#this is so filthy i’m so sorry

[kiivg]

.I cropped this so much 🤫😳.

[tempus-infinituum]

leave it to cme to make a ludicrous claim to get me back on my jemily bullshit

[pwurrz]

Quincamo Week Day 1 - (Winter) Domesticity:

“mr. quincy..?”

it had only been a few mere minutes since quincy left the bed, but already a certain serpent was calling for him, his voice thick with sleep.

quincy had left their shared ‘nest’ of blankets and warmth to brew yakumo some of his favourite tea, monopolizing one of the rare moments yakumo was awake and slightly coherent. usually, during his brumation period, the serpent would sleep for days at a time, and the rare occasions he did wake up, he was sluggish and fighting off sleep; barely able to keep his eyes open for long enough to drink water before falling back into a deep sleep.

this was the second winter the two of them had spent together, and quincy had grown to enjoy their little tradition. winter, aside from kleinmas, was a slow and uneventful season, mainly consisting of daily patrols through the mountains to make sure any adventurous souls hadn’t tried to cross the barrier he put in place to keep the elemental spirits at bay. coming home to yakumo was a welcome change in his now stagnant and familiar routine.

however, the weather was getting steadily warmer as of late, signalling the end of winter and thus, the end of yakumo’s brumation. which explained how he had enough energy to make his way, albeit slowly, out of bed and into the kitchen.

quincy turned at the sound of shuffling footsteps to see a very sleepy and very disgruntled serpent standing behind him, yawning widely in a way that showed off his fangs. donning one of the forest guardian’s soft, oversized sweaters, a plush eye mask that had been pushed up into his messy hair, and a pair of fuzzy, slipper-like socks on his feet, yakumo was the pinnacle of comfort.

“the bed started to get cold..” another yawn. “what are you doing?”

quincy gestured towards the boiling pot on the stove, which made yakumo pause and blink a few times, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before peering around the larger man to follow his movement. though, as if he couldn’t help it, he soon wrapped his arms around quincy’s waist, mirroring the habit quincy had of standing behind yakumo and embracing him while watching him cook.

apparently, the serpent was feeling enough like himself that he started to fret over being taken care of. it made quincy smile, even if it was troublesome, to see the younger man acting like his usual self again.

“is that.. my favourite? y-you didn’t have to-” yakumo starts to protest, but he’s cut off by quincy turning around and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. it makes the serpent stop in his tracks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion while a blush quickly rises on his cheeks. his response is so unbearably endearing, it makes quincy want to kiss him again. and so, he does.

without waiting for yakumo’s brain to catch up to the affectionate gestures, quincy turns around once more and begins pouring a cup of tea for the both of them.

“i wanted some tea. figured i should make some for you as well.” the forest guardian responded, nonchalant in the way he usually was when he did something nice for yakumo. a little white lie goes a long way in situations like this. “come on, let’s get you back to bed. i’ll brush your hair while we wait for the tea to cool.”

the smaller man smiled softly at the mention of quincy brushing his hair. it was no secret he loved having his hair played with, and he would let out small noises resembling purrs when anyone so much as touched his head gently.

“a-alright..” a third yawn. yakumo had definitely used up his small amount of energy by this point. “but just you wait… i’ll return the favour… s-soon..”

quincy chuckled, careening a quickly fading, sleepy serpent back into his side so he wouldn’t accidentally tumble over or trip over his own feet.

“i’m sure you will, little serpent.”

