#oh wow……… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamisgirly · 4 days ago

Note

hey gorgjus, I have a request 😛

Lads men when reader is ovulating and all she wants to do is..well her man. Doesn’t matter where or when she’s just super needy for multiple rounds to the point where maybe even they’re a bit shocked, but up for the challenge~ ofc u don’t have to but I’d die if u did 🤭💕

୨୧ — a/n HIIII it took me so long to write, I was turned on each time HELPPPP, anyway I gave my whole hope you will enjoy!! ALSO sorry I yapped so much (as per usual 😔), COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED MA GIRLIIIIES <3333 (especially comments I love talking to you 💋)

୨୧ — FEAT bestfriend!Caleb, boyfriend!guitarist!Xavier (have the vision IT'S CANON IDCCC), boyfriend!Rafayel (day at the beach), boyfriend!Zayne (grinding on him), boyfriend!Sylus (on mission duuuh) x fem!reader

୨୧ — cw multiple position (prone bone, matting press, cowgirl,..), cumplay, rough & messy sex, degrading (calling her a whore, needy), praise, pet name, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink in Caleb, creampied, cumming dry, oral sex (Caleb giving, Rafayel receiving), squirting in Caleb, cumming on face in Caleb, size kink, big stretch, big cock, masturbation, semi-voyeurism (Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus), Caleb just won't shut up, unashamed reader, fighting for dominance, sub Rafayel, Sylus is down bad for her, mean Zayne, teasing, belly bulge (Xavier), lot of spit and drool, overstimulated reader and men!, they do moan bc as long as I live my men WILL moan!

𓂃۶ৎ CALEB

Caleb is sprawled out beside you on the couch, legs widely open, one ankle resting lazily on the edge of the coffee table. His thighs are stretching the grey fabric of his sweatpants, making your case much worse and making you impossible to focus on the movie playing on the TV.

And the way his hoodie is pushed up to show those big veiny forearms, golden skin stretched on muscles…

You shake your head, trying to stop the thoughts, you’re his best friend for fuck’s sake. You’re supposed to be watching a movie and maybe eating popcorn, not fantasizing about straddling him and grinding against his muscular thigh. You’re not supposed to salivate for the bushy happy trail picking under his ridden-up hoodie.

It’s useless…your skin is so hot, your pulse is thudding behind your ears, and you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable how your pantie is clinging to you.

“You okay?” he asks, as he saw you shift for the nth time.

And it’s unfair, unfair how pretty his face is. Soft, boyish lips, tenting you, with a stubble he didn’t bother shaving this morning making you wonder how it’d feel between your legs. And no need to talk about his big round purple eyes, making you go insane.

“yeah” you say standing way too fast. “I just…don’t feel well. Gonna head to bed early.”

“Oh…” he blinks those giant puppy eyes at you, making you grow wetter. “Okay. Do you need anything?”

“No, don’t worry. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Sleep tight, babe.” His follows you with big concerned eyes.

Babe.

Babe?!

You swear you’re about to slam your head against the wall. Why is he making everything so hard? Your pussy is pulsing, in need. So in need to be stuffed it actually hurt.

It’s unbearable.

And really, is it wrong to take matters into your own hands?

To grab that big, veiny dildo you keep stashed in your bedside drawer and sink it into your dripping cunt while your best friend sits just meters away in the other room?

Is it really wrong to tweak your nipple with your free hand, imagining it’s his rough palm twisting and tugging, his voice in your ear telling you how tight and messy you are for him?

You gasp as you push it in, slow at first, then desperate. You’re already soaked and your walls clench around the toy greedily. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw slack, hips lifting off the bed as you start to fuck yourself faster, harder.

And all you have in your mind is Caleb. His purple eyes, his strong and big body that could easily manhandle you—roughly.

You moan—loud, unashamed—and arch off the bed, back taut, lips parted as the waves build fast and wild.

You don’t hear the door creak open.

Not until—

“I keep hearing you making noises, I’m worried you—”

You freeze—only for a second—when your eyes, heavy and glassy, blink toward the doorway.

Caleb is frozen mid-step, one hand on the doorknob, his brows dawn in confusion that melts into something darker. His mouth parts, his eyes drop to the way your legs are spread, how your hand is working that dildo inside you like you need it to breathe.

But at this point? You truly don’t care. Your hips keep jerking, desperate and out of control, slick coating your thighs in glossy streaks. Your gaze meets his—blurry with tears of frustration—and you let out the most fragile, needy whine.

He doesn’t move, he simply stares—like he’s watching the holiest, dirtiest thing he’s ever seen. You can only see his chest rises and falls, nostrils flaring.

His eyes drop to the soaked sheets, the obscene squelch of the toy still buried between your legs and your fucked-out eyes begging him to do something are driving him into oblivion. His cock already hard and painful.

“you’re fucking yourself…” his voice is low, “lying in here whining for me like that. Thought you were sick.”

You watch as he approaches—slow at first, like he’s afraid the dream will vanish—before he kneels at the edge of the bed. He grabs your wrist, almost gently, and yanks the toy from your cunt with a wet, messy pop. You keen at the loss, hips bucking, slick spilling onto the sheets.

“You needed this bad, huh? So bad you couldn’t ask me? So bad you were ashamed to sit next to me on the couch?”

