#riasmut

Trey Clover

His hands rest on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to remind you they're there, but he doesn't guide you. Trey's breath hitches every few seconds, a slow, controlled exhale that betrays how desperately he wants you to move. "You're doing this on purpose," he murmurs, voice strained, and you feel his c*ck twitch inside you. He shifts his thighs beneath you, a subtle adjustment that nudges you deeper, but he stops himself from thrusting. "Please," he finally breathes, "just a little—anything you want, just move."

Cater Diamond

Cater's grin is tight, almost manic, as he keeps his hands locked behind his head—a deliberate show of restraint. "Okay, okay, I get it, you're winning," he says, but his voice cracks on the last word. He's trying to play it cool, but his hips have a mind of their own, making tiny, aborted rolls that barely achieve anything. "C'mon, babe, don't torture me like this. I'll do anything—anything you want—just give me something, yeah?"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona's tail flicks sharply behind him, the only sign of his irritation. He's got you straddling his lap, his c*ck buried deep, and he's made it abundantly clear that you're not allowed to move until he says so—except now he's regretting that demand. His claws scrape lightly against your thigh, a warning and a plea. "Herbivore," he growls, low in his throat, "I changed my mind. Move. Now. Or I'll take what I want, and you'll be the one begging to stay still."

Ruggie Buuchi

Ruggie's usual scheming demeanor has crumbled into something almost pathetic. He's gripping your waist with needy fingers, his ears drooping. "Come on, please? I'll do your chores for a week—no, a month! I'll steal you anything you want from the Savanaclaw kitchen." He whimpers when you don't budge, his c*ck pulsing inside your tight entrance. "Just… just one little rock, that's all I'm asking. I'm begging here."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul's composure is a thin veneer, sweat beading at his temples as he keeps his hands folded primly in his own lap—a promise he made not to touch you until you chose to move. "This is… a rather effective negotiation tactic," he says, voice trembling. "I concede. I'll sign any contract, grant any wish. Just… please, won't you give me a single, merciful thrust?"

Jade Leech

Jade's smile is serene, but his eyes are darker than usual, watching you with predatory patience. His hands rest on the floor behind him, steadying himself. "You're quite skilled at this game," he says, his voice a silken whisper. "I must admit, the stillness is… exquisite torture." He shifts his hips just barely, a deliberate display of how much control he's ceding. "But I wonder how long you can resist the temptation to move, when you know exactly what I'll do once you start."

Floyd Leech

Floyd is squirming, his long legs kicking out occasionally as he whines dramatically. "Shrimpy, this isn't fun anymore! I want you to move, move, move!" He wraps his arms around you, trying to pull you closer, but you stay rigid. "If you don't start bouncing soon, I'll squeeze you until you have to move," he threatens, but his tone is more desperate than menacing. "Please? I'll be good, I promise."

Jamil Viper

Jamil's jaw is clenched, his hands fisted at his sides. He'd agreed to this challenge with a smirk, confident he could outlast you. Now he's trembling, barely holding himself back from gripping your hips and slamming you down. "Fine," he hisses through gritted teeth. "You win. I'll do whatever you ask—cook, clean, even bow to your whims. Just move already. I can't take much more of this."

Vil Schoenheit

Vil's expression is a masterpiece of controlled annoyance, but the flush creeping down his neck betrays him. He tilts his chin up, refusing to break his elegant posture. "I must say, this is a rather novel form of torture," he says, voice laced with honey and venom. "You've proven your point. Now, if you would be so kind as to move, I'll ensure your reward is… legendary."

Idia Shroud

Idia's face is a brilliant shade of red, hidden behind his hair as he hunches forward. He hasn't dared to look at you, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. "This is so unfair," he mutters, voice muffled. "You're literally just sitting there and I'm… I'm dying. Ortho's going to find my corpse." He peeks at you through his bangs. "If I promise to play any game you want for a whole year, will you please, please, just twitch or something?"

Malleus Draconia

Malleus's eyes gleam with ancient amusement, but his breathing has turned shallow. He holds perfectly still, a statue of dark power, save for the slight tremor in his hands. "You have a rare talent, little one," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your core. "I have waited centuries for many things, but this moment tests my patience more than any. I will give you the moon if you ask—just grant me the mercy of your movement."

Silver

Silver's head is drooping, his eyes half-lidded—not from sleep, but from the overwhelming haze of need. His hands are loosely resting on your hips, not daring to push. "I… I don't think I can stay still much longer," he murmurs, his voice thick. "It's becoming unbearable. Please, if you have any kindness in your heart, let me feel you move. Just once."

Chenya

Chenya's grin is playful, but his usual mischief has an edge of desperation. He's seated cross-legged, you in his lap, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. "You're really good at this," he says, a hint of a whine in his voice. "Okay, okay, you win. I'll share my secret stash of sweets, I'll let you prank Riddle with me, I'll do anything. Just give me a little wiggle, pretty please?"

Minajeal Tealrajah

Minajeal's regal composure is cracking, a soft flush painting his cheeks as he rests his hands on your knees, not daring to move them higher. His voice is warm, but strained. "You've bested me, it seems," he says with a breathless laugh. "I confess, I'm not accustomed to being so thoroughly undone by stillness. If you would grant me the honor of your movement, I would be eternally grateful—and I promise to return the favor tenfold."

Trey pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy, the thick head nudging your clit before he slid it down to your entrance. His breath hitched as he pushed in—just the tip, as promised. He stayed there, trembling, hands gripping your thighs, sweat beading on his forehead. The pressure was maddening, but he held still, whispering reassurances you barely heard over your own needy sounds.

Cater lined the head of his cock up with your pussy, the warmth of the tip making you clench around nothing. He grinned, and pushed in—just the crown, then a fraction more, then a full inch before he cursed and slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. "Oops," he breathed, fucking into you with quick, apologetic strokes that only got rougher.

Leona dragged the blunt tip of his cock through your wetness, teasing your pussy lips before pressing it against your hole. He held your gaze, green eyes half-lidded, and pushed slowly. The tip slid in, then he paused. A growl rumbled in his chest. "I said just the tip," he muttered, but his hips rolled forward anyway, inch by inch, until he was fully seated, claiming you with a lazy smirk.