[jakesguitarsolo]

FUCKING HELL, JACOB — I can’t breathe

Don’t imagine that this is how Jake eats pu—

🎥: @jakeforsakeher on instagram

[folkloresthings]

The things Carlos can do between my legs, with those lips and that nose he is gifted with🤪

18+! anon! cheeky. but so true. he’d be a STAR, a top student, at giving head. and god, he’s always so eager to eat you out, expecting absolutely nothing in return. it’s enough to make you feel good, to pull such sweet noises from you, lapping up the wetness that spills from you. he’s got the perfect face for it. big, plush lips that wrap around your clit so perfectly, sucking gently then harder, then gentle again. he knows just how you like it. his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing the rims of your walls until you’re whining and squirming above him. his nose, nudging delicately at your bud while he fucks his tongue in and out of you. not slowing down until his pretty face is covered in your cum and he can reach up to kiss you hard, making sure you taste your own sweetness on his lips. he’d eat you out for hours on end, if you’d let him.

[jazz-the-writer]

YAAAAAA LEEKNOW.

There’s a STORY WHATS THE STORY???? WHERE IS IT ??? WHAT IDD I MISS !!!?

Dime PINCHE CABRON. DIME CÓMO CHINGASTEs LLEGASTEIS A ESA PINCHE NOMBRE????

Look I’m a dummy Spanish speaker. No sabo speak okay??? I’m roughly fluent cause it’s a second language and I never learned proper grammar for it so I sound illiterate.

Lee know tell me how the fuck Channie got the nickname Buchou ???

Cause it’s cute as fuck and omg can I use it ???????

My bestie hasn’t watched any videos with me since SClass era idk I can’t remember anymore it’s been so long and so many comebacks \(//∇//)\

I’m missing skz so much and my bestie won’t even watch any vids with me ✌🏼🥲

[moltengoldveins]

me, reading the most gut wrenching angsty hurt no comfort Megop ‘megatron deals poorly with the grief of Optimus’s death’ fanfic I’ve ever seen: ohh…. This. Is gonna suck ass. 😟

Shiney, sitting next to me on the couch, reading exactly what you’d suspect she might be reading (porn) : oh! This is gonna suck ass! 😃

[juniperhillpatient]

Zuko’s visions of dragons & Azula’s tone in said visions are so normal & all my thoughts on this matter are so appropriate

[judyalvqrez]

I love cozy, long sleeves as much as the next person, but if I look up a cooking/recipe video and the person cooking is doing that thing where people cover their hands with their sleeves except their fingers to look “cute and dainty” I’m not watching that shit.

[jackgirlboy]

it’s 3am I’m extremely dehydrated and ate poorly but I m having severe autism symptoms and cannot keep this to myself or I’ll die . I need you to understand that I am irrevocably haunted by these two quirked up artsy male actors and the entire epidemic of quirked up artsy male actors who are all about making real weird slutty art in the name of true cinema and being a slut and also being silly. They’re like an invasive species. I need to smash them with mallets. I need you to just know that. . Thank you

[zomgcaleb]

NSFW— minors do not interact

cw— creampie

thinking abt Caleb’s big dick </3

you want to blame it on him, say it’s his fault and swear that he does it on purpose. but you know he’s not. he can’t help it that he’s so deliciously hung.

somehow he manages to tuck it into his pants in just the right way that leaves you wondering, but behind closed doors when the day is said and done it’s like he sets it loose. he walks around in his boxers or a baggy pair of pj pants, ones that barely contain the sizable bulge that tents under his waistband.

he’s not trying to seduce you but it works all the same.

you almost feel bad when he catches you ogling him. those pretty purple puppy dog eyes gaze down at you with a sinful innocence that makes you huff.

it’s thick and heavy. so so heavy it makes you drool just thinking about the feeling of it in your hands. it stands tall and proud and so pathetically hard for you. it’s pretty. so pretty in the way it seems to challenge you when it twitches and bobs for your attention.

he knows it’s big but he doesn’t know it’s big. he’s just been hauling it around with him all this time not knowing how full it’d make you. how you cry and push your palm against his abs as he humps in and out of you.

“too much too much!” you’d slur into the sheets and he wouldn’t know what to do. is his dick not supposed to be this big?? is he hurting you?? is it normal to feel every twitch and clench of your pussy from all sides like he is right now?? because it’s making him lose his damn mind.

