring your little whimpers and twitches. “Oh, sweet thing.”

He lets out an ecstatic, dreamy sigh. Then, without prolonging the anticipation further, he wiggles two of his fingers inside of you. 

Your entire lower body tenses up in response, but Reca has never been one to slow down when he has his mind set on something. Hence, you feel him force a third digit in right away, not allowing you even a minimal timeframe to get properly adjusted to the first two. He knows just how to play your body, however: Even with the sting of the stretch, he prods directly at your front wall an inch or two in, attacking the spot with tender precision. Using his free hand, he applies pressure on your lower abdomen, pushing right against the pads of his fingers inside you. Lastly, his little appendage prods at the side of your entrance before it, too, is slipped in along with the rest. 

You can hardly control your breathing anymore, and it’s difficult for your bits not to go taut under the demand he has put you in. You feel completely full, but even then, the man doesn’t appear to be satisfied. 

”Don’t fret now”, he encourages you, continuing his ministrations despite the way your thighs have begun trembling against his wrist. ”You’re merely one away.”

You bite in a gulp of air, nearly choking on your own saliva as finally, you feel his thumb prodding against your thoroughly filled cunt.

”No”, you whisper out in a small, frightened tone.

The hand on your abdomen lets up, instead moving a little lower.

”I know, I know”, Reca sighs as he begins rubbing at your clit, quite obviously on the peak of his own bliss. ”Shh, Dear, you’re faring great.”

Then, with an insistent shove, his entire hand slides into you with a sound that can only be described as nauseating. In the span of a single second, it feels like your lower half has simultaneously been set on fire and overloaded with the most pleasure you could possibly ever handle. The sensation is so unbelievably intense that you’re unable to produce a single sound for a long, agonizing moment. Even then, despite your reaction, Reca doesn’t pause. 

You can’t stop the sob that bursts out of your mouth as you desperately tug on your bindings, only to find that the more you pull, the tighter the rope gets. He doesn’t mind your resistance one bit: Instead, as if prodding at a control panel, he insistently presses on your pearl while inching his fingers further inside you. 

”Yes, yes, you’re doing spectacular”, he inhales in a tone that leaves very little to your imagination. 

Gasping for air, you clench your teeth together. Abiding by your reactions in his own, terribly twisted way, Reca speeds up his actions, both inside and outside of you. With relentless vigour, he fucks you with his entire hand, not leaving a single spot untouched. In the end, you can do nothing but surrender to him as he takes you to your climax, reduced to your smallest and utterly helpless. 

At the very same time as your cunt constricts around his hand, he lets out an obnoxiously loud, wanton moan. With the last few curls of his fingers, accompanied by a string of airy, barely comprehensible praises, he pulls out of you with a wet squelch. 

”My beautiful, beautiful Darling”, he sighs. 

The tears that have pooled in your eyes spill down the sides of your face like a river.

˗ˏˋ ★ Sampo

☆ Content warnings include: Predator/prey, hypothermia, sucking the d, fingering, he's an asshole.

It’s arduous to run with how your bare feet sink into the snow with every step. You should have thought twice, you should have known better than to take the very obvious chance he presented you with, but nevertheless, it’s much too late for regretting your choices now. No matter how the freezing cold pricks your skin, you don’t stop for even a second to rest. 

Somewhere behind you, much, much closer than you would like, you hear the sound of Sampo tailing you. The man isn’t making an effort to be stealthy as he would in any other situation: Though the unforgiving noise of the snow squall drowns out most other sounds, you can make out the revoltingly familiar, distinct melody of his humming. 

Muffling your hacking cough into the sleeve of your sweater, you ignore the sense of sheer terror that threatens to consume you whole and continue your way through the wilderness. You don’t exactly know where you’re going — in every direction, the scenery consists of the same, cruel bedrock and measly, shrivelled-up trees — but you understand that the path you pick isn’t of that much importance. After all, in the back of your mind, you’re aware that you’re just postponing the inevitable. 

At the very same moment as the despair of reality catches up to you, a dagger swishes past your leg, tearing a gash into the side of your calf. You don’t even bother to silence the cry that erupts from your throat as you stagger to the side. Though you’re much too high on adrenaline to actually feel the pain that shoots up your limb, the bright red blots that spread over the pure white leave very little doubt of the injury’s severity in your mind. 

One, two, and on the third step, your knees give out. You tumble down onto the ground hands first, sinking into the powdery snow that welcomes you with a soft, silent fall like a frigid pile of feathers. 

Your limbs have long since gone frigid, and you’re unable to even feel the temperature anymore. Yet, the ice still seeps into your skin like a thousand, tiny needles. The only remaining signs of life in you are the flush that covers your cheeks and the puffs of steam that rise from your mouth with every rapid pant you let out. 

”Ooh, ouch”, Sampo’s mellifluous voice rings out from behind you. 

You don’t bother trying to raise your head to peek at his silhouette as it gradually comes into view through the dense snowfall. Seemingly in high spirits, he takes his sweet time walking over to your pitiful form, leisurely spinning his secondary dagger around his finger while dangling a heat lantern in the other hand. 

”Now, now, what do we have here?” he crouches down next to you and sets the lamp down beside your head.

Clenching your teeth, you jerk your arm towards him and attempt to land a hit on him, but the action is pitiably slow due to your state. He catches you by your wrist with ease, stopping the pathetic failure of a punch without having to use a single ounce of strength. He inspects your ice-cold limb with a smug smirk on his features, softly shaking it as if it were a malfunctioning gadget. 

”How cruel of you to go out to play without your dear Sampo”, the man then muses out, pursing his lips into a theatrical pout. ”How could this be? Could I possibly have left the window unlocked?”

He taps the tip of his chin with his fingers as if he was actually pondering the question. 

”Aww”, he moves to gently pat your head as plump tears swell up in your eyes. ”But I do think you owe little old me a favour after chasing you all the way up here.”

If you still had energy in you, your eyes would have flown open at his words. Instead, all you’re able to muster is a weak sob. It doesn’t evoke any sympathy in Sampo, though: As he’s done messing up your damp, partially frozen hair hair, his fingers go to his belt. 

You scrunch your face up as he pulls his already hard cock out of his pants, giving it a good few strokes. He then directs his attention to you, swiping his tongue over his teeth in a predator-like show. As he inches his member closer to your mouth, you do your best to pull away, even as the movement causes a sharp ache at your injured leg. 

”Hey”, he gives you a pitiful excuse of a frown, nudging the head of his cock against your pursed lips. ”What’s the hold-up? Or would you like it in another place?”

The implication is enough of a threat for you to forget your spite. With your eyes squeezed shut, you allow your lips to fall ajar. Sampo doesn’t waste a single second: Smirking widely, he slides his dick into your mouth with tangible excitement. A wanton, exaggerated moan erupts from his throat.

His free hand creeps down your back and slips past the waist of your bottoms. Taking care to make the experience as unbearable for you as possible, he makes sure to convey his truer feelings to you via touch: He tickles around the area just above your risqué bits, he stops to give a pinch to your inner thigh, and finally, his fingers press up against your cunt. No matter how you try to clench your thighs together, you’re unable to resist him as his prying digits find your entrance and push in.

˗ˏˋ ★ Sunday (Pre-AE)

☆ Content warnings include: Bondage, BDSM dynamics, mind control, shoe-grinding, a booty plug, he's lowkey very degrading.

If there’s one thing Sunday excels in, it’s evoking the kind of primordial rage in you that could very well summon Nanook with the sheer magnitude of the emotion. However, as strong as that urge is, he does, unfortunately, also have a talent for knowing just how to get you where he wants, whether that be via psychological torment or the terribly handy tool of Harmony. It’s a cocktail so unsavoury that each day, you wonder how you’re able to survive with him, but then again, you have come to see that the elasticity of the human psyche has very vast bounds. 

The man’s methods of manipulation are beyond anything you ever thought were possible. You can resist or comply, it will all end up the same, and regardless, he isn’t satisfied with anything short of utter and complete dominance over you. 

He sits on his chair with his legs crossed, all high and mighty, hands in his lap like he was in an official meeting. You, in contrast, sit by his feet on your knees with nothing but your see-through nightdress on — it’s his favourite one, precisely for its aforementioned quality. 

A heavy flush of humiliation dances on your cheeks. With your hands tied behind your back, you feel like a piece of interest at an exhibition, every last inch of you vulnerable to your captor to use as he sees fit. 

A plug of considerable size in your ass presses up against your insides with even the smallest movements you make. Yet again, he had to resort to tampering with your mind to get it inside of you, but now that you’re neatly bound up, he doesn’t have to worry about you getting the thing out. You think you might be imagining it, but compared to the usual ones he uses, the toy inside you is a little larger in size. 

Sunday lets out a quiet sigh through his nose. He tilts his head to the side before making a rotating motion with his hand.

You stare at the floor by his feet, unmoving.

”Was there ambiguity in the instructions?” he asks, raising his brows in a querying manner. 

Misery burns at your eyes, but you force yourself not to bare another inch of your vulnerability to him. Still, no matter how determined you are not to let them fall, you don’t need to be a member of the Intelligentsia Guild to know that he’s all too aware of your thoughts — probably even more than you yourself are. 

”Stop”, you let out a meek plea through your pursed lips, softly shaking your head.

”I’m sure you’re aware you’re not the one to make the decisions here?” Sunday squints his eyes the slightest bit, expressing more emotion with a single gesture than he could ever convey via words. 

”...”

You try to think of a suitable answer to his remark, but as the silence grows longer, you see the unmistakable, maddening hues circling your field of vision — like a faint, electric current buzzing through your brain. With your head hanging low, you waddle around on your knees in an awkward manoeuvre, turning your back to him. He lets out an approving hum. 

”Bend over”, Sunday then instructs, soft yet full of authority. 

You open your mouth to speak, but against all your mind is screaming at you to say to him, you remain silent. Instead, in a slow, shaky motion, you lean down and rest your head against the ground, exposing your bare behind to him. 

”Good girl”, Sunday praises you, though the phrase rolls off his tongue more condescending than commending. 

Wordlessly, with your heart in your throat, you expect him to do something, to stand up from his throne to get to whatever he has planned for the evening. He seems to thrive in your anticipation, to take pleasure in seeing you frightened and uncertain, so he prolongs the moment until you can hardly contain your anxiety, and then, only then does he proceed. 

The sole of his shoe makes contact with your behind. You let out a strained, barely audible sound in response to the action, but he hardly reacts to it. Instead, he aligns his ankle so that the tip of his foot nudges on the base of the plug in your ass, forcing the thing deeper into you. In an attempt to escape the stimulation, you arch your back, leaning forward into an even more uncomfortable position, but his shoe follows you, unrelenting. 

”Stay still”, he orders, giving a particularly mean shove to the toy. 

The command is easier said than done, especially as his touch moves down to your cunt where he prods at your entrance, deliberately getting your essence onto the shiny material of his footwear. 

Your shoulder strains from grinding against the floor with each push, but even with the ache, there’s an undeniable, awful scintilla of pleasure to be found in the way his shoe prods your clit. Clenching your teeth together and ignoring the way a tear slips down the bridge of your nose, you press your cheek against the cold ground. 

Sunday doesn’t let you distance yourself from the situation, however. Instead of allowing you to sink into despair, he once again utilizes the Harmony to get into your head, rummaging through all the sensations he’s offering you, until he finds a certain, specific one he wants to amplify. 

A sudden, overwhelming wave of pleasure spreads in your abdomen, nearly having you climax on the spot. You gasp out loud at the feeling, your eyes flying open at the sheer intensity of it, but at the very same time, the realization of its artificiality registers in your mind. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

Sunday lets out a soft chuckle. 

”I think I see how it is”, he speaks, the amusement audible in his voice. ”Enjoy yourself, by all means. You are to take all I give you.”

˗ˏˋ ★ Sunday (AE)

☆ Content warnings include: A vibrator, very mild breathplay, Welt mention, this is lowkey the sweetest one.

”Sunday, what-, what are you doing?!” 

You rest in Sunday’s lap on the Express’ wine-coloured couch in an awkward, half-sitting-half-lying position. The setting is far from comfortable; mostly due to the fact that you have refused to stay still in his hold. His arm has an uncharacteristically firm grip around your chest, though he still isn’t being harsh by any means — quite the opposite, considering how persistentlyyou’re wriggling in your seat. 

In his free hand, he holds a wand-shaped vibrator: Round-headed, textured, and most prominently, the size of your entire forearm. He brings the device closer to his face, inspecting the control buttons with a mildly intrigued look on his typically unexpressive features. As if the tool wasn’t already looking intimidating enough, he presses one of the switches, and the toy whirs to life with strength you don’t even want to imagine having any point of your body subjected to. 

”Sunday!” you repeat his name in a more desperate tone, smacking the arm he has around you. 

”Yes?” he asks, his voice as nonchalant as ever, hardly even bothering to glance at your face over your shoulder while fiddling with the thing’s controls. 

”What are you gonna do with that?!”

”... You have been disagreeable.”

You’ve come to find that Sunday has never been great at talking about sexual things, but then again, the degree of it is sometimes nearly enough to make you crack up. You choke down the terrified, jittery laugh that nearly slips past your lips. 

”Wait, okay-okay-okay, hold on, where’d you get that?” you stare at the device in horror as instead of toning the vibrator’s intensity down, the man ramps the speed up. ”Sunday, where’d you-”

”Please keep it down. The others have already gone to bed”, he answers, not a single ounce of sympathy to be found in his words. 

You open your mouth to express your mind, but the words on your tongue pull back as you see the vibrator closing in on your thinly clothed groin. 

”Sunday-Sunday-Sunday, stop, seriously-!” you kick at the couch cushions to the best of your ability but to no avail. 

”Please stop”, Sunday sighs, stopping his advances for a moment in favour of pulling you back against him. ”It appears much more frightening than it is”, he sets the wildly vibrating head of the wand against your thigh, causing you to jolt, ”and Mr. Yang was gracious enough to provide me with it. Please don’t waste his kindness.”

”Huh?!” you strain your neck to look at him, wide-eyed. ”Hold-, wai-, Sunday, wait, what did you-uuh-!”

Cutting off your stream of words, Sunday presses the vibrator firmly against your covered bits. Simultaneously, clearly having predicted your reaction, he tightens his hold around you before you can flinch away from the sensation. Though you put a considerable amount of effort into trying to disconnect the toy from your cunt, he doesn’t budge an inch. 

As the first strategy doesn’t work, you desperately try to squeeze your knees back together — half out of reflex, partly to deliberately get the thing off of you — but you come to find that Sunday isn’t particularly pleased with the effort either way. Letting out a soft, mildly frustrated huff through his nose, he carefully wrestles your legs apart by forcing his own over them. As if to make a point, he switches the vibrator on a higher setting still.

”Please keep it down”, he repeats his earlier words while pressing the vibrator directly over your clit in gentle, circular motions. 

”Sunday, stop-stop-stop-stop-!”

Sighing, he lets go of your upper body in favour of bringing a gloved hand over your mouth. Though you immediately start throwing your head from side to side to hopelessly attempt to reopen your airways, you quickly come to find that he isn’t goint to let you go through with your whims: Carefully, he makes sure to trace your every movement, keeping his hand securely over your whiny mouth. Your whimpers and wails are muffled by his palm, and even as you start clawing at his arm to get him to let go of you, he calmly resorts to pinching your nose shut for a moment, silently warning you of the further consequences. As much as you hate the effectiveness of the method, with a great amount of mental strain, you force yourself to give up the struggle.

After an embarrassingly short while of resisting him, you surrender to your fate, doing your best to rest against his chest even as your lower half is tormented by the relentless stimuli. Satisfied with your compliance, Sunday moves his arm back around your upper body and returns his full attention to what’s going on in between your legs. 

One of his Halovian wings comes to rest over the side of your face in an affectionate manner. He idly strokes his thumb over the bare skin of your shoulder, all while his other hand focuses on nudging the vibrator back and forth, left to right, clockwise and counter-clockwise. Finding the sight too much to bear, you squeeze your eyes shut and instead try to drown yourself in the relentless buzzing noise that fills the dim room. 

Sunday isn’t yet particularly skilled in taking you to your peak, but the more times he has done it, the better he has gotten. After not that long of a while, the muscles in your lower half tighten, and the tingling sensation of an oncoming climax have you once again trying to clamp your thighs shut. He doesn’t let you, however — instead pressing the toy flusher against your bits — and after a moment or two, you reach your peak. 

He takes you through your high carefully, silently observing your expression to pinpoint exactly where the pleasure is on the brink of turning into overstimulation. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to beg him to stop his ministrations, he removes the toy from your bits. 

Completely drained, trying your best  to catch your breath, you rest limp in Sunday’s arms as he switches the vibrator off and sets it aside. With his hand now free, he proceeds to silently wrap the same arm around you as well, wordlessly lingering in your afterglow, taking in the feeling of your limp form against his. Slightly adjusting your position to be able to properly embrace you, he sinks his nose into the crook of your bare, heated shoulder.

˗ˏˋ ★ Welt

☆ Content warnings include: Fingering with a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in.

You hug the blanket closer to your chest, even though the fabric is already bunched up as close to your skin as it can. The cover provides you with a sense of comfort, even if the feelings the man behind you evokes from you are the complete opposite of that. 

It’s one of those days again. Welt has given you plenty of time to prepare for yourself for what is to come, but despite the merciful frame he has granted you, you’re feeling as anxious as always. It’s of no matter, though: Nothing you couöd have said or done would have gotten you out of it, anyway. 

You sit on your knees in between his legs with your bare back facing him. Though he doesn’t allow you the privilege of clothes, he never really minds it when you hide yourself in the comforter. If there’s one good thing to be said about the man, it’s that he at least tries, to the best of his ability, to take your emotions into account. 

Your shoulders jump as the warm palm of his hand settles in between your scapulae. The ritual is more or less the same each time around: He makes an attempt to familiarize you with his touch before he takes you to the deep end of the pool, but no matter how many times he does so, you can never help the way you jolt. 

Welt lets out a quiet sigh through his nose. Dragging himself forward on the bed, he shortens the gap between the two of you. Though you don’t dare to peek at him, you’re all too aware of the expression his face must have moulded into: A heart-lurching mix of tenderness, forlornness, and twisted adoration that goes far deeper than you could ever even begin to imagine. 

The hand on your back moves downwards. You try to curb the chills that rake your spine as the pads of his fingers glide over each vertebra, travelling downwards until they reach the curve of your waist. 

Something wet makes contact with the back of your neck. In your jittery state, it takes you a second to figure out that it’s his lips, and you’re unable to hold back the fearful gasp that slips out of your throat. As if to comfort you, his hand slides past your side and underneath the blanket you hold onto, settling over your stomach, warm and grounding. Disconnecting his mouth from your skin, he instead plants little pecks along the shape of your collarbone and down your back. 

You’re doing your best to keep your breathing at bay, but even then, your inhales have grown thin. He takes note of the shift, of course, but instead of stopping altogether, his solution is to slow his pace down a little. Where he would normally slip his free hand to your bare breasts, he now settles for resting it over your thigh. 

You bury your face in the blanket in your arms, quivering as he caresses the side of your hip in gentle, soothing motions. You listen to the near-silent, wet sounds his lips produce as he works his way to your other shoulder, leaving traces of saliva over your heated skin. Then, you feel the fingers on your stomach creep downwards. 

”Please tell me if anything feels uncomfortable”, Welt whispers into your skin, his voice wearied yet still maintaining the same, steadfast tone his composed demeanour is known for. 

He doesn’t mean the mental aspect, of course. Though he claims to care for it deeply, in moments like these, he seems to force the thoughts to the back of his mind entirely. 

You wince as the hand on your thigh urges you to spread your legs wider. The gesture barely makes a difference, but in the end, it’s more of a forewarning to you than anything more. Deeming the adjustment period long enough, he allows his fingers to dip into your nethers. 

The contact makes you shudder. Welt is much too far in to stop, however: Rather than pausing his actions, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him until your back touches his bare chest. His skin is warm against yours, his scent lingers all around you, you hear him breathe against the crook of your neck, but out of everything, the way his fingers dance along the slit of your cunt has your stomach sinking the most. 

None of it hurts, though — he makes sure he never gets rough with you unless your behaviour warrants it, just as he has promised to you countless times. Even as one of his digits breaches your entrance, he takes care to go as slowly as he’s possibly able to, coaxing lubrication out of you with feather-light touches. 

His mouth travels up to the back of your ear where he plants one last kiss against the sensitive skin. 

”Try to relax”, he murmurs into your hair. ”It’s going to be easier that way.”

A/N

Oh my-my-my, long time no see. Welcome to the pink Riri-era. I needed to improvise on the post's appearance a bit because there was no way I could fit twenty different men into the banner picture, but I hope the change in looks isn't too jarring ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ )

Which voiceover do you use? I myself use the JP dub, and sometimes, when I do research on the characters to get the dialogue and such accurately, I end up facing the dilemma that the vibe which I'm used to isn't translated in the EN lines, like, at all. I occasionally notice in game that some lines might even be entirely different in contents when comparing the voice to the text 💀 For characters like, say, Mydei, characterization is easy because the EN and JP versions convey more or less the exact same type of personality, but with Sampo, for example, the JP and the EN are like two completely different characters due to the VAs' personal interpretations. At the end of the day, I prefer to characterize by voice, and so if you get a strange vibe from certain characters, it might be because of that! Or, alternatively, I have missed the mark and need to be sent to fanfic writer bootcamp. I'll leave that up to you to decide.

[mydiluc]

彡 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

It’s been a long day, perhaps even more than that. But there’s nothing like falling into the arms of the one who can get your mind off of things — or in other words, your lover fucks you until you cry. 

❤︎ cast: jing yuan, blade, ratio, mydei x fem reader

warnings: smut, hurt/comfort vibes, established relationships, creampies, manhandling, fingering, bath sex, desktop sex, crying - HONESTLY THESE ARE V SOFT 🥺 around 5k words. 18+ ONLY MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Jing Yuan

It was rather thoughtless to ever believe that Jing Yuan was not the type to be able to see very clearly through whatever wall you were trying to put up. The smiles you flashed him, avoiding the glimmering gold of his fond gaze when he ran a hand across your tight and taught shoulders, tensing when his fingers brushed along them. You were not one to brush him off, but today you were neatly folded in on yourself against the corner of the couch, watching the finches flutter from the window but not with any indication of wanting to see their happy winged flaps — but just to ruminate on whatever was clearly bothering you.

At the third sigh, the third “I’m alright, Jing Yuan, it’s nothing.” the man who is a picture of patience itself had resorted to a gentle grasp at your delicate ankle, a squeeze to it that finally snapped you from your thoughts and had you staring at your husband. His thumb gently stroked your ankle bone while the smile on his face was knowing, but not any less sharp as you blinked rapidly at his closeness.

“Little rabbit, I implore you not to lie to me. I quite enjoy our honesty with each other.”

You swallowed, inhaling deeply and slowly, then a smile like a grimace,

“I really am okay.”

You did not expect for the General to grasp your ankle a little harder, as a means to tug you quickly and harshly across the couch. You yelped loudly, the finches happily fluttering outside now scattered from the noise, your body laying on the comfort of the plush couch with your ankle still in hand of Jing Yuan but now held in the air as he effortlessly climbed between your body. Your other leg parted for him, as such a broad presence only could do for him to settle with his crotch close to yours. Your little dress naturally was pushed up at the sudden manhandling, showing him your panties. It didn’t matter that you were with this man for awhile now that still the exposure had your face hot.

He tutted at you, which always irritated you in a way, as it meant you had already lost. Jing Yuan, your clever strategist, your ever watchful General and how he so often was able to pull out whatever ruse you were trying to hide. Such frustration came with softened edges, because really it was all from how he loved you so.

“I would like for you to tell me the truth, unless you would like for me to pull it from you myself? Your body does tend to react quite..sensitively to my methods, wouldn’t you agree?” Jing Yuan mused, your eyes flitted down to see his large shaft, half hard in his trousers. You gulped shamefully, knowing that this entire situation had your pussy aching and wet despite the uproar of emotions going on in your head, the gusset of your underwear uncomfortably sticking to your lips.

He’s about to devour you, rightfully so, when you sniffle. Jing Yuan, whose eyes have not left your sweet face, watches you beg for him. So softly, meek and weak.

“I need you, Jing Yuan.”

Ah, he smiled, chuckling softly through his nostrils and not minding at all when you groaned and swatted his shoulder for it. He was all too happy to remind you how important you have always been in his life — such an old man as himself was not going to take advantage of your sweet soul.

He helped peel your sodden panties off first, a wide palm gliding down your inner thigh to press you open just a little more. You felt your pussy flutter at his touch that didn’t quite reach the place you wanted, but in your distraction your lover nosed at your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. He always looked at you so fondly it nearly made your body seize with shyness, only a whimper of his name said before he was kissing you.

He allowed his lips to tentatively work yours open, swallowing down every one of your whimpers and little sighs. Your fingers reached down to toy with the zipper of his pants, gliding along the hardness throbbing against his thigh until he smiled against your mouth and helped you pull his hefty cock from its confines. His tip was at your entrance, tacky and weeping with pre as he started to press into you. It was always a stretch, but always worth it.

“Please…” you murmured into his mouth, lashes fluttering at another tiny push of his fat cock splitting you. Jing Yuan’s broad figure was hunched over you, his starlight hair a curtain around your face when you cried out at his heavy, full sheath into your cunt in one mighty stroke. You nearly passed out at the knock of him against your cervix, but your lover did not allow it. He kissed you ardently, his hands sliding down to beneath your ass cheeks where with each handful he hoisted your bottom half up to meet the thudding smacks of his hips meeting yours.

“You were withholding things from me, but know that I won’t let you run from me. I love you too much for that, do you understand?” he grunted with his jaw clenched at his punctured thrusts. You were so wet and pliant, nodding with your nails digging into his scarred skin.

You being squished on the couch under him, you had nowhere to go and no choice but to moan into his shoulder, your ass in his hold and shoving you onto his cock over and over — you were always so in awe of his well placed stamina, leaving you shaking and screaming. Much like you hoped today would end the same.

But instead, because of the overwhelming feeling of it all, being in his arms after fighting with yourself so much, you began to cry. Jing Yuan cooed, settling your ass back down against the couch and his thumb finding your swollen clit in one swift movement.

“Let it all out, little one. I’ll catch you.” he promised, the press of his thumb harder on your slippery clit and cock still wrecking your insides.

You wailed, back arching as far as it could muster while still being pressed against Jing Yuans chest, tears so rapidly falling down your cheeks and voice growing raspy as you tightened around him with your face in his neck. He groaned deeply, the sound of a powerful man so enthralled with you dizzying, kissing and mouthing at your hot wet face while you shook at his cock still fucking you until he met his climax with a full body shiver. You were so warm, being filled with his creamy seed and his bulky body settling over yours with a gentleness only Jing Yuan could muster. You shuddered in his arms, still sniffling and sobbing quietly, unwilling to let him move away from you.

Jing Yuan kissed to side of your head, whispering I love you as you cried and allowed your previously withheld vulnerability fall away with him.

“Anything you are going through, we will do so together. Such is my vow, that I take very seriously you know.” Jing Yuan murmured, nuzzling against the side of your face as your breathing settled. You nodded again,

“I’ll try to be better about it Jing Yuan.”

He kissed your lips and when he gave you again his sweetly knowing smile, you felt more tears begin to well up.

“And if you have trouble, I have no qualms doing this again to aid you.” and at that, you laughed, a smile vivid and real and beautiful.

That was really all he wanted, and while you needed the reminder that it was all possible again to feel this way.

Blade

If ever there were a man who was more than willing and able to notice the little things about you, Blade would find him and insist with a blank but steady stare at how he was in fact, more so than that. He was oddly kind, someone from a nightmare when you first encountered him. All shadows and scowls and a stormy past that caught you admittedly off guard with his tender hand and need to keep you close with a kiss to your temple or a plate of cut up fruit set wordlessly beside you. He was aware that even now you still kept a lot of your heart from him, and in fairness he too sometimes expressed difficulty in showing all of his heart. But he was resolved to continue to love you thoroughly, and it made a wounded man such as him exceedingly glad to be loved in return by you. It was no surprise then that in Blades perception he knew you were struggling and in an awkward but endearing way he approached you with a pinch to your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

You frowned, eyes darting away from his sharp red gaze and he sighed deeply as he sat down beside you, pulling you suddenly into his lap and uncaring of your protesting whine.

“Something is bothering you.” he stated simply into the side of your neck. His knees spread and in turn spread your knees too where you were seated in his lap, bandaged hands settled on your thighs, but you just huffed softly with your head still turned away.

“I just…I had a long day.” you said quietly, and a little annoyed too if Blade heard correctly. He didn’t like the sound of it, your apprehension and frustration had your heart thudding but your body tired. His palms stroked your legs, down to your knee and back up your thighs again in a comforting manner.

“Blade…” you said softly, adjusting yourself on his lap with your ass pressed against his crotch. His hands on your thighs creeped up, and you’d felt the way he inhaled your scent with his face in your neck,

“Will you make me feel better?” you asked, the words coming out warbled and wet, shyly turning towards your lover. Blade looked at you with low and shadowed eyes, nodding solemnly before he leaned in for a kiss.

From the angle, kissing him was difficult, and different — however knowing Blade you dared not move from his lap and kissed him anyway, letting him grunt into your mouth and then nuzzle his nose against your cheek to bring his kisses down to your neck. All this time you writhed slowly in his lap, just enough to feel his cock hardening against your back but Blades steeled hands didn’t let you tease much longer.

Instead he spread your legs wider with his knees and his fingers went to the gusset of your underwear. You’d only been wearing a comfortable little nightgown, something easy and cool on a warm night. So with your sleepwear disheveled and your panties growing more and more sopping with your essence, your chest arched and nipples strained against the fabric as Blade stroked a finger up and down your clothed slit. Your head fell back to settle in his shoulder, eyes fluttered shut.

“You will have to tell me what’s on your mind eventually girl.” Blade said calmly, letting his finger press down a little harder to hear you gasp.

You nodded, “I…I will Blade, just please…” you sighed, his fingertips rubbing at your clit through the fabric, the sensation making you hazy.

“Please what?” he responded quietly, fingers still against your core.

“Please make me feel better. Please keep touching me…”

Blade grunted in that deeply, taking two fingers to pull your panties to the side while his other hand went to cup your cunt. You hissed at the lack of touch, but he then brought up his middle finger to part your soaked pussy, stopping his fingertip right at your clit to pet at it. Your thighs trembled when he began to stroke your slit, pausing to press at your clit here and slipping his finger inside you there. He changed his middle finger to his middle and ring finger then, sliding them all the way in while you keened and gushed into his palm. The way he stroked your insides with his fingers, thrusting them absurdly fast and precise — only a testament of the way he was always so attentive to you, left your hands grasping at his wrist though entirely unsuccessful to get his ministrations to slow down.

With the pleasurable pressure building between your legs, your back bowed as Blade finally brought his other hand in to play, swiping and pinching your clit until you began to squeal. You gasped pitifully until your head swam and your face grew hotter at the sensation and tears then surprisingly began to quickly steam down your cheeks. You came with a sharp cry, Blades fingers still working inside you. Dripping down his wrist and tacky from your release, pussy fluttering around his digits while your sobbing gasps left your throat dry.

You went limp after your orgasm, shaking and crying in his arms. Blade withdrew his fingers from you, watching the shimmering gossamer threads of your bliss sticking to him until breaking lewdly before he turned you in his lap, your cheek against his chest while you trembled. Your tears soaked his bandages and you sniffled that you would help him change them soon, and to your surprise you heard a lighthearted snort come from Blade. You blinked up at him, and he wiped at your wet eyes with his knuckle,

“This is not about me. It’s about making you feel better. Do not try to change the subject.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were, and I will not allow you to forget that I am here for you in whatever way you should desire.” he retorts, keeping you pressed into his sturdy hold. You nodded weakly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Okay Blade, thank you for the reminder.” you said quietly, curling into his lap even more. Blade sat still until your breathing evened out and you were asleep, tears dried on your cheeks and your lips parted in happy slumber, not seeing his slight smile down at you.

Ratio

To be loved by Veritas Ratio, meant to be seen. Even on the days you admittedly, did not want to be. You could hide your every bad or ugly thought the best you could, opting to smile and giggle until the doctor was cupping your cheeks and nearly glaring at you for not being honest with him, and even with yourself in his desire as your lover to at the very least make you aware of his want to be there for you. So maybe on occasion, because of that, you don’t fight it.

Even if it means you’re embarrassed and your hands are clammy, cheeks warm and heart thudding. You’d had a terrible week, feeling drained in every sense of the word and if you didn’t do something soon, you were positive you were going to collapse from heartache. Ratio was seated at his desk, reading to no one’s surprise, ever beautiful and concentrated and he had told you many times that he had no issue with you interrupting his work or reading if you needed his time. But still, it was difficult to muster the courage to go to him, for numerous reasons.

“Are you going to come here or shall you stare at me a little longer?” he remarked, not looking up from the page he was on. But when you didn’t come forward he closed the book and looked to you, holding out his hand to beckon you nearer.

You came to him not fully out of obedience you told yourself, but because you really did need him. Ratio cupped your cheek and his thumb found your bottom lip, tilting his head with a pinched brow to gaze at you most inquisitively. He waited with patience, much more than he offered most. Your eyes wavered, but you rocked forward on your toes until your lips collided with his, gently enough to show your shyness but bold enough to captivate him as his arm wound around your waist and he deepened the kiss in return. Your breaths became heavy, lips locking and your hands threading into his hair.

“To what do I owe this affection?” he mused against your mouth. You were backed against his desk now, nearly sitting atop of it.

“I just…I really need you, Veritas.” your breathing is rasped, low as you shakily admit the words to him. You resolve not to tear up, but he catches the twitch of your brow and the way your lips fight to go down into a sad frown. He hums, kissing you assuredly and petting at your sides while you hug him closer.

“And just what are you particularly needing my dear? Something tells me you would like more…physical attention from me?”

You nod, slowly and quietly as you bury your face in his chest almost shamefully. Your core was hot, needy, and his familiar body against yours only had your ears feeling stuffed with cotton. Ratio tilted your chin up and narrowed his gaze at you, not wanting to push but to see your little details, the ones that make you, you. With a sigh, he turned you around, a palm flat against your spine with his fingers splayed out to press you down against the cool wood of his desk.

He was glad he didn’t have much there, plenty of room for you to comfortably lay and for him to come up behind you with his crotch pressed against your ass. You waited and rocked on the balls of your feet, breathing growing heavier when he hands pushed up your skirt, flipping it over your ass fully and his palm stroked along a cheek, then down the other, petting at the globes of your ass until you whined his name, a plea for more. He simply hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs — watching raptly at your glaringly evident need that manifested in silky strings that stuck to the gusset until they broke, the fabric laid in a small heap where it fell around your ankles. Your bared pussy was swollen to his trained eye, so needy and wanting and dripping. His clever and deft fingers slipped against your slit, rubbing until they parted for him to roll your clit against the pad of his middle finger.

Though he knew that was not what you desired. You were holding a breath, letting it out when his hand left you and you heard the sound of him undoing his pants, a telltale clink of the belt and you’d hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy dripped a little more just from the sound of him taking his cock out. He pressed his tip to your entrance, bulbous and fat and leaky where it smeared along your pussy, gripping one of your ass cheeks tightly as if to help spread you for his thick cock. Your chest stuttered when he pressed forward a little at a time, he watched the petals of your pussy open and suck him in with every inch until you whimpered pitifully, ass backing up in urgency for him to move. It wasn’t until he was sheathed all the way in, balls tightly snug against your clit and a warning hand pressed down on your lower spine. You heard him groan, low and steady, and then he was snapping his hips. Your nails scrambled against the desk, trying somehow to ground yourself from his overwhelming thrusts, whining loudly at the sensation of his cock pushing and pulling at your insides, the cling of your cunt nearly wrecking Ratio himself.

He wasn’t letting up however, even as you in your position raised onto your tippy toes and your eyes rolled back into your head, he fucked you thoroughly, not minding the wetness smacking between your bodies that splattered onto his lower belly. His fat balls swung and hit your clit, but he in his knowledge hunched over you with a nip to your shoulder blade at the same time that his hand worked underneath your body to find your clit and to roughly rub at it until you were nearly kicking your feet and wildly moaning his name. It’s then he heard the break, the way you were shattering and sobbing as tears pooled under your face where you cried onto the desk. You were a mess, arching your ass up while he fucked you to tears, and he opted to wrap his arm around your chest and pulled you up — to where you could only look up at Ratio through your teary eyes,

“That’s right darling, I’m here. You can take it.”

You came with a warbled gasp as your eyes glazed over, unfocused but still trying to look up at your lover who was enthralled by your beautiful vulnerability. His thrusts became stuttered, your ass rippling and bouncing off his sharp hips until he was in you to the hilt, cock lurching to flood you with his spend. He wasn’t about to allow you to collapse, his bicep flexing as he kept you held against his chest and you sniffled and hiccupped while he pressed a few reassuring kisses to the side of your face. He held you from behind until your crying settled to little sobs, and after Ratio pulled out much to your chagrin — the wet plopping of your releases falling to the floor.

He didn’t even wince, just hands on your waist to set you atop the desk and in your mutual nakedness he held you to his sweaty skin, kissing along your dewy brow.

“Do you feel better? Or shall we take a bath and perhaps, talk a little?” he suggested with a soft smile. You nodded, hands wandering up and down his back.

“I would like that very much…and to…talk. Thank you Veritas.” you said in a gentle, lovesick reply, and was met with a fond kiss to your lips.

“As you wish, anything to make you feel a little less alone.”

He carried you to the tub, and suddenly you hardly remembered why your week had left you so hurt, not when you were reminded so gently of the love he was always ready to provide you.

Mydei

The baths were always a good way to relax and unwind, met there by your beloved Mydei who was hard to miss. His broad, rippling body lounged against the side of the bath, arms spread out on either side of him and his long lashes resting against his cheekbones as he exhaled in relaxation. All he needed was one thing, or rather one person, you.

He knew you were going to meet him for a bath, but even for a prince and a warrior, Mydei found himself growing impatient for your presence. He did not want to go out looking for you just yet, lest you were already on the way. But just when he was about to get out of the water, you had finally appeared.

However he was taken aback almost immediately with your disposition. Your usually bright eyes were clouded over, clutching your towel around your body as you shuffled to the side of the bath. You did not even greet Mydei which was a strange occurrence, the man used to you kissing him and snuggling up to his side whenever you took a bath with him. So when you dropped your towel and sat across from him in the baths instead of beside him, he was now more than sure you were upset about something.

You heard the water slosh gently, looking up to see your vision obscured by sheer muscles and tattoos of red as Mydei made his way to you, his hand coming up from out of the water to cup your cheek. It was then he caught the stray tear that left your lashline, wiping at it with his thumb. You squeezed your eyes shut and drew your knees up, even as your much bigger lover curled himself around your figure and quietly kissed your shoulder.

“You can depend on me.” he said quietly, after another kiss had followed the first. You sniffled, looking over at him with red rimmed eyes, and Mydei's heart ached at such a sight, at the one he loves so deeply sad in this moment.

“I know Mydei, I just….it wasn't the best day.” you sniffle, finally leaning closer to him and allowing his large hands to pull at your body. He kissed at your cheeks as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle his narrow hips, while your arms wound around his neck and you pressed your face into the pinky blonde of his locks that smelled of luxurious and comforting oils. Your body started to react from just his nearness, you always go pliant in his sturdy hold, naked figure rubbed up against his as he gently worked at your hips in the warm water. You didn’t want to admit that you were growing needy, but your lover was already a step ahead of you,

“Allow me to take care of you, if anything, to get your mind off of things.” he said like a promise, wide palms splayed on your hips moving to your waist and hoisting you closer in his lap. Your tits wobbled, nipples pert and achy, and he kissed them while your head fell back with a sigh. For such a fierce fighter, Mydei’s kisses and his love for you was so gentle and thorough, focused on kissing and sucking at your chest instead of paying attention to his hard cock standing talk between your bodies. It was pressed against your bellybutton as you writhed and wiggled in his lap, sending more waves of heavy need coursing through you down to your toes.

“I just want to feel you, Mydei.” you said with a rasp, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as he helped you raise yourself up higher, the grasp of his cock in your delicate fingers to settle against your pussy pulling a low groan from the Kremnoan prince, waiting patiently for you to work yourself down onto his thick shaft. You shivered as your hips swirled to take more of him, a high pitched whimper in your throat as he kneads the globes of your ass you finally set fully down on his cock. The stretch, and the warm water had you weak and jelly - limbed, taking a breath with your breasts tightly pressed against his chest.

He looked at you, a long glance while his hands encircled your waist and he began to bounce you on his dick, crying out loudly enough to ensure anyone too close that the heir was taking thorough care of his lover. You felt weightless despite the heavy and intense pressure in your lower belly, coiling within you as he fucked you on his cock and you could only hold onto his shoulders as water splashed outside of the bath. You shakily reached between your bodies to touch your clit, but Mydei opted to go from moving you up and down to grind you against him — his sharp pelvis rocking against your swollen, needy clit while his fat shaft felt like it was knocking the wind out of your lungs. It was overwhelming, to the point of the tears you had been crying turning to tears of complete pleasure, your thighs trembled when your pussy tightened up around him and as your tears fell down your face salty and uninhibited, he kissed at each one he effortlessly continued to slam you down onto him again and again. You could only wail and sob his name as he fucked you, clawing down his back until the hefty throb of him filling you up with a low gravelly breath of your name alerted you of his orgasm that hit at the same time as yours. You fluttered around him wildly while he throbbed and twitched, your belly warm and your heart lighter.

Even as you let your cries turn to soft sniffles, Mydei held you carefully with comforting strokes down your spine until you peeked up at him for a wet kiss and a familiar smile that thrilled him.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, pushing your damp hair from your face. You nodded but didn’t leave his lap, tracing his red marks with a finger.

“You’re good at making me feel better, Mydei. Thank you.” you murmured, an I love you following suit as he kissed you in return. Though the affectionate words made the prince blush despite the fact he had just finished pleasuring you — he was always grateful that he was the one to share these things with you, good and bad.

comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

ᜳ🫙᠂ ○ᩙ ᜓ . C★CK STUFFED !

ི𓏶 paring : mydei, phainon, anaxa, aventurine, blade x f!reader

ི𓏶 tws : nsfw / smut, multiple of rounds, breeding kink, creampie, anal sēx with anaxa, spanking, mydei puts you in a headlock, cockdrunk reader, hair pulling, size kink and tit play / fucking.

ི𓏶 synopsis : when he already stuffed you so many times, but he still wants more. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

ི𓏶 note : not proof read, sorry (or not)

★ MYDEIMOS !

Your voice had gone hoarse hours ago. You didn’t even know what time it was anymore, not with how many times Mydei had made you come, how many times he’d stuffed you so full of his cock you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but take it.

You were on all fours, or you had been, until your arms gave out and left you face down in the pillows, drool staining the sheets, your body limp but still trembling. Your thighs were sticky and slick with a sinful mix of spit, sweat, and so much cum. His cum—thick and hot and leaking out of your pussy with every thrust, only for him to fuck it right back in like he couldn’t stand the idea of you wasting a single drop.

And he wasn’t slowing down.

“Mydei—fuck—please, no more,” you whimper, voice shaking, ruined.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, your spine arching sharply against his strong chest as his other arm snakes around your neck and locks you in a chokehold. His bicep flexes against your cheek, his scent all around you—spicy, warm, suffocating. His. You’re wrapped in him, trapped in him, and you’ve never felt more claimed.

“No more?” he growls, lips brushing your ear. “You say that every time, little thing. And every fuckin’ time, this sweet cunt pulls me in tighter, like it can’t live without my cock inside it.”

You whimper again as he slams into you from behind, brutally deep, your pussy already so sore and swollen from the last few rounds that your body just twitches. Your eyes roll back. You’re not even sure if you’re moaning or sobbing at this point—maybe both.

His cock feels massive. Each thrust splits you open all over again, dragging along your walls with obscene wet noises, and when he reaches down and presses a possessive hand to your lower tummy, you nearly scream.

“Feel that?” he pants, rough and close. “That bulge right there? That’s me. That’s how deep I am in you. Stretchin’ out your guts so good, you can’t even talk straight anymore.”

He lets go of your neck only to shove you back down into the mattress, your face crushed to the sheets as he lifts your hips higher and pounds into you like he’s lost his fucking mind. You can hear him snarling behind you, feel the heavy slap of his hips against your ass, and worst of all—you love it.

Your pussy gushes around him, your body begging for more even as you cry into the pillows. Your thoughts are gone. All you know is him. His name, his cock, his cum—him.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, gripping your hips so tight you’ll bruise. “This pussy’s mine. I’m gonna fill you up again, stuff you until it’s leaking outta you for hours.”

“M-Mydei—‘m full—‘m too full, can’t—!”

He laughs, “You think I care? You think I give a fuck if you’re full? You’re gonna take every last drop. You’re gonna thank me for it.”

Your walls clamp down on him again, another orgasm wracking your body as his thrusts grow sloppy, rougher. You feel it—feel the twitch in his cock, the way his grip tightens as he grunts through gritted teeth.

And then he’s spilling inside you again, hot and thick, pumping rope after rope of cum deep into your womb like he’s trying to breed you.

You’re boneless, brainless, cock-drunk and twitching as he leans over your back, panting.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he stays there, buried deep, grinding slow and lazy like he’s still hungry.

And he is.

“Still not enough,” he whispers, voice full of dangerous need. “I want you dripping with me. I want your belly round with it. I want to fuck you until the only thing you know is me.”

You shiver.

You’re not sure how much more you can take.

But Mydei?

He’s just getting started.

Your body barely registers when he shifts you, arms sliding beneath your trembling thighs as he lifts you effortlessly into a new position—your back against the bed, legs bent, knees touching your chest. The way he folds you up so tightly leaves your soaked, ruined cunt wide open for him, still drooling his seed like your pussy’s forgotten how to close.

He stares.

Mydei kneels between your legs, his cock still rock hard, slick with the mess of your shared lust, twitching against your overstimulated folds. His eyes are dark—possessed. Hungry. Like he’s worshipping what he’s broken.

“Look at this perfect fuckhole,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, spreading it, watching the way your hole flutters and leaks. “So full of me… but not enough. Never enough.”

You can’t speak. All you can do is blink up at him, dazed and flushed, your hair a tangled halo, lips parted and damp with spit. He leans down slowly, pressing a single kiss to your stomach.

“Gonna fill this up, sweet thing,” he murmurs against your skin. “Make it swell. Gonna stuff you ‘til you can’t walk. ‘Til there’s no question who you belong to.”

And then he pushes in again.

You cry out, back arching, toes curling as his cock spears into your wrecked cunt, inch by thick inch, until he bottoms out once more. The stretch is brutal. Delicious. Your walls clamp around him helplessly, milking him like your body’s desperate for his seed, even if your mind is long gone.

He groans—deep. His hands grip your hips hard, dragging you down to meet each punishing thrust as he starts again, faster this time. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes in the room, wet and obscene, drowned only by the tiny, broken noises spilling from your throat.

“Take it. Take it all,” he snarls, voice feral. “This pretty little cunt’s mine. I’ll breed you until you're ruined.”

He leans forward, mouth brushing against your ear, and whispers, “What would you do if I knocked you up right now? Hm? Would you cry? Beg me not to do it again? Or would you spread your legs wider like a good slut and let me put another one in you?”

Your cunt spasms around him violently.

“Fuck—there it is,” he growls, slamming in harder. “You want it. You fucking love this.”

Tears prick your eyes, your body unable to stop responding. Your thighs shake around his waist, your nails dig into his back, and another orgasm rips through you, your pussy spasming around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

Mydei doesn’t let up. He grabs your hips and thrusts through it, like he’s trying to fuck your orgasm out of you and stuff another one in its place.

His voice is ragged, breathless. “I can feel your cunt begging me. You want me to breed you again? Say it.”

You sob, choking on your words. “Y-Yes—Mydei—want it—want you to—please—!”

That’s all he needs.

He grabs your thighs, pins them down as his thrusts become savage, reckless, and then he groans deep in his chest, spilling inside you again. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood your womb, and he keeps going, rutting through his release like he’s chasing another one. Your belly squishes under his weight, already bulging from how big he is, and he presses a palm to it possessively.

“Mine.” His voice is a whisper, trembling with obsession. “I’m gonna keep you like this. Round. Full. Dripping. You're not leaving this bed ‘til I’ve filled you enough to keep me in there for weeks.”

Your vision blurs. Your head lolls to the side. But your body? It clings to him, trembling and soaked, aching for more.

And Mydei?

He’s still hard.

★ PHAINON !

Your thighs are already trembling when Phainon lays you back down, his warm palms gliding along the curve of your waist with reverent care. His touch is gentle, but firm—deliberate. He spreads your legs with his knees, eyes drinking you in like you’re something holy.

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, voice low and smooth, “You’re shaking. Want me to stop?”

You shake your head instantly, breathless and already dazed. Your body’s sore, twitching, and filled with his cum from the last round, but the ache between your legs hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s only gotten worse with how slowly he moves, how softly he touches.

His lips curl into the faintest smile as he leans down, brushing a kiss over your breast, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into the heat of it, whimpering when his teeth graze you. One hand kneads your other breast, fingers gentle but possessive, tugging and pinching your nipple until you’re moaning softly beneath him.

“Such perfect tits,” he murmurs, voice low against your skin. “So soft—so full. I could spend hours here.”

You gasp when his hips shift forward, his cock sliding against your slick folds—already hard again, thick and heavy with need. He groans when he feels how soaked you still are.

“Still so wet for me… you really can’t get enough, can you?”

He lifts your hips gently and presses in slow, the stretch making your breath catch in your throat. He’s big—your walls part around him gradually, your body trembling as he sinks deeper and deeper. His forehead rests against yours as he pushes all the way in, and he moans your name softly when he bottoms out.

“There we go,” he breathes. “That’s it, darling. Taking me so well.”

You let out a soft cry as he begins to move—gentle rolls of his hips that press his cock deep, slow enough for you to feel every inch. Your body welcomes him eagerly, even through the soreness. You can feel the way you’re stretched around him, your body molded to him like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.

Then, without warning, his hand slides to your thigh and lifts your leg higher. He angles his hips slightly and spanks you—once, a soft, stinging slap to your ass cheek.

You gasp, blinking up at him, but he only smiles—gentle, sweet, but with a flash of something darker in his eyes.

“You like that,” he says, spanking you again. “I can feel your cunt squeezing me when I do it.”

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to thrust harder, faster—still controlled, still loving, but with a rhythm that speaks of deeper hunger.

He dips his head to your chest again, sucking one nipple into his mouth and groaning against it while his cock glides in and out of your soaked, fluttering heat. The squelch of it is wet, constant, obscene. You’re losing yourself to the pleasure again, walls spasming around him every time he rocks deep.

“I want to fill you up again,” he breathes against your skin. “Want to watch it spill out of you… want to know you’re carrying me.”

You sob softly, tears brimming as your body tightens again. “Please—please, Phainon—want it—want you to—”

“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he soothes, nuzzling your cheek. “You’ll get it. I’ll give you everything.”

He picks up the pace, hips smacking against your thighs as he fucks into you with loving urgency. His hand slips between your bodies to your lower belly, pressing down gently so he can feel himself moving inside you.

“Right there,” he pants. “Right there. That’s where I want it.”

Your walls flutter helplessly as your orgasm hits you, sudden and hot, your entire body arching as you moan his name over and over. Phainon groans deeply, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes in all the way and stills.

His cock twitches inside you as he cums—thick, hot ropes pouring into your already full pussy. His breath shakes as he holds you there, locked to your trembling body, letting every drop settle as deep as it can go.

“There we are,” he whispers, kissing your temple. “You’re mine now. Full of me. Just like I wanted.”

And as you tremble beneath him, dazed and stretched and leaking, Phainon only pulls you close and rocks his hips again—soft, steady, as if he has no intention of stopping.

★ ANAXAGORAS !

Your legs are trembling where they hang off the edge of the bed, your chest heaving, nipples still swollen from his mouth. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before Anaxa grabs your hips again, fingers sinking into your skin as he pulls you back toward him with a hungry, sharp thrust.

“Still not full enough,” he mutters, voice silk-wrapped steel. “You’re going to take every fucking drop I give you.”

He’s not rough—not brutal—but purposeful, bold. Every move calculated. He doesn’t lose control. He guides it.

His cock is buried deep inside you again, slender hips flush against your ass as he groans low in his throat. You’re soaked, throbbing, stretched from how many times he’s already filled you, but Anaxa just leans over you, mouth trailing along your collarbone, and coos, “You can handle more, can’t you? Don’t play shy now, not when your body’s begging like this.”

You moan, nearly sobbing when he rolls his hips, dragging the full length of his cock through your swollen cunt. Your walls tighten around him, still fluttering from the last time he came inside you.

“You want it,” he whispers against your ear, his slender fingers trailing up to toy with your sensitive nipples. “Want to be full of me, leaking down your thighs, marked so deep your body can’t forget me.”

You nod, frantic, keening when he pinches a nipple and rolls it between his fingers, sending another jolt through your core. He watches your face the whole time, pupils blown wide, breath hot against your cheek.

Then he pulls out, slow, letting your body feel the loss of him. You whimper—until you feel his fingers press against your ass, slick and confident.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I told you I wasn’t done.”

You feel the tip of his cock nudge your other hole, and your body tenses instinctively. But Anaxa is patient, steady—he leans down, tongue flicking your nipple while his cock presses in slow, opening you up with agonizing precision.

Your breath catches, your fingers claw at the sheets as he stretches your ass wider, inch by inch, until he’s seated fully inside you. Your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing, twitching, as the new stretch sends sparks flying up your spine.

“You’re shaking,” he purrs, one hand sliding between your legs to press gently at your slick folds. “But look at you—still dripping. Even your cunt misses me.”

He starts moving.

Deep, grinding thrusts that force your body to take him fully, completely. The stretch is sharper, tighter, your whimpers high and breathy as he fucks your ass and plays with your clit, pinching and rubbing while his other hand twists your nipple again.

“I’ll fill every hole you have,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek. “You’ll be dripping from both, trembling and ruined. My perfect little thing.”

Your orgasm hits suddenly, violently. Your thighs spasm, your walls clench around empty air, and your cries are muffled by his shoulder as he keeps you steady. Then Anaxa groans low—deep, throaty—and slams in hard, staying there as he cums deep inside your ass, filling you with his seed like he owns you.

You’re gasping, twitching, drooling a little as he slowly pulls out, letting his cum spill down your thighs. But even then, he doesn’t stop.

He reaches between your legs again.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, gently easing his cock back into your raw, stretched pussy. “One more time, sweet thing. Gotta make sure it takes.”

And with a slow roll of his hips, Anaxa starts again.

★ AVENTURINE !

“Still with me, darling?”

Aventurine’s voice is velvety smooth, slick with charm and sharp as a dagger. His hand tilts your chin up so your dazed eyes meet his, the corners of his mouth curling when he sees how ruined you already are. Your thighs are trembling, skin marked by his touch, lips parted with soft, breathy gasps—but you nod, needy, desperate.

“Good. I’d hate to think I broke you this early,” he purrs, brushing his fingers down your cheek before sliding them along the curve of your breast.

You gasp when his palm cups it—warm, firm, deliberate. He thumbs your nipple, watching the way it stiffens beneath his touch, then leans down and presses a kiss to the other one, lips soft before he bites—just enough to make your hips buck. You arch into him, whimpering as he sucks, teeth grazing the swollen nub with just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ruin you like this,” he whispers, voice dipped in velvet. “All those little looks. All that shy squirming. You were practically begging for it.”

You try to speak, but your words melt into a moan when he pulls your nipple with his teeth, then releases it with a soft pop. His hands slide down to your hips—greedy, possessive—and he slots himself between your thighs again.

His cock presses to your entrance, and he lets it linger there, not moving. Just watching you squirm, watching your hole flutter and clench, your cunt slick and twitching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. Aventurine hums, amused, the sound low in his throat as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the mess that’s already dripping from you.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, dragging the swollen head over your clit in a slow circle before teasing your entrance again. “You want it that badly?”

You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him. He fists a hand in your hair and pulls—not too hard, but just enough to make your spine arch and your gasp catch in your throat.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk, voice dangerous in its playfulness. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your cock,” you whimper, dazed and desperate. “Please—put it in, I want it so bad—”

“See?” he coos, releasing your hair just to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good little thing. Always knew you’d beg beautifully.”

Then, with one firm thrust, he slides into you—slow, but unrelenting. You feel every inch as he fills you, stretching you around his thick length until he’s buried deep, his hips flush to yours. You cry out, gripping his arms, thighs trembling under the pressure of it.

Aventurine groans, low and heady, leaning in to bite at your neck while his cock pulses inside you.

“Fuck, you feel perfect. Like you were made for me.” He draws back just a bit, then rolls his hips in a grinding thrust that punches a whimper from your throat. “And this greedy little pussy? Already sucking me back in.”

He starts moving—slow, deep thrusts that make your breath hitch with every push. One hand stays on your hip, but the other slides up, tracing your breast again, toying with your sensitive nipple until you’re writhing beneath him. You’re dripping, squelching with every roll of his hips, the heat in your belly coiling tighter and tighter.

“I’m going to breed you,” he says casually, like it’s already decided. “Going to fuck it so deep into you, you’ll still be feeling me tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

You sob softly, overwhelmed, and that only makes him chuckle.

“Don’t go shy on me now. You were the one begging, weren’t you?” He leans close, lips brushing your ear. “You wanted to be full, didn’t you? To carry something of mine?”

He grabs your hair again, gently tugging so he can see your face—lips bitten, eyes glassy, tears catching on your lashes.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp. “Want it—want you to cum inside—please—”

He groans through gritted teeth and slams into you harder, his pace picking up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples raw from his touch, and he doesn’t stop playing with them, tugging and rolling until you’re crying out his name over and over.

“I’ll give it to you,” he pants. “I’ll fill this perfect little cunt, fuck it so deep you won’t be able to think about anything else—”

You unravel under him, body spasming around his cock as your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through your spine. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a broken moan, and your cunt clenches around him so tightly he falters for a second, groaning loud and deep from the sudden squeeze.

“Fuck—look at you,” Aventurine hisses, watching you come undone beneath him, his eyes drinking in every twitch and gasp. “So beautiful when you break like this.”

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he chases your high, fucking you through your climax with a determined rhythm, hand still tangled in your hair, the other returning to your breast to squeeze and tug with greedy precision. You’re shaking, body limp beneath him, but you don’t beg him to stop. You can’t. Not when every thrust makes you clench harder, makes more slick spill from your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re going to take every drop,” he pants, voice wrecked now, the usual composure slipping as he grinds into you, faster, rougher. “I want it dripping out of you. Down your thighs. On the sheets. You’ll smell like me for days.”

Your head rolls back with a sob as his hand slides down, fingers pressing against your clit in tight, perfect circles. He’s everywhere—filling you, touching you, whispering filth against your throat—and your overstimulated body just keeps responding, pleasure building again so fast it knocks the breath out of you.

“A-Aventurine—” you choke, voice shaking, but he cuts you off with a kiss—wet, hot, claiming.

“I know, baby. I know. Give me one more.”

With your cunt clenching desperately around him, he groans sharply and slams in one last time—deep, to the hilt—as his cock twitches violently. Heat floods your insides as he cums, spilling everything inside you in slow, pulsing waves. He stays there, hips pressed to yours, body shuddering through the pleasure as he groans into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he breathes, grinding his hips just once more, forcing his seed deeper. “That’s my good girl. Taking every last drop.”

You’re a mess beneath him—legs spread, skin flushed, cum already leaking from your stretched hole—but he’s still kissing your cheek, still stroking your hair like you’re a precious thing he just unwrapped.

And even as he pulls out, slow and careful, letting the mess between your thighs spill freely, he smirks down at you and whispers, “You’re not done, are you? Because I haven’t even started rolling the dice yet.”

★BLADE !

There’s a moment—silent, still—where Blade just looks at you, eyes narrowed, chest rising slow and deep. He’s already hard, cock flushed and twitching with restraint, but he doesn’t lunge at you like an animal. No. That’s not his way. Blade's discipline makes him more dangerous.

You're lying back, bare and breathless, skin flushed under his intense gaze. He kneels over you, cock in hand, dragging the leaking tip slowly up your chest until it rests right between your breasts.

“You’ll hold them,” he orders, voice low and cold like tempered steel. “Let me feel them wrap around me.”

You obey instantly, fingers trembling as you press your tits together. The second they close around him, Blade thrusts forward—slow at first, testing, watching the way your softness molds around his cock. His lips twitch upward, barely a smile, just a sign that he approves.

“So soft,” he mutters, moving again. His length glides easily through the valley of your chest, wet from precum and heat. “This is how a body should serve—warm, trembling, obedient.”

He keeps your head still with a sharp tug of your hair, making you look up at him while he fucks your tits in steady, calculated strokes. The head of his cock nudges your lips with each thrust, and when you open your mouth instinctively, he groans—low and guttural.

“Open wider.”

You do, and his cock pushes just past your lips on the next roll of his hips. Just the tip, just enough to taste him. He grunts in satisfaction, slowing down only to drag the head of his cock across your tongue before pulling away entirely.

“That’s enough. I need more from you now.”

He releases your hair and slides down your body, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them so wide your hips ache. His body presses against yours, and his cock lines up to your dripping hole, already fluttering and slick from the teasing. You feel the weight of him at your entrance, the girth, the heat—and your whole body tenses in anticipation.

Blade doesn’t warn you. He pushes in with a brutal snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. Your back arches off the sheets as you cry out, the stretch too much, too fast—and he just leans over you, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“Perfect,” he growls, voice rough and almost breathless. “You take me like you were made for it.”

He starts to move—deep, unforgiving thrusts that make your entire body jolt beneath him. His pace is sharp and relentless, his grip bruising as he pulls your hips up to meet every thrust. You’re already dripping around him, and the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room, loud and wet.

Your moans get louder—messier—especially when his mouth finds your breast, biting your nipple until you yelp. He soothes it with his tongue, only to tug it again between his teeth. You can’t think. You can barely breathe.

“Keep crying,” he snarls against your chest. “I want to hear everything.”

He shifts your legs higher over his shoulders and fucks down into you with cruel precision. Your body shakes with every thrust, heat building faster than you can control it.

“You want my cum?” he asks, cock grinding deep against your cervix. “Want me to ruin this pussy from the inside out?”

“Yes—yes, please—”

“Then take it.”

Blade grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. His other hand snakes into your hair again, tugging your head back so he can kiss you—claim you—while his cock slams into you faster. Your cunt flutters, tightens, and you scream against his lips as your orgasm hits, hard and shattering. You clamp down around him, sucking him in, and that’s what tears his restraint apart.

He groans—loud, rough, guttural—and slams in deep, hips pressed tight to yours as he cums hard. His cock throbs inside you, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum directly into your womb. He holds you like that, unmoving, his body shaking from the release, letting every last drop spill into you.

You whimper, feeling it flood you, fill you, drip down your thighs even while he’s still inside.

Blade doesn’t pull out immediately. He stays there, buried to the base, panting quietly against your neck, his long hair sticking to his face and chest.

“Good girl,” he finally murmurs. “Now keep it in.”

He pulls out slowly, watching with a hungry stare as his cum leaks from your ruined pussy. He runs two fingers through the mess and shoves it back inside you.

“We’re not finished,” he adds, voice low and final. “I’ll breed you again and again until your body knows nothing but me.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[nxtaliaistyping]

(male) Marvel Rivals | p links part one

(gotta be logged into twitter for links to work)

nsfw 18+, just doing my fav characters let me know if there’s others you want. Will be doing a female character one soon

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Adam Warlock:

He’s never quite understood why intimacy needs to be kept behind closed doors

He loves the idea of filming you, so he can look back at it when he’s away in space

Oh he loves bigger girls

Sometimes he just doesn’t realise how big he is…

He just loves taking care of you

Making you feel good makes him feel good

Blade:

Sometimes he just needs to blow off some steam

He’s so so strong

Loves it when he knows you can feel every inch

He’s an ass man through and through

Also likes to film you so he has something to watch when he’s away

But when he is away he loves the idea of you booking a hotel nearby so he can see you

Doctor Strange:

He just loves a girl in thigh highs

What’s that? You made a joke about his age? I’m sure this’ll teach you…

He warned you that if you continued to be a brat there would be consequences

Loves a girl who loves herself, goes feral when you do this

He’s not afraid to let you know when you’re being too loud

Suck him off and show him how much you love him

Gambit:

Remy just loves when you use him like a toy, seeking your own pleasure as he enjoys the view

How Remy eats pussy I don’t make the rules

It just feels better without the condom chère…

Worshipping you is his favourite thing

Those socks just do something to him

He needs you like this every minute of every day

Loki:

He just loves the fear in your eyes as he holds all the power

Of course he’s going to copy himself, he loves to see you take it every way

I’m not sure what you expected when you pranced in wearing those misgardian tights

He can be nice tho, he likes to sample his meals

Cuddling with him usually ends up like this…

He is a god after all, why should he have to do all the work?

Magneto

Oh he’s big into discipline

Sometimes his hands are all you need

He fucks you like his life depends on it

That’s right, dress up for him, treat him like the king he is

He likes to take you in your bedroom, reminding you how much more powerful he is

Is it so bad that he wants to sample your other hole?

Mister Fantastic:

For all the jokes people make, he never usually has someone truly want him to stretch his dick…until you

He just loves seeing you in a skirt

So good with his fingers it’s unreal

Always fucks you just how you like it, he’s a practical learner

Although he’s so hard working, treat him special won’t you?