Ruggie rubbed the head of his cock against your pussy, his hands shaking with excitement. He pushed the tip in with a sharp gasp, fingers digging into your hips. For a moment he obeyed, just the tip—then his need got the better of him and he drove his full length inside with a whimper, fucking you like he was starving for it.

Azul placed the tip of his cock at your pussy's entrance. He pushed in just past the ridge, then stopped, watching your face. His tentacles coiled around your thighs, holding you still. "I keep my promises," he said smoothly, and he did, he only used the tip. He grinded it against your inner walls until you were begging for more, but he never gave it.

Jade positioned the head of his cock against your pussy, a calm smile on his lips. He slid the tip inside, just barely, and held there. His eyes never left yours, unblinking, as he savored the warmth. Then, without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself completely. "I'm afraid I couldn't resist," he murmured, his voice utterly unconcerned as he began to move.

Floyd nudged the tip of his cock at your pussy, humming a tuneless song. He pushed it in—just the tip—then pulled back, then pushed again, teasing. "Hehe, just the tip, ehe~" he giggled. Then he shoved his full length inside you with a single brutal stroke, laughing as you gasped. "Oopsie, slipped!"

Jamil pressed the head of his cock against your pussy, his expression unreadable. He pushed in slowly, just the tip, and stopped. His hips remained perfectly still, despite the tension in his muscles. Over and over he held that position, satisfying himself with the shallow penetration, refusing to take more even when you arched into him.

Vil positioned the tip of his cock at your pussy and he pushed in—just the tip—and paused. He studyed your reaction like a director evaluating a scene. "Perfection requires restraint," he said. He never pushed further, but the way he rolled his hips, grinding that single inch of his cock against your most sensitive spot, left you trembling and empty.

Idia touched the tip of his cock to your pussy hesitantly. He pushed it in—just the tip—and froze, panting. "Okay, okay, I did it. Just the tip. That's fine. That's—" His hips jerked forward involuntarily, sheathing himself inside you. "I-I’m sorry I can’t, I need more of you. I need you." He rutted into you anyway, too overwhelmed to stop.

Malleus brought the head of his cock to your pussy and ge slid the tip inside, a fraction of an inch, and held still. His green eyes glowed in the dim light. "I have no desire to break my word," he whispered to you. And he didn't, he kept to just the tip, but the sheer size of him meant even that filled you, stretched you, teased you with the phantom promise of the rest.

Silver guided the tip of his cock to your pussy, his movements gentle. He pushed the head inside, sighing softly, and stopped. His forehead rested against yours as he breathed steady, just the tip, just that much. He never pushed further, content to feel your tightness around only the first inch, murmuring praises into your skin.

Chenya pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy with a playful wink. He pushed it in—just the tip—and held still. Then he pulled out completely, giggled, and pushed the tip in again. Over and over, never more, never less. "It's more fun to keep you guessing, nya~" he teased.

Minajeal positioned the head of his cock at your pussy and he pushed the tip inside, just barely, and paused. He gripped your hips as if afraid to let go. "I said just the tip, and I meant it," but his thumb found your clit, circling it while he ground the tip against your inner walls, driving you mad without ever giving you more.

Trey Clover

Trey's breath hitches as your palm glides down his length, slow and warm. He's propped against the headboard, chest rising and falling in deep, controlled rhythms, but his composure cracks the moment your thumb swirls over the slick head. His hips twitch, a low groan caught in his throat. "Easy," he murmurs, though it's more for himself than you. You pump him again—firm, steady—watching his jaw go slack, his fingers dig into the sheets. Just as his thighs begin to tremble, you stop. He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut. "You're... testing me," he manages, voice rough. You smile, waiting, before your hand moves again.

Cater Diamond

Cater's usual chatter dies the second your fingers wrap around him. He lets out a shaky exhale, head falling back against the pillow, lips parted. "Oh—okay, yeah, that's—" His words dissolve into a moan as you stroke him, slow and teasing. You watch his throat bob when you quicken the pace, his hips rolling up to meet your hand. He's close, you can feel it in the way his breathing turns ragged, in the way his hands grip your wrist but don't push. And then you stop. He lets out a breathless laugh, half frustration, half awe. "You're really gonna make me work for it, huh?"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona lounges like he owns the bed, one arm behind his head, watching you with heavy-lidded amusement. But the moment your hand wraps around his cock, that smugness wavers. You stroke him lazily, thumb pressing along the underside, feeling him throb against your palm. His tail flicks once. Twice. A low rumble builds in his chest, and when you speed up—just enough to make him gasp—his hips buck into your grip. But you slow. Then stop. His growl is immediate, guttural. "Cheeky little thing." He doesn't move to take control, though. He's curious how far you'll push him.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie's always quick on his feet, but right now he's pinned beneath your touch, and he's learning patience the hard way. Your hand works him with a steady, teasing rhythm, thumb spreading the wetness at the tip, fingers curling just right. His ears twitch, his breath coming in short gasps. "C'mon, c'mon—" he whines, hips straining forward. You stop. He lets out a desperate little sound, ears drooping. "That's not fair," he mutters, but his cock twitches, eager for more. You give it to him slowly, drawing out every second until he's right at the edge again. And then you pull away.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on control—over conversations, contracts, himself. But with your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him in that maddeningly slow rhythm, that control slips through his fingers like water. He gasps when you squeeze, a broken sound that makes him flush. "I—please—" He doesn't even know what he's asking for. You speed up, just a little, and he moans, head falling back, glasses askew. His hips stutter as he nears the peak, and then—nothing. You release him. He whimpers, actually whimpers, and presses his forehead to your shoulder, trembling.

Jade Leech

Jade wears a calm smile even as your hand closes around him, but his composure is a fragile thing. You stroke him slowly, deliberately, watching his chest rise and fall a little too fast. When you tease the tip with your thumb, his smile flickers. His fingers curl against the sheets. You keep going, building the pace, feeling him harden and pulse under your touch. His breath catches. His hips roll. He's close—you can see it in the way his throat works, in the tension in his shoulders. You stop. He exhales slowly, a low laugh escaping. "How cruel." His voice is steady, but his cock aches for more.