You can’t answer—just nod through the haze, cheeks flushedyour walls clenching around nothing, feeling so empty it hurts.

His gaze drops to your empty hole and how your hips keep twitching.

“Are you in heat or something?” his eyes are still fixated on your cunt, almost like he’s talking to her. “You smell like it. Like you’re ready to be bred.”

You whimper, spreading your legs wider, offering yourself. “Caleb... Fuck, do something ‘bout it. I can’t... it’s too empty... I need—I need—"

That’s all it takes.

Caleb lunges, hands bruising on your thighs as he pulls you down to the edge of the bed.

“fuckin’ hell.” He buries his face between your legs with a groan that sounds like agony and bliss all at once. “This pussy’s crying for cock, babe.”

You gasp when he wraps his arms under your thighs and locks you in place, dragging his mouth through your folds—tongue’s everywhere sloppy and greedy, licking everything you could give him.

“mmmh such a sweet taste.” His voice’s muffled by your puffy lips. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Please, let me have it, please. I want you to mark me. Wanna be drenched in you. I’ve waited so long to be covered in your cum, your sweet liquid all over my face, hot and warm.”

His lips suck on your clit, hard—creating suction.

“No more toys. No more hiding in your room touching yourself when I’m out there. All this cum going to waste? Not in my watch.” You’re lips part in a silent scream when he suddenly inserts two long fingers into your soaked pussy, curling them just right—just onto your spongy spot.

“Caleb, don’t stop—ah!—feels so good,” you pant, rocking into him. “Your tongue—oh! Right here! Yes, fuck—need more…”

“You’re gonna get it—mph keep tugging on them—” Caleb’s eyes roll back as your fingers grope his hair, pushing him deeper in your cunt. “gonna give you the real thing if you make a pretty mess on my face. You can do that right?”

Your heart is pounding so hard, and your walls keep clenching and clenching. At this point, you’re gushing all over his face.

The pleasure overwhelming your sense. “Caleb move your fingers faster..”

And he does just as you asked. His fingers soaked, filthy sounds escaping your pussy every time he moves them in, they’re white. White of your arousal.

And when he sucks on your clit once again, you cum harder than ever. Back arching, scream ripped straight from your lungs as you convulse around his fingers.

But when you collapse, breath ragged, the ache in your core only gets worse. Your body aches, womb throbbing—begging for him and only him. A hunger that no toy, no fingers and no tongue could satisfy.

You prop yourself on your elbows, eyes blown wide and pupils sharp as you look down the thick, flushed length already in his hand. Veins running up the shaft, the tip swollen and deep brown. So pretty your mouth goes dry. There’s probably drool coming out of the corner of your lips.

“Need you to fuck me.” You rasp. “Fuck me so deep I could feel you for days.”

His jaw clenches, knuckles going white around the base of his cock. “You’re not ready—”

“You smell me, don’t you?” you grab your knees and pull them up, wide, exposing everything. “You said it—I’m in fucking heat. I want to be stuffed. I need to be bred. Caleb, please…” you look up at him with teary eyes.

“Fuckin’ mine.” He snarls, yanking your hips down until your ass is flush with the edge of the bed and he’s lined up, cock head brushing over your soaked entrance. You arch up into him panting and almost crying from the pressure building under your skin.

Caleb moves his cock head up and down your entrance, circling your sensitive clit with his fat tip—smearing all his precum across your folds.

“Caleb…stop the tease. Put it in.”

He leans over you, face twisted in lust and longing. “As the lady begs.”

And in one brutal thrust, he’s deeeep inside you. Your cunt stretches wide around him, to its maximum, it’s borderline with pain. His cock’s so thick you swear you can feel every tiny twitch, every fucking pulse against your walls.

His forehead presses to yours, one hand fisted in your hair, the other locked under your knee to keep you open. “You’re so tight. . like so fuckin’ tight—shit, hiding this perfect pussy from me, you some of selfish girl, ain’t you ?”

“Caleb,” you cry, tears leaking from your eyes. “If you don’t move—”

He lets out a guttural sound, something animalistic—cutting you off—and starts driving into you, fast. The bed creaks under his thrust, wet slaps echo around you.

“My needy little fuckdoll…” he whispers against your ear, “So so wet and desperate, how long have you been walking around wanting this pussy to be fucked properly?” He pants, thrusting harder, “My cock’s the only thing that’ll help you, mhh? Say it.”

You sob, words crumbling in your throat, your pussy gripping him so tight it’s like you’ll never let him go. “Forever.” The word rips out of you, cracked and breathless. “I thought about you every night. Wanted this cock in me so bad I couldn’t fucking sleep—please, Caleb, I need it.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, thrusts getting messier. “I knew it. Knew you were touchin’ yourself thinkin’ about me—slippin’ fingers into that sloppy little hole pretending it was mine.”

“Yes!” you cry, choking on it, back arching off the bed.

Big rough hands suddenly slam into your hips, holding you down—pinning you on the mattress as his thrusts becomes more and more sloppier. And when his fat tip hits something wicked inside you—

“Holy fuck,” his voice wrecked, pausing only a split second to look down at the mess you just made. “Did you—did you just…squirted?” his eyes are still on the white liquid all over his pelvis, his balls and thighs.

You nod, a bit ashamed, a bit too fucked-out to fully comprehend.