“are you okay? d-does it hurt?” his voice is light but rough as if it was ripped from his diaphragm. the fingers that hold your waist tighten and dip into your skin as he forces himself to slow down.

you pant absentmindedly in response. your core burns violently in the best way possible. Caleb hits every spot all at once and each thrust stretches you out so good. his cock head kisses your g spot so firmly yet so tender, sending you spiraling into a filthy mess. he’s not even going as hard as you told him to and you’re about to cum all over him anyway.

“pips.” he calls. the bed dips beside your head as he leans over you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple and nuzzling into your cheek with his nose. your cunt hasn’t stopped trying to suck him in and he whines and whimpers into your neck in feeble resistance.

“i’m here. just—Caleb, you’re so biggg.” you drawl. “you give it to me so good can’t take it.”

he pulls away to look at you and his lips part to speak but the sexiest moan rips from his throat to interrupt him as you rut your hips back into him. his girthy length slides and catches on all the right ridges and you cry in ecstasy.

the coil in his abdomen suddenly snaps and he’s pumping the fattest of loads right into your womb and you feel it in your throat, the addicting heat swirls in your stomach and the gift keeps giving. it starts to spurt and leak, leaving a milky ring around the base of him, some spilling out to stain the sheets. ‘i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry’ his lips brush the shell of your ear as he chants and his chest presses into your back to anchor you.

all you can hear is the deafening squelching of his seed getting fucked into you and his pitchy wails of your name.

no wonder he’s so big. he’s just so full of creamy white love for you can you feel it? you’ll take it all for him right? :(

[aeyumicore]

green-eyed and creampied

just the, now, FIVE love and deepspace men being possessive and jealous!

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb (separate) x female reader (afab)

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: smut, porn with little to no plot

━ ✧.˖ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 6.1k

━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, LOTS of filthy dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!sylus, dom!zayne, dom!xavier, dom!rafayel, don!caleb, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3

━ .ᐟ✧ A/N: haiiii guys it’s been a while since i wrote for all the guys. now FIVEEEEE guys, call it a burger joint.. .. sorry this is a day late. i know i’ve done a jealous fic before but i wanted to kinda do it again when they’re not drunk + include caleb.

caleb will still get his jealous and drunk fic tho! i’m also working on some stuff for caleb still. if ur a caleb girly u will eat

enjoy friends <3

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

sylus 秦彻

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,213

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight voyeurism, mentions of xavier, mating press, sylus on top, furniture breaks, lots of loud sex, sylus makes reader scream, praising

In the time you’d known Sylus, you’ve had to replace your mattress frame exactly three times.

It had gotten to the point where you refused to let him stay over. Not that that mattered, as you found yourself staying at his base—his home—far more than your own. 

But for whatever reason, Sylus had asked to stay at your apartment tonight—insisting that the base was unsuitable to sleep at tonight. Some unconvincing excuse about renovations. You were suspicious, but he wore you down.

And so you found yourself being absolutely fucked into your mattress, thinking about how you’d need to buy yet another frame tomorrow, when this one inevitably shattered. 

“Syluus,” you moan breathlessly, “S-Slow—mmngh—slow down. Bed’s going to break.” You wince when you hear it creak, knocking against your bedroom wall. 

“You don’t want that, dove,” Sylus purrs, “She doesn’t want that.” He rolls his hips harder, squeezing the plush of your ass so hard that he leaves indents in the shape of his fingers. 

“You know I can’t deny her, not when she wraps around me so fucking perfectly,” he groans, hiking your thigh up against his hip so he can angle deeper. 

“You’re impossible. W-What’s gotten into you?” you force the words out, your nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles of his shoulders, whimpering when he purposely drags his pelvis against your clit. 

Sylus kisses your forehead, the tender gesture nearly enough to make you forget that he was knee deep in your guts trying to imprint his name into you. 

“I haven’t seen you in a week. You’ve been so busy saving the world from Wanderers,” Sylus says simply, his voice calm and steady as if he wasn’t buried inside of you. 