Floyd Leech

Floyd's grin is wide, his body shifting restlessly as you touch him. "Heh, this is fun," he says, but his voice wavers when your hand moves. You stroke him lazily, thumb sliding over the slick head, and his hips jerk. "Ooh, do that again—" You do, faster, and he groans, long and low, fingers gripping your hip. He's close, his breath coming in sharp bursts, his usual energy focused entirely on your hand. You stop. He whines, long and high-pitched. "No fair! That's not fair!" He squirms, but you just smile and start again, dragging him right back to the brink.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is quiet, controlled, even as your hand wraps around his cock. But his body betrays him, the way his stomach tenses, the way his breath hitches when you stroke him just right. You work him slowly, deliberately, watching the muscles in his jaw clench. His hips rise to meet your hand, and you let him chase it, building the pace until he's gasping, fingers twisted in the sheets. Just before he peaks, you stop. He lets out a shaky breath, head falling back. "You're mean," he manages, voice strained. You smile and start again, taking him apart piece by piece.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil holds himself beautifully even as you touch him, back arched just so, lips parted. But your hand on his cock strips away every ounce of practiced grace. You stroke him slowly, thumb tracing the underside, and he shudders, a soft moan escaping. You speed up, and his composure shatters—he gasps, hips rocking into your grip, hands flying to your wrist. He's close, trembling on the edge, and you stop. He lets out a broken sound, frustration and need mingling in his gaze. "You're a menace," he breathes, but he doesn't pull away.

Idia Shroud

Idia's face burns red the moment your hand wraps around him. He stammers, looks away, but his body responds eagerly, hips twitching as you stroke him. You're slow, deliberate, and he whimpers with every pass of your thumb over the head. "I—ah—this is—" He can't finish. You speed up, and he moans, hands flying to cover his face. He's close, you feel him throb, hear his breath catch—and you stop. He lets out a desperate sound, peeking through his fingers. "Why do you keep—" You start again, and he dissolves into helpless shivers.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus watches you with curious eyes as your hand wraps around his cock. He's patient, still, but when you stroke him slow and deliberate, a low sound escapes from his lips. You work him steadily, feeling him harden against your palm, his breath deepening. His hips shift, a rare sign of urgency, and you bring him to the edge. He's trembling, fingers curled into the bed, and you stop. He exhales, long and slow, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You have remarkable self-control." His voice is low, almost a growl. You smile and begin again.

Silver

Silver's breaths are soft, even as your hand wraps around him. He's still, trusting, but his body responds eagerly, hips pressing up into your grip, a quiet moan escaping when you stroke him. You take your time, watching his lashes flutter, his fingers twitch against the sheets. He's close, his chest rising faster, and you slow. Then stop. He lets out a shaky exhale, blinking up at you with dazed, patient eyes. "Is... that all?" he asks, voice husky. You shake your head and start again, drawing him to the edge once more before pulling back.

Chenya

Chenya grins at you, lazy and amused, as your hand slides around his cock. But the amusement fades when you stroke him—slow, firm, and deliberate. His breath hitches, his hips roll, and a soft sound escapes his lips. You speed up, watching his composure crack, his tail curling. He's close, his body tensing, and you stop. He lets out a breathless laugh. "Oh, you're good at this." His voice is warm, a little strained. He doesn't complain when you start again, his hips meeting your rhythm until he's teetering on the edge once more.

Minajeal Tealrajah

Minajeal meets your gaze steadily as your hand closes around him. You stroke him slowly, deliberately, and his breath deepens, his lashes lowering. He's warm and responsive under your touch, hips pressing up into your palm. You work him carefully, watching the way his lips part, the way his chest rises faster. He's close, his fingers curl into the sheets, a soft sound catching in his throat—and you stop. He exhales slowly, a small, knowing smile curving his lips. "You're quite skilled at this game." His voice is rich, unruffled, but his cock twitches, aching for more.

Trey Clover

Trey approaches with a steady, methodical patience, his glasses slightly fogged as he lowers himself between your thighs. He starts slow, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along your inner thighs, letting the anticipation build until you're squirming. When his tongue finally makes contact, it's broad and flat, lapping at your slit in long, languid strokes as if he's tasting a fine dessert. He hums against you, the vibration sending shivers through your core. His hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he focuses on your clit, circling it with just the tip of his tongue before taking it between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between deep, probing licks inside you and teasing flicks against that sensitive nub, always checking your reactions with those warm eyes flicking up to meet yours. He doesn't stop until he feels your thighs clench around his head, and even then he draws out every last shudder with tender, persistent pressure.