“Gonna make you do that again.” He shifts your legs up higher, hitting now at a deeper angle, hips pistoning without mercy. “Wanna see that pussy gush all over me again, spill for me—paint my cock with it even. Fuck that’s so hot, you have no idea.”

𓂃۶ৎ XAVIER

Are you a whore for wanting to fuck Xavier’s cock buried deep in you again? And right before his big concert, no less.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, going on and on about how excited he was to perform with his band at this famous festival — a major turning point in their career.

And it’s not like Xavier didn’t satisfy you before coming here. He knew you were ovulating and was more than happy to fuck you for who knows how long—long enough to cum dry, reduced to those weak, poor little spurts.

But it is his fault for looking so damn sexy in the back stage waiting room : pretty makeup, painted nails, and some mouthwatering outfit—if we could call even call that an outfit. It’s just tight leather pants and a jacket with nothing under it, his abs—and the tattoo down his hips—plus his pink nipples are right there in front of you. and watching him run through his setlist on guitar wasn’t helping one bit. His long fingers gliding over the strings, teasing the cords…

“Hey, you good?” Xavier’s voice pulls you out of your trance. “You all flushed and…shifting in your seat.” He tilts his head, clearly concerned. “If you need something I can call—”

“No!” you respond too quickly, making him furrows his brows.

When he smirks and his pupils dilate more, you realize he knows exactly what’s going on. “You really are one horny girl.” He laughs softly, shaking his head in disbelief before turning his attention back to his guitar.

“God forbid a girl wants her man all over her.” You mutter, crossing your arms with a fake pout.

Xavier hums, amused—only making you even more irritated.

You cross your legs. Then uncross. Then squeeze your thighs together, desperate for relief.

“Something wrong with the seat?” he asks, still pretending to look at his guitar, rings flashing under the light.

You shoot him a glare, but it only fuels him. He lets his eyes roam over you for a long second, slow and unashamed. “You really are squirmy tonight. Is it the pants?” he gestures lazily to himself. “You don’t like leather, maybe?”

Before you can answer, someone passes by the open door of the backstage lounge, tossing Xavier a quick, “Five minutes, man!”

He waves a hand without looking. His eyes stay on you. “I’ll make it quick,” he shouts back—but you don’t know if he means it to him or…to you.

More people start moving outside—crew, staff, the bandmate walking past, making it much worse. The room doesn’t even have a door, just a curtain half-drawn. But it might as well not be there at all.

And Xavier starts tuning again, lazily, strumming slow, deep chords. It’s like foreplay with a guitar. Every sound, every note, synced to the rise and fall of your breath. Like he’s playing you.

“Touch yourself,” he says quietly.

Your head snaps up.

“No one’s looking. Just a little. Over the pants.” He adds like that’s supposed to help your case.

“No need to tell me twice.” You shift, subtly, rocking your hips the smallest bit where you sit.

“Rub your clit a bit, get some relief before I go out there.” He whispers for only you to hear, his pupils have eaten the deep ocean blue of his eyes. “I’ll be thinking about it the whole time.”

You bring a hand to your clothed pussy, cupping it, your thumb coming to your swollen bund, pressing and circling it—you whimper at the sensation, a deep exhale leaving your lips.

“Fuck this.” He groans.

He drops the guitar onto the couch, grabs your wrist and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. You stumble into his chest, dizzy with the contact, with the heat radiating off his skin. He looks left, right and practically drags you out of the lounge, down a narrow hallway and around the corner.

There’s a supply closet. Barely lit. barely big enough to stand in—but it will do.

He shoves the door open and pulls you in.

The moment it shuts, he slams you against it—hard enough to rattle your bone in the best way—and cages you in with both arms.

“You couldn’t wait,” he breathes against your cheek. “My cock is still sensitive from earlier and here you are. Shifting in your seat like a brat. Was it not enough?”

“Well, you wore leather,” you tease, smiling fully—but it disappears as fast as it appeared when his mouth crushed onto yours.

His tongue licks your lips, kissing you with all he got. One thigh sliding between yours and pressing against your aching core. His hands move down your hips, forcing you to grind down on him, adding more pressure as his tongue invades your mouth.

The kiss is filthy—both of you fighting for dominance. Nothing sweet or gentle. Just teeth, spit and bruising heat. Wet sounds echo in the cramped closet—muffling the world behind the tiny door—drool dripping down your chins.

“I swear you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says once he pulls away to take a needed breath. “My cock is barely functioning, and—fuck” his eyes rolls back when you arch to reach one of his strawberry-colored nipples with your mouth, teeth tugging enough to make him hiss.

“We gotta be quick, okay? Don’t be too loud—”

“I’m not the one who’s loud, Xavier,” You snap, hands already on his belt, pulling his cock free. “Pull my pants down now, would ya? It’s not like we have time to lose, mh?”

You nuzzle into the side of his neck, kissing the sensitive spot under his ear while his thigh presses back and forth against your soaked panties.

His hands move fast, yanking your pants and underwear down in one go—then flipping you around so your bare ass is pressed flush to his leaking tip.

“I don’t need to be prepared—”

“So greedy,” he cuts you off, slamming his hips forward and sinking into your warm, dripping cunt.