Your lips curl, and you tease, “You missed me?”

Sylus scoffs, his rhythm slowing for a brief moment, “Yes, terribly so. I’m not afraid to admit that.”

Your heart skips a beat, looking away shyly. But Sylus brings your face back to his, his grip on your chin gentle. 

“What, getting shy on me now, little bird?” Sylus chuckles, almost condescendingly. 

”That partner of yours gets to see this beautiful face more than I do. Don’t look away,” Sylus murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. He drags his pelvis intentionally along you, the coarse hair along the base of his cock working literal magic against your sensitive bud.

It’s not enough for you to miss the whiny undertone in his words though. 

“You mean Xavier?” 

Sylus’s pace falters, but he smirks still, raising an eyebrow at you, “Tch, you should only be thinking of me right now.”

”Y-You’re the one who—o-oh god—brought him up!” you say incredulously, finding the strength to gently smack his solid marbled chest. He catches your wrist before you can make content, bringing your fingertips up to his lips.

He nips at your hand in warning, his pace growing more forceful, as if telling you to watch yourself. His increased vigor makes your bed knock more violently against the wall, your eyes widening in fear.

”Sy, the neighbors are going to hear,” you whisper, knowing he wont listen to you anyway. He’d been forever trying to convince you to move in with him anyways. 

“Hm, right. They will.”

You’re about to question his cryptic words when Sylus hoists your legs up, folding you in half. At this angle, he can quite literally hammer into you with an entirely renewed enthusiasm, reaching parts of you that he knew were your absolute weaknesses.

Your eyes roll back with a pleasured squeal, crying his name repeatedly.

Sylus smirks, praising you, your own name sounding like honey as it dripped off his tongue.

“That’s it, my love,” he coos, “Think you can get louder for me?”

You physically can’t respond, eyes squeezed shut as Sylus drives into your g-spot repeatedly and unrelentingly. He’s big enough where the head of his cock brushes against your cervix, a pleasure mixed with just the slightest pain that makes you delirious. 

“Sy-lus,” you moan brokenly, unable to stop from practically screaming, “So deep—can’t…”

”You’re doing perfect,” he praises, whispering your name in a way that makes your stomach coil tightly, on the verge of exploding. 

“Sh-shit. All you have to do is focus on screaming my name, hm? I’ll take care of the rest.”

You whine at the thought of your neighbors hearing you, knowing first hand just how thin the walls were. Biting the inside of your cheek, you do your best to keep your sounds down.

And of course Sylus notices instantly. But instead of scolding you, he only fucks you harder–physically pulling the sounds out of you. The screams of ecstasy that he wants.

Screams that would undoubtedly be heard across the walls. And the ceiling,

“Just like that,” Sylus grunts, his crimson eyes nearly glowing with approval, “Think he can hear you, sweetheart?”

Your eyes, previously screwed shut in sheer pleasure, fly open as you register the implication of his words—his actions.

Sylus seems to anticipate your reaction, simultaneously bringing his lips over your nipple and his thumb to your clit—rendering you a wordless, squealing mess. 

You can’t see the way Sylus smirks against your breast with a dangerous satisfaction, his ruby eyes glowing with adoration and possession. 

“He might get to see you every day, but I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. So drunk off my cock that you can’t even open your eyes.”

His thumb moves faster, in perfect tandem with his claiming thrusts.

”He might get to hear them, but these screams are for me, and only me. Right, my love?”

You find yourself nodding obediently, willing to do anything to get him to shut up and give you the orgasm he’s holding just out of your reach. 

”Syluuus,” you plead shamelessly, words slurring, “F-Feels s’goood. Please!” Any attempt at being quiet had long been abandoned, your brain clouded only with thoughts of Sylus and the filthy mating press he had you folded into.