Cater Diamond

Cater is all playful energy and teasing commentary, even with his mouth busy. He settles between your legs with a wink, "Gonna remember this angle, babe." Then he dives in, his tongue quick and nimble, darting and flicking with an almost chaotic rhythm. He loves to watch you react, pulling back just when you're close to whisper something filthy against your wet skin before diving back in. His fingers join the action, sliding one then two inside you, curling in a "come here" motion while his mouth works your clit in fast, tight circles. He alternates between light, teasing licks and sudden deep pressure, keeping you guessing. When you're about to cum, he locks his lips around your clit and sucks hard, his tongue vibrating with a satisfied hum, refusing to let go until you're shaking and gasping his name.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona takes his time, lazy and dominant, as if tasting you is a privilege he's granting. He parts your legs with minimal effort, his eyes half-lidded and hungry. He starts by dragging his tongue flat against your entire slit, from entrance to clit, in one slow, deliberate movement, savoring the taste with a low growl. He doesn't rush—he licks you open like a man enjoying a fine meal, occasionally pausing to nip at your inner thigh or blow cool air against your slick folds just to watch you shiver. When he focuses on your clit, it's with a firm, steady pressure, his tongue broad and rough, circling with predatory precision. He hums against you, the deep vibration making your hips buck. He'll hold you down with one strong arm across your lower belly, keeping you pinned as he devours you at his own pace. He doesn't stop until you've cum at least twice, and only then does he pull back, licking his lips with a smug, satisfied smirk.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is enthusiastic and eager, practically wagging his tail as he buries his face between your thighs. He starts with quick, excited licks, his tongue darting everywhere—flicking your clit, lapping at your entrance, trailing down to tease your perineum. He's not methodical; he's greedy, slurping and sucking with audible hunger, moaning against you like you're the best thing he's ever tasted. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as he dives deeper, his nose pressing against your clit while his tongue curls inside you. He loves to make you squirm, and he'll pull away just to grin up at you with a wet chin and say something cheeky like "Taste better than any stolen food, y'know." Then he's back at it, his tongue fast and relentless, working you toward climax with an almost frantic devotion. When you cum, he laps up every drop, not wasting a single trace.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is meticulous, almost clinical at first, as if studying your every reaction to perfect his technique. He parts your folds with careful fingers, observing the glisten before lowering his mouth. His tongue is precise and controlled, tracing the outline of your labia with deliberate care before sliding inside you in a smooth, practiced thrust. He tastes you slowly, savoring, and then begins a rhythm—long, even strokes against your clit, interrupted by moments of teasing pressure. His tentacles might curl around your thighs or hips, holding you steady, adding slight suction to sensitive spots. He hums with satisfaction, his eyes half-closed, and when he senses you're close, he doubles his effort, tongue flicking rapidly against your clit while one tentacle probes gently at your entrance, coaxing you over the edge. He cleans you with methodical care afterward, his lips lingering as if closing a transaction he found most agreeable.

Jade Leech

Jade is patient and unnervingly calm, his heterochromatic eyes watching you with keen interest as he settles between your legs. He starts with featherlight kisses along your mound and inner thighs, his breath cool against your heated skin. When his tongue finally touches you, it's long and slow, dragging from your entrance up to your clit in a single, deliberate motion. His tongue is surprisingly long, and he uses it to curl inside you, exploring every ridge and texture while his nose presses against your clit. He maintains eye contact throughout, a slight smile on his lips as he watches your face contort with pleasure. He'll pause to ask, "Is this to your liking?" in that polite, eerie tone before resuming with added pressure. His tongue flicks and swirls around your clit with serpentine precision, never rushing, never faltering, until he's wrung every drop of your climax from you, then he licks his lips with an almost predatory satisfaction.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is unpredictable and intense, his mood shifting as he works. He might start by clamping his mouth over your entire cunt, sucking hard and fast, his tongue darting wildly inside you. Or he might tease, dragging his tongue in lazy, wet stripes across your clit, giggling when you try to grind against his face. He uses his hands to squeeze your thighs, your ass, his fingers digging in with just enough pressure to leave marks. His tongue is long and flexible, wrapping around your clit or thrusting deep inside you in erratic bursts. He'll switch between gentle licks and rough sucking, laughing at your desperate moans. "Hehe, you're so loud, shrimpy—I like it." When he feels you tensing up, he presses his face harder, his tongue flattening against your clit and vibrating with a hum, pushing you into a shuddering orgasm. He doesn't stop until you're pushing his head away, and even then he licks his lips with a Cheshire grin.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is controlled and focused, treating it as a task he intends to excel at. He lowers himself between your legs with practiced ease, his eyes fixed on your expression. He starts with slow, deliberate kisses along your slit, his tongue barely touching at first, building anticipation. Then he parts you with his thumbs and dips his tongue inside you, tasting you deeply before pulling out to circle your clit with steady precision. He matches his rhythm to your breathing, speeding up when you gasp, slowing when you moan. His fingers join, sliding inside you and curling to stroke that sweet spot while his mouth works your clit in tight, consistent circles. He's silent but intense, occasionally looking up to gauge your reaction, adjusting his technique with subtle shifts. When you cum, he maintains the pressure, drawing out every wave until you're trembling, then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, calm and satisfied.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil approaches with an artist's perfectionism, arranging your body like a canvas he intends to paint. He spreads your legs gently, his long fingers tracing your thighs as he admires the view. "Beautiful," he murmurs before lowering his head. His tongue is elegant and precise, starting with a slow, teasing lick that barely grazes your clit. He builds gradually, his tongue tracing intricate patterns—circles, figure-eights, light flicks—each movement deliberate and calculated. He uses his lips to suck gently on your labia, then darts his tongue inside you before returning to your clit with a steady, firm pressure. He keeps one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed against your lower belly, feeling your muscles tense. He whispers compliments between licks, his voice low and sultry. He doesn't rush; he wants you to climax beautifully, and when you do, he captures every moment, licking you through it with practiced elegance, then kissing your inner thigh as if sealing his masterpiece.

Idia Shroud

Idia is nervous at first, his flame hair flickering with embarrassment. He hovers between your legs, mumbling excuses, but once you encourage him, he dives in with surprising eagerness. His tongue is hesitant at first, soft and shy, but the taste of you seems to unlock something. He becomes bolder, licking with increasing confidence, his hands gripping your hips as he finds his rhythm. He focuses almost obsessively on your clit, licking in rapid, fluttery strokes, his breath hot against you. He experiments—sucking gently, then harder, using his fingers to spread your folds open. He's quiet except for small, breathy moans against your skin. When you start to cum, he panics slightly, not knowing whether to stop or continue, but he keeps his tongue pressed flat against your clit, letting you ride it out. Afterward, he hides his flaming cheeks behind his hands.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus kneels before you, as if he's performing a sacred ritual. His large hands cup your thighs, and he gazes up at you with those piercing green eyes. He leans in slowly, his breath warm against your cunt, and when his tongue touches you, it's like a spark of lightning. His tongue is long and broad, dragging in a single, slow stroke from your entrance to your clit, tasting you with a low, rumbling growl. He uses his lips to suck gently on your clit, then his tongue presses flat, circling with deliberate, commanding pressure. He alternates between deep, probing thrusts inside you and focused licks on your clit, his pace steady and relentless. Horns catch the light as he works, his breathing deep and even. When you cum, he holds you through it, his tongue never stopping, lapping up every drop with a possessive hunger. He rises slowly, licking his lips.