“Oh, fuck.” You moan, palms flat against the cold wall, pushing your hips back, desperate to take all of him. Xavier’s cock is curved perfectly to hit that throbbing, aching spot that had your vision going white within seconds.

He holds you tight, grinding his hips into yours in a punishing, frantic rhythm. His mouth crashes to your shoulder and his bites into it. “How’s that?” he pants, breath hot and wild. “Is it a good fuck? Do you like being fucked like this?” one of his hands grabs a handful of your ass, fingers digging in hard.

“That’s what you wanted? My fat cock inside your needy cunt.” his hips clapping against yours with filthy, echoing slaps. You can feel it. Every inch. Every stretch of him.

And you feel so full—the pressure is insane. Your belly is tight, heat coiling in your core and crawling up your spine. When you glance down, just barely, you can see it—a faint bulge at the bottom of your stomach every time he slams in, punching the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “You’re so deep—I can see you inside me.”

His rhythm stutters, a choked moan ripping from his throat as he presses a hand flat over your lower stomach, right where his cock is visible. “Stuffing this tight pussy all nice.”

Your head tips back, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your back arches, hips rocking to meet him halfway. “So good—ah!—really good Xavier—don’t you dare stop,” you cry out, voice trembling.

And just as his other hand comes to twist your nipple, hard fast, just how you like it—

“Has anyone seen Xavier?” a voice cuts in, rushed and far too close.

Your head whips toward him, but he’s already looking at you—his face stricken for a second, then overtaken by that same unhinged, hungry need.

“He was in his room, like, two minutes ago.” You distingue one of his bandmate’s voice.

“Shit, shit—we gotta hurry,” he grits out, barely louder than a breath. He’s still buried in you, still chasing that last high.

His thrusts grow ragged and sloppy. He grips your hips tighter, slamming into you harder, deeper—the slap of skin on skin is loud and soaked with all the slick leaking down your thighs.

“Please, come with me, sweetie…” his voice’s raw, fucked-out against your shoulder. One hand fumble between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles.

Every thrust slam into your sweet spot with punishing accuracy, and the pressure in your belly coils tighter and tighter. You can’t think—can’t breathe—his cock is pulsing inside you, so hot, so hard—

“gonna come—I’m gonna —” you whisper, eyes fluttering, completely gone.

“Do it,” he groans. “Let go. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock—make this pussy gush, baby.” He demands, fingers pressing tighter to your clit—coaxing your orgasm, his thrusts getting more erratic and rougher.

Your walls locking down around him, gushing, your legs shaking. The orgasm crashes into you like a fucking truck. Your body convulses, clit pulsing under his fingers, your cunt fluttering around his cock—the bulge in your stomach pulses with every thrust.

Xavier hisses through his teeth, losing control the second your walls squeeze once too hard around his wide length. “Jesus—fuck, yes!—j-just like that—oh shit…” he chokes out, burying himself deep inside as hot ropes of cum fills your womb, cock twitching.

His head drops to your shoulder, forehead slick with sweat against your skin.

For a second, it’s just your breathing—ragged, tangled, all-consuming.

“Xavier! You coming or what?” someone shouts, just outside the door.

“Goddamn it.” He mutters, pulling out of you with a protesting whimper, trying to steady his breath. His cum starts dripping down your thigh as he stumbles back, moving fast and try to shove himself back into his boxers, one hand fumbling with his zipper.

You stumble a little, legs shaking as you fix your clothes, heart still hammering in your chest.

Before he can fully turn away, you grab his jaw—his breath stills, eyes snapping to you.

You pull him into a filthy, wet kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Going on your tiptoes, you bring your mouth to his ear and murmurs “Don’t forget…we’re not done, pretty boy.”

Your tongue flicks against the shell of his ear—goosebumps parkouring down his neck.

You smirk and purr at his reaction. “And don’t forget who you belong to when girls start throwing their bras at your face, mh?”

His eyes widen, hungry, and then he’s gone—rushing out the door, jaw still tingling from your grip.

𓂃۶ৎ RAFAYEL

It was such a hot day. .

The kind of heat that slicked your skin in sweat before you’d even moved, the kind that left the air heavy and unbearable.

So, when Rafayel suggested a beach day, with that shy little tilt of his head, you had almost laughed. Not because it was stupid idea, but he thought it would cool you down.

He didn’t know better.

You were absolutely a wet mess for his cock. Your body was way more much hotter than the sun hitting on the sand.

So, of course, when you found the hidden cove—all shadows and crashing waves—you were on Rafayel before he could even make a comment on the view.

“Please, Rafayel,” you whispered, breath ghosting hot across his lips. Your chest heaved against his, pinning him effortlessly, and your fingers curled around his wrist.

His breath hitched, pupils blown wide, violet eyes barely visible through the haze of lust and disbelief. Even his lips were still kiss-swollen.

“I—I don’t think I can even fuck you properly,” he stammered, voice cracking so cutely. “Even If I wanted to. I’m still—God—I haven’t recovered yet…”

And indeed, you’d both spent most of your times in the hotel’s bed sheets, fucking all night all day from the kitchen floor to the bathroom’s sink. His mouth and dick buried between your thighs pulling so many orgasms out of you, and him. Non-stop.