Sylus was a man of fierce passion, but this was entirely different. His beautiful eyes held a swirl of dangerous emotions, nearly as intense as the vigor in which his body pounding down into yours. Your nearing climax rings in your ears, blocking out the sounds of your mattress frame snapping, his thrusts masking the feeling of the wood smashing into the ground. 

He revels in your cries of pure ecstasy, satisfaction blooming in his chest as you grow louder with every thrust towards your release. Sylus’s vermillion eyes flicker to the ceiling of the bedroom, intrusive thoughts clouding his own building pleasure.

It’d be easier if he lived next to you as opposed to the unit atop yours.

With his lips at your neck, his thick body presses down onto you, angling himself deeper. As he brings your body to unprecedented heights, he whispers into the shell of your ear, voice husky and rough. 

”Can feel how close you are” he groans, your cunt attempting to wring his cock absolutely dry, “Want him to hear you cum for me?”

You whine, weakly shaking your head ‘no.’ Sylus only grins, his hips snapping into the plush of your thighs. 

”That’s too bad, kitten. Your dear partner is going to have to hear it anyway.”

xavier 沈星回

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,165

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dark!xavier, mentions of sylus, standing sex, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of cum marking, hitting it from the back, sex against the window, slight choking

“You’ve been at the N109 Zone a lot this week.”

You can hardly comprehend Xavier’s words over the sheer intensity at which he’s driving himself into you, as if trying to carve you perfectly into the shape of him.

“Wh-What?” you pant, your voice pathetically shaky as your palms desperately steady yourself against the window he has you pressed against. 

The city lights twinkle beneath you, and you find yourself grateful that you’re more than ten floors up. Because the way Xavier had your naked body pressed into the cool glass pane, his chin digging into your shoulder as his hips snapped harshly into your ass?

If you were on a lower floor, anyone outside would undoubtedly see everything. 

But you’re starting to think that’s exactly what he wants. 

“The N109 Zone. You’ve been there almost every day this last week,” Xavier says, his words simple but his tone almost threatening. Not enough to scare you, but just enough to have your toes curling in excitement. 

“And?” is all you manage, your back arching against his abdomen when he presses you deeper into the window. In response, Xavier’s thrusts slow to a near stop, his hand gently wrapping around the base of your throat. You whine in protest, desperately rolling your own hips backward against him, chasing the pleasure 

His tender fingers stroke the sides of your neck, so softly and adoringly. It gives you whiplash when you see how dark his eyes have gotten, almost sinister. 

Gripping you gently, he pulls you toward him by your neck until your head rests on his shoulder and you can really see the intensity of his shadowy azure eyes.

“Have you been working with the Onichynus leader?” he asks, his thrusts unbearably slow and shallow. 

“Sylus?”

At that, Xavier snaps, his grip tightening and his pace quickening. Except it’s much more violent this time around–enough to have your body pounding into the glass and your head swimming with delirious ecstasy. 

The sound of another man’s name on your tongue while his cock was nestled against your g-spot? That fueled Xavier with a jealousy that bordered on insanity. 

“You did that on purpose,” he grunts unhappily against your ear. It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the sound of his pelvis pounding into your ass, the wet slaps resounding throughout the room. 

“Mnngh…W-What did I do?” you ask, struggling to speak.

Xavier’s breath is heavy against your shoulder, his fingers abandoning your neck and instead cupping your jaw, turning your face towards him, so he can really look at you.

Wordlessly, he pulls your face to his, taking your lips into his–bruisingly and possessively. As his tongue claims every inch of your mouth, his cock does the same, filling you out so completely that you find it difficult to breathe. 

“Do I need to be rougher?” Xavier grunts as he reluctantly pulls away from you, his lips shiny and cheeks flushed red. You squeak when his hand roughly cups your breast, kneading just how he knew you liked, but just a tad bit harder to make you scream.

“Do I need to remind you just how much you need me?”

He punctuates his words with a pointed thrust, his cockhead stroking roughly against your most sensitive spots. 

“How much you need this?”

