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more thoughts with dragon!sylus and merman!rafayel...
♱⋅── nearly 2k of absolute monsterfucking filth
♱⋅── MDNI WARNINGS: pwp, cw monsterfucking, overstimulation, oral, uhh eggs mentioned, sylus (double d, marking, fighting as foreplay, freakishly long tongue,) rafayel (double d, thalassophobia, dubious consent, cw breeding). inspiration from this post by @mintmatcha, photo credit to @xxsyluslittlecrowxx
dragon!sylus
what is a dragon if not power incarnated? as such their mate needs to hold that same fire within them.
as it gets closer to the rare season when dragons can actually mate, you find that your little arguments and snappy comebacks make sylus pause, wings twitching as he simply watches you with a crooked, fanged smile. a worthy mate snarls, pushes back, bares their teeth despite knowing they are smaller. a good sign indeed.
sylus brings back larger and larger kills, watching you roast them over the fire as he looms behind you, purring in contentment when you lean back against him, nestled perfectly underneath his bulky, scaled form.
you have been saying yes for months. your raised chin. your easy sleep against his warmth. Your exposed throat, your racing pulse, the way you reach for him without thinking, the way your heart rate climbs in his presence and you do not run from it. he knows your body is not deceiving him, he knows that you are ready.
sylus doesn’t want to scare his poor human mate, but if you’re to take his clutch and raise his brood, then you’ll need to be prepped. no worries, he’s more than happy to make sure your body is able to withstand the mating ritual, even if you haven’t realized what you’ve agreed to. but surely you want this right? all of your preening, your increased heart rate around him, you willingness to show him your neck and exposed belly. you want this.
during the late hours of the night when you’re already half asleep you’ll sometimes feel his fangs bite—ever so gently, just enough to leave an indent for now—into the crook of your shoulder or plush of your hips or thighs, something deep and ancient rumbling in sylus’ chest as he pulls away, letting his rough, forked tongue lave over the raw marks.
not even a week after it turns possessive, sylus pinning your sleeping body to the floor of your shared nest as his massive wings surround the two of you, rutting the swollen heads of both his cocks between your ass as you whine in your sleep, unaware of the way sylus begins to lick and nip at the back of your neck, practically drooling at the thought of finally sinking his teeth there. soon.
he’s not as careful as he could have been, sloppy in his desperation, and one night you wake to him above you, his clawed hand pinning down the small of your back as the other is four knuckles deep in your soaked pussy.
“sy-” a moan, and you thrash despite yourself, completely immobile under his weight. “sylus, what the fuck are y-oooh- you doing?”
you’re gasping, keening as you’re feeling yourself regain consciousness and rise towards another orgasm.
sylus doesn’t even act like he’s noticed you’ve awoken, narrow-slitted gaze completely focused on the stretch of your cunt as he forces his clawed thumb in as well, spreading you wide despite your protests.
god, you have no idea how long he’s been at this, but you’re soaked enough to have already cum twice, pussy throbbing and sore from his relentless ministrations.
in a flash of anger and embarrassment, you blindly kick out behind you. your heel strikes sylus’ shoulder, and he freezes with a low, thunderous growl, glowing red eyes locking with yours. he doesnt budge.
his tongue briefly flashes across the wide expanse of his fangs.
“again.”
his nose drags along the back of your neck, inhaling deeply, the pinpricks of his teeth gliding against the delicate skin making your skin crawl. “my feisty little human, always fighting back, always demanding.”
a pleased growl vibrates through him.
“good mate.”
before you can even question what he means, his fingers pry you apart with more force than before, allowing your juices to trickle down his scaled arm as they stretch you out just enough so he can lean down, licking a long, wet strip up your pussy. Circling your clit once, twice, before dragging all the way up until his draconic tongue curls inside your cunt.
You buck against sylus’ face despite yourself, sleep drained from you as your back arches violently at the intrusion, screaming at the delicious press of the long, long muscle writhing against your gummy, sensitive walls. too much, too much!
too bad the sight of you fighting him only makes it worse.
the dragon’s instincts completely take over, and your refusal to take sylus’ eggs unless he proves himself worthy isn't the resistance you think it is. it speaks to the fire raging in every dragon’s heart, a wordless acceptance of his ritual as you challenge him, and you force him to show you he deserves it.
and he will show you.
sylus’ wings spread. his fanged smile does too.
the clawed apex of his wings comes to your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body against the floor as he drags your ass further up, giving him even easier access as he rips the rest of your nightgown, burying his face into your open, sloppy pussy. your struggle is futile against your dragon, and as soon as your whines turn into moans sylus knows you are ready.
his fingers thrust back in, careful so his claws don't scratch you even as all five spread you out, knuckle deep, tongue now flicking against the entrance of your cervix, leaving his saliva's natural relaxant until he feels your cunt loosen around him. your poor pussy is drooling around his tongue, sylus greedily swallowing everything he can as his claws force you into a deeper arch, tongue somehow getting longer as you babble incoherently into the floor.
"good girl," sylus purrs, the low sound humming from his lips and into you, deep and loud enough to echo up your spine as you sob from the vibrations. "good mate, accepting me. accepting my brood, my eggs."
you panic despite yourself, shaking your head and bucking your hips even though you could barely feel anything between your thighs except for overwhelming, numbing pleasure. "e-eggs? no, no..."
"shhh, fight and i'll make it hurt more than you want it to."
sylus' tongue finally curls out of you and you moan, the rough length tracing the sweat-slicked arch of your spine as he mounts you, wings cocooning the two of you in as you feel the unmistakable pressure of both his cock heads press against your numb entrance.
his fangs bite into the back of your neck, claiming you as he breaks skin, feeling the sweet scent of your blood coat his fangs as he purrs.
"you've fought well, now take everything I give you."
merman!rafayel
rafayel is the storm, all tempest and raging waters, ancient as the ocean itself, so his choice in bride is not one he’s taken lightly. after all, that would make you a goddess, and your heirs next to rule the sea.
he’s already brought you to lemuria in preparation for your betrothal ceremony, merfolk blessing this brave human vessel who will bear their future, all while you laughed and swam among them with a smile rafayel will paint again and again in reverence. the merfolk never ask if you’re staying. they ask what you need, what you’d like, as if the staying is already settled and only the comfort remains to be arranged.
there’s no need to worry you with the specifics of the ceremony. after all, he is now your god, your mate, it is his duty to worry about the specifics of consummation while you simply enjoy connecting with his world, his people. your people now.
it complicates things when you begin asking to go back to the surface, but rafayel is always gentle with you, taking you back to your old world when you ask, never quite letting you out of his sight before coaxing you back into the ocean.
and when you hesitate? he sings. a siren song, his webbed hand outstretched as he draws you to the beach again, cold water splashing at your ankles but your body unaffected as the lullaby weaves into your brain, soothing, loving, drawing you closer and closer still. you walk into the water smiling and he is already there, waiting, like he knew the exact moment your feet would find the shore.
after all, rafayel can’t have you running away again. you are lemuria’s queen now. you were their goddess the moment he decided you were, which was long before this ceremony, which was perhaps before you were born, which is the sort of thing he will tell you gently, later, when the permanence of it has had time to feel like home.
you don’t remember swimming out to the middle of the ocean. the waves are calm, a deep endless blue all around you as your kicking limbs all disappear into their depths. something brushes up against you. first, a scrape on your calf, circling you, but there is nowhere to hide. scales, rough and cold, wind against your legs, an even colder pair of arms wrapping around your waist as your body is completely ensnared in his tail. “shhh, I won’t hurt you cutie.” and then the song starts, and you forget once again.
you awake with sand under your skin and the soft lapping of waves, but there is no beach in sight.
no, it is just you and jagged rocks surrounding you. the waves are only the calm lapping of the pool in the center of the gilded cave, the one and only exit leading deep into the water, and lemurian territory.
your mating cove has been in preparation for months. the merfolk decorate it as they would a temple, soft things dragged in from shipwrecks, sea glass worn smooth, bioluminescent moss cultivated specifically for warmth and light. every piece chosen with the future queen in mind, and their future heirs. for your stay here is mandatory until the sea god’s brood takes. but surely you already knew this when you agreed to be his mate?
“what do you think, cutie?” a splash, and rafayel surfaces into your cove, razor-thin fangs gleaming up at you as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before the altar of his people. “not bad for a species of artists.”
“rafayel,” your voice is trembling, and he immediately coos at you. “please, take me back to shore. to land.”
you keep pleading, but the sea god ignores your cries. that isn’t what you want anymore silly, can’t you see? you’re the bride of the sea god, the next mother of tides, what your body and mind crave now is him. fully, completely. your poor human biology wants to stop you from fulfilling your role, but it’s okay. rafayel is more than happy to mate you as many times as you need for it to take.
he sings, hauling himself up to the sandy bank of the cave as his voice coaxes you into the water, bare legs splashing into the pool beside him as the first few feet of his enormous tail drag up onto the sand. soft, pillowy, a good bed to take you without risk of injury.
rafayel has done all your human rites of marriage, now it is time for you to do his.
once again you find yourself restrained underneath his powerful tail, your upper body still thankfully resting on the solid ground, but hips and under dragged into the pool as rafayel looms above you, squeezing and coiling his tail around your legs.
“t-tight, you’re squeezing me raf–” your legs thrash, however in doing so you only end up straddling the thick expanse of his tail, a low chirping sound echoing from deep within rafayel’s throat as he feels your wet, soft heat grind against him.
as soon as he feels you rub against the slit of his tail he keens, thrusting forward as the weight of all ten feet of him pins you down onto the sand.
“impatient,” rafayel laughs, and you tremble despite yourself at the sudden sharpness of his teeth. “don’t worry cutie, i’m impatient too.”
you feel it then, something protruding out from the slit as he continues to grind against you, the rhythm of the waves helping him forward and back, reaching a webbed hand down as you feel something curve and grow against the entire length of your stomach.
panic, red-hot and violent, seizes you as you look down to see his cock-no, two of them-lying side by side against your sternum, one already leaking copious amounts of slime-like substance on your skin while the other appears almost barbed, swollen and impossibly heavy at the shaft.
“shh, it’s okay.” rafayel is already soothing you, voice a melodic lullaby as he gently guides your chin up to look at him, just focus on him, don’t worry your pretty little head about making them fit. that’s his job. “that’s it baby, relax. sweet thing, beautiful mate, you’ll be the perfect host for my clutch, won’t you?”
you can only nod.
rafayel preps you for one at a time, his bigger cock already drooling relaxant all over your thighs and cunt as he grinds it over your little clit, allowing the head to hit it several times, your body becoming more and more pliant as he spreads the gentle venom. as soon as your soft breaths turn to moans he knows you’re ready, and drags you just a bit further into the water, enough so one powerful thrust is enough to have his first cock rammed right into your sweet spot.
it’s white-hot pleasure, your cries broken by a sob as rafayel speeds up, restless as he feels you tighten around him, cunt sucking him in further, accepting his first knot, driving him fucking insane with the way your moans sing to him like a mating song.
you’re perfect, already cumming around him as he feels his second knot swell, the pressure of his eggs rising as his instincts beg him to finish claiming you as his own. soon. soon, he can’t rush your poor, delicate human body, he can't risk breaking you.
the slight prick of fangs against your nipple makes you arch off the sand. it’s all too much, the feeling of being so impossibly full, rafayel’s tongue laving and squeezing your chest, his fingers thumbing at your clit and prodding at your already-full entrance, it all has you dizzy with need.
“more,” you’re begging in spite of yourself and your fear. “please, more.”
of course your god will provide.
the muscle relaxant his first cock has been pumping out has swelled within you, and with his spare hand he can begin to finger you open alongside his knot, curling against all the spots he knows make you sing. he then lines his second cock up with your entrance, and begins to push.
you whine, fighting it, hips bucking wildly, but the sheer weight of his tail keeps you pinned. the second cock is thicker than the first, rigid as it catches onto your fluttering entrance and squeezes past the first knot, copious amounts of his relaxant and your juices squirting onto your thighs and into the ocean. rafayel hums sweet nothings, petting you to soothe you, lips going back to swirl and bite at your nipples as you cum for him once more. he squeezes your breasts and wonders if you’ll still produce milk if you don’t have human babies. he hopes you do.
“pretty mate,” a low clicking sound, almost like whalesong fills the cave. he’s close. “wife, all mine. mine, all mine again.” rafayel gasps as his cock bullies yet another inch in, his egg sack bloated and heavy, waiting to be given to a worthy mate, and yet stuck until he can force the last few inches of his knot inside you.
desperate, a powerful slap of his tail drives him forward, slamming his hips into yours as both knots force their way into your cunt. the waves roar, spraying against the cave's walls as your vision whites out.
the pressure and stretch are overwhelming as you sob into the sand, cries turning into moans as rafayel’s fingers never ease up on your clit, numbness seizing your lower half as rafayel’s entire body begins to convulse with the press of the first egg into your womb.
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to 🌽 videos on X for visual examples on what was sent. 🔞 MDNI🔞
Sylus/Xavier/Rafayel/Zayne/Caleb
Yeah*sigh*I'm ovulating again. Enjoy 😝
The blue light of your phone screen is the only thing cutting through the darkness of your bedroom. You really should have been asleep an hour ago, instead, you’re spiraling down a rabbit hole you didn't even know existed.
Size kink.
You’d never really thought about it before, not until you started dating Sylus and tonight you were just scrolling, looking for something to satisfy the empty ache Sylus left all week.
This video is something you had never seen before or even thought was possible. You watch, mesmerized by the way the woman’s stomach subtly shifts a visible bulge as he stretches her out.
Heat pools instantly between your thighs, making your breath hitch and a dizzying sensation of fullness hit your gut. He's always so careful with you, so agonizingly gentle, as if you’re something precious he might break if he breathes too hard. But looking at this... a dark part of your brain wonders what it would feel like if he didn't hold back.
"Holy shit..." you whisper to the empty room.
Your hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding down to find slick heat. The video is playing on a loop. Bulge. Stretch. Deep. Repeat. You watch it while your imagination runs wild, replacing the stranger on the screen with the man who owns your heart. You’re picturing his heavy weight pinning you down, his eyes blown wide, filling you until you can’t even scream.
You’re chasing a peak that feels miles away until, suddenly, it isn't. You hit your first orgasm with a stifled gasp, back arching off the mattress, only to find yourself immediately chasing the second one, body trembling and spent in the wake of the first.
By the time the second wave of pleasure ebbs away, you’re a puddle of limbs and heavy eyelids. You’re half conscious, drifting in that beautiful limbo between wakefulness and dreams. In a daze of post orgasmic euphoria, you squint at the screen, your thumb hovering over the comment section.
"How do I send him this without actually sending it to him 😳"
You tap 'send' with a clumsy thumb. You meant to just post it as a thought, a digital scream into the void. But as your eyes flutter shut, your hand twitches a final, involuntary spasm of exhausted muscle. Your thumb slips. It slides across the 'Share' icon, hovers over the very first contact at the top of your recent list, and taps.
Sent.
You don't hear the subtle whoosh of the outgoing message. Delivered directly to the man who at this very moment is probably staring at a security feed or sipping red wine.
Sylus.
You just fall into a deep, blissful sleep, completely unaware that you've just lit a fuse.
“Come on, sweetie, don’t give up on me now" Thrust. The impact is heavy, forcing a breathless gasp from your lungs. “You can take it, can’t you?”
He isn't being the gentle, careful man you know. Not today. His hand is hooked firmly behind your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, forcing you to watch the unmistakable, fat bulge stretching the skin of your lower abdomen, proof to just how deep he’s buried himself inside you.
“You wanted this, now you have to take it and you are going to watch.”
And there it is. The reality of it. It’s visceral. It’s exactly what you saw in that video, but it’s a thousand times more intense because it’s him. It’s real.
Your vision swima and just as the shock of it all starts to settle, he shifts. He changes the angle of his hips in a calculated move that hits your G spot dead on. An uninhibited scream tears from your throat, echoing through the room.
“I've been trying to behave,” he says, and the words come out rougher than he probably intended, an edge of frustration bleeding through his usual composure “But you make it so difficult... fuck... by sending me your filthy little thoughts.”
His hand settles against your belly, firm and heavy, and the second he presses down, your body reacts with a sharp inhale. You tense instinctively, muscles coiling around him, but you don't pull away. You can't.
“Can you feel me here?” he asks, breath coming in uneven bursts. He’s buried balls deep and for a split second, you see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. You make a face, a strange, overwhelmed expression of fullness, and he looks like he might actually pull back to give you a moment to breathe. He thinks he’s pushing too hard.
He’s wrong.
Don't you dare.
Driven by a desperation you didn't know you possessed, you move your hips in a searching rhythm, pressing his hand down harder against your stomach. You want the pressure. You want to feel the exact point where he meets your skin from the inside.
He lets out a loud groan at the sensation. Your narrow walls clamp down on him, tighter than they've ever been. Every millimeter of space between you feels like it’s disappearing, leaving nothing but friction and heat.
You don't have the words to tell him that you never want him to stop, so your body does the talking. You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you there, keeping you exactly where you are until your breathing turns unsteady.
Until your body softens in momentary surrender and tightens again a second later, as if you're fighting a war with yourself, trying to decide whether to let go or to hold on tighter.
In the end, you don't choose. You do both.
The world dissolves into a hot haze of pleasure. It couldn't be called an orgasm because this feels like a total system failure. You’re sobbing his name or maybe you’re just gasping for air, you can’t tell anymore as waves of pleasure crash over you, violent and unrelenting. Your pussy seizes around him in long pulses, milking him, begging for the very thing that’s pushing you past your limit.
He follows you a few seconds later, burying himself soooo deep you feel the hot rush of him filling you.
Slowly, the fog begins to lift, leaving you in a state of blissful, heavy lethargy. The hand that was just pressing so ruthlessly into your belly softens, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
"You really are a menace." he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
The shame you expected to feel, the embarrassment of that accidental video is nowhere to be found. Instead, there is only a sense of immense satisfaction.
"Next time," he whispers into your hair "don't bother sending a link. Just tell me. I'll give you everything you desire. Every single time."
The problem with being in love with a man like Xavier is that your brain is constantly a minefield of "what ifs."
He’s incredible, truly, but you’ve noticed the way he pulls back sometimes. When he’s brooding or when that possessive jealousy starts to prickle at him, he becomes almost too careful. Like he’s afraid he might actually break you if he lets go of that restraint.
So, naturally, you’ve been doing a little "research" to keep the inspiration alive.
Now, you’re sitting on the edge of your bathtub, scrolling through your feed, a habit that’s becoming a bit of a vice, when a video catches your eye. A girl pinned to a mattress, her head pressed down by her partner as he fucks her from behind. Hard. The sound of her moans echoes in your ears through your headphones and suddenly the bathroom feels about ten degrees too hot.
God, yes.
You quickly save the link to your "later" folder, a digital stash of things you want him to eventually try, and then scribble a quick, thirsty comment on the video "This but with my boyfriend dressed as Lumiere 🤤 " and set your phone down.
Buzz. Buzz.
A notification lights up the screen. It’s him.
[Xavier]: Found a new hot pot place. Apparently, the broth is spicy enough to kill a Wanderer. Want to go tonight? Please say yes so I can stop thinking about food and start thinking about you.
A soft laugh escapes you. He’s so predictable, yet so devastatingly charming when he wants to be. Your answer is an immediate "sure" because you’d say yes to a lukewarm bowl of water if he was the one serving it.
But he always forgets to look at the menu and ends up ordering something way too spicy or something you're not in the mood for, so you look for the restaurant's menu.
You see the link. Tap it. Copy. Paste. Add "Look at the options! The spicy broth looks insane." Send.
Funny thing is, you don't actually copy the menu's URL, you just cut it. You don't even realize you just sent him the very un culinary link to the video you were just watching to fuel your own delusions.
Little typing bubbles appear. They dance for a long time. They disappear. They reappear.
He's so indecisive.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
"Lumiere?" the name sounds like a curse "You wanted Lumiere to pin you down?"
Your face is pressed so firmly into the mattress that the fabric feels like a part of your own skin, the scent of laundry detergent mixing with the heat of the moment. Every time he thrusts into you, the world tilts, your vision blurring into white light and dark shadows. The Xavier who kisses your forehead and cuddles with you is buried somewhere deep inside the man currently fucking you breathless.
"Xavie..." you try to speak, but his name dies in your throat as he shifts his weight.
"Tell me," he demands, losing the battle with his own restraint. He hits you hard, a deep, soul shaking thrust that forces a broken moan from your lips. "Tell me you don't need a costume to feel this."
You try to answer, to tell him he's being ridiculous...
Smack!
The sting of his palm against your ass makes you gasp, your fingers clawing at the mattress for purchase.
"You sent it to me on purpose," he mutters as he leans down, his chest pressing hard against your back. "You wanted to see me like this, didn't you? You wanted to see if I could be as rough as him."
He doesn't want an answer. He doesn't wait for one. He just wants to hear you whimper his name when he hits that perfect spot.
His hand presses your face down even harder into the mattress, muffling your cries. It's everything you were craving when you were scrolling through your phone earlier, but the reality is a thousand times better.
You start to move, trying to meet him halfway, trying to grind back against him to find the friction that will push you over the edge.
"Faster..." you beg, trying to turn your head to tell him that there is no Lumiere, there is only him, but he just presses you back down, his thumb grazing your hip bone with trembling pressure.
"Shhhhhh, just a little bit more," he lets out a long groan, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck for a fleeting second before he surges upward again. "You should see the way your pussy is taking my cock right now, so greedy. Just for me."
His hand shifts. It leaves the back of your head to find the column of your throat. His thumb and middle finger curl around your neck not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he is in total control.
He stills for a heartbeat, his middle finger softly tapping the pulsing vein in your neck. "Every beat belongs to me tonight"
You just nod, a jerky movement, because you are standing on the very edge of a precipice, and the fall is coming. The tension in your lower belly is wound so tight it’s almost painful.
"Say it," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his words a warm, humid ghost of a sensation, his control fraying at the edges.
"Yours," you finally whisper, like secret you’ve been holding in your lungs for far too long, finally allowed to breathe.
The moment the word leaves your lips, he loses the last of his mercy.
He pulls back almost entirely, leaving you aching and empty for a fraction of a second only to drive back in, bottomless and bruising. It’s a cycle of withdrawal and overwhelming fullness that leaves you reeling.
"Give me what's mine" the command vibrates through your entire body.
The world dissolves into white light as your head falls forward, muscles spasming in the violent quake of your climax, but he catches your hair, tugging just enough to force your head up, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a hunger that could swallow the stars.
"Good girl," he whispers against your parted, trembling lips.
He thrusts one last time, deep and final, spilling molten heat as your name breaks from his lips, torn in half by bliss before he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. For now, the jealousy is gone. There is only the quiet, heavy reality of being his.
The video catches your eye instantly. The lighting is a soft purple, casting a surreal glow over the two people on screen. A girl is on top, her movements slow and agonizingly deliberate as she drags her pussy over her partners cock, the rhythm of it making your cunt clench.
Tonight you are in a "no filter" mood. You need to share this. You need to tell Tara.
With a smirk, you tap the share icon, copy the link, and switch over to your messages. You find Tara’s profile pic or so you think and start typing with the kind of unhinged energy only a best friend can appreciate.
You and Tara have long since abandoned the concept of "boundaries" when it comes to your filthy late night chats.
“Omg Tara, look at this. Raf’s cock is so pretty, I swear if he’d just let me do this to him, I’d never leave the bedroom again 🥵💦”
You hit send with a satisfied whoosh and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Silence follows. For a few minutes you go back to scrolling, blissfully unaware that you have just dropped a digital bomb into the inbox of a man who is already struggling to maintain his composure.
Your phone vibrates.
It’s not a "LOL" or a "Damn" from Tara.
It’s a notification from Rafayel.
Rafayel: Is that so?
Your heart skips a beat. You frown, squinting at the name at the top of the chat.
Wait.
Your face goes from pale to a shade of red that would put a sunset to shame. You stare at the screen, wanting to physically crawl inside the phone and disappear forever. You want to delete it. You want to throw the phone out the window. You want to move to a different planet.
But then, the little typing bubbles appear again.
Rafayel: Don't just sit there blushing, cutie. I'm coming to your place and you are going to show me exactly what you want"
🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧
You’ve lost track of time. Your thighs are starting to ache, every muscle in your legs feels tight, strained from holding yourself upright, yet you keep moving. You have to. The friction is the only thing keeping you grounded.
You’re straddling him, your knees digging into the soft linens, focused on the way your cunt drags over his cock. Slippery. Hot. Wet.
Every time you slide down, the underside of him, that thick ridge presses ruthlessly against your clit. You can feel the vein running along his length pulse in perfect synch with your clit.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
"Slow down..." he groans, gripping your hips "You're going to... fuuuuck... you're going to kill me"
The friction is creating a heat of its own, a sliding friction that makes your head spin. You watch slightly delirious, as the light from the moon filters through the window, catching the sheen of sweat on his pale skin and the way his hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks wrecked. He looks beautiful. He looks like he belongs entirely to you.
But his hands are far from weak. They are heavy weights anchored to your hips, and he uses them to sabotage you. Just when you think you’ve found a rhythm that might actually save you, he tightens his grip, forcing your hips to slow, dragging the slide of your pussy out into a long, shallow glide.
It’s cruel. A sadistic kind of torture, making the night feel endless, as if the clock has stopped just to watch you suffer.
He wants to stretch this out. He wants to milk every drop of anticipation from your veins until your entire body begins to tremble, not from pleasure, but from the weight of the climax that refuses to arrive. He wants to push you to that edge where even your silence sounds filthy, where the quiet between your breaths is thick with the unspoken things you want to do to him.
Once he’s satisfied with the slow pace, his hands begin to wander. They trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your breasts, learning your body the way a sinner learns to pray. Like hunger learning the art of restraint just long enough to make the eventual feast mean something.
You slide back just a fraction, settling the heat of your pussy directly over his balls and then you reach down.
Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, just like you saw in that video. You begin to stroke him while simultaneously rotating your hips in a circular grind over the heavy fullness of his balls.
The sound that tears from his throat is something unhuman, a vibration that feels like it's coming from the depths of the ocean.
Your name is caught between his teeth in a soft, sinful exhale. He sounds undone, completely unraveled by the sight of you taking exactly what you claimed you wanted in that accidental text.
He’s right there, on the edge of an unravelling collapse.
And because you are just like him, a creature of beautiful, chaotic impulse, you don't let him have it. Not yet.
You release his cock, hand slipping away just as the tension reaches its peak, and drag your soaked cunt back up the entire length of him in one loooong slide.
It feels like a collision of two fires.
In your desperation to feel everything you let your entire weight drop. The clench of your pussy as you cum wraps around the underside of his cock, squeezing him with a force that leaves him absolutely helpless.
He has no choice but to follow you into the fire.
Spurts of his cum paint the pale skin of his stomach, the liquid warmth spreading in thick, white streaks, pooling in his belly button.
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. There is only the sound of your breathing and the humid scent of your shared exhaustion.
“Was that pretty enough for you, cutie?” he teases, though his hand trembles slightly as he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek, like he’s constantly checking to make sure you haven't vanished into the night. "Or do we need to do it again?"
It’s late, way past the time Zayne would usually be nudging you to sleep but he’s still tucked away in his office, probably buried under a mountain of medical charts or surgical reports.
Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, watching a VIDEO of a girl grinding against a man’s thigh, bodies pressed together, his hands steady even as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. The guy in the video is wearing pajamas that look disturbingly similar to the ones Zayne is wearing right now.
Suddenly, the empty space in your bed feels a little too vast, your mind drifting to the office down the hall, aching to be that girl, to climb onto his Zayne's lap while he’s buried in medical charts and just... fuck yourself stupid.
You want to reach down and touch yourself but you’re a loud sleeper and an even louder moaner. If you start now, there’s no way he won't hear you through the walls, and you aren't quite ready for that kind of intimacy yet. So, you settle for a bit of digital venting. With a flushed face, you type out a quick comment on the video: "God, I wish I could do this while he's working..."
You go to save the link to your "Filthy Things" folder for a proper session tomorrow morning, but just as your thumb hovers over the screen, your phone starts vibrating. It’s Simone. She’s calling, probably to gossip about something trivial. In your rush to swipe the call and answer her, your finger taps the wrong folder.
And because Zayne is a man who is always, always connected to his devices for work... he’s going to see the notification the exact second it pops up.
🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺
It didn't take long. After that little "digital accident," the silence between you two wasn't awkward so much as it was heavy. Charged. He didn't even tease you about the comment. He didn't even blush. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes, a tiny, knowing quirk at the corner of his mouth, and silently commanded you to come to him.
And now, here you are. Perched on his lap, doing the same thing you saw on that video. Your lower half is completely bare, your thighs hugging his muscular one as you press yourself flush against him.
The friction is driving you completely insane.
Zayne, however, is a man of terrifying discipline.
His left hand is braced on your lower back, while his right hand moves across his keyboard. He’s actually working. He’s reviewing files, typing out notes, behaving as if you aren't currently trying to melt into his lap. Every so often, he’ll pause, not to stop you, but to lean in. His breath, cool and smelling faintly of mint, brushes against the shell of your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
"Ah... Zayne..." you whimper against his neck as you press yourself harder against him. The sound is loud, far too loud for his quiet office and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Hush now," he doesn't even look away from the monitor, though you notice the slight tightening of his jaw. "I need to focus. These reports won't write themselves."
He’s being difficult. He’s being a tease. And you love him for it.
You try to be "good." You force yourself to still when he has to write something long on his computer. You sit there, trembling slightly, waiting for him to acknowledge the havoc you're wreaking on his concentration.
A moment passes. The only sound is the soft click clack of the keyboard. Then, you feel his hand slide from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction of an inch closer, a subtle command for you to keep going.
"Good girl," he whispers, the words a warm caress against your ear.
His expression is completely professional, but the way his fingers linger on your skin tells a completely different story. He’s still working, yes but he’s also letting you feel exactly how much of a distraction you really are.
Every time your thighs tense up, every time you desperately bite your lower lip to stifle a moan that threatens to shatter the silence, the air thickens with indecency.
He’s struggling. You aren't blind. You can feel the insistent twitch of his cock beneath you, reacting to every open mouthed kiss you press against the pulse of his neck, the sharp line of his collarbone, and the smooth expanse of his Adam's apple. He’s trying to maintain that surgeon’s calm, but his body is betraying him with every shuddering breath you take.
You’re right on the edge. Your clit is catching perfectly against the fabric of his pajamas, the material already damp and clinging to you from the amount of arousal you're leaking.
"Look at me."
His voice cuts through the air, forcing your gaze up. He wants to see the exact moment your eyes glaze over, the moment your breath hitches and tells the truth that your lips are trying so hard to hide.
When his hand slides up to cup your jaw, it isn't the gentle, comforting touch you're used to during a quiet movie on the couch. It's different. It's possessive. It’s a disciplined kind of dominance, a reminder that while he is the composed Zayne in the daylight, there is a much darker man caged behind that professional composure and you are the only one who knows how to let him out.
"You are close, aren't you, love?" he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath.
You can barely manage a nod, your lungs feeling too small for the air you're trying to pull in. You're breathing directly into his slightly parted mouth.
"Cum for me, then," he exhales, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks, betraying just how much this is affecting him too.
He shifts his thigh, bouncing it up and down in a rhythmic motion that catches your clit perfectly.
The world tilts. You feel your eyes lose focus and you can't tell if it's the shaking of your limbs or the pounding of your heart that's making you tremble so violently.
"Zaynie... Zayne..."
His name becomes your entire vocabulary, there are no words left, only the sound of his name on your lips and the crashing sensation of finally, finally letting go.
You are flicking through a never ending stream of mindless clips and memes. It’s supposed to be a quiet afternoon, just a bit of scrolling to kill the time until Caleb comes back, but then there...
A VIDEO pops up. It’s not your usual aesthetic travel vlog or a cooking hack.
You freeze, your heart doing a weird, little skip in your chest. You know you should probably swipe past it, but your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s a girl, her lace panties completely drenched. The guy in the video isn't even taking them off, he’s just sliding the tip of his cock against her through the wet lace.
A sudden warmth blooms deep in your belly, spreading down until it feels like you’re melting into the cushions. God, you’ve been craving that. The teasing, the slow, agonizing buildup. You’ve spent so much money on delicate, expensive little sets, thinking maybe Caleb would appreciate the way they look on you, but hes a fucking dog. He doesn't do "slow." He usually just rips them or tugs them off with impatience, going straight for the heat of you. You just want him to play with you like that. To linger.
Your inhibitions are a little frayed from the visual, and before your brain can catch up to your impulse, your thumbs are flying. You tap the comment section, the screen a mess of unhinged messages from strangers, and you add your own little confession: “I really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the start😢”
You hit send, a tiny, embarrassed flush creeping up your neck, and immediately swipe the video away, feeling a bit silly for being so vulnerable to a bunch of internet strangers.
You toss the phone onto the cushion next to you a second later, completely oblivious to one mortifying detail. He’d logged into his account on your phone earlier when his own battery died, and you hadn't bothered to switch back.
In his office, the most dangerous man in Skyhaven is about to watch, in explicit detail, how you want to be ruined.
🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷
It turns out your assessment of him was spot on. The man is a fucking dog.
He hasn't taken your underwear off. That’s the part that’s driving you absolutely insane. The delicate lace is currently soaked, clinging to your pussy like a second, translucent layer of skin. He’s been working his tongue against the fabric, licks so long and heavy they feel like they’re reaching deep inside you. You’ve already been hit by two earth shattering, toe curling orgasms, your vision blurring every time his mouth finds your clit through the damp cloth. He hasn't even slowed down. If anything, it's getting worse.
“This is the reason I usually take off those pretty panties you wear” he presses his face into you, his broad tongue sweeping up in one stroke against your entire slit. You let out a choked, broken sound, fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, trying to push him away just to catch your breath.
“Your scent is so fucking addictive,” he groans against your skin, “Especially after wearing them all day... knowing you've been walking around, smelling like this, just waiting for me.”
Then, he says something that makes your heart skip a beat not out of fear, but out of pure shock.
“You have no idea, do you?” he pants, nose brushing against your clit. “Last two years of High School... I spent them stroking my cock raw just to the smell of your panties. Thinking about you. Wishing you were right there."
Your vision blurs. Your hips jerk upward involuntarily as a third wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cum hard, your entire body shaking as you spill yourself directly onto his tongue, voice breaking into a high, desperate sob of his name.
He doesn't pull away. He just drinks you in, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tastes exactly what he's been craving.
The moment your legs stop trembling he hooks his fingers into the soaked gusset and drags it to the side, baring your swollen folds and your pulsing clit, sensitive from his relentless attention.
He doesn't thrust in. He doesn't go for the full stretch you’ve been silently praying for. Instead, he slides the drooling tip of his cock over your slit. He isn't even entering you yet, he's just... slapping it against your clit, teasing the very edge of your tolerance.
You wanted the lace, the play, the slow burn... but God, you also wanted him to fuck you until you couldn't remember your name. You wanted the stretch.
But Caleb is a man who listens. Or rather, he's a man who has spent a lifetime studying every detail of your desires and right now he is giving you exactly what you asked for.
He leans down, his eyes dark, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure and frustration. He doesn't give you the release of a full thrust, he just feeds you the tip. He slides just the head of his cock into your pussy, a teasing invasion that barely makes a dent.
The reaction is instantaneous. Your walls react to him like a living thing, clenching around him, desperately trying to suck him deeper, to pull the rest of him in. The sensation is so perfectly matched that a synchronized moan breaks from both of you.
He pulls out just a fraction and then he thrusts the tip back in. Over and over again.
“Please,” you whimper, the word sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “Baby, please...”
You’re trying to force him to go deeper. But he’s in total control. His left hand is working the length of his cock, pumping with a desperate rhythm, while his right hand finds your clit.
His eyes are pinned to yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face as if he’s trying to memorize the way you fall apart.
And then, the teasing ends.
His mushroom tip, still nestled just inside your entrance, begins to pulse. Warm, thick spurts of cum hit your sensitive walls, flooding the tiny space he’s occupied.
Your pussy clenches around the tip of his cock, trying to suck every last drop out of him while his hand squeezes the rest of his length, forcing the remainder of his seed into you, filling you up until his cum starts to leak out.
He finally collapses against you, the weight of his body pressing you deep into the mattress.
"You're so loud when you're happy," he murmurs before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling his lips against yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and everything you are to him.
He pulls back just a bit, his gaze dropping to where the soaked lace of your panties still clings to your thighs, then back up to your eyes. There’s a flicker of that obsessive intensity returning to his expression.
"There isn't a single thing in this world you could ask for that wouldn't make me crawl to you. So don't hold back, Pips."
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HIS NEW STRESS TOY ❀ starring fire lord!zuko x concubine!reader
❀ sex deprived or simply stupid? you guess you're both when you decide to offer yourself to a stranger with a sexy voice through a glory hole!
ac: @zuunary dc: @/bronzewasp
was there a fate as frustrating as being the concubine for a man as cold as the fire lord?
perhaps cold wasn't the correct word. but considering he refused to so much as speak to the women of his court, you weren't sure how else to describe your nonexistent relationship when you doubted he even knew your name.
you knew you shouldn't complain.
compared to some girls from your tribe, being pampered and paraded around was a far better fate. at least you were fed.
the only issue was you still hadn't been fucked.
you overheard a few of the other concubines whispering in the garden about how he'd yet to spend the night with any of them, scoffing at his solemnly muttered refusals on the rare occasion one would dare approach him during the day.
acting as if he owed them sex just because of his position.
there was no safety in simply being a pretty face. no, they all wanted something more. the security of being a proper consort. having his heir.
sneering about his burns behind his back while they schemed up ways to sleep with him, unsatisfied to just live in luxury.
with power came pests, you supposed.
you didn’t mind keeping to yourself, at least at first. preferred to be left to your own devices, chatting with the servants and finding company where to fill the time since the fire lord clearly held no interest in the concubines he housed. you'd never actually spoken to him yourself, no way to know if he was anything like the rumors they spread.
it was just that your fingers were having trouble soothing the heat between your thighs.
and the man who was causing it was too busy in his own world to ever notice what his presence did to you - or even care about soothing it.
your problem was yours alone.
and as long as your solution stayed a secret, everything could remain the same.
even if it did still feel shitty staring at him from afar, picking at your food while his political advisors prodded him for plans. watching your lord lean over out of earshot, his pretty lips parting, probably discussing business about the avatar or other things you weren't important enough to know.
his defined jaw clenching when his advisor replied, shaking his head all seriously as you spun your fork between your fingers.
excusing yourself was easy when no one cared where some measly concubine wandered off to. servants not even sparing you a glance as you slipped out into the bathhouses, confident that you wouldn't be interrupted at least when everyone was busy at his banquet.
you discovered it two months ago. you'd been bathing by yourself late one night, enjoying the steam and padding around barefoot as you tied a robe back over yourself. .
hidden in a little nook, away from the actual bath and near the changing rooms, someone had carved a hole in the wall that separated the men's bath from the women's. you had giggled at first, grinned at the realization someone must have made it for sex.
squatting down to squint through, not able to make out too much before sticking a single finger inside of it - only for someone to grab it.
"was this your doing?" a man grumbled, holding tight when you tried to pull it back.
"of course not," you huffed indignantly, scowling as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "what? were you waiting to be serviced?"
"of course not," he repeated, scoffing at you as if it was a ridiculous assumption to come to.
that should've been the end of it.
but you both kept coming back. week after week, making catty conversation between the wall as you both complained. he was sick of his responsibilities. his duties. overwhelmed by the weight of the work on his shoulders. you were sick of feeling unseen.
and even though he couldn't actually see you, it was nice to be heard.
you figured he must be a soldier. maybe a captain or lieutenant.
the bathhouse was indeed vacant when you strolled through it, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to your little hideaway.
excitement buzzing through your chest, heart thumping as you stopped just in front of it, getting down on its level to peek through as you hesitantly called out, "hello?"
no answer.
perhaps he'd been held up.
maybe he'd even been at the same banquet. right under your nose the entire time.
you waited, counting the seconds and biting your lip until you faintly heard approaching footsteps on the other side.
"are you there?" he spoke carefully, his voice low, soft, the kind that reverberated through you. you liked it.
him too.
"yes," you half-whispered back, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of your mouth. "i thought you might not come."
"my ah, well, colleagues were driving me insane. it's hard to get away from them," he muttered, irritation still dripping from his words as you listened intently. "did i make you wait long?"
"do i get anything if i say yes?" you affectionately hummed, a familiar feeling starting to burn in the bottom of your stomach as you fantasized about what the man on the other side might look like.
you doubted he'd be as handsome as zuko, but he still sounded attractive.
"i'm too tired to be teased tonight," he grunted, unamused by your light giggle.
"that's a shame," you replied, leaning against the wall. was he doing the same? pondering over your appearance and fighting the pull of his heart towards you? "i was looking forward to teasing you."
"are you trying to stress me out?" he sarcastically asked, a cute little husk to his voice that made your thighs reflexively squeeze.
"maybe a little," you answered honestly. "you sound cute when you're stressed."
it seemed like his permanent state of being.
"besides," you continued, getting closer to the edge of the hole. "you can just use me as stress relief."
wasn't that why you were both here?
fornicating with a fire lord's concubine with strictly forbidden.
but that was only if someone found out.
besides, as long as you didn't actually fuck him, wasn't it fine?
he didn't know what crime he was committing when he stuck his cock through the carved out-hole, the veins running across his thick shaft pulsing as you slid your stare over it.
getting down on your knees to wrap your mouth around it, feeling him throb against your tongue as you started sucking his cock. his filthy groan just spurring you on as you tried to take him as deep as possible.
if anyone caught either of you, there'd surely be hell to pay, but when he was bobbing into the back of your throat and murmuring how good you felt, it was hard to feel bad about it.
you didn't really mind being used when it was all you were made for. all you were using him for.
"fuck, your mouth is so warm," he moaned, and you wished you could see the way his face had to be scrunching up in pleasure while you tried to stroke what didn't fit.
humming against him as he chased his climax, your pulse pounding in your eardrums as you imagined what he'd do if he could see you.
would he grab your hair? use it to guide his cock in-and-out?
fuck your face until you were begging just to breathe?
you didn't even get to feel his abs tense when he was about to cum, his cock stalling mid-thrust just before warm ropes of cum spilled out, shooting down your throat as you struggled to swallow all of it.
"god, you're so good," he grunted, not pulling out as you licked up the last of it, dragging your tongue back over it until he was clean. "turn around."
he growled it like he was used to giving orders.
you pulled off of his cock, spit connecting your lips with his swollen tip as you watched it disappear back through the hole.
your turn.
it felt a little humiliating to pull up your skirts high enough, twisting around to angle yourself at the hole.
but the embarrassment morphed into enthrallment the moment his tongue was dragging over your slick entrance. pushing in and swirling it around with an intensity you hadn't quite been expecting.
trying to stretch you open with his that thick pink muscle of his, greedily eating you out like a starving man.
his tongue moved deftly, dragging inside you with expert strokes, painting patterns that left you stifling your moans into your palm. he felt like heaven, scratching that itch you couldn't satisfy yourself.
but just before the pressure could mount, he pulled his tongue out with an impatient huff.
"i would like to make love to you," he murmured, his voice half-slurred as he slurped you up. "in my chambers."
"i-i can't," you whimpered, regret burning almost as much as the need was. "i belong to someone else."
"who?"
his voice trembled, shaking with anger you'd never heard from him before.
"the fire lord," you half-whispered, breath catching in your throat as he let a low chuckle escape.
frenzied was the only word to describe his deep thrusts rendering you speechless and dizzy in the messy bed.
xavier is behind you, shirtless, with evidence of your bunny-like fucking plastered all over his chest and upper back, while his mouth and hips work in tandem to convert you into a dick drunk mess. his calloused hands hold open your ass to watch his cock, coated in your lewd cream push in deeply, to the point where his tip is making out with your cervix, only to retract where his rounded tip rests on your abused opening. the gaze of his darkened cerulean eyes is heavy as it travels all over your body, your back covered with sweat and hickey’s, lower body stuffed full with him and singing him with sweet praises.
frenzied is the only word to describe xavier.
“ if only you could see yourself, star. how do you expect me to be calm when you look and sound like this?” his rambling soon ends with a moan, driving his hips deeper— with the goal to completely wreck you by the end of this night. his pointed ears pick up where your soft sounds lack, a key sign that he’s hitting that spot inside of you and you're close to coming for the nth time that night, which didn’t look like it was close to ending, no matter how many times you paint the man and bed in your cum. “ you went quiet… must feel good, huh? you’re a total mess for me.”
the intensity is too much for you to handle, too much for you to describe, falling somewhere in between primal and euphoria— you’d rather leave it there. sharp, intense waves of pleasure rack through your body in waves as the sloppy curve of his dick massages through each part of your whimpering walls, cutting off your prior thoughts and revolving them around him. “ xavier! i c-can’t take it, you’re too deeeep, please!”
“ mmph— no, get back here,” he raspily huffs, hands shooting out to firmly grasp your hips and shift you back into the position you were once in, ass up, where he delivers striking slaps to your skin while your face is pushed down into the sheets, causing you softly whimper at. a hand between your shoulder blades presses you firmly down as guides his dick back into your weeping pussy. groans mix in with your elongated moans as he breaks into your pussy, effortlessly finding your weak spots and pinpointing them until you’re back to being a broken mess. “ don’t run from me. shh, let me hear her, the only part of your body that’s tellin’ me the truth right now.”
“ still… can’t take it,” glossed eyes roll back, lips breaking agape in a gasp. he’s just so long, too long for you to pathetically describe, and what’s more better than a man who loves treating you as if you were unbreakable— on the battlefield and on the bed. your puffy hole eagerly sucks in every inch that he gives you, contradicting yourself almost entirely. you swing your arm back, pawing at his lower stomach, a feeble attempt to control his overbearing thrusts.
“ move your hand.” his verbal demand turns physical as the next thing you know your arms are pinned against your back— giving him leverage to wreck you in further. your plan of escape soon benefits him by breaking you along the bed, it seems. every nth inch of xavier’s staggering size drills into your cunt deeply, causing your expression to furrow as only you can concentrate on him spending your body. your cunt is a drenched mess, clenching around his cock with each estimated thrust. no wonder why he refuses to listen to you. “ gotta teach you some stamina, star. you can take it; do you hear how you suck me in, like my good girl?”
the air you share is indecent, he damn near folds you in like a pretzel as his orgasm ebbs. a thumb finds its way into your hot mouth, pressing down firmly on your tongue, ensuring you suckle the digit. you barely register he’s coming until his tip twitches a startling two times; a hefty load of his cum finds stability in your warm womb. “ fuuuuuuck, good girl. such a fucking good girl for me, aren’t you, star? mhm, take it alll for me.”
his rude hips continue to buck, confirming that every inch of cum is pumped into your walls, where he finally leaves you alone for the night.
“ h-haaah, you’re so… nasty, xavier. i can’t even feel my lower body.”
your back is greeted by the sheets, bleary eyes looking down at the silver haired man parting your thighs. he purses his lips, a fat glob of spit making contact with your pearly clit as the sensation rolls down to your gaping hole.
“ who said ‘m done? i told you we’re working on your stamina, did i not?”
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𖧧 (MDNI) You've ran away from his dick, now it's Toji's turn
How about the big, bad Toji running away from his girlfriend's pussy? Because seriously, how was he meant to survive with the way you were so eagerly swallowing his cock?
With each resounding thwack of your hips, Toji's nails only sank deeper into the bedsheets, which were already soiled with the evidence of your previous rounds of lovemaking fucking. The pools of moisture — a nasty, potent mix of his sticky cum and your slick — had already cooled down uncomfortably under the man's sturdy ass, but the sensation had been long forgotten — sheer pleasure at the forefront of his poor, fucked out mind.
"Easy— eaaasy, girl," he groaned, head thrown back in the throes of ecstasy. Too much ecstacy. "Gonna give my cock friction burn at this rate."
You butted in, shaking your head. With the way your frantic rhythm refused to slow down, Toji could forsee a long night for himself, which was his own fault. "N-not happening. You said I could take what I— fuck, wanted tonight."
Leaning back on your hands, legs spread obscenely wide, you continued to buck your hips back down, which gave Toji a full view of your pussy. The poor thing had been fucked raw, outer lips slick and puffy — yet showed no signs of relenting yet as you chased orgasm after mind-numbing orgasm.
"I take it back—"
"—no, you don't."
And you were right, for the way Toji's angular hips slammed upwards into yours told you everything you needed to know.
Until he started squirming. Then, shuffling backwards on the ruffled sheets, the pace of your riding getting thrown off balance. His head shook from side to side, and the engulfing warmth of your pussy had Toji at a loss for words. For once.
Should he run? Or should he plant his feet on the bed so he could continue to fuck up into you, chasing that impending high he knew would render him pussydrunk?
The latter was rather embarrassing, considering the fact he had spent many a night making fun of you for the exact same thing.
"Look at you, running from it."
"All bark and no bite. How embarrassing."
These were all your boyfriend's words on any other occasion, but when Toji opened his bleary eyes, he could see your lips moving despite the white noise roaring in his ears. You were mimicking him, a fucked-out grin on your face.
"Earth to Toji," you sang, face screwing in satisfaction when you sank down, allowing his chubbed-up cock to hit your deepest parts. "Awh, don't tell me you're done already. Where's all that stamina gone?"
"Up your—"
Thwack!
You raised your hips, back bowing into a nasty arch before you sank down without an ounce of hesitation in your movements. Toji was firing blanks now, spasming once the first dry orgasm of the night hit.
How cute it was — almost — to see him running away, even now. This was the loudest you had ever heard the man, who was currently choking on a plethora of guttural curses. A large palm settled on your waist, uncertain as it tried to figure out whether to push you off or tug you in closer.
"Shame your cock can't give me any more," you murmured, flicking a nail over his taut nipple. A look of affection crossed over your face when Toji hissed, shying away from your touch before dragging your hand back to his chest. "Think I've milked you day today."
"Yeah, I'll say. Taking advantage of an old man like me," he scowled, face taking on a light shade of red. He was sweaty and warm, with meaty thighs trembling under yours. His orgasm had done a number on him, but if anyone could take it? It'd be Toji.
"And yet this old man liked it."
With a swat to your rounded ass, you yelped and rubbed the reddening flesh, lower lip jutted out. You knew who really called the shots around here — if the way Toji was already gearing up for another round didn't say enough already.
Goondnight i cannot think coherently im tired. divider by @uzmacchiato
𝟅ϱ sum. teaching nerd caleb how to make out with a twist! cw : mdni, making out, caleb cums in his pants.
“ ah… you’re really bad at this, yknow?”
“ well, it is my first time kissing someone.”
a sentence that made your body lock up. you pull back from his face with lightning speed, eyes wide as saucers. “ you never kissed anyone before?”
caleb… was different from other men you’ve met before. despite being the campus’ golden boy, he doesn’t jump at every party he’s invited to, nor does he flirt with any and every girl who bats her eyes at him— unexpected from a man being crowned the hottest boy on campus. more often than not he has his nose buried in whatever book feeding him information about airplanes or bugs, keeping to himself around people and only speaking when spoken to, even around his friend group. for some reason.
so how you’re currently situated on your bed while making out the dorkiest man alive is a great wonder.
“ should i be weirdly honored that you’re surprised?” he swiftly quips, a feeble excuse as his eyes pinpoint every detail in your room to avoid making eye contact with you after his embarrassing confession. god, you always knew caleb had some sort of charming, virgin air surrounding him as he would talk your ear off about plane models, hidden or not.
but, you never knew you would be teaching a grown man how to make out.
“ no, it’s just that i thought i would be getting eaten out instead of teaching someone how to kiss. but here we are now…” unceremoniously, you move quickly to plop yourself onto his lap. safe to say those grey sweats he wears to almost every class barely do him any justice— has caleb always been so toned? on top of him you can feel his firm thighs supporting your weight, albeit tense, as his broad arms are still hanging by his side. you’re going to enjoy this more than you’d like to admit. “ pay attention, ‘m only teaching you once. you’re a fast learner; you can handle it, yeah?”
pathetically, he nods. big purple boba eyes stare at you beneath his eyelashes.
“ first things first: don’t be so awkward. touch me.” grabbing at his noticeably larger hands, you guide them to slide down your waist, chuckling softly as the blush deepens on his face. your gaze then travels to his slightly chapped lips, feeling the skin with your thumb as his body subtly shudders. applying more force, you pull his lips apart. “ ‘m gonna lead; just follow me.”
starting off slow, your glossed lips touched his chapped ones. your hands move from his lower face, hooking around the back of his neck to pull him more into a kiss, provoking a shuddered groan from the brown haired man. something dark bubbled in your core as his hands stayed put on your waist while he followed back your slow kisses with hesitation on his end— you had an irresistible urge to corrupt him.
the more you pull back, the more the kiss deepens. once hesitant hands clutch the back of your head, keeping you still from momentarily pulling back as his hands travel lower until they’re resting on your hips, damn near touching your ass.
experimenting, you roll your hips, clothed sex grinding against his bulging hardness when suddenly he breaks from the kiss with a shuddering cry.
“ f-fuuuck!”
“ what…” you stare at the man in bewilderment as his body lurches forward, head dropping on your shoulder as the grip on your hips tightens until it almost hurts. you don’t get it. it was only a couple kisses; why is he acting like he… came. “ no fucking way, caleb. did you just cum? i didn’t even get to add tongue yet!”
caleb gets sooo fucking noisy n desperate when he finally fucks you
you can barely breathe but this man is reciting poems he made twelve years ago while he pounds you to the mattress. he's delirious with affection. your pussy makes him conqeur heaven's worship songs.
"mm—hngh, meimei," he gasps, calebs grip on your waist tight. "y-you're so tight... hahh, around me. did you wait for gege to f-finally take your virginity?"
he's making himself crazy with the very idea that you love him as much he does you. it's driving him mad.
"made gege wait. b-but it's okay.. now gege can use your pretty p-pussy as his personal fuckin' sleeve."
"yeah, meimei. squeeze that pussy for me. t-take my fuckin' cock—oh god..!" he thumbs your clit just how you like it.
"so wet.. so fuckin' wet, meimei. i-is gege's cock too big? is it bullying y-you're pretty... womb?"
you're getting dizzy with each thrust. the cock slides so deep inside of you that it feels like it's knocking against your cervix. he has his chest to yours and his hips slamming down like he's trynna get you knocked up—
and that's what he wants anyways. "g-get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant—pleasepleasepleaseplease meimei..!"
caleb whimpers as he comes inside of you. a long drawn out moan is pulled outta him as he buries his seed so deep. he has no plan in letting a single drop leak out
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your revenge plan of spending all of husband!gojo’s money doesn’t work if he’s secretly into it. mdni ⟢
APPROVED. AUTHORIZED. SALE SUCCESSFUL.
you’ve completely abandoned reason when it comes to financial responsibility.
store after store, purchase after purchase. you walk around like the world itself could bend to the whims of the little rectangular piece of plastic you’re clutching in your hand. at this point, you’ve treated entire starbucks capacities to a drink, bought extravagant dresses you know you’ll never wear, and a hideous bag that was so ridiculously expensive you almost laughed when you saw the price tag.
each time you slide his card across the chip reader, the little burst of dopamine you feel at the replying green ding makes his impending bank statement worth it.
he deserves this, after all. if he could be so aloof as to let your dinner reservation slip his mind, then surely he wouldn't be keen enough to notice a few extra zeroes trailing every purchase, right?
“would you like a receipt?” the cashier asks politely.
you smile sweetly, “an e-receipt will do, thank you.”
--
back at the apartment, satoru’s laying back against the sectional, his phone rests loosely in his hand, thumb lazily flicking through thread after thread. “how to apologize to your wife,” “how to make it up after standing someone up,” “best apology gifts”— he’s opened so many tabs that at this point they’ve all started blending together into a pitiful reddit concoction within his brain.
he’s just about to click onto another subreddit chain about “apology flowers and their meanings,” when the first notification pops onto the top of his screen.
“a transaction in the amount of $108,923.67 has been detected on your card ending in 8686…”
“huh..” he scoffs, clicking into the message.
“...this is an automated alert for your awareness. no action is required if you recognize this activity. if you do not recognize this transaction, please contact your financial institution immediately using the number on the back of your card...”
a little inkling tells him that it wasn't exactly a thief attempting to drain his card. unless the thief in question was an infuriatingly sexy woman who gets off on raising his blood pressure. he laxly enters his face ID to authorize his access into the bank app. the purchases, he quickly realizes, are flowing in as fast as a live chat. his blue eyes sharpen slightly as the numbers begin to flow in.
oh.
oh, is this what you’re doing now?
10:53 AM POS purchase - stine goya -22,193.67
11:12 AM POS purchase - bottega veneta -19,843.43
11:32 AM POS purchase - loro piana -28,931.41
11:38 AM POS purchase - starbucks -6,784.98
his lip quirks up at that last one, leave it up to his girl to manage to drop 7 racks at a coffee shop. more and more purchases are flowing in by the second, some are couple-hundred purchases at cafes, and others ten-grand payments to random ass brands he’s never even heard of. nonetheless, each one sends a little thrill of pleasure up his spine.
the next warning text comes in, claiming that he's dropped over a million by this point. the message warns that the card has locked, requiring his verification to prove it wasn't stolen and to therefore unlock it. he clicks onto that message and verifies his identity anyway, because he knows this isn't fraud. no, he knows exactly who’s behind this, and what kind of husband would he be if he didn’t enable his wife’s unhealthy spending habits?
he leans his head back against the couch, exhaling through his nose as something warm, and dangerously pleased coils in his chest. much to your impending annoyance, each petty charge has served more to arouse him than irritate him.
11:55 AM POS purchase - balenciaga -47,165.90
“spend it all,” he murmurs to the screen, irregularly pleased for someone actively being robbed. “c’mon babe. don’t go soft on me now.”
his hands slowly inch lower into his sweatpants, freeing his cock from the stiff material. he's mindlessly refreshing the page every few seconds, praying for a new purchase statement to come up. every time a new proof of your financial recklessness updates, his dick twitches in his hand.
louis. throb. gucci. throb.
he leans his head back, his breath coming in short gasps as he brings himself closer to the edge. he can feel the heat building up in his core, the familiar tingle in his spine. he's close, so so close, and all it takes is one more purchase to send him over.
12:00 PM POS purchase - tiffany & co. -136,456.23
his back arches, a low intelligible groan along the lines of that’s my girl escaping his lips as he comes undone. ropes of his translucent cum string over his fist. he’s feeling the tension leave his body after the high, replaced by a warm, satisfied glow. he takes a moment to catch his breath, his eyes still on his phone, then he pulls up your contact.
satoru: hey princess
satoru: don't forget to hit up the bank on the way home, they probably need a massage from all the stress you’ve put them through today;)
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