Your body pressed tighter, practically purring against his as you leaned into his neck, nipping just above his collarbone. He gasped—so easily startled 

You could feel his pulse against your lips—frantic. You took your chance and slid your hand down his toned stomach until it reached the front of his swim shorts. When you cupped his length with your palm, he twitched violently.

“For a man who says he hasn’t recovered, you’re quite well-functioning y’know.” You mock.

You slowly lift your gaze from his cock to his face—eyes glassy with hunger—and you whisper, “you only have to be here. I can do all the work…please, Rafayel. I need to soothe the ache.”

He blinked, breath stuttering hips already betraying him with a slow roll forward. “I can’t take much more—”

You cut him off with a grind of your hips, dragging your soaked bikini bottom over the swell of him, letting him feel exactly how needy you were—your folds stuck to the fabric, your slick a mess between you both, and he whimpered.

“Just keep looking pretty,” you murmured, licking into his open mouth. “That’s all you ever have to do.”

You sank to your knees, hands tugging at the waistband of his shorts with zero patience. His cock slapped up against his stomach—flushed an angry pink, throbbing, soaked in precum—his tip redder than usual from the overstimulation.

You let out the most pornographic moan ever, head tilting as you watched the fat bead of slick drip from his slit. He twitched under your gaze, a pitiful whimper slipping from his bitten-red lips.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it cruelly from the base to the tip, savoring the salty-slick taste of him. You circled his swollen head with the tip of your tongue, smearing his own precum around it, watching his thighs tremble.

“F-fuck—ah, I—” he choked, fingers scrambling against the rock behind him, eyes wide. “P-please—please, baby, don’t tease—”

You laughed against his cock before sinking down, swallowing him in one wet, choking glide, shoving your face until your nose pressed into the soft curls at his pelvis.

His back arched.

One hand clawed helplessly at the rock wall behind him while the other gripped your hair in a panic-tight hold, trying to either stop you or pull you deeper—he didn’t even know.

You moaned around him, loud and guttural, your thora vibrating around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your mouth. Your ruined bikini clung to your body like a second skin, soaked clean through—fabric bunched between your folds, practically dripping as you rocked your hips against nothing.

You pulled back just to spit thickly onto his cock, watching it mix with your slick and his precum, running down your chin, stringing between your lips and his tip as you licked back up with filthy abandon.

“I—I can’t—” he sobbed, head slamming back against the rock. “Y-you’re too—fuck—it’s too much, I can’t—”

“You can,” you snarled, fisting the base of his cock with one hand, pumping him hard as you licked his tip with quick, sloppy little flicks. “You will.”

The second he came—spilling down your throat, twitching in your mouth, voice broken and wrecked—you climbed on top of him. Still on your knees in the sand, bikini bottom shoved aside, folds glistening and dripping with need.

He was still softening when you straddled him, and he looked at you with dazed, glassy eyes—eyes that screamed mercy.

But you were past hearing it.

“Fuck, I need you,” you rasped, nails digging into his chest as you guided him back to your soaked, pulsing heat. “I don’t care if you’re not ready. I can’t—I can’t wait anymore, Rafayel. I need to cum or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“I—I just came…and maybe, your pussy needs to—”

“I’ll make it fit,” you snapped, grinding his oversensitive cockhead through your swollen clit. His body tried to flinch away from the contact, but you caged him in—legs strong, body relentless—and pushed.

His mouth fell open in a silent moan, his whole frame spasming beneath you. “Oh God—it’s too much, I swear—”

You dropped onto him fully, hips slamming down as you bottomed out in one desperate stroke—not listening to what he was saying, driven by lust.

Even softening, his cock was stretching you full, he still reached deep.

“Rafayel, babe—I need it,” you whimpered, already riding him, pace feral. “Need to cum sooo bad.”

Your cunt was making noises to the point of indecency, your juices squelching loud and obscene, splashing everywhere around you—on you. His hands gripped your hips weakly.

“You’re milking me—I can’t, it hurts—please, fuck, I—oh fuck!”

“you’re gonna take it,” you snarled, sweat dripping down your temples, your ruined bikini top falling askew, tits bouncing with every thrust. “I want to cream on your cock, Rafayel. You want it too, right? Lemme pretty, be a good boy.”

His hips bucked up once, involuntarily, and you screamed—your clit grinding against his pelvis, your pussy fluttering, sucking him in deeper like your body knew nothing but this hunger now.

With tears in his eyes, cock twitching helplessly inside you, he whispers “I’m gonna cum again—”

“Fucking do it,” you panted, riding him faster, rougher, losing all rhythm, chasing your orgasm like a woman possessed.

And no long after, you felt hot long ropes of cum filling your cunt, his fingers bruising your thighs as his eyes closed shut. Cumming harder than before, body completely at your mercy.

You followed seconds after, cunt spasming wildly around him, milking him through his own overstimulation.

You collapsed forward, chest to chest, both of you soaked in sweat and cum.

𓂃۶ৎ ZAYNE

you squint at the red glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

4:00 am.

You stare at the ceiling like it might talk you down. It’s fine. One day. You can do it. You’re not a sex addict, right? One day is fine.

You tell yourself that. Over and over. For over an hour now. Since you woke up, heart pounding hard against your ribcage, panties soaked.

You’ve twisted in the sheets, rolled from side to side, trying to calm it, trying to wait it out.

No use.