The intensity and passion in which Xavier takes you against the window is enough to render you a wordless, moaning mess. The glass is nice and cool against your burning skin, fogging up as Xavier presses you deeper into it.

He maneuvers your chin so that you’re facing the reflection again. He kisses your shoulder, deceptively tender, as he murmurs your name. The push and pull between tenderness and roughness confuses your brain, only making your body more receptive, more pliant, to him. 

“Oh god—Xavier!” you moan unabashedly, your forehead falling forward to lean against the window. Xavier smiles, thoroughly pleased at the sound of his name leaving your beautiful lips. 

But he was a greedy man and he wanted more. 

“Look at me,” he commands gently, saying your name with so much conviction and possession that you're wracked with a violent shiver. He tilts your chin up again, so that you come face to face with him in the reflection, the city lights outside blurring. His fingers are soft against your skin, his grip demanding.

Xavier’s glassy cerulean eyes bore into yours through the reflection, misted with a dark and raw possession that you’d been seeing more and more of lately as Xavier opened his heart to you. A look that made your instincts tingle with the need to escape. 

And yet your body only tightens with excitement, sucking Xavier further into you, wanting him harder–deeper.

But it’s still so effortlessly Xavier–pure and soft. It made your heart clench with adoration while your core tightened with desperation. 

His intense eyes burn into your naked form, fingers forcing you to watch him, as he speaks again, “The next time you go to the N109 Zone, I’m coming too.”

You’re about to protest but Xavier cuts you off, “I know you’re perfectly capable. That’s not why.” His words come out shaky and soft as you get painfully tighter, inexplicably turned on by his possessive nature. 

“If you’re going to be walking around the N109 zone with him, you’re going to do it with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You gasp, your stomach tightening at his filthy–completely serious–words. Xavier smiles into the mirrored window that’s now fogging up with your combined torrid breaths. 

“Do you like the sound of that? It feels like you do, angel.”

Xavier glances at you again, looking absolutely ethereal with the city lights twinkling behind his reflection. But he’s starting to look just as disheveled as you, his blonde hair strewn messily, his pale cheeks dusted pink, beads of sweat trailing down his muscles. 

As you get distracted in the way his burning cock literally reshapes your gummy walls around him, Xavier grabs a gentle fistful of your hair, forcing you to level with him. 

“Tell me you want it, please.”

His commanding words are tinged with just an inkling of insecurity, his blue eyes nearly begging with yours through the damp glass. 

You push yourself off the glass, leaning back against him, knees buckling when he gets deeper. 

Xavier wraps a secure arm around your chest, holding you effortlessly in place. In this position, he buries his face into your shoulder, his eyes still peeking over, trained on you. 

Laying your head back against him, you cradle the back of his head with your hand. Maintaining eye contact, you somehow find the coherence to appease him, knowing he’d go insane without your reassurance, no matter how ridiculous what he was asking was.

“W-Wan’ it Xav,” you moan through the force of his thrusts, “Anything you give me, anything you want. 

Xavier noticeably falters, his breaths becoming alarmingly ragged, azure eyes darkening to a deep navy instead.

“Then, let’s start right now.”

zayne 黎深

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,120

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking + hickeys, improper evol use, dry humping, mentions of caleb, zayne on top, praising

Zayne wasn’t a jealous man.

At least that’s what you’d thought—what he’d made you and everyone who knew him believe. 

He was wildly successful in his career, self-assured in himself, and secure in your relationship. 

And yet, the way he was sucking bruises into every inch of your burning skin, with the clear intent to mark and claim–where everyone could see, said otherwise. 

“Zayne—!” you cry out as he bites a particularly mind-numbing hickey into your collar, his skilled tongue soothing the sensitive skin as his teeth graze against the forming bruise. 

“Hm?” is all he murmurs. But he doesn’t let you continue or clarify, because the next thing you know, he’s rolling his bare erection against your moist slit, purposely letting his own leaking tip rub against your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

With your eyes squeezed shut in burning anticipation, you can’t see him, but you can hear the faint smirk in his voice. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” his lips are suddenly at the skin under your ear, pressing soft kisses into the spot he plans to mark you next. 

“You know what,” you whine, “Not so high up.” Even you can hear how half-hearted your plea is. You loved the rare occasion Zayne made it known exactly what he did to his favorite hunter, his most crucial patient, behind closed doors. 

But you’d gotten so familiar with Zayne’s straight-edged professionalism that you were used to him leaving signs of himself on your body that only you’d be able to see. Areas that only the two of you would know he’d been. Where his lips had been. 

“And why is that?” he chuckles, letting his lips ghost along your pulse, as if warning you what was to come if you didn’t plead your case. 

You gasp when he grabs the base of his cock, purposely letting himself brush against your soaked entrance, but not letting himself enter–much to your dismay.

“H-Have to go to—ngh—go to Skyhaven tomorrow,” you whimper, “Meeting with Caleb and the F-Fleet to discuss Wanderer activity.” 

Zayne pauses at your words, his entire body tensing ever so slightly as he presses himself forcefully into you, his muscles twitching against you.  

Ah. 

He collects himself instantly, his teeth nipping at your pulse in warning. 

“Oh?” he says, as if he didn’t already know you’d be seeing Caleb tomorrow, likely having gotten your mission schedule from the Association. Doctors often had access to the files of all Hunters that were under their care.

“Even more reason to send you off with a few gifts for the Colonel.”

If his jealous possession didn’t turn you on so damn thoroughly you might’ve rolled your eyes and teased him. Tease him that he’d said the childhood rivalry between him and Caleb was one-sided. That he’d said he was above that petty jealousy. 

But with Zayne’s cock wedged so tortuously between your legs, a burning path of love bites trailing from your neck to your breasts, his warm breath at your ear–you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but moan for more. 

“You sound beautiful,” Zayne whispers thickly into your ear, before his lips descend and latch onto the soft skin above your nipple, “So perfect like this. Spread out for me, begging for more.”

He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your heaving chest, his mouth pulling into a faint smirk at the pretty little marks he’s left all over your soft skin. The sense of satisfaction he feels from watching your quivering form, chanting his name like a prayer. The satisfaction he got from knowing that he’d be the only one to see you like this, feel you like this. Now and forever. 

The satisfaction from knowing that anyone who saw you would see exactly how thoroughly you belonged to him.

He shifts to give himself better access to you. To the spot between your legs that was reserved only for him.

Zayne positions himself, his tip at your aching entrance, his body coming down to hover over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes bore into yours, the gold flecks shining as he takes in your flushed features. His magnificent woman.

His fingers trace your jaw, carving an icy path down every beautiful mark, every searing claim. You yelp at the feeling of his Evol laced fingertips, body arching at the hypersensitivity of his frosty digits. But Zayne only presses you back down into the mattress.

“Tell me, love,” he whispers, his voice husky and gravelly with need, “Who’s the only one who gets to see you like this?”

Feeling rebellious, you refuse, “I’m not feeding into this ridiculous del–” You’re cut off by your own scream as Zayne’s fingertips close over your nipple, using his Evol to make his skin colder than it normally was. He repeats his demand, saying your name so tenderly–a stark contrast to his unforgiving touch that your body yearned for.

“Tell me.”

“Y-You!” you squeal as Zayne rolls your sensitive tip in his skillful torturous fingers. 

“Who’s the only one who gets to hear you make these perfect little noises?” This time he punctuates his question by bringing his frozen fingers to your clit, pressing down, simultaneously holding your body down as it arches.

“Anngh–you. Only you! P-Please–!” you beg, not able to take the hypersensitivity, but not wanting him to pull away. 

“So good for me,” Zayne murmurs, pressing his cock into you, just barely stretching you out, “And only me, right beautiful?”

Your eyes widen at the feeling of just his thick tip inside you. Your body arches, trying to receive more of him. He gently pushes you back down, his palm flat against your stomach. 

You whine at his blatant denial, using your legs to try to trap his body against yours, pulling him closer so he had no choice but to push deeper.

“Oh g-god, yes!”

But Zayne remains steadfast, his strong muscled body unmoving. Instead, he gently grips your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.

“Say my name.”

Zayne thrusts shallowly, forcefully pulling the words from your lips and making you spill exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Nnngh–only yours, Zayne!” His name rolls off your tongue like music, earning you a low growl of approval from the man just barely inside you. 

As if to reward you, he pushes himself fully inside of you, all the way to the hilt. He falls onto his elbows, rolling his hips with a passionate intensity that has you calling his name–over and over. With a torrid groan of your name, he desperately presses another blossoming bruise into your pulse. Right where everyone could see it.

“That’s right sweetheart. And everyone will know it.”

rafayel 祁煜

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,190

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking, spanking, kinda mentions of voyerism, raf on top but from the back, messy make out

You were a relatively flexible person.

By no means did you have the range of a gymnast or a professional dancer, but all things considered, you were decently limber for the average woman—dabbling in the occasional yoga and pilates. 

But that did little to prepare you for the arch Rafayel was forcing you into, his hand gently gripping your hair for leverage, the other pushing you down lower. 

He’d purposely put his massive ornate gold-rimmed mirror in front of his bed, forcing you to watch as he mounted you savagely from behind, his hips desperate to paint pretty flowering bruises into the plush of your ass.

Rafayel normally punished you with the silent treatment, or overt sass. But now?

He was punishing you with his insatiable body.

“You better not do that again,” the purple-haired artist groans from behind you, his voice much more demanding than you normally ever heard from him. His hips snap into you, your combined arousal dripping down the back of your thighs.

You can only moan back, every nerve end in your body burning with the pleasure delivered from Rafayel’s thick length inside of you, rendering you unable to think or speak clearly. 

Unsatisfied with your lack of response, Rafayel tugs gently at your hair, forcing you to level with him in the reflection in the mirror. He looks devastatingly handsome, his purple wavy hair tousled, like he’d run his hair through it several times. His soft, blemish free, skin a beautiful shade of coral. The sapphire in his eyes eclipses the soft pinkish corals, as he gives into primitive instinct, making them nearly entirely blue.

“Tell me you won’t do that again.”

You whine, even in your cock-drunk state, you know exactly what he wants you to say. 

Rafayel was just wrapping up a guest lecture circuit for the local universities, particularly their fine arts departments. He’d asked you to be his “assistant” to the last one, claiming he needed his precious bodyguard there if any of the students tried to kidnap him for ransom. 

During a portrait exploration exercise, a student had asked you to model for his sketch. It seemed innocent enough, and you didn’t want to make Rafayel look bad by denying a student’s genuine request–being his guest on campus.

And apparently Rafayel did not like that.

“Raf–!” you rasp, doing your best to speak through the torrent of passionate thrusts, your broken voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

“S-Slow down,” you whimper, unable to speak coherently, answer his demand, if he was fucking you this passionately. 

“That’s not what I asked for, pretty girl,” Rafayel murmurs, his own voice nearly broken over how perfect your gummy walls convulse around him. 

You squeal when he presses his palm harder down on the small over your back, making your ass arch even higher for him.

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” he pants, the hand in your hair abandoning your head to grab a fistful of your soft ass. He kneads it tenderly, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you, before releasing it.

Thwack!

Your eyes widen, a squeal erupting from your lips as Rafayel’s hand comes down to meet your rear in a harsh spank. 

“Come on, baby,” he groans your name, halfway between a growl and a whine. 

“W-Was jus’ a portrait sketch,” you reason, catching his heated gaze in the mirror. His perfectly arched eyebrow raises at you.

“You think I care?” Rafayel mutters, smