Lost in the Sauce

“valkie, where are you going?” you whispered, your hands clutching his bicep in an attempt to make him stay.

he turned to you, his head cocking to the left.

his warm palm came up to cup your cheek, and you immediately nuzzled it, leaning against his touch.

“it's late, bunny. i have to go,” he explained, his smile easy, but his golden eyes betraying hesitation.

you frowned slightly, looking down at the floor, only to lift your eyes seconds later and meet his again.

“yeah, but… you just came,” you insisted, your voice turning frail, almost desperate. “stay? a little while, please.”

his thumb caressed the soft curve of your cheekbone.

he couldn't stay; he knew it.

but he couldn't leave you alone, either, not when you were looking at him with those pleading eyes, clinging to him as if you needed his existence to keep breathing.

“honeybun, i wish i could, but…” he trailed off, his resolve growing weaker.

“please…” you mumbled, your arms now coiling around his torso. you nuzzled his strong chest, trying to commit his scent and warmth to memory.

if he was going to leave so soon, you wanted to take as much of him with you as you could.

he leaned down, his chin now resting atop your head.

his hands hesitated before resting on your lower back, pulling you closer to him, making your bodies almost melt together.

you whined softly and shut your eyes so tightly that you couldn't perceive the light or shadows anymore.

you didn't want to think of anything else that wasn't this moment.

you wanted to recognize him by his scent; his manly, musky perfume, so that when you were lost, you could find your way back to him with all of your senses.

you didn't notice you were trembling until he lifted your head, his expression soft but concerned.

he leaned closer, his warm lips catching a tear as it rolled down your cheek. valko lingered, the tip of his nose warm against your skin, his mouth pressed gently to your tear-streaked face.

how could anyone try to keep him away from you?

“valkie,” you sniffled, your hands travelling up his chest until they rested on his shoulders. “will you come back…?”

he sighed.

his lips left your skin as he pulled back, but he remained close, pressing your foreheads together.

“i won't need to come back,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your waist in a way that left little to no room for you to move. “because i won't leave, little bunny.”

your breath hitched.

you searched his gaze for any hint of deceit, or perhaps pity; a pity that would make him tell sweet lies as long as you stopped crying.

but those golden pools held nothing but resolve and tenderness; a mate promising his beloved he wouldn't dare leave as long as he lived.

he couldn't do it, he wouldn't survive if he left. his heart wouldn't make it if he didn't have yours beating close to it.

“you— really? you promise?” you whispered, your fingers gently caressing the smooth undershave at his nape, perhaps to ground yourself, perhaps to comfort him as well.

he kneeled right there in front of you, his chin tilting up so he could meet your gaze.

he took your hands in his and kissed each and every one of your knuckles. he then turned your hands over and nuzzled your warm palms, closing his eyes in pure bliss.

“i promise,” he assured, looking up through his thick eyelashes.

you cupped his cheeks and caressed his warm skin with the tips of your fingers, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

you traced the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, his jawline, trying to memorize their shape, their texture, their softness and sharpness all at once.

it was almost as if you were scared of him disappearing.

scared of him going, scared of him leaving, and scared your mind wouldn't be able to recall anything you could hold on to.

he followed your hands with his eyes until he captured your fingers, pressing soft, wet kisses to them.

then, he stood up, towering over you in a way that never once felt threatening.

he picked you up in his arms with painful gentleness, treating you like the most delicate and fragile treasure, and held you against his chest, his body curling inward just to keep you surrounded by him.

his limbs, his scent, his breathing, and his clothes all brushed against your skin.

your fingers clung to him for dear life.

his long legs carried both of you to your bedroom, where he finally placed you down.

but you refused to let him go.

you stubbornly kept your limbs wrapped around his body, so he had no choice but to lie on top of you as carefully as he could, then gently roll the two of you over so that you'd be resting on his chest.

he lowered his hands until they reached the small of your back, and he pressed a lingering, soft kiss to your forehead the moment your pretty eyes looked up at him.

“i'm here, my bunny,” he whispered, his low voice rumbling in his chest. “i'm not going anywhere.”

no, he wasn't.

you wouldn't let him.

you shook your head softly and nuzzled his neck, sniffing his scent the way he taught you to; soft little sniffs to recognize where his scent was the strongest, then three long, slow inhales to take it in and commit it to memory.

the mix of pine, sandalwood, and the natural scent of his skin made you feel drowsy; the fear of him leaving replaced by his grounding promise.

you kissed the warm spot that brought you comfort, and let your consciousness drift away.

valko remained quiet, but he watched attentively as your eyelashes stopped fluttering, and your chest rose and fell calmly against his.

he nuzzled the top of your head and pulled a blanket over the two of you, almost as if to keep you both beneath a protective barrier the rest of the world couldn't break.

he knew not to make promises he could break, but… you were fighting so hard to cling to him, to remember him.

and if your heart, body, and soul were already memorizing every inch of his skin, he wouldn't truly be gone from your world.

ever.

he closed his eyes and buried his face deeper in your hair.

maybe fate would ask impossible things of him one day, maybe the world would try to pull him away.

but, if it ever did, he would spend every lifetime finding his way back to the little bunny who knew his scent by heart.~

“y-yes, use me.” His hand comes up to your chin, grip trembling as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss, your lipstick smearing across his mouth. Your wedding dress is bunched at your waist, layers swallowing your husband-to-be as he pistons his hefty dick into you from below. You grind down into him, fingers tangled in his slicked-back hair, holding him there.

“hah—! how are you deeper than before?” you mewl, face in his neck, sucking marks into his heated skin. “can feel you s’deep…”

“you can, can’t you?” he bites back a sound only for it to rip through as a whimper. Your hot, gummy walls spasm around the whole of his length and his hand spreads across your back, holding you flush to him as his hips falter.

His cock twitches inside you before stilling. “on second thought, stay still.” he pulls away. “Let me move. We can’t have you getting too hot.”

He’s moving before you can nod. And all you can do is clutch him tight while his cock grinds into your cervix at each long stroke of his. Your knees dig into the strong muscles of his thighs.

“mmfuuck—!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut.

“spread your legs. We’ll ruin your dress.” His legs part, guiding you wider for him. and somehow, it gives him enough leverage to pull out of you alllll the way out and then bury himself to the hilt, dragging his thick cock over every sensitive inch of your walls in lewd schlick schlick schlicks despite the layers.

His hand disappears in your dress, fingers brushing over the lace garter around your thigh and then higher to part your soaked folds.

“w-wait I’m gonna cum.” You tell him. his pace grows desperate.

“mngh… don’t worry,” he pants, losing whatever composure he had left. “I am too.”

His thumb finds your clit, moving through your slick—down to your hole—where your puffy pussy lips are stretched around him to the limit—and back up to the throbbing bud.

waves of heat roll over your body as you cum with a silent cry. You feel him jump in you, balls tightening against your ass. “finish in me,” you tell him.

He lets out a strangled moan—unable to muster up the composure to protest—spurting jets of warmth in you, pumping you full of his load. Your spasming cunt wriiings out every last drop of release.

He pulls your face close to his, nose bumping with yours as you come down together. He places a small, shy kiss on the bridge of your nose.

“shall we go get married now?”

CALEB XIA ☆

It was supposed to be right. And it was—on paper. It was a wedding ripped right out of the cheesy dramas you binge. except. Your hair didn’t get the memo. Your bridesmaids sat helpless while you handled it in tears—only to toss the curling wand away.

“heyy, what’s wrong?” caleb invites himself in the room. The women step out immediately.  Screw the not-seeing-the-bride-before-the-wedding bad luck. This was bad enough.

You sniffle, pressing your face into his chest. “caleb it’s all falling apart…” you look up at him with teary eyes and before you can even stop yourself, your lips crash against his.

“fuck baby—you’re extra soft today, mm?” his long cock pummels into you. his hand reaches down, peeling away a layer of your dress. “hold it up f’me, pips.”

You’ve clutching the thick layers against your chest like your life depends on it while your fiancé absolutely obliterates your leaky cunt one thrust at a time. “s-slow down ‘leb…” you whimper, back arched like a bow for him.

“slow down? how do you plan on making it on time to our wedding?” he chuckles, leaning down to spread your swollen, slick coated pussy lips to reveal your pulsing little bud for him. he drools at the sight. And doesn’t let it go to waste. His warm spit lands on your aching bud, trickling down to mix with the juices you ooze out.

He watches the way your poor, overstretched cunny still manages to swallow him—and god he knows he’s too big for you but look at you. tears prickling at your eyes, whimpering under him dressed in white to be married to him. how on earth did he get so lucky?

“m’so clooose—!” you whine, thighs attempting to press together.

“good god, pips. Y’look so pretty round my cock…” he groans. His hand curls around your thighs hiking it up, letting his fat cockhead drill its way into your sinfully soft channel. His thumb brushes against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, making you yelp beneath him.

it doesn’t take long for you to finish, clamping around him in wet pulses that his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. Still, he keeps moving. He keeps pounding you through that vision blanking orgasm, until you’re practically sobbing under him.

“mmf—please… s’too much—hic!” and still, you make no attempt to escape. You’re exactly where you want to be—your overstimmed pussy being bullied into another orgasm.

“jus’ like that, keep clamping baby. I’m right there…” he pants, leaning down to kiss a tear away. “you’ll let me cum in you, right? Let caleb stuff you full?”

“y-yes! yes please—oh?!” His dirty talk alone tips you over the edge again, milking him for his release. And he does. Ropes after ropes after ropes of hot, creamy cum pumping into your pussy.

And when you finally calm, he gathers your hair, fixing it into an elegant low bun—murmuring quiet “thank you”s through sniffles for marrying him.

XAVIER SHEN ☆

“I couldn’t sleep either.” You jolt at your fiancé’s voice behind you. You’re ecstatic. And in that excitement, you were dressed and ready before time. In 5 hours, the wedding you dreamed of begins. an early morning ceremony, walking the aisle under stars, sealing it with a kiss as sunlight finally breaks.

The venue lies hushed as you stand together on the balcony, gazing down at the flowered arch where you’ll soon be married.

“xav—ngh!” you grip the railing harder. Your pussy moulds so perfectly around your fiance’s cock, stretched obscenely wide.

His hand reaches around your throat to tip your chin up to have you watch the place you’d soon say vows at. “a-are you sure this will help you sleep?” his voice sounds too normal for his actions.

He’s nearly jackhammering into your velvety hole, causing it to squelch and ooze more of your love juices down your thighs. His foot nudges your legs farther apart, the need to drill deeper into you consuming him enough to bury his face in your hair and groan low.

“mmhm, mhm ye—ah!” you nod, hips pushing back to meet his deep pounding. “don’t want eye bags.”

By the pace at which he’s ramming into your pussy heat, you can already imagine it—imagine yourself walking toward him with shaky legs, his cum still leaking down your thighs. Fuck. There’s no way you were going to clean up after your session. Your legs are quivering at this point, held apart only by his knee.

“alright,” he murmurs, halting entirely. You bite back a whine. “keep them pressed if you want it that way.” He pulls out. His fingers find your gaping hole, two plunging in to coax out translucent strings of your arousal and his pre cum, smearing it between your thighs. And that’s when you feel the fat head of his cock again—pushing its way where your plush thighs press the tightest, and yet, making sure that your swollen clit isn’t left out.

“you keep looking at the arch,” he leans in, one of his hands guiding his cock between your syrupy slit. Your thighs press harder. You’re so close but there’s no way you’re cumming empty like this. He lets out a chuckle, soft enough to be mistaken as innocent. “are you going to cum to the thought of our wedding?”

He breaches your puffy lips again, sliding in with ease with the lewd amount of slick gathered there. “filthy girl… I’m right.” His hand presses down on your lower back, arching you for him as he buries himself balls-deep.

“oh! Hic—just… just let me cum, already!” you clamp around him, all the obscene ideas making your pussy walls stir.

Xavier’s fingers spread your ass cheeks for him and he sinks deeper than ever. You let out a choked sob—very close to rutting your needy clit against the glass if he keeps you on edge any longer. “it’s okay. I’m thinking of that too,”

He pinches your clit once and that has you creaming around his pulsing length. Your pussy clamping around him like heartbeat has him finishing too, keeping you plugged like that for a moment until you come down from the high.

“there’s no way I can sleep after this,” you pout. Xavior huffs out a fond laugh behind you.

“pfft okay, we’ll take a long nap together after the wedding,”

RAFAYEL QI ☆

You wanted to give him something unforgettable for your wedding—something truly special, because he’s been certain about marrying you for as long as you can remember. No exaggeration. And you knew simple nudes wouldn’t cut it.

Until an evil idea pops in your mind. You were no stranger to his “bride kink”. So why don’t you just play with that?

“fuckfuckfuck cutiieee,” he whines pathetically.

his eyes are snapped shut. All he can do is push his stuttering hips flush against yours, feeding your leaking cunt more of his stout inches—all while holding your dress as far away as he can from the mess. Your hole pulses, dribbling out a mixture of your cream and his pre cum that his angry red head can’t stop spilling.

“mngh you’re suuuch an angel—hah!” he grips your thighs, holding them apart as he destroys your overstimulated cunt. “such an angel for letting me fuck this pretty pussy in your wedding dress babymmff—”

He’s made you cum several times—on the pink muscle in his filthy mouth, his slender fingers and even on his pretty cock. And yet, he hasn’t finished once—holding back for lord knows what.

“ra-raf s’enough already!” you whine. It only spurs him more—he buries himself to the hilt, nudging your spongy spot, now swollen from his cruel overstimulation. “we’re gonna be late. Just cum!” your hips chase his as he pulls back and then with a lewd schliiick, slides back home.

“I know I know,” he rasps out too quickly. He’s flushed, dazed. Delirious. And god help you, it’s pushing you closer to that delicious edge. “wanna hold it out. Wanna tattoo the patterns of your pussy walls onto my dick,”

You let out a groan at that, walls fluttering around him in response. He starts moving once again. long brutal strokes, massaging you perfectly, warming you for yet another orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum…” you tell him, your hand coming down to rub your clit. He frowns before swatting your hand away with a pout, replacing it with his.

“me too,” he says fucking finally. “m’gonna fill my pretty little bride up.” he angles his cock to your sweet spot, making you cum so hard that you see stars.

“ohhh baby fuck—!” he groans deep, hips faltering as he spills into you. “take my cum, my pretty bride. Love feeding your womb…” he pumps his load into you, as deep as your body can take it. Until he begins to melt—

you nearly kick him away before he can start again.

“ow! What was that for?” he looks down, momentarily admiring the trail of white dribbling from your hole before he jumps to his feet.

“uh-oh uh-oh!” he grabs a rag and cleans you up in time.

And later, as you walk down the aisle toward him, you both can’t stop breaking into ugly, snotty laughter at the memory.

SYLUS QIN ☆

“boss lady!”

“boss-man’s back!”

The only downside to marrying the leader of Onychinus was the interruptions—even on your wedding day. You believed Sylus when he said you wouldn’t have to dirty your dress over “pests,” that he’d handle it himself. Still, that didn’t stop you from pacing, restless as you waited for him to return.

“how scandalous,” he lets out a rumble of laugh as you fuck yourself on his impossibly fat dick. “my fiancé ravaging her husband-to-be while our guests outside wait for us to be wed,”

“consummating our marriage before we’re even ma—"

“mmffuck! B-be quiet, sylus.” His cockhead brushes against your sweet spot and you keep him there, grinding.

His fingers hook under the blindfold to see that fucked out expression on your face that only his dick manages to poke out of you. “do-don’t! keep it on.” You swat his hand away. He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I can’t see you before the ceremony but you can fuck me? you’re only following rules that are conveni—” you silence him with a kiss, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip. He hisses, before kissing you fervently, holding you still as he pistons his cock into you, just where you want it. You sob into his mouth—all which he happily swallows.

He flips the two of you. “sylus don’t take it—”

“mm im hurt, kitten. do you truly think i need to see you to fuck you proper?” with that, he’s dragging you to his hips, sheathing himself back into you.

“sy o-oh!” your voice cracks as you let out a scream—too far gone to care about the people murmuring outside. “m’gonna cum,”

Sylus leans down, his hot breath fanning over your temple. “I know you were worried. But we are getting married.” He promises, his pace slowing to deep, long thrusts—still managing to knock the air out of your lungs. You sob out, nodding in agreement. “right after I make you cream,”

His hips slam into yours, each thrust punching out choked sounds out of you. his fingers find your clit, gathering all that syrup you’ve dribbled for him. and ohhh the way he touches you down there is nothing short of obscene. A stark contrast to your perfect, innocent white wedding dress you’re getting fucked in.

He massages your pussy lips, fingers moving from your wide-stretched hole, to your clit and back down. he parts your slit only to close your puffy pink lips back around his length as he spears into you with reckless abandon.

Your back feels like it snapped in two as you finish, chanting his name. one more thrust into your juicy, quivering hole has him pumping his thick load into you.

“am I to marry you in this?” he plays with the edge of the cloth over his eyes, still huffing.  

“touch it again and you will,”