You sigh as your turn your head toward Zayne. You watch the slow raise and fall of his back as his breath steadily. He’s out cold, like someone completely exhausted can be. And you get it—he had a brutal shift at the hospital. He has… What? Twelve or thirteen hours on his feet? Probably more. And he’ll be up again in ninety minutes.

He needs this sleep.

But the way his back stretches in the moonlight, muscles taut and perfect like someone sculpted him out of sleep and sweat—it makes you ache. Makes your thighs clench. Makes patience feel like a joke.

He’s always giving so much. To his job, to everyone. Always putting in more than he has to. Always chasing better. And he deserves rest. He really does.

But unfortunately, there’s this pulse between your thighs, stubborn. A knot of need that won’t untangle. Your panties feel like a tease, there’re soaked to the point it feels like they’re mocking you for trying to be patient.

You turn toward Zayne once again. Your gaze shifting between the ceiling and him.

He hasn’t moved. His lips are parted just slightly, his skin’s warm under your fingertips as you brush his hip.

You bite your lower lip as you mentally curse yourself for what you’re about to do.

You swloly slide closer to him, careful not to wake him up, your legs slips between his, and you press in, grinding your needy core against the strong curve of his thigh—it’s solid and so perfect… exactly what you desperately need.

You bite your lip, hard. It’s the only way to stop the sound that nearly escapes when your clit drags just right across his thigh.

His skin against yours, the faint scent of him clinging to the sheets, the little flex of his leg when he shifts ever so slightly in his sleep—it’s so freaking good.

There’s nothing cute or sweet with what you’re doing.

You’re rutting against your boyfriend’s sleeping body like some feral thing, chasing your orgasm in silence, praying he doesn’t wake up and see you like this—panting, wide-eyed.

You’re so wet it should be illegal—slick soaking through the lace, leaving his thigh all slicky with your arousal.

Every roll of your hips sends sparks through your core, your face twists.

Stop. You should stop. Just go to the bathroom. Use your hand.

But you can’t. even with all the will power of the world.

You can’t.

His body, his warmth, his strength. There’s something so Zayne that only him can do.

Even if he doesn’t touch you back, even if he’s deep in some dream far away from you—you’re still losing your mind grinding on him.

Quietly.

Your thighs tremble as the pressure builds, heat coiling low and tight, your body twitching for more, more, just a little more—

You bury your face in the pillow, teeth sinking in, trying to smother every sound.

You’re right there—hips twitching, whole body shivering around the friction, balancing on that thin, shaking edge. One more grind and—

“Mmh…” Zayne stirs, a low grunt rumbling from his chest as he moves, disoriented.

“what time is it…?”

Shit.

Heart in your throat, you stop moving entirely.

Too drenched in need to think straight, too mortified to breathe.

You don’t say a word. Maybe he’ll roll over. With a bit of luck…maybe he won’t even notice.

His thigh flexes, your slick clings to his skin. And he goes still too.

A long pause.

“…are you grinding on me?” his voice is thick with sleep, raspy—making your clit throb.

You press your face deeper into the pillow, cheeks burning, shame crawling down your spine. “I—I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I just...I couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze drops. To your hips. Then your ruined panties. His thigh wet with your arousal.and even though he looks like he’s still trying to process the image, his body reacts faster than his brain.

“Jesus.” he mutters, voice rougher. “…How long have you been doing this?”

“…a while.” You reply quietly.

That pulls a breathy, stunned laugh from his, still half-asleep but definitely hard. Zayne props himself up on one elbow, eyes adjusting, blinking—trying to pull himself out of the sleep.

“I tried not to wake you.”

He watches you for a long second, hair messy, “You were gonna cum on my thigh and not say a thing?”

You nod, barely, ashamed and aching.

“Fuck. You’re actually serious.” His hand reaches out, thumb brushing the curve of your tummy. “You needy little thing,” His lips twitch in a mean smile. Way too amused for someone who just woke up to his girlfriend fucking herself on him.

“You’re so fucked.” He drags the words out in that wrecked, sleepy voice of his—the one that send a shiver down your spine.

“Take ‘em off.”

You blink.

He tapes your panties, eyes glinting. “Go on. Take those ruined little things off. Since you’re already this far.”

You hesitate, heart pounding.

“Aww, now you’re shy?” his tone turns sharp with mock sympathy as his golden eyes fix yours. His hands come to your hips, and he rips your panties off.

The sharp sting causing you to gasp. “Here we go…wasn’t that hard.”

He leans in, breath warm against your cheek, that grin still curling his lips. “You gonna finish what you started?” he murmurs. “Gonna show me how bad you needed it? Since you couldn’t even wait for me to wake up?”

You can’t even answer—just a shaky whimper as you straddle him again, your body obeying even as it trembles, already too raw. Zayne leans back, propping himself up against the headboard, spreading his legs wide. “Atta girl,” His voice’s thick with sleep and arousal. “Show me.”

But the second you drop your full weight onto his thigh, your body jolts. Your hips twitch instead of rock, thighs squeezing as your head falls back in a helpless arc.

It’s too much.

You can’t move. Can’t even breathe right. The slick drag of skin-on-skin against your pulsing clit is sharp and unbearable—like pleasure and pain got tangled together and started burning.

Zayne notices instantly.

“Ohhh,” he breathes, tilting his head to the side, lip caught between his teeth. “You really were fucking losing it, huh?”

Your mouth falls open in a pretty O, eyes fluttering shut as he flexes his muscles under you.

“Look at you,” he laughs softly, darkly, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his other hand threads into your hair and pulls—not hard, just enough to make your throat arch for him. “Fucked yourself out all alone, like a big girl. What, thought you’d just hump my leg and sneak off to sleep after?”

He kisses lower, breath brushing hot against your neck as his mouth drags over your skin. One hand grips your ass, the other holding your hair tight to keep your neck bared as he leaves kiss after kiss down the curve of it—open-mouthed and wet.

Every part of you is sensitive. Your cunt’s throbbing, leaking onto his thigh, your whole body barely stilling with every tiny shift of friction.

“Lemme take this off for you,” he whispers onto your collarbone, hands slipping beneath your shirt. “There we go… You feel much better like this don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just smirks at the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened and flushed, completely at his mercy.

He leans in, blows softly onto one—just enough to make you shiver—and the sensation shoots straight between your legs. You whimper, hips bucking as one of his hands returns to your waist, forcing you to grind your drenched pussy against the firm muscle of his thigh.

“Go on,” he murmurs, voice muffled as his mouth closes around your nipple. He nips at it, then sucks

“Be a good girl. Cum on me. I want you to make a mess on me.” he flexes his thigh just right beneath you and you can’t hold it anymore.

A loud moan escapes you as his teeth close again on your nipple, this time a slow aching chew—your body locks up—back arching, nails digging into his shoulders as you cry out. Your climax rips through you, messy and unrestrained.

Before the tremor even leaves your body, he’s moving.

You feel his hands slide beneath your thighs—rough, commanding—and in a blur, you’re flipped onto your stomach, face buried into the pillows, ass lifted high.

You barely catch your breath before he’s behind you, spreading you open with no hesitation, breath hot, voice gone dark.

“You will take this like a good girl, ‘kay?” He murmurs, almost too gentle for how he manhandles you. He peppers kisses across your shoulders—probably apologizing in advance.

His weight settles over you, chest pressing into your back, caging you between the mattress and his wide, unrelenting body. His hands keep your ass in the air, firm and unyielding, while his cock brushes teasingly against your soaked, oversensitive center.

“Gonna be a bit rough,” he warns, breath warm against your ear. “That okay with you?”

You whimper, nod, and he grins—low and sharp.

“Yeah… I know it is. You love being fucked like this. Like a dirty little whore.” He slaps your perfect little ass before adding, “Hold onto the pillows, love.”

And in one brutal push, he’s all the way in. his cock buries to the hilt, stretching you wide open, the sudden fullness knocking the breath from your lungs. His hips are flush to yours, pubic hair brushing your holes, his body locked tight against yours.

“Fuck!—Z-Zayne…’s lot—ah!—”

“That’s okay,” he pants, mouth at your neck—almost drooling over your skin. “You’re my strong girl. You can take it.”

And then he moves—thrusting into you like he’s lost to it, all control burned away. Each stroke is brutal, deep, precise, pounding you into the mattress with relentless force. The bed slams against the wall with every thrust, the headboard rattling loud enough to drown your cries.

He keeps you pinned, keeps your hips arched just right, locked in that perfect angle. All you can do is hold on—fingers twisting in the sheets, face pressed into the pillows, body trembling with the force of it all.

“’S right,” he rasps, pleasure thick in every breath, sweat sticking his chest to your back. He’s nearly gone, nearly forgetting he’s got to be up in less than an hour. “Takin’ this dick so damn well… you’re perfect.”

Your body responds on instinct—tightening around him, walls clenching like a vice. It hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You whimper beneath him, nearly sobbing into the pillow. You can feel everything—every thick ridge, every puffy vein, the way his cock drags and stretches you just a little more with every deep thrust. It’s overwhelming. Too much. Not enough.

He hisses through his teeth, hips stuttering for half a second.

“Shit,” he grits out, golden eyes locked to where your bodies meet—where you’re dripping, splashing, making a soaked mess with every slam of his hips. “You tryin’ to choke my cock or somethin’, huh?”

His hands move from your hips until both palms are cupping your breasts. He squeezes onto the soft plush, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as his thrusts keep slamming into you from behind—only to hear your pretty ‘Ah! Ah!’ followed with ‘Deeper Zayne!’

“Can’t stop clenching. So sensitive—these fuckin’ tits—” he groans again, rolling one nipple between his fingers.

You arch into him, helpless. His cock driving into you, his hands pulling at your chest, his mouth licking your neck—all of him wrapped around you, inside you.

“Hold still,” he growls, voice barely human now, hips picking up pace, bed slamming again. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock with my hands all over you.”

𓂃۶ৎ SYLUS

“Again?” Sylus’s voice comes raspy, broken in the edge.

“Pleaaaase,” you purr, letting the word rolls on your tongue, hands firmly pressed on his chest—pushing him against the cold wall.

His head falls back with a dull thud. “Kitten…” he breathes, his ruby eyes dropping to look at you as you press your body against his. “We’re on a mission… I don’t think that’s the moment—”

“You’re sweating,” you whisper, fingers dragging down his forehead, lips ghosting the corner of his jaw. “That’s not like you.” You’ve seen him calm in gunfire, unfazed in blood—it was uncharacteristically of him to have an uneven breath.

“I just think…” you trail off, rising onto your toes, mouth brushing his ear, “if we make it quick… no one has to know.” You bat your lashes, voice a soft, sultry question. You already know the answer. You know you got him wrapped around your finger. You only needed to find the right arguments. It was just a matter of seconds.

Sylus exhales hard through his nose, like it physically hurts to resist you. His jaw ticks.

“You’re insufferable.” He snaps as his hand fists in your shirt, dragging you down the hall without a word.

You smile like crazy. He’s just so cute, isn’t he?

You pass doors. Equipment crates. A stack of mission gear left behind. His body is tense, every step coiled like he’s keeping himself from pinning you to the wall right there and tearing into you in front of anyone who might walk past.

Once he finds a room, he shuts the door with his boot and pin you against it. Dim light filters through a single wall panel, dust swirls in the air, it’s abandoned, quiet and safe.

His hands cage your jaw, his forehead presses to yours. He's panting like he just fought someone off.

"You drive me insane," he growls.

“Is that so?” you blink up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the laugh. You play dumb, “didn’t notice.”

His hand shoots up, fisting the collar of your shirt. And before you can even gasp, his mouth crashes into your—bruising, teeth clicking, no space to breathe between the kiss and the punishment.

There’s nothing delicate.

His lips crush yours, dragging your bottom one between his teeth until you whimper. The heat of it stings the ache spreading deliciously down your spine. He kisses like’s he’s mad at you, mad at him for not knowing how to tell you ‘No’.

And you kiss him back just as hard. Your fingers tangle in front of his shirt, twisting fabrics tight in your fists. One hand slip between your bodies, palming him through his pants firmly.

He jerks in your grip, groaning straight into your mouth. His hand flies to your hip, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. The other grabs your wrist, stopping your hand mid-stroke.

“I don’t think I can cum.” His eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at you.

“As long as you can get hard,” You smirk, lips swollen and heart racing. “that’s all I need.”

With a growl, Sylus moves fast. He drags your pants down your legs with urgency. Your panties don’t stand a chance—he doesn’t even pull them off, just pushes them to the side, fingers grazing hot and rough against your soaked heat.

You’re already undoing his zipper, not bothering with finesse. His pants stay on, barely shoved down enough to free his cock, thick and flushed in your hand.

He lifts you with no more ceremony, strong hands under your thighs then rapidly under your knees so your legs could rest on his wide shoulder. The position locks you open, exposed—your back pressed to the cold door, legs draped high and wide against his warm body.

His cock drags upward through your slick folds, heavy and hot, teasing that swollen ache with just enough pressure to make you whimper. The contrast of his warmth against the door’s chill makes your skin burn.

Teeth graze along your jaw, and his voice comes out low, “Gonna fuck you all nice and good, promise. Hold on tight.”

You don’t even realize you’ve grabbed two fistfuls of his white hair until he thrusts forward, so hard that your entire body tightens, already bracing for the stretch, the slam, the mess.

His forearms warp around your thick thighs, holding you in place with an iron grip as he piston into you. You’re suspended between the door and his chest, barely able to think—let alone speak.

When he moves it’s rough—slow but deep. The weight of his pants clings to his hips, the waistband scraping your thighs every time he thrusts in.

His mushroom cock head kisses your cervix each time he brutally bottoms out, drawing a raw cry from your throat.

The sound of the scrape of wood behind you is almost louder than your own voice breaking. “Is this how you wanted it?” he rasps against your mouth, his breath hot, sharp. “On a mission—still begging to be stretched wide?”

Sweat beads at his temple. His jaw’s clenched. And all you can do is take it.

“Yes-Yes! Exactly…you’re so—oh shit!—good to me Sylus.” You pant, head hitting the door behind you as your eyes roll back. The way he’s still mostly dressed, the grind of fabric and heat—it's driving you to the edge faster than you’d admit.

His jaw tightens when you yank on his hair again, and he groans—low and ragged. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. He keeps you pinned high, panting into your neck as his pace builds—fast now, reckless. His gaze flickers down to the way you’re clinging around his length.

His arms flex with the effort. He resumes his pace to quick deep strokes. Wanting you to reach your orgasm.

“I—I think I’m going to cum dry...” he chokes out against your ear.

“That’s okay Sylus, j-just don’t stop—” You can feel his cock twitching violently against your gummy walls.

“You feel so—so—fuck!” He drops your legs from his shoulders, almost trembling himself, he doesn’t let your feet hit the floor. He keeps you flush against the door, panting into your neck.

His hips keep moving, slower but no less intense—the friction of your ruined panties, pressed awkwardly between you, makes everything more unbearable.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you again to tilt your hips, to find that devasting spot that has your vision white out at the edges.

“’m gonna cum, kitten—’m sorry—” he rasps.

You feel the stuttering of his hips, the soft broken sound he makes into your shoulder as his body goes taut and shudders hard. What little he has left spills in weak, pulsing ropes.

But you? Sylus’s long fingers slip beneath what’s left of your panties, finding your clit instantly. He presses and flicks in quick, messy motions. He’s still coming from his high as your pussy paints his cock white.

^⌯𖥦⌯^੭

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