Silver

Silver is gentle and devoted, treating your pleasure as his sole purpose. He settles between your legs with a soft blush, his hand stroking your thigh reassuringly. He presses a kiss to your clit first, light and tender, then opens his mouth to lick you slowly, savoring. His tongue is warm and soft, exploring your folds with careful attention. He focuses on your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently while his tongue flicks in steady rhythm. His fingers stroke your entrance, teasing but not entering until you beg. He's responsive to every sound you make, speeding up or slowing down based on your whimpers. His free hand holds yours, grounding you. When you cum, he keeps his mouth pressed against you, gentle and steady, murmuring soft words of encouragement. He cleans you with slow, loving licks afterward, then rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with sleep-laden but adoring eyes.

Chenya

Chenya giggles as he slides down between your legs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He starts by blowing a puff of cool air against your clit, making you jolt, then darts his tongue out for a quick, teasing lick. He's playful, alternating between light, fluttering licks and sudden deep, wet strokes that make you gasp. He loves to pull away just when you're close, pouting dramatically, then dive back in with renewed vigor. His tongue traces spirals around your clit, dips inside you, then returns to flick rapidly at the tip. He hums a little tune against you, the vibrations adding to the sensation. When you finally cum, he holds you down with a firm grip, laughing softly as he laps up your release, then pops up with a wink and says, "More where that came from~"

Minajeal Tealrajah

Minajeal is elegant and unhurried, his movements fluid like water. He positions himself gracefully, his long hair cascading over his shoulders as he parts your legs. He starts by pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your slit, his tongue barely brushing your clit at first. He builds slowly, his tongue swirling around your clit in lazy, circular motions, then dipping down to taste your entrance. He uses his fingers to spread your folds, his tongue lapping at you in long, smooth strokes that make your hips buck. He's attuned to your body, adjusting his pressure and speed with subtle shifts. He adds gentle suction to your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly while his fingers slide inside you, curling to stroke that spot. He maintains a steady rhythm, his breathing calm, until you're trembling on the edge. He whispers "Let go" against your skin, and when you do, he drinks you in with a deep, satisfied hum, his tongue working you through every wave until you're limp and breathless.

“You’ve been asking for this,” Leona whispered into your ear, his breath hot. One hand gripped your hip while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back. “Running that mouth, flaunting yourself. Now you’ll take what you begged for.”

Malleus’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. His green eyes gleamed as he reached out, fingers tracing a line down your throat, over your collarbone, stopping at the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t bother unbuttoning—he tore it open with a single, deliberate pull, buttons scattering across the floor.

“Such a fragile little thing,” Malleus murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “But I think you can take us.”

Leona’s hands found the waistband of your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your underwear. The cold air hit your exposed skin, and then his teeth sank into the meat of your shoulder—not enough to break the skin, but a claiming bite that made you gasp. He ground his erection against the cleft of your ass through his trousers, a low, possessive growl rumbling from his chest.

Malleus stepped closer, pushing you back against Leona’s solid form. He cupped your face, tilting your chin up, and his thumb pressed over your lips, parting them. “No words. Just take what we give you.”

He released your face and moved down, hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. Leona’s hands slid around your waist, fingers digging into your hips.

The prince of Briar Valley undid his belt with practiced ease, his cock springing free—long, thick, the tip already gleaming with pre-cum. Behind you, Leona shifted, the sound of a zipper, then the blunt pressure of his shaft sliding against your slick folds.

“Ready?” Leona’s voice was a dark tease. He didn’t wait for an answer.

He thrust into you in one brutal motion, filling your ass completely. A choked moan escaped your lips as your body stretched around his girth. At the same time, Malleus aligned himself at your entrance, and you felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against your folds. He pushed in slowly, the stretch intense as he sank into your cunt.

“Breathe,” Malleus commanded, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. He didn’t give you time to adjust; he began to move, thrusting deep while Leona fucked your ass in a steady, punishing rhythm. The two of them found a sync—Leona slamming forward as Malleus pulled back, then Malleus thrusting in as Leona withdrew, a seamless cycle of penetration that left you no room to think.

Your hands scrabbled against the stone wall. Leona’s mouth found the nape of your neck, biting hard enough to leave a bruise. He laved the wound with his tongue, then moved lower, sinking his teeth into your shoulder blade again. Malleus leaned forward, his fangs grazing your ear, then biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The twin points of pain sent electricity through your nerves, mixing with the overwhelming fullness inside you.

“Mine,” Leona growled against your skin. He marked you again, this time raking his claws lightly down your spine, leaving red lines.

“You smell like me now,” he murmured, his pace increasing. “They’ll know who you belong to.”

Every thrust drove you higher. Malleus’s hand slid down to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his fingers. The dual sensations—two cocks stretching your holes, the sting of bites and scratches, the possessive weight of their bodies—pushed you past any coherent thought.

“Cum,” Leona commanded, his voice ragged. “Now.”

You shattered, walls clenching around both of them as your orgasm ripped through you. Malleus let out a low hiss, his hips slamming flush against you as he spilled deep inside you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt. Leona followed immediately, burying his face in your hair and groaning as he pumped his release into your ass, thick and warm.

Neither of them pulled out. They stayed buried inside you, their bodies still pressed tight, panting against your skin. They took turns licking the bites they’d left, sealing the marks.

Finally, Malleus withdrew slowly, his cum leaking out of you, followed by Leona. The mess pooled down your thighs.

“Let it stay,” he said, his voice husky. “We’re not done with you tonight.”

Malleus’s hand threaded through your hair. “One more round. Then we’ll see if you can still walk.”

Trey Clover

His glasses kept fogging up.

You were straddling his hips, the warmth of your bodies mingling, when Trey pulled back with a soft curse. He fumbled to remove his glasses, only to nearly elbow you in the chin.

"Sorry—sorry—" He laughed, embarrassed, as you steadied his hand. "I swear I'm usually more coordinated."

"You're fine," you whispered, guiding his glasses to the nightstand. When he looked back at you, his eyes were soft and sheepish.

"I was trying to look at you," he admitted, "but everything went blurry at the worst moment."

You kissed his nose. "I'm right here. You don't need to see me to feel me."

He groaned, half-laughing, as you rolled your hips. "That's... that's a good point. But also—" He winced as he thrust upward a little too eagerly, knocking his forehead against yours. "Ow."

You both dissolved into giggles, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling. He cupped your cheek and murmured, "Let me try again. Slower this time."

Cater Diamond

He kept talking.

Not in a seductive way—more like he couldn't stop his mouth from running while his hands fumbled with the clasp of your bra. "So, like, I was thinking this morning about that new blend at the café, and—wait, no, that's not—okay, this clip is really stubborn—"

You reached back, unclasping it easily. He blinked, then flushed a charming pink that spread to his ears.

"Show-off," he mumbled, but he was grinning.

You pulled him down onto the bed, and he landed half on top of you, his elbow jabbing the mattress. "Oops—sorry—" He scrambled to adjust, his knee bumping your thigh. "I'm usually smoother than this, I swear."

"You're doing fine."

"I put my foot in my mouth and my knee in your crotch. Fine is generous."

You laughed, pulling him closer. His awkwardness melted as your lips met, and though he still tripped over his own hands when he reached between your legs, the shy smile he wore made it all endearing.

Leona Kingscholar

He was trying to be aloof. Trying to act like this was no big deal.

But when you guided his hand down, he tensed. "Hmph. You're awfully eager."

"And you're avoiding my eyes."

He grumbled something under his breath. When he finally pushed inside you, he let out a low groan—then immediately sneezed.

A sudden, violent sneeze that made him jolt and slip out. He froze. You froze.

"...Don't." His voice was flat, but the flush creeping down his neck betrayed him.

You pressed your lips together, but a snort escaped. Then another. Then you were laughing, shoulders shaking, as Leona glared at you.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

He growled, but when he ducked down to nuzzle your neck, his own lips were twitching. "If you tell anyone, I'll make sure you regret it." His voice was gruff, but his hand found yours, lacing fingers together. "Now stop laughing and let me try again. Properly this time."

Ruggie Bucchi

He was nervous. Chatty. Overeager.

"Okay, so, like—am I doing this right? Is this good? I can—should I—" His hands hovered everywhere and nowhere, like he didn't know where to touch first.

You caught his wrist. "Ruggie. Breathe."

He let out a shaky exhale. "Right. Breathe. I got this." He didn’t.

When he leaned down to kiss you, he misjudged the distance and ended up kissing your chin. He apologized so profusely that you had to silence him with a proper kiss.

"Just relax," you said against his lips. "We have all night."

"Yeah, but—" He swallowed. "I wanna make you feel good. Like, really good. And I'm scared I'll mess it up."

You guided his hand to your breast, showing him the pressure you liked. He followed your lead with focused intensity, his ears perking up when you moaned. "Like that?"

"Exactly like that."

His grin was pure sunshine, even as he worked you closer to the edge. Awkward turned to eager, and when he finally spilled inside you with a breathless laugh, he buried his face in your shoulder, mumbling, "That was nice. Really nice."

Azul Ashengrotto

He had a plan.

"I've studied extensively," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I've consulted multiple sources. This will be... efficient."

But the moment you were both undressed, he froze. He kept glancing at you, then away, as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

"You're staring," you said gently.

"I'm... admiring." His voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat. "I've prepared a schedule. Positions, pacing, aftercare. We can begin with—"

You silenced him with a kiss. His hands flailed before settling around your waist.

"Azul," you murmured. "You don't need a schedule. Just be with me."

He nodded, swallowing hard. When he entered you, his movements were stilted at first, overly careful. But as you guided him, your hips meeting his, he relaxed. And when his glasses slipped off his nose and landed in your hair, you both laughed so hard that the rhythm broke completely.

He didn't mind. He just held you, laughing, and whispered, "I think I like this better than any plan."

Jade Leech

His smile never wavered, but his hands were clammy.

"I'm fine," he said, voice smooth as ever. But you caught the tremor in his fingers as he traced your collarbone. "I'm simply... acclimating."

"Your hands are shaking."

"They are not." He stared at them. "...They might be."

You took one, pressing it to your chest. "It's okay to be nervous."

"Nervous? Me?" He let out a laugh that was a hair too high. "I'm perfectly composed. I've simply—ah." He winced as his knee knocked the bed frame. "The spatial logistics of this furniture are... suboptimal."

You tugged him down, and he fell with a graceless thump, his tall frame tangling with yours. For a moment, he just lay there, blinking. Then he let out a genuine chuckle.

"I suppose I'm not as composed as I thought."

"That's okay." You kissed his cheek. "I like you like this."

When he moved inside you, it was with careful, awkward tenderness. He whispered "sorry" every time he paused to adjust, but you pulled him closer each time, until the awkwardness faded into something warm and real.

Floyd Leech

He was too excited.

"Shrimpy! Shrimpy, look, I can do this thing—" He twisted his body into a position that looked uncomfortable, his long legs tangled in the sheets. "Wait, no, that's not—hold on—"

He flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. You landed on his chest with an oof.

"This is harder than I thought," he admitted, grinning up at you. "Usually I just grab and go. But with you, I wanna be careful." He said the word like it was foreign. "It's weird."

"Weird good or weird bad?"

"Weird... good." He pulled you down for a kiss, and his teeth clacked against yours. "Oops. Lemme try again."

He did. And again. And again, each kiss a little softer, a little more coordinated, until he found a rhythm that worked. When he finally slid inside you, his breath hitched, and he went still.

"Shrimpy..."

"Yeah?"

"I think I love you."

The words tumbled out, unplanned, and he looked as surprised as you felt.

"...Too soon?"

You kissed him, laughing. "Just the right time."

Jamil Viper

He was used to being in control. But here, with you, he felt like a novice.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, adjusting your hips. "Too much pressure? Should I—"

"Jamil. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying. I'm being attentive."

You raised an eyebrow. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"...Fine. I'm worrying. I want this to be perfect."

"Perfect isn't real." You pulled him closer. "Just be here with me."

He nodded, and when he entered you, it was slow and deliberate. But his elbow slipped on the sheet, and he lurched forward, his forehead bumping your nose.

"Shit—sorry—"

You winced, then giggled. "We're a mess."

"I'm a mess." He dropped his head to your shoulder, mortified. "I've imagined this a hundred times, and it never involved me headbutting you."

"Imagination isn't reality." You stroked his hair. "And reality is better."

He lifted his head, a small, shy smile on his lips. "Is it?"

You answered by kissing him, and this time, everything fell into place.

Vil Schoenheit

He had a routine.

"Skincare first," he announced, holding up a bottle. "Then moisturizer. Then—"

"Vil. We're about to have sex."

"I'm aware. But I refuse to look anything less than radiant while doing it."

You couldn't help but laugh, which made him pout. But he relented, setting the bottle aside, and settled beside you. His hands were practiced as they traced your body, but there was an awkwardness in the way he kept glancing at himself in the mirror across the room.

"You're beautiful," you said. "Stop checking."

"I'm not checking. I'm... ensuring."

"Vil."

He huffed, but turned his full attention to you. When he leaned down to kiss you, his hair fell forward, obscuring his vision. He pushed it back with an annoyed grunt.

"I should have tied it up."

"I like it loose."

He paused, a flicker of pleasure crossing his face. "Really?"

"Really."

He kissed you then, deep and sweet, and when he moved inside you, it was with a gentleness that belied his usual perfectionism. He whispered compliments between breaths, and when you came undone, he held you close, murmuring, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Idia Shroud

He was a shaking mess.

"I-I can't—this is too—real," he stammered, his flame hair flickering erratically. "I've seen this in games but it's different when it's—you—"

"Idia." You took his hand. "It's just me."

"Just you? Just you? You're—" He made a strangled sound. "I'm going to mess this up. I know I'm going to mess this up."

"Then we'll mess it up together."

He let out a shaky laugh. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek. The contact made him flinch, but he didn't pull away.

"Okay. Okay. I can do this."

He couldn't.

His elbow knocked over a glass of water. He tripped over his own feet trying to get into bed.

"I'm so sorry—I'm so—"

You kissed him, and he melted. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a clumsy, earnest passion. When he finished, he buried his face in your chest, mumbling, "That was... way better than any game."

Malleus Draconia

He was gentle, as always. But there was an adorable hesitation in the way he reached for you, his long fingers hovering.

"Are you certain you're comfortable?" he asked for the third time.

"I'm certain."

"But the sheets—are they soft enough? I can get better sheets—"

"Malleus." You pulled him down, and he landed with a soft huff. "I'm perfect."

"You're perfect," he corrected, then flushed. "I mean—you are. And I want to make sure I don't—"

He paused, a strange look on his face. "I seem to be... stuck."

You glanced down. His tail had somehow wound around your leg, and his horns were tangled in your hair.

"Oh."

"Ah."

You both burst into laughter, a rare, unguarded sound from the prince. He worked carefully to free you, his movements tender, and when he finally succeeded, he kissed your forehead.

"I suppose I'm not as graceful as I'd like."

"I like you like this." You stroked his cheek. "Real."

He smiled, a soft, genuine thing, and when he made love to you, it was with all the awkward, beautiful devotion he had to offer.

Silver

He fell asleep.

Not during. Right as he was about to enter you, his eyes fluttered, and he slumped forward, snoring softly against your shoulder.

"Silver?" You shook him gently. "Silver!"

He jolted awake. "I—I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to—" His face was crimson. "I was just... very relaxed..."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. "It's okay. We can try again later."

"No, no, I'm awake. I'm ready." He straightened, determined. But a yawn escaped him, huge and uncontrollable.

You giggled. He groaned.

"I'm a failure of a lover."

"You're adorable. Let's just sleep. We have all the time in the world."

He hesitated, then nodded, pulling you close. "I'll make it up to you in the morning."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Minajeal Tealrajah

He was smooth, confident—until he wasn't.

"Allow me," he said, sweeping you into his arms. He carried you to the bed with practiced grace. Then he tripped over the rug.

You both tumbled onto the mattress, a heap of limbs and laughter. He recovered quickly, propping himself up with a grin.

"Planned that."

"Sure you did."

His hands were elegant as they undressed you, but they trembled slightly. He cleared his throat. "I've... imagined this. Many times."

"Me too."

"Then let's not waste time."

But he fumbled with his own belt, the buckle catching. He muttered something under his breath, and you reached down to help.

"I'm usually more composed."

"I'm glad you're not."

When he finally entered you, it was with a gasp, and he paused, his forehead against yours. "You feel incredible."

"Keep going."

He did, his movements growing more confident. But when he leaned down to kiss you, he bumped your nose, and you both laughed, breathless and happy.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be."

And in the warmth of that awkward, beautiful moment, everything was perfect.

"My dear," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very earth beneath you. "Tell me if anything displeases you."

You nodded, reaching up to touch his sharp cheekbone, feeling the slight warmth that bloomed under your fingertips. He leaned into your touch like a great cat seeking affection, his eyes fluttering half-closed.

"I want this," you whispered. "I want you."

A sound escaped him—something between a sigh and a growl—as he pressed his forehead against yours. His cock, thick and veined, pressed against your thigh. He was already slick with anticipation, and when he guided himself to your entrance, he paused.

"Look at me," he commanded gently, and you did. Those green eyes held yours as he pushed forward, inch by excruciating inch.

You gasped at the stretch, at the fullness of him filling you so completely. He was larger than any man, and the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed made your head spin. But he stopped when he saw your expression shift, concern flickering across his regal features.

"Too much?"

"No," you breathed, clutching his shoulders. "Perfect. Don't stop."

He sheathed himself fully with a shuddering exhale, his hips flush against yours. For a moment, he simply lay there, buried inside you, letting you adjust. His thumb traced absent patterns on your hip, grounding you both in the present.

"You feel..." he started, then stopped, shaking his head. Words seemed to fail the ancient fae prince, and that alone made your heart ache.

He began to move—slowly, deliberately. Each thrust was measured, controlled. He watched your face with an intensity that would have been overwhelming if it weren't so filled with adoration. His hand slid down to where your bodies joined, his fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

"Is this good?" he asked, his rhythm never faltering. "I want to feel you come undone around me."

You could only nod, moaning as he curled his fingers just so. His pace increased, but never became rough. Every movement was designed to please you, to build that coiling heat in your core until you shattered.

"I'm close," you gasped.

"Let go," he urged, his voice strained with his own barely-leashed desire. "I have you. Let go for me."

The orgasm crashed through you like a wave, and you cried out his name as your walls clenched around him. He groaned, and followed you over the edge.

His hips pressed flush against yours as he spilled inside you, hot and thick. You felt every pulse of his release, felt him marking you from the inside, fulfilling that deep-seated need that had driven him to claim you in the first place. His hand cradled the back of your head, holding you close as he rode out the aftershocks.

When he finally stilled, he didn't pull away. Instead, he gathered you in his arms, rolling to his side while keeping himself buried inside you. His hand came to rest on your lower belly, a possessive, reverent touch.

"Do you need anything?" he asked softly. "Water? Rest?"

You shook your head, burrowing into his chest. "Just stay."

"Always," he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I will never leave you wanting, my love."

And as the night deepened around you, Malleus held you close, his seed still warm inside you, his hand never leaving your stomach as if he could already feel the life he hoped to plant there.

His hand kept climbing. Up over the curve of your breast, until his palm cupped the weight of it through your shirt. He squeezed, not gentle, a possessive knead that made your breath hitch.

"These are mine, right?" He asked it like a rhetorical question, already pushing the fabric aside. His fingers found your nipple through the thin bra, pinching and rolling. "Mm. They get hard so fast for me."

You tried to turn around, to face him, but Floyd just tightened his grip—arm locked around your waist, chest pressed to your back, that long body coiled around you like an eel wrapping its prey. He wanted you exactly like this, pinned, helpless, his to grope and mark and claim.

"Stay," he murmured against your neck, and then his mouth opened wide, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin just below your jaw. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, lapping at the marks he left, teeth scraping over the new bloom of red. He pulled back to admire it, thumb rubbing over the spot with a hum of satisfaction. "There. Now everyone knows."

He bit another spot, lower, on your collarbone. Then another, just above your pulse point. Each one made him groan, hips grinding against your ass, his cock now fully hard and pressing insistently through the layers of cloth.

His other hand abandoned your hip to join the first at your chest. Both palms now groping, squeezing, kneading your breasts through the bunched-up shirt. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, tugged, twisted, until you were arching back into him, a shaky moan slipping out.

"Yeah, that's it," he breathed, voice husky. "Let me hear you. Wanna hear what I do to you."

He ducked his head, mouthing at the side of your neck while his hands continued their worship. He pinched harder, and you cried out, and he laughed—that giddy, unhinged sound that always sent shivers down your spine.

"You're so soft," he said, almost to himself, kneading the plush flesh again. "So fucking soft. I could do this all day."

And he meant it. His hips kept up a slow, lazy grind against your ass, his cock sliding along the cleft of your cheeks through the fabric, while his hands never stopped touching. He was everywhere, surrounding you, that long, lean body curved around yours like he was trying to crawl inside your skin.

"Floyd," you gasped, "we're still in the lounge—"

"So?" He bit your shoulder. Harder this time, a real mark, and you felt the imprint of his teeth through the thin fabric. "Azul's busy. Jade's in the back. Nobody's coming in." He soothed the bite with a lick, then a kiss. "And even if they did... I don't care. You're mine. I want them to see."

His voice dropped, that playful edge sharpening into something hungrier. "I want them to see the marks I put on you. See how red and wet your pussy gets when I touch you."

To prove his point, one hand finally slid down, over your stomach, slipping past your waistband. His fingers found your clit through your underwear, already slick, and he let out a pleased hum.

"Told you." He pressed, circled, dragged your wetness up and down your slit. "Soaked. All for me."

He pushed your panties aside, two fingers sliding inside you without warning, and you bucked against his hand, a strangled moan caught in your throat. He curled them immediately, finding that spot, fucking you slow and deep while his other hand kept groping your breast, pinching your nipple in rhythm.

"Love how tight you get," he whispered in your ear, breath hot and uneven. "Love how you squeeze me. Love that you let me do anything I want."

His fingers pumped faster, wet sounds filling the quiet room, and you could feel yourself climbing, that coil tightening in your belly. Floyd knew it too—he always knew—and he smirked against your neck.

"Yeah, gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers while I play with your tits?"

He twisted his wrist, pressed his palm against your clit, and you shattered, crying out his name as your orgasm ripped through you. Floyd held you through it, fingers still moving, working you through every wave until you were trembling in his arms.

Only then did he pull his hand out, bringing his slick fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Mm. Tasty."

He turned you around finally, pressing you against the wall, caging you with his body. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide, that grin lazy and dangerous. He leaned in, bumped his nose against yours.

"I'm not done yet."

His hands found your ass, squeezing hard, pulling your hips against his. His cock pressed against your stomach, and he ground into you, hissing through his teeth.

"Gonna fuck you right here. Right against this wall. And when I'm done, I'm gonna carry you back to my room and do it again." He kissed you, sloppy and deep, tongue sliding against yours. "And then again in the morning."

He helped remove your clothes and his hands slid up your thighs, hooking under your knees, lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he groaned at the pressure, aligning himself against your soaked entrance.

"Say you're mine," he breathed. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasped.

He sank into you in one smooth thrust, both of you moaning, and Floyd buried his face in your neck, biting another mark into your skin as he began to move.

He was everywhere. His arms wrapped tight around you, his hips slapping against yours, his teeth and tongue and hands covering every inch of exposed skin. He was clingy, possessive, insatiable—and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.