「we're not a doll」

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you…

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are…”

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent in the Nation of Wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—a doll to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?” 

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft. 

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“That’s it…” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful girl…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts… 

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: as always, thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

“Titians, look at you, honey,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough. His palm comes down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sting making you gasp. “All bent over for me like this. You want it bad, don't you?” Another spank follows, firmer, heat blooming across your skin. You arch your back, pushing toward him, your pussy already wet and throbbing.

“Nghh—Yes, Phainon,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “I need you. Please...” He chuckles, low and teasing, his fingers sliding along your spine in a slow worship. Big hands knead your ass cheeks, spreading them open gently. "Such a pretty little body, darling," he says, thumb brushing your tight hole before moving lower. He finds your clit, swollen and sensitive, and starts rubbing slow circles that send sparks through you.

Your legs tremble, and you moan softly. “Anghh—That feels so good... don't stop.l Phainon's touch is reverent, like he's adoring every inch of you. “This clit of yours is so responsive. I'm gonna make you drip before I even slide inside.” He pinches it lightly, then flicks with his thumb, the pressure building until you're rocking back against his hand. His other palm soothes your reddened ass, worshipping the curve there.

“You're perfect, so soft next to me,” he groans, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. You whimper, grinding harder. “Phainon, more... I want your fingers deeper.” You whine. He obliges, slipping two inside your slick pussy, curling them while his thumb keeps working your clit. “Like that, darling? Feel how wet you are for your hero?”

“Mughh—Yes, just like that,” you pant, pushing back. The size of his hand alone stretches you, a tease of what's coming. He pulls his fingers out slow, making you whine at the loss. Then you feel his thick cockhead nudge your entrance, hot and heavy. “Gonna fill you up now, pretty,” he says, voice laced with need. “My sweet girl, taking all of me.”

He pushes in gradually, the stretch making you cry out. “Oh fuck, you're so big... it hurts so good.” Your walls clench around him, his girth splitting you wide. Phainon's hips press flush, his balls resting against your clit, and he pauses to let you adjust. “Breathe, darling. You're doing so well, swallowing my cock like this.” But then he starts thrusting, slow at first, from behind, his powerful body driving deep.

Each snap of his hips jolts you forward, your ass jiggling against his abs. He spanks you again, the slap mixing with the wet sounds of him pounding in. “Take it, honey,” he demands, fingers digging into your hips. “You love being my little slut, don't you? So greedy for this dick.” You nod into the pillow, moaning louder. “I do, Phainon. Harder... spank me more.”

He obliges, his hand cracking down rhythmically as he picks up speed. Reaching around, he finds your clit again, rubbing fast circles that make your vision blur. “Cum for me,” he urges, breath hot on your neck. “Show me how much you crave being stuffed full.” The combination overwhelms you—his huge cock dragging inside, the sting on your ass, the relentless clit play. “I'm cumming... oh gods, Phainon!” you scream, pussy fluttering wildly around him.

He groans, thrusting through your orgasm, not slowing down. “That's my girl, honey. So tight when you squeeze me like that." But his words turn dirtier, “Pathetic, cumming so fast on my cock. What kind of needy slut are you?” You gasp, still riding the waves. "Your slut... only yours. Don't stop, please."

Phainon grinds deep, his balls tightening as he floods you with hot cum. “Take my seed, darling,” he rasps, breeding instinct taking over. “Gonna breed this tight pussy, fill you up with my heirs.” Cum spills out around his shaft, warm and thick, but he reaches back, thumb pressing it inside. “No letting it go, honey. Keep every drop in that greedy womb.”

You're already feeling fuzzy, feeling drugged from the stretch and the load. “It feels so full... more, Phainon. I want more.” He pulls out slowly, watching the mess with a hungry gaze, then spanks your ass lightly. “Not done yet, darling. How many times can you take it from behind? Let's find out.” He stays positioned, sliding back in with ease now that you're slick with his cum. The sloppy sounds fill the room as he starts thrusting again.

His hands roam your body, worshipping your smaller frame. Fingers trace your waist, so narrow compared to his broad chest. “Look at you, honey. So tiny, yet you take me so deep.” He spanks harder now, your skin burning deliciously. You push back, meeting his rhythm. “Yes, like that... you're so strong, Phainon. Fuck me harder.”

“As you wish, darling,” he says, pounding relentlessly. His fingers return to your clit, circling and pinching until you're babbling. "Phainon, it's too much... but don't stop. I need to cum again.” He laughs softly, voice husky. “Needy already? My sweet little mess, leaking my cum everywhere. You're just a hole for breeding, aren't you?” The words sting in the best way, mixing with his affectionate tone.

You shatter a second time, walls milking him tight. “Cumming... yes, breed me!” He roars, pumping another load deep inside. “Full of my cum now, honey. Stuffing you proper.” Overflow starts, but he fingers it back in, playing with your oversensitive clit to keep you on edge. “Feel that, darling? My seed taking root. How many loads before you're bred?”

“More... I can take more,” you moan, ass still up, body trembling. Phainon worships you through it, lips pressing kisses along your back. “Beautiful, honey. So perfect for me.” He doesn't give you a break, thrusting steadily from behind. His size overwhelms again, cock hitting spots that make you see stars.

“Tell me you love it,” he demands, hand soothing the sting before another smack. “Say it, darling.” You gasp out, “I love your cock... love being your breeding slut. Spank me, Phainon—make it hurt.” He does, harder, while rubbing your clit in tight circles. The build is intense, your body shaking. “I'm gonna squirt... oh fuck!” Liquid gushes around him as you cum, soaking the sheets.

“That's it, honey,” he praises, then degrades. “Soaking like a desperate whore. Pathetic, but mine.” His third orgasm follows, hips stuttering as he fills you deeper. “Breed you full, darling. No escaping this.” Cum squelches with every move now, your pussy stuffed to the limit. He grinds in, pushing it toward your womb.

You're lost in the haze, cock drunk and begging. “Phainon... kiss me?” He leans over your smaller body, capturing your lips in a messy kiss while still buried inside. “Anything for you, honey.” His hands worship your sides, thumbs brushing your nipples. But he pulls back, spanking once more. “Not done. Fourth time, darling. Take it all.”

Thrusts turn brutal, his warrior strength shining through. You cry out, “It's so deep... you're ruining me.” He rubs your clit faster, drawing whimpers. “Good. Be my ruined little.” Orgasm hits you like a wave, pussy clenching. “Cumming again... fill me!” He does, shouting your name as the fourth load pumps in, overflowing completely.

Finally, he pulls out, a river of cum pouring from your gaping hole. “Look at that mess, honey,” he says, stuffing three fingers inside to plug it. They curl, hitting your spot, making you twitch. “Keep it in. Let it breed you.” You collapse forward, spent and satisfied. “Ngh—I can't... it's too much. But I love it.”

Phainon curls his huge body around yours, worshipping with soft touches. “You took it so well, honey.” He kisses your neck, right over the choker mark he hides, his cyan eyes soft now. “How many times? As many as you want, darling. Rest now—I'll fill you again soon.” You smile weakly, as his arms hold you close.

★ MYDEI

Mydei looms over you, his towering, well-built frame casting a shadow across the bed as he pins you face-down with effortless strength.

“Stay still, honey,” he commands, voice low and gravelly, laced with that calm authority he wields like a weapon. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down as the other delivers a firm spank to your ass. The sharp crack echoes, heat spreading instantly, making you yelp and squirm. “You think you can handle what I give? Prove it.” Another smack lands, harder, your skin tingling under his touch. You arch instinctively, your pussy clenching with need, already slick from the anticipation of his dominance.

“Mydei... yes, I can,” you say. He hums in approval, his gauntleted fingers—surprisingly gentle despite the metal—trailing down your back in a reverent stroke, worshipping the curve of your spine. “Such a delicate thing,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if assessing a battlefield prize. His palm cups your ass, kneading the reddened flesh before spreading your cheeks wide. “All this softness for a man like me. Pathetic how eager you are.”

You moan, pushing back toward him, craving more. His thumb grazes your tight rear entrance teasingly, then dips lower to your swollen clit. He circles it slowly, the pressure deliberate and unhurried, sending jolts of pleasure up your core. “Feel that? Your button begging already. So desperate for my touch.” Mydei smirks, his yellow eyes narrowing as he watches you writhe. You gasp, legs shaking. “Please, Mydei... rub it harder. I need you.”

He obliges with a faint smirk, his thumb flicking your clit in quick, precise motions while his other hand soothes your stinging ass with soft caresses—a mix of worship and control. “Needy slut, aren't you? Twitching like this under my hand. But you'll take every bit I demand.” His fingers slide lower, two thick ones pushing into your wet pussy, stretching you with ease.

He curls them deep, hitting that spot inside while his thumb keeps tormenting your clit. The glow from his tattoos pulses faintly, as if his power hums with his arousal. “Tight even for my fingers, princess. Imagine my cock splitting you open.”

“Nghh—Oh gods, yes... fuck me with them first,” you beg, rocking against his hand. The size of his digits alone foreshadows his girth, your walls fluttering around the invasion. He pumps them steadily, his gauntlet cool against your thigh, building the tension until you're panting. “Like this? Soaking my hand already. What a greedy little hole.” But he withdraws suddenly, leaving you empty and whining. Then, the blunt head of his massive cock presses against your entrance, hot and insistent.

“Breathe,” he orders, voice steady as he eases in. The stretch burns deliciously, your smaller body yielding to his length. “Taking me like this—it's almost impressive. Or just foolish.” You cry out, fists clutching the sheets. “Aughh—Mydei, it's huge... you're filling me completely.” He bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass, balls heavy against your clit. For a moment, he stills, letting you adjust, his hand tracing patterns along your sides—your waist.

Then he thrusts, deep and controlled, each drive pulling a gasp from you. His pauldron shifts with the motion, the gold catching the light as he grips your hips. A spank punctuates his rhythm, the slap making your ass jiggle. “Take it deeper,” he groans, pace quickening. “You love being pounded from behind, don't you? My pathetic girl, dripping for a prince's cock.” You nod frantically, moaning into the pillow. “Yes, harder…”

His hand cracks down repeatedly, syncing with his hips, the sting amplifying every plunge. Reaching around, he pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingers. “Cum now,” he demands, tone brooking no argument. “Show me how worthless you are without my seed.” The overload hits—his thick shaft dragging your walls, the burn on your skin, the ruthless clit stimulation. “I'm cumming—mydei!” Your pussy spasms around him, milking desperately.

He doesn't falter, thrusting through it with stoic precision. “Tightening like a vice. Good girl, but don't think that's enough.” His balls draw up, and he buries deep, unleashing the first hot flood of cum. “Take my load, you slut,” he rasps, "Stuffing this womb full. No spilling a drop.” Rope after rope paints your insides, the warmth spreading as he grinds to push it deeper. But excess leaks out, and he acts swiftly—fingers scooping it back, plugging your pussy with three digits while his cock softens slightly inside.

“Keep it in,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to work the cum higher. “Feel how I'm marking you? Pathetic, leaking like that. But I'll fix it.” You're hazy already, the fullness making you cock drunk, body limp. “More... I want you to breed me properly, Mydei.” He pulls out with a wet pop, watching the creamy mess ooze, then slaps your ass lightly. “Insatiable. Fine—second round. How much can this small cunt hold?”

He slides back in smoothly, the slickness from his cum easing the way. Thrusts resume, harder now, his robe whispering against your skin. Another slap reddens your cheek, you moaned and whined as he hushes you.

“Quiet and take it,” he snaps, but his touch lingers adoringly on your body. Fingers pinch your clit, drawing whimpers. “Cumming again so soon? What a desperate whore, darling. Clench around me—earn the next load.” Pleasure crashes over you, walls pulsing. “Oh! Mydei! yes!” He groans low, pumping another thick creampie deep. "Fuller now, princess. My seed swelling you." Overflow dribbles, but he stuffs it relentlessly—fingers plunging in alongside his retreating cock, swirling to pack it tight.“No waste. Let it soak in you.”

You tremble, oversensitive, but he doesn't pause. “Third time,” he states flatly, like a directive on the battlefield. Re-entering your stuffed pussy, he pounds with renewed vigor, the squelch obscene. Slaps rain down, your ass throbbing. “Look at you, leaking my essence everywhere. Pathetic, but mine to fill.” His gauntlet-clad hand soothes the heat, worshipping even as he degrades. You babble, “Rub my clit... make me squirt on you.” He does, thumb pressing hard circles until you gush, soaking his thighs.

“Filthy mess,” he mutters, but thrusts faster. Orgasm rips through you again. “Cumming... stuff me more!” His release follows, third load flooding your core, mixing with the rest. He fingers the excess back immediately, four digits now stretching you to hold it all. “Packed tight, princess. Feel it sloshing? That's your purpose—carrying my heirs.”

Exhausted, you collapse, but he leans over, braided lock tickling your shoulder as he kisses your neck softly—a rare kindness from the stoic prince. “Not finished. Fourth load to seal it.” His final thrusts are brutal, cock overwhelming your cum-filled pussy. Clit play resumes, pinching until you shatter once more. He moans quietly, erupting deep, the biggest load yet. Cum overflows in rivers, but he plugs it with his fingers, pumping gently. “All in.”

Finally, he withdraws, watching your gaping, stuffed hole clench around the mess. Curling his massive body around yours, he holds you close, tattoos dimming as his yellow eyes soften just a fraction. "You endured well,” he says, voice steady but warm. “Rest now.” He smiled and kisses your forehead.

★ ASHVEIL

Ashveil's hat tipped low over his eyes as he cornered you in the dim back room of the while his sharp gaze raked over your body like he was solving a case. You were smaller than him, and he loved reminding you of that. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his smirk. “Look at you, little detective's pet,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “All flushed and ready. Bet you can't wait for me to bend you over again.”

You shivered under his touch, heat pooling between your legs. Ashveil was unpredictable, always one step ahead, and tonight he had that glint in his eye—the one that meant he was about to unravel you completely. He backed you up against the desk, his larger frame towering over yours, making you feel tiny and exposed. His fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, touching the soft skin there with rough palms. “Such a pretty little thing,” he growled, leaning in to nip at your ear. “Gonna worship this body till you beg me to stop. But you won't, will you? Greedy slut for my cock.”

He spun you around fast, your hands slapping down on the desk for support. Your skirt hiked up easy under his hands, panties yanked down to your knees. Ashveil's breath was hot on your neck as he pressed his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he already was. His cock strained against his trousers, thick and long, promising to stretch you wide. “Feel that?” he whispered, grinding slow. "That's all for you. Gonna fill this tight pussy up over and over."

His hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sting making you yelp and arch back. “That's right, take the spank like a good girl,” he said, voice dripping with that eccentric edge, like he was commenting on a clue. Another slap, harder, your skin turning pink under his palm. He soothed it after, rubbing circles, worshipping the mark he left. “Love how your ass jiggles. So fucking perfect.”

You pushed back against him, needy, and he chuckled low. His fingers dipped between your thighs, finding your clit swollen and wet. He rubbed it rough, circles that had you moaning loud, legs shaking. “Wet already? Dirty little whore,” he teases, pinching your clit just enough to make you gasp. “This pussy's mine to play with. Gonna make you cum on my fingers first, then stuff you full.”

He worked your clit faster, two fingers sliding in your pussy to curl against that spot inside. You bucked, cries filling the room, but he held you steady with his other arm around your waist. The size of his hand alone made you feel small, owned. “Come on,”he urged, breath ragged. “Cum for your detective. Show me how much you need it.”

The orgasm hit hard, your walls clenching around his fingers as you soaked his hand. He didn't stop rubbing your clit, drawing it out till you whimpered from the overstimulation. “Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers free to smear your juices over your ass. Then you heard his zipper, the sound making your core throb.

Ashveil freed his cock, thick and veined, the head already leaking. He slapped it against your ass, teasing, before lining up with your entrance. “Ready to take it from behind, baby?” he asked, but didn't wait—thrust in deep with one snap of his hips. You cried out, stretched full, his size splitting you open. He was huge, filling every inch, and the angle from behind made it hit deeper.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulled back slow, then slammed in again, setting a brutal pace, “Fuck! Ashveil…” you moaned. Each thrust rocked the desk, your body jolting forward. His balls slapped against your clit with every drive, adding sparks of pleasure. “Look at you, taking my big cock like a champ. Pussy's greedy for it.”

He spanked you again, the crack echoing, and you clenched around him, making him curse. “Yeahhh, squeeze me just like that, slut.” One hand snaked around to your front, fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing in time with his thrusts. The dual assault had you seeing stars, “Oh! it feels so good don’t stop!”

He groaned it against your skin. “Gonna pump you full. Fill this womb till it's dripping. Make you carry my seed.” His hips snapped faster, cock dragging against your walls, the size making you feel impossibly full. You feel liek you were drugged from cock already, mind fuzzy, only able to moan his name.

“Ashveil—please—“ you begged, pushing back to meet him. He laughed, quirky and wild, spanking your ass red. “Please what? More? You can take it, can't you? How many times tonight?”

He didn't hold back, pounding relentless, fingers flicking your clit till you shattered again. Your pussy spasmed, milking him, and he followed with a roar, burying deep to flood you with hot cum. Cum thick and heavy, stuffing you full as he kept thrusting shallow, pushing it deeper. “Take it all, baby. Don't let a drop out.”

He pulled out slow, cum leaking from your pussy, but he wasn't done. His fingers scooped it up, shoving it back in. “No wasting, slut. Stuff that pussy for me.” You whimpered, sensitive, but he flipped you onto your back on the desk for a moment, worshipping your body with his mouth—kissing your thighs, sucking marks on your stomach. “So beautiful, all messy with my cum. But I want you from behind again.”

He positioned you on all fours on the floor now, ass up. Cock hard again—detective's stamina apparently endless—he rubbed the head along your slit, mixing fresh arousal with his cum. “Round two. Let's see if this pussy can handle more.”

Thrust in, slick and easy from the creampie, but still stretching you wide. You moaned, head dropping, already drunk on the feel of him. He spanked your ass, watching it ripple, then gripped your hair to pull your head back. “Eyes forward? Nah, just feel it. Feel how I own this hole.”

Pace built quick, his free hand reaching under to circle your clit, swollen and needy. “Cum on my cock again, dirty girl.” He worshipped your back with kisses between thrusts, hands roaming your sides, squeezing your body.

“Fuck, your body—takes my whole cock to fill you," he panted, hips slamming. The angle from behind let him grind deep, hitting your cervix with each push, breeding talk ramping up. “Gonna knock you up. Cum stuffing this pretty pussy.”

You came hard, screaming, walls fluttering as he kept going, spanking you through it. His release hit soon after, another heavy load pumping in, overflowing as he thrust. “That's two, baby. Still leaking? Fingers in—keep it stuffed.”

He plugged you with his fingers, twisting, making you squirm. But rest was short; he was hard again, rubbing against your thigh. “Can't get enough of this ass. Bend over the chair now.”

You obeyed, legs weak, positioned over the arm of the chair. Ashveil loomed behind, cock teasing your entrance. “How many more? Three? Four? Till you're stuffed and begging?”

He slid in, cum squelching, the sound filthy. Thrusts slower this time, savoring, but building to hard snaps. His hand cracked against your ass, leaving handprints. “Red and perfect. Love marking my girl.”

Mind hazy, you babbled nonsense, fully cock drunk now, only chasing the next thrust. “Ashveil—more—fill me—“

“That's my girl,” he grinned, unpredictable spark in his eyes. Spanks rained down, mixing pain and pleasure, as he chased his peak. “Take the third load. Breed you deep.”

Cum erupted, hot and endless, stuffing you fuller. He held you impaled, fingers rubbing your clit to force another orgasm from your oversensitive body. You collapsed, trembling, but he scooped the leak back in.

But you were gone, cock drunk haze settling in, mumbling for more even as your body shook. Ashveil chuckled, pulling out to admire his work—your ass red, pussy stuffed and leaking despite his efforts. He turned you gently, kissing your forehead. “That's my girl. Took it so good from behind. Rest now—but tomorrow? We try for more.”

★ BLADE

Blade's rough hand clamped down on your hip, fingers bruising the soft flesh like he was claiming territory. You were folded over the bed's edge, ass high in the air, face smashed into the rumpled sheets that carried his musky scent from the night before. His massive body towered behind you, that fancy black coat with the red edges tossed aside, pants shoved low on his thick thighs. His cock, fat and veined, nudged your soaked folds, teasing the entrance that clenched just from the heat of him.

He was so damn big compared to you—long dark blue hair streaked red at the tips falling like a curtain as he loomed, those sharp red-orange eyes raking over your exposed skin. His thumb grazed your swollen clit, circling slow and firm, sending jolts up your spine that made your thighs quiver.

“Wet little cunt begging for it,” he muttered, no softness in his tone, just that heavy stare burning holes in your back. You arched, pushing your ass toward him, desperate. “Blade... fuck me. Please, I need your cock.”

A low huff escaped him, almost a laugh but twisted with his usual gloom. His palm cracked against your cheek, the slap stinging sharp, heat spreading like fire. “Whining like a needy bitch. That's my pet.” The word dripped from his lips, sweet poison that made your pussy throb. He hit you again, watching the skin ripple and pink up under his touch. “This fat ass is for me to bruise.”

You yelped, the burn twisting into ache that pooled low in your belly. His fingers kept at your clit, pinching the nub hard enough to draw a sob from your throat, rubbing in tight loops that had slick dripping down your legs. He bent closer, hair tickling your shoulder blades, hot breath fanning your ear. “Gonna flood this hole with my load. Stuff you until you're leaking me everywhere. You crave that? Me pumping seed deep to knock you up?”

“God, yes,” you gasped, voice shaky. “Breed me, Blade. Own this pussy.”

No more waiting. He gripped your hips tighter and drove in, his thick length forcing your walls apart in one savage shove. The stretch burned, his size splitting you wide from behind, balls heavy against your thighs as he bottomed out. “Shit, so fucking tight,” he growled, teeth gritted, pulling out slow only to ram back in harder. The bed frame groaned, your body lurching forward with the impact, tits scraping the sheets.

His hands roamed greedy, worshipping the dip of your waist, thumbs pressing into the soft give of your sides like he was memorizing every curve. “Soft skin, perfect tits hanging there,” he whispered, voice rough with want, almost reverent despite the edge. But then he'd smack your ass raw and snarl, “Greedy slut, choking my dick like you can't live without it.”

You moaned loud, lost in the haze, his cock dragging over that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes. He felt endless, filling you to the brim, the size gap making you feel pinned, helpless under his weight. “More,” you begged, voice slurring as pleasure fogged your brain. “Pound me harder... make me feel every inch.”

Blade's control snapped a fraction, hips snapping forward brutal, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. He snaked a hand under you, fingers clamping your clit, rolling it rough while he drilled deep. “Gonna cum first, pet. Fill this sloppy hole.” His free hand spanked you in rhythm, each hit jolting you onto his shaft.

The coil in your gut wound tight, his cock pulsing hot inside. You squeezed him, walls fluttering, and he buried deep with a guttural groan, ropes of thick cum erupting, painting your insides white. So much it overflowed, creamy trails seeping out around his girth. He rocked slow, grinding to shove it deeper, palm flat on your belly pressing down. “Keep it plugged, slut. Let my seed take root.”

You whimpered, ass clenching, the full warm weight settling heavy. But he stayed buried, cock twitching back to full hardness quick, that cursed stamina of his kicking in. Another sharp slap to your reddened cheek made you jolt. “Not over yet. Gonna wreck you proper.”

He pulled back just enough to let you feel the drag, then slammed home again, the mess squelching loud, obscene. His body molded to yours, chest hair scraping your back, lips trailing bites along your shoulder. 'Taste so good,' he murmured, tongue flicking sweat from your skin, hands kneading your hips like dough. Worship in every touch, even as his words cut. 'Look at you, dripping my cum already. Filthy cumrag for my cock.'

“Blade... it's too big,” you whined, but your hips bucked back, chasing the burn. The stretch hurt so good, his thickness bullying your pussy open wider each thrust. He spanked you relentless now, palm printing red welts, the pain spiking your arousal higher.

His fingers returned to your clit, slick with your juices and his load, pinching and flicking until your legs shook. “Gonna stuff you again. Breed this tight cunt until you're mine inside out.” He leaned heavy, one arm banding your waist, pulling you flush as he rutted deep, cockhead kissing your cervix.

You were gone, mind swimming in the drunk rush of him, body limp and pliant. “Yes... fill me up.” His degradation fueled the fire, mixing with the petnames that made you melt—'good girl,' 'my pet,' whispered between grunts.

He worshipped harder, mouth sucking marks into your back, hands sliding up to cup your swinging tits, thumbs tweaking nipples until you cried out. “These tits, this ass— all for me to ruin and cherish.” But the slaps kept coming, your skin on fire, pussy clenching greedy around him.

Thrusts turned erratic, his breath ragged against your neck, that stoic face probably twisted in rare ecstasy. “Take it, whore. Milk every drop.” He pinched your clit sharp, and you shattered, orgasm ripping through, walls spasming wild as you soaked his cock and balls.

Blade followed, shoving deep one last time, second load gushing hot and thick, mixing with the first until your pussy overflowed, cum bubbling out with each grind. He held you there, plugging tight, hand rubbing your belly like he could feel the flood. “Stuffed full now. My seed deep, breeding you good.”

You collapsed forward, boneless, ass still up as aftershocks trembled through. He eased out slow, watching his cum leak from your puffy lips, then pushed two thick fingers in, stuffing it back. “Don't spill, pet. Hold my claim.”

His touch turned gentle then, almost tender, lips pressing soft to the welts on your ass, hands massaging the ache away. But his eyes stayed dark, charged, like the storm inside him simmered just below. You felt claimed, wrecked, utterly his—small body marked and filled by the brooding giant who rarely spoke but said everything with his cock.

“You're mine,” he said simply, voice low, pulling you up to cradle against his chest. The warmth of him enveloped you, cum still warm inside, a filthy promise of more to come. You nuzzled into his bandages, spent and satisfied, knowing he'd take you from behind again whenever that hunger stirred.

“Just’ wanted to get fucked, huh? That’s why you wore this shit. Fuck, baby—I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” Ashveil growls, belt buckle snapping with a click and stopping your heart in its tracks. Your lungs shudder. How long had it been since you’d had him inside you?

Too fucking long, your poor, aching core tells you.

“Please,” you whine without conscious thought, prompting a groan from Ashveil’s lips. There’s some shuffling as he shoves his pants down his waist, just enough to pull his cock free of the confines. It’s hot when he presses his tip into your cunt through your panties and shallowly pumps his hips.

“Fuck, you’re already soaked. Oh yeah, you wanted this s’bad.” Ashveil hisses out, a statement rather than a question. His hand is impatient when he shoves the bridge of your panties to the side with a muttered “Get this the fuck outta the way.”

The second his cock presses past your folds you’re both moaning in unison. His thickness quickly splits you open with the most delicious pressure, sliding against every sweet spot and kissing your cervix before he even bottoms out.

“Fu—fuuuuck!” you whine out, hand shooting up to grip his bicep, hips tense and toes curled. Ashveil snickers at your reaction, eyes darkening at the way your walls twitch and flutter around his intrusion.

“What, you can’t take it all, ma?” he teases, rolling his hips forward to fuck himself into your sloppy cunt slowly. “You’ve done it before, y’know.”

“Just fuck me,” you pant back, hips tingling and eyes threatening to roll already. You wanted him so fucking bad, needed him to fuck you absolutely stupid.

Ashveil mumbles something but you can’t focus on whatever it was when he actually obeys you, pulling his cock out until only the tip rested within your walls. Then he shoves in—and again, and again, until your body has melted against the mattress and your throat is full of warbled moans and mewls.

“Fuckin’ shit, ma, pussy’s s’good,” Ashveil growls, words punctuated by slick slurps and squelches. “So fuckin’ tight an’ wet. Missed my cock, didn’t you, baby? Yeah, mhmm, I know you did, doll. I can feel how much you missed it—fuck…”

You almost can’t speak—not over the sloppy smacks of his hips into yours, not with the way he’s fucking savagely into your walls, not with the creak of the bed frame or the thumps of the headboard against the wall; it’s all so hot, filling your head with a thick fog that leaves no room for anything other than sheer, desperate horniness.

“Harder,” you croak out. “Fuck me harder, Ashy— oh, oh my fucking fuck—!”

“Shit, okay, yeah—” a stutter in his hips, a sharp hiss through his teeth, “‘M gonna fuck you up s’good, ma,” Ashveil growls, thick cock drilling into you mercilessly and fucking yelps and whines straight from your throat. “Jus’ keep makin’ those pretty fuckn’ noises, baby. Tell me how good you feel, fuuuuuck—”

Fingers bruise into your hips as Ashveil grips them and uses the leverage to pull you down on his cock, bruising himself balls deep inside you with every quick thrust. Your gut is twisted now, Ashveil is just fucking you straight into nirvana with so little effort. Just so big and thick and rough, exactly what you needed. Aeons, you’re so fucking close.

“You better fuckin’ cum, baby.” Ashveil growls breathily, as if sensing it, blunt cockhead spearing your cervix. Your walls clench, your belly furls, your breath hitches—each slide is rubbing right against that sweet spot, drawing euphoric static up to the surface of your skin. Ashveil simply groans at the sensation and sight of you.

“Cum all over m’cock, give it to me, yeah? Oh, fuck, i don’t think ‘m gon’a last—you look too fuckin’ sexy takin’ m’dick like this. C’mon, baby; you gotta cum f’me, o-okay?”

There’s a desperate tone to his words now, edged with strained arousal. Ashveil’s cock throbs something mad, smearing sticky pre against your cervix with every thrust into your soppy cunt. Your entire body is trembling, quaking beneath his—and when he hooks his elbow beneath your knee and shoves it to your ear, the new position breaks you.

Fuck, he’s so fucking deep—your eyes roll and your head melts into the pillow below you, thighs automatically squeezing around his narrow waist as if to ensure he has no choice but to keep fucking you this deep.

And all it takes is a few more spears of his cock into your guts and your vision is whiting out, back arched up and toes curled from the absolute intensity it rocks you with.

“Fuuuuck—oh, fuck!— Ashhhhh—!” you break off into warbled whines as your walls suckle so sweetly around his cock, and Ashveil groans like a wounded animal.

“Aeons, you’re fuckin’—shiiiit, pussy’s tryna fuckin’ milk me, baby—d’ya want me to cum inside? I can do it i-inside, right? Please let me, ma, wanna cum so deep—”

And you just nod, fingers wrapped tight around his bicep and swollen clit throbbing, walls so gooey and drooly that the slick squelches Ashveil fucks from them are louder than the ringing in your ears.

“Hell yeah, hah—so fuckin’ good f’me baby—fuck, ‘m about to cum—!”

It’s almost too much, the rapid thrusts into your walls, the grinds of his pelvis against your swollen clit; fuck, you want to shove him away or tell him to slow down, but your limbs and throat are jelly—

But luckily, it doesn’t take long for Ashveil’s orgasm to slam into him, a series of grunts and growls and what sounds like your name tumbling from his lips as his cock throbs and shoots his cum inside you.

Ashveil slows his hips until he’s merely rolling his softening cock into you shallowly, eyes glued to the white, creamy ring wrapped snug around his base. His cock twitches at the sight, pulling a soft, tired gasp from your lips.

“Holy shit.” He nearly gasps, followed by a small chuckle. “Never thought a skirt could look so good on someone. Fuck,” his eyes then flick up to yours, the steel hue smeared with something mischievous. Still trying to come down from your own fluttery, pulsing high, you almost miss his question:

“Think you could wear some stockings next time, too?”

Whispers whip around your ears, the room fallen into distorted shapes and shadows. It presses you down and holds you up, it keeps you in place as he coils you tighter and tighter. It was unstoppable, inescapable, the lull his hands pull your body into, to strive for every hardened insistence he makes on it even as he presses more fervently into your curves.

His eyes, gleaming with eager bloodlust as he watches you gasp, shuttering and struggling towards and against him. Your fingers clawing then pulling and clawing again as you shiver. As always, his actions are pointed, meditated maneuvers on your skin all so you can shatter on your sheets that are heavy with his cologne. Red markings carve their way down his throat and into yours as frenzied, manic whispers eagerly lap up the idea of breaking you down enough to become one in a truly inseparable way.

You could feel the warning in your bones, sharp, pointed spikes glimmering in response, eager to tear into his flesh as his Mania is to tear into you. Yet, you still pull his lips to yours, still enthusiastically meet his rhythm only to shiver away then back again. You bite his lip and he groans, fists balling as his teeth find your flesh in a tender yet forceful embrace. A dance that won't end until tears are pulled from your eyes, until you're left with no choice but to release those crimson spikes so he can reach the dizzy euphoria you're in now. Until you're left worn to your bones with a shuddering beast of a man in front of you, ravaged on Shackles.

Inch by inch, he's taking from you so deliciously, drawing you weaker by the second and your sanity teetering on collapse, holding thinly to the thread of your Shackles; your foreheads meet, his eyes dimly illuminating his features that almost seem to warp at their edges, rocking you closer and closer until—

Until you're too weak to hold on anymore. Your thread snaps as your body collapses and the spikes impale you both and his arms snake tightly around your waist, his body rolling into them as you tremble. A calloused hand grabs you, forcing you to once again meet his scarlet gaze, and between listless breathes of waking wonder, he brings you down again to catch your breath and mix it with his.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to let you out of my sight again."

“They were right there,” he says again, rough hands running up your legs. His thumb brushes the crease where thigh meets ass. “Swingin’ in my face while you’re playin’ hairdresser. What’d you expect?”

You’re still standing between his spread thighs, his knees bracketing your legs, that stupid too-small tank top shoved up under your tits now from all the movement. You can see the thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. “I was trying to make you look presentable for your shady little meeting,” you manage, trying for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to breathless. “Not… this.”

He smirks, green eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?” He leans forward again, just enough to drag the flat of his tongue over the wet peak he just abandoned. You twitch, thighs squeezing together on instinct. “You’re doin’ a shit job of actin’ mad about it, princess.”

His free hand comes up, cups the underside of the breast he hasn’t touched yet, thumb brushing over the neglected nipple until it pebbles tight. Then he’s guiding it slowly toward his mouth too, giving you every second to pull away. But you don’t.

Instead your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates through you again and you feel yourself get wetter, slick gathering at the tops of your thighs. “Toji,” you whisper, half plea now. “You’ve got that meeting in—”

“Fuck the meeting,” he mutters, voice muffled as he latches onto the second nipple, sucking harder this time. His hand on your ass finally slides higher, fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts, finding damp cotton and pressing against your clit.

You choke on a moan, knees buckling. He steadies you, “Been watchin’ these tits spill out every damn time you lean over for months,” he growls against your skin, switching back to the first nipple like he can’t decide which one he likes better. “You think I don’t notice? Think I’m not hard as fuck every time you ‘accidentally’ flash me?”

He nips and your hips jerk forward against his hand.“Say stop,” he rasps, finally pulling back far enough to look up at you. Lips shiny, pupils blown. “Say it and I’ll stop. We’ll fix my hair, I’ll go make my sketchy money, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

His fingers flex against your soaked panties—“Or…” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting you there. “You can keep standin’ there lettin’ me suck on you till you’re drippin’ down my wrist. Your call, baby.”

His free hand grips your ass, kneading, spreading you open a little as his fingers dip lower—two sliding through your folds, coating themselves before pushing inside slow. You clench around him instantly moaning, “Toji—oh god—”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls. You can’t even form words—just a needy whine as he switches breasts again, sucking the other one deep while his thumb rubs messy circles over your clit.

When you finally slump forward, forehead dropping to the top of his head, he eases his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “Good girl,” he rasps, pulling them free with a soft pop. “Now turn around.”

Before you can even process it, his big hands are on your hips, spinning you so your back is to him. He yanks your shorts and panties the rest of the way down in one rough tug, letting them tangle around your ankles. Then he’s hauling you back, sitting you down hard on his lap so your bare ass lands right on the fat, throbbing length of him still trapped in his sweats.

You grind back on instinct, slick pussy lips sliding along the thick ridge of his cock through the thin barrier. He shifts under you—hips lifting just a fraction—and you feel the slow drag of fabric as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and his cock flaps free. The fat head pops past your tight hole and into your wet cunt. “You’re such a perv,” you gasp, “All those times I ‘accidentally’ flashed you in the kitchen? Under the car hood when I was helpin’ with your junker? You were just sittin’ there gettin’ boners, huh?”

“Damn right.” He nibbles at you ear as he bounces you. “That time at the beach? Bikini top slippin’ while you bent over for the cooler? Nearly nutted in my trunks right there in front of everybody.” He punctuates it with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, “And don’t get me started on laundry day. Your shitty dryer always eatin’ your bras—tits bouncin’ free every time you reach for the high shelf. Been jerkin’ off to that for weeks, princess.”

“Fuck—you never said shit.” You’re panting now, grinding faster, the wet schlick of your pussy against his cock. “Why would I? You kept doin’ it.” He nips your shoulder, free hand coming up to maul your breast again—pinching the nipple he’d sucked raw earlier until you yelp.

You glance down between your bodies just in time to see it—his cock glistening, veins bulging, coated in your cream every time you lift up. The sight makes you clench hard; he curses under his breath, hips snapping up harder in retaliation. “Shit—do that again.”

You do—squeezing down on every upstroke, fluttering around the head when he’s almost out, you’re arching back against his chest, head thrown on his shoulder. “Gonna cum already?” he taunts, “Barely started and you’re shakin’ hard as hell.”

“Shut—shut up—” you gasp, but you’re too close, too full, too overwhelmed by his cock. “Just—don’t stop—fuck, Toji—” your whole body locks up, pussy spasming violently around him as you scream his name. His punishing thrusts, drawing it out until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.

“Fuck—good girl—cummin’ so hard on me—” His rhythm stutters as hot pulses fill your pussy, you can feel it leaking down your thighs, warm and sticky, mixing with your own mess.

Eventually he huffs a laugh, voice hoarse. “Hair’s completely fucked now.” You snort weakly, “Your meeting…”

“Fuck the meeting.” He nuzzles into your neck, one hand sliding up to cup your breast again, thumb circling the swollen nipple. “Got better things to do. Like gettin’ you to the bedroom so I can eat this pussy properly. Wanna taste what we just made.”

Obtain the Sinner: Finally seeing you with my own eyes, hero of the West District… You don’t like that title? Then how would you like me to address you?

Raise to Phase 1: This reminds me… of the days inside the Black Ring.

Raise to Phase 3: The body and memories may be taken, but the spirit and consciousness do not perish… As blinding light shines through flesh, which ‘me’ is it that I’m seeing…?

Level Start: The mission has begun.

Victory: The objective is perfectly resolved. Care to join me for a drink?

Lose Battles: Looks like we’ll have to take a detour to complete the objective.

Ultimate Skill: Don’t move, my friend.

Die in Battles: Now… I can finally close my eyes forever.

Greeting: Let me see today’s mission target… Mm, she’s staring right at me, seems to be in pretty good condition.

Conversation 1: Bullets are a decent negotiation tool, just a bit too loud.

Conversation 2: I’ve never believed in anything like destiny—because I can always change it.

Conversation 3: I once saw you from afar, and I wondered what kind of person could weigh so heavily on that Legion leader’s mind… Now you’re right beside me, then… let me ‘get to know’ you properly.

Special Conversation 1: The ring took away my blood and flesh, broke my bones, and forced me to devour bodies of others to survive. All of this is mine, yet it is not me, only the sound of my heartbeat can prove that I have always existed.

Special Conversation 2: For me, coming out of the Black Ring alive wasn’t anything difficult. What is truly difficult is how you are to accept such a self and go on living.

Special Conversation 3: Having to face such a powerful enemy as the Black Ring, I am very grateful to have many people walking with me, especially having you here.

Full Compliance: As you can see, beneath my skin there is nothing but a mass of chaotic void, storing memories that I have filtered, memories that belong to others yet can be used by me.... Only, after meeting you, I think I should be able to have a portion that belongs solely to me, to store the bits between you and me that I do not want to forget.

Idle: Don’t worry, I’ll pass the time waiting for you with a martini or a novel.

Annoyed: It’s an honor to waste some of your time, to put your hands all over me.

Special Attention: Your eyes alone can’t ‘hold’ me. Use something sturdier to restrain me—flesh, bone… or your shackles.

Dispatch: I’ll follow your arrangement.

Dispatch Complete: Well? Does what I obtained satisfy you?

Upgrade: I’m very familiar with the feeling of power being infused into the body.

By the time he gets home, drenched in sweat—you’re feral again. His heavy work boots barely cross the threshold before you’re on your knees, whining up at him like an annoying bunny in heat. He tries to breathe, tries to say “baby, gimme a second,” but you’re already ripping his belt open, desperate to taste that bitter salt coating your throat again. The musky scent of his heavy balls making your thighs shake and your soaked panties cling to your puffy cunt. His cock barely has a second to twitch before you’ve got it down your throat again, noisy, filthy slurps echoing through the house while your belly rests heavy against his legs.

“You’re gonna break me,” he groans with a deep breath while you lick his cockhead and circle the weeping hole with your tongue like it’s a blueberry popsicle. “Old man can’t keep up like this”.

You suck him until your belly cramps from being so full, your eyes glassy, drool stringing between your swollen lips while you make disgusting gulping sounds.

“Shit, you’re dripping through your panties again,” he murmurs dazedly, petting your head while you choke yourself happily. “You’re making a mess before I even touch you, baby”.

But you don’t care. Your belly’s already taut and round from his baby, but you want more. More of his load, more of that nasty, warm bitterness flooding your gut. At the same time, his cock twitches in your mouth like it’s sooo desperate to feed you back.

You’re so disgusting about it, too. After he blows inside you and your pussy’s stuffed up full of seed and fluttering—you’ll squat down over a towel, spread your puffy lips wide, and watch the thick, milky mess dribble out. You finger yourself with shaking hands while babbling in that dumb little voice, “Look daddy, look what you gave me… wanna drink it again”. You moan, eyes rolling back while shoving your wet, sticky fingers in your mouth and swirling your tongue around them to taste him.

And if he dares to shower? God help him. The sight of him freshly stepping out, skin flushed and dripping wet—your cunt thumps on instinct. You’re waddling over on shaky legs, your fat, pregnant tummy rubbing against him while you whimper like a spoiled brat. “Please, daddy… jus’ one more. Need it. Need your cum in my tummy”.

Sometimes even Toji gets exhausted. He’s 43 after all, and you’ve been insatiable. But no matter how spent he is, how sore his balls are, he always grabs your hips with that firm, indulgent grip and feeds his swollen cock back into your drooling hole like it belongs there. Because how can he say no? His pretty little wife, pregnant and leaking, addicted to being pumped full. Whimpering and thanking him while you squirt and gush around him, your stomach already round with his kid but still greedy for more.

“Greedy girl,” he pants while he fucks another sloppy load into you, watching the creamy mess ooze back out when he pulls out.

But whenever he is too drowsy to even fuck you properly, you’re not above riding him while he lies there, barely able to hold onto you. His big calloused hands weakly gripping your thighs while you mindlessly bounce on his poor, oversensitive cock with those dumb little moans like you’re trying to wring the last drop from him. His balls are aching, cock too sensitive but you’re still moaning like a brainless whore, babbling nonsense while your drool slides down onto his chest.

“Stuff me, daddy. Wanna feel it all hot in my tummy—‘s all I want—‘s my craving…”

And that poor old man? He just grits his teeth, biting back another pathetic moan while his spent balls twitch again. “Shit… gonna fucking kill me before this baby even pops out”.

But you’ll just giggle, harshly sinking down until his tip kisses your cervix. You swear you can feel it leaking straight into your womb.

And your pregnancy hormones make it even nastier—sometimes you swear you can smell the bitter salt on him before he even undresses. That rich scent alone makes your pussy wet and throbbing in need through your panties like you’re already being filled.

You’ll be sitting on his lap while he eats dinner, grinding lazily on his fat cock while whining against his ear:

“Everything makes me so horny, Toji. Even watching you eat—it’s so hot. Wanna be full all the time… wanna feel you everywhere…”

And Toji? That poor, exhausted man just grins defeatedly, eyes half-lidded and weary while his cock is jerking excitedly inside your greedy tight little cunt.

“Anything for you, baby. S’long as it makes you feel better”.

———

fluff <3

Toji had this habit now — every morning before work, before even putting on his boots, he’d crouch down in front of you and press his forehead gently against your belly. Big, calloused hands holding your hips like you were something breakable, though you knew he was more terrified of the tiny life growing inside you than of hurting you.

“Morning, baby,” he muttered against your skin, voice deep with sleep. Sometimes he’d even give your belly a little pat, like he was greeting your baby before greeting the world. You’d roll your eyes, hiding a smile because as much as he tried to play it off, you knew he loved talking to the bump.

At night, when he came home, you’d already be curled up on the couch in one of his oversized shirts that’s not so oversized with your bump stretching the fabric, socks tugged up to your calves, waiting. He always looked so huge when he lowered himself beside you, work-worn and tired, but he still pulls you onto his lap with a gentleness that didn’t match his size. You’d end up tucked against his broad, warm chest, your cheek pressed to his warm skin while his hand spread wide across your bump, thumb rubbing slow circles.

Sometimes he’d fall asleep like that, your smaller body sprawled across him, his arm heavy around your back, both of you dozing to the sound of each other’s breathing. Other nights, he’d insist on cooking something for you, clattering pans while muttering about “feeding his girls,” even though you tried to insist you could handle it.

The little things were what you treasured most. The way he slipped his rough hands into yours when you walked down the street, always a little protective. The way he crouched to tie your shoes when your belly got in the way. The way he kissed the crown of your head to comfort you when you pouted about not being able to bend or stretch the way you used to.

And when you fell asleep against him—whether on the couch, in bed, or even at the table after dinner he’d always tuck you closer and whisper something only the baby could hear. Promises, maybe. Or just a soft, rumbling, “Daddy’s here”. While caressing your belly.

. . .

He insists on carrying everything. Grocery bags, baby store hauls, even your purse if you’re tired. If you protest, he just laughs: “Don’t care if it’s pink and frilly — I’m carrying it”.

At the baby store, he’ll grumble about prices, but then you’ll catch him holding up tiny clothes with the softest look on his face. “She’ll look cute in this,” he mutters, throwing it in the cart without even glancing at the prices.

He’ll squat down in the middle of an aisle to rub your ankles if you start to complain. Doesn’t care if people stare.

And if you’re craving something at midnight? He doesn’t even argue anymore. He just pulls on sweatpants, grabs his keys, and says, “Text me the flavor, mama. Be back in ten”.

. . .

Toji has gotten into the habit of doing things before you even ask. If you sigh at the laundry basket, he’s already hauling it over his shoulder. If you so much as look at the broom, he’s taking it out of your hands.

“Sit down,” he says, pointing to the couch whenever you hover too long in the kitchen. “Not letting you waddle around when I’ve got two legs and a back made for this”.

He even ties your shoes without complaint, crouching down and double-knotting them while muttering, “Don’t need you tripping on me”.

. . .

Toji goes to every single appointment with you, even if it means rearranging his schedule.

When the baby kicks during an ultrasound, he squeezes your hand gently, sharp eyes glued to the screen with the softest look you’ve never seen before—like he’s in awe.

He always asks the doctor “dumb” questions you wouldn’t think of, like what kind of lotion is best for stretch marks or how much weight you’re allowed to carry safely.

. . .

While he’s painting the nursery, you’ll stand in the doorway watching him roll pale yellow paint onto the walls, shirtless and smudged with streaks. You laugh when he wipes sweat from his forehead and leaves a big smear of paint.

“You’ve got more on you than the wall,” you say while a laugh.

“Still did good work,” he shoots back, leaning down to smear a dab of paint on your nose.

. . .

You flopped onto the couch with a frustrated sigh, tugging your socks off and tossing them to the floor. Your ankles ache after a long day, and you groaned, pressing your palms against them.

Before you could even get comfortable, Toji’s voice rumbled from the kitchen. “What’s that noise for?”

“My feet hurt,” you admitted, pouting when he walked over.

He crouched in front of you without another word, big hands gently taking hold of your swollen foot. You tried to pull back, embarrassed. “Toji, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” he said, softly smiling up at you. “Lemme do it”.

His thumbs gently pressed carefully into the arch of your foot, the pressure melting all the ache away. You leaned your head back against the cushions with a whimper, and he chuckled.

“You’re making that sound on purpose”.

“Because it feels good,” you said, giggling when his rough hands slid up to rub your ankle and tickling you in the process.

He shook his head, still working at the knots with surprising gentleness. “Never thought I’d be sitting here massaging feet, but here we are. I’ll do anything for you”.

You peeked down at him, warmth spreading through your chest as you caught the way he was looking at you — soft, a little tired but full of love.

“You’re good to me,” you murmured while carding your fingers through his hair and slightly petting him.