Sometimes he gets a bit carried away…

Winter Soldier:

C’mon he’s a big boy, you can sit on his face

He can go all night long baby

Feels so lucky when you dress up all pretty for him

You teased him so much, it’s your fault he’s had to whisk you away

Pinning your legs behind your ears always gives him a special satisfaction

Something about this view makes him cum every time

+bonus Gambit and Rogue:

Remy just loves seeing his two girls with him

You really think Remy is in control of you both? Please

Rogue loves holding you while she watches her husband please you

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 11 — BREEDING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, welt, anaxa, phainon

— warnings. — fem! reader, breeding kink, spit kink, cum eating, very messy, possessive boys, lovesick and pussydrunk giggles, oral (fem! receiving), hitting it raw

⚝ — BLADE

there's no lead in with your boyfriend, no warm up— not with blade, yeah? not with him, just your thighs lazily thrown over his shoulders and his mouth dragging down between them like he's searching for something that'll surely save his heart.

his tongue was brutal and mean attacking the little pearl through the protective hood of your clit, making you instantly flinch into him, whimpering from the pressure as he groans like it only made him harder the more he heard you voice yourself. by now, his face shimmered of spit and slick before he pulls back— just to let a thick globule of spit hit your messy cunt again, big and heavy and right on your entrance— blade groans out at the sheer sight, "you want to be used, don't you? made a mess of? filled so deep it leaks out of you for days."

"that's what you've said, haven't you?" he was awfully good at giving you what you've sought after and blade doesn't stop, not even when you're shaking, not even when your breath fractures into broken little sobs.

he only drives into you over and over, stuffing you so full it spills out around him and covers his girth and pelvis, a sight both so hot and humiliating it turned your thighs into jelly— not to mention when it's sticking to his skin or soaking into the ruined sheets below.

you feel it all— feel the mess you've made and the weight of it on both of your bodies, the slow, endless filling of his cum pumping into you until you felt like you couldn't possibly breathe anymore— yet he just kept going, naturally, like he's literally carving himself into you, like he's trying to brand his existence into the deepest, most secret parts of your body so he'd for once, love being alive.

he huffs out when you sob into his lips, a gravelly noise torn from the bottom of his chest as he continues grinding into you with a brutal force that left you gasping, half-sobbing against his strong chest, "i'll ruin every inch," and you can't tell if he's actually shaking from restraint or insane hunger for you.

every greedy shove of hips against your cunt carved a deeper wound inside you, raw, passionate and the friction unbearable, your thighs slick and weak from the hefty fullness he's forced upon your hole, your hands sliding uselessly against his arms— clinging one moment and slipping the next, your body too wrung out to do anything but take him.

slick and semen spill out around where he bullies himself deeper, a vulgar, sticky testament to how little control he has left— how little you have left, all you can do is tremble and arch into him, as well as clutch at him with your numb fingers grazing at his biceps while he groans into your throat like he'll die if he doesn't break you open a little more.

his hands were splayed at your hips like he's holding together something broken, but it's not you— it's him, something's fracturing, something sharp and cavernous and when blade finally presses in once more, pistoling his cock through everything you've given him, the filthy mixture of your arousal and his cum covering the insides of your thighs as blade groans— a raw, strangled thing that sounded like a force of life had crushed through him.

well, there you see it, he was showing it, already wanting to be ready for another round, correct?

because blade's not done, oh no don't be silly now— he'll never be done, his cock was already glazed in the evidence of your last few rounds and still he shoves it back in like he's punishing you for how wet and how soft and how tight you were for him.

"you'll keep squeezing me like that, i'll fill you again, i swear—" his voice catches, one uncoordinated thrust of through your hole and he moans, hips twitching with mild overstimulation, "fuck, i'll keep doing it until you can't walk" as the tremble in his hands betrayed how close he truly was, how the tight, wet clench of your walls sucking him in was unraveling him thread by desperate thread. 

⚝ — WELT

"this is all i was asking for," welt purrs at you, his voice resembling poisoned silk as he dragged two fingers through your soaked mess, his lips curled up in a smirk, "you're leaking already for me, how shameful."

the man doesn't hide how hard he got seeing the way your body reacted to his faint touches— how he readjusted his boxers when your slick gathered so easily on his fingers, the way it glistened when he held it to the light like a chemist examining his prized specimen.

welt tastes it instantly, although slow, his tongue curling around the evidence as he groans at your taste infiltrating his taste buds, "i'll fuck you until you cry for mercy and beg me not to stop, i want to see it all— your spit, your cum, me, dripping from every hole, every inch of you marked," there, listen close, welt was laughing again.

not mockery, but devotion— fanged and fevered, unwell and you're beneath him and he's already soaked you again, cock smacking against your folds with disgustingly wet slaps of slick and spit glazing your thighs as welt just hums like a man given purpose.

"you think i'm stopping?" he whispers against your temple, tongue dragging hot over the shell of your ear, "after I just made you cum on my cock like that?" as you're still twitching from the aftermath, overstimmed to the brim, your cunt a mess and full, fuck, and he just shifts back slightly to admire the sight, what a man gone mad.

welt couldn't stop looking at how your hole pulses and spasms like it's begging for more, reaching for him, greedy and flushed and leaking cum, "look at that, so empty, so needy," he smears his fingers through the mess he's left inside you, presses the slick digits to your lips, "taste that, that's mine," and when he fucks back in, he abruptly spits on your tongue.

"don't swallow it yet, let it stay there. let me see it— dripping down your chin like the perfect little thing you are."

⚝ — ANAXA

anaxa doesn't wait, in fact, ugh, come on now, lets remain honest here— did he ever strike you as somebody who'd kindly wait for you to settle onto the bed when you don't even need to blink before he's shoving you onto the bed like gravity has betrayed you all by himself?

like he owns the air in your lungs and intends to squeeze every last moan out with his hands, his hips, his cock.

"witness yourself," anaxa breathes out, a low, menacing murmur, gloved fingers prying you apart with slow, clinical cruelty, like he's cataloging something rare and precious in his mind, only to later defile it with his slender hands, "already soaked for me? already out of breath too? and i've barely even laid claim on you, ah, how do you expect to survive me, little one?"

he leans in to be face level with your glistening pussy, his breath fanning against your folds as he spits, repeatedly— once slow, twice again— right over your swollen folds. it trickles down in a glistening line and he watches with a hollow, consuming hunger, like a scholar before a ritual.

"even better now," his voice cuts low, scraping through the thick air as you whine out his name, your nipples hard and erected from how anaxa has been handling you, "so prettily aching for me, huh? you want to be ruined, don't you? stretched wide, stuffed full, yeah, so full it spills out of you, again and again and you'll still beg for more."

"I just know you will," as he pushes himself in with a groan, the large and shuddering stretch on your pussy stinging instantly before you felt a familiar heat greet your walls— the split alone folds you in half, has your toes curling and your nails scrambling for anything to hold onto as anaxa carefully pinned down your wrists, dragging your hands up above your head, beginning to fuck you.

"you're mine now," he breathes, lips brushing your ear, "every drop you spill— mine, every tear you cry from getting fucked so hard you forget your name— it belongs to me."

he thrusts harder, chasing the sound of your body squelching beneath him as you clench tight and cry out, making him lose his fucking mind. one hand leaves your wrists to force your jaw open, his spit falling directly onto your tongue before he leans in to kiss it deeper into your throat.

"i'll ruin you so many times, you won't know which mess came first, mine or yours," and when he does, inch by inch, a high pitched moan shatters over your cries as you wince out his name when his cock massaged over your walls repeatedly well, his skilled fingers rubbing your tits ever so tenderly.

if only he wasn't so damn messy— your thighs slick with everything he's spilled inside you, rubbing the head of his cock through the cum-slick mess between your legs just to spread it over yourself more, fuck, anaxa really cannot stop.

⚝ — PHAINON

an impassioned and heavy stillness seemed to press down the air on itself, and in that darkened room you've found yourself splayed out right underneath phainon's towering frame, trembling under the cool, hefty weight of him.

"sweetheart, you're clenching," he says, quite fascinated, as he pushes into you with a low, shaky moan, "gripping me so tight— do you want to milk every drop out of me?"

he's obsessed with it, the mess, the physical evidence of what you're doing to him as he leans down, biting your shoulder, thrusting deeper just to hear the wet, obscene squelches of his warm cum inside you, "again," he whispers, voice cracking, "i need to see more, more of it leaking out, down your thighs, on my cock, fuck, fuck, on your stomach too, fuck— i need to paint you with it."

you're both drenched, tangled in sweat and spit and endless release, his hands greedily spreading your folds to admire the way you glisten with all he's spilled inside you, "you'll remember me by the way you drip," he breathes, "every time you move, it'll remind you who ruined you."

phainon has already fucked you twice and still looks like he's starving.

his hair was stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped down his chest, yet his hands haven't stopped shaking since the moment you moaned out his name and pulled him in the first time.

you're dazed, truly, raw and full of warm cum and yet he's still staring between your legs like you're an unanswered prayer, "can't help it," he murmurs, almost apologetic— almost, "when i see it like that."

his voice trails off as he drags his fingers through your wrecked cunt with cum dripping out of you instantly, coating his fingers in strings that glisten under the low light, "fuck— fuck," phainon moans before immediately shoving his fingers into your mouth, "taste it, baby come on, tell me it's not perfect."

you filthily whimper around his fingers, suckling on them and rolling your tongue over his knuckles as his cock twitches, "no, no— don't close your legs now," as he pulls them open again, wider this time and groans at the sight of his cum leaking out in slow, wet rivulets, "keep them open, yeah? i want to see it, all of it, i need to see how many times i can fill you before your body can't hold it anymore."

phainon leans in, whispers hot against your throat as he presses his cum-stricken fingers against your tongue, "you'll let me try, won't you?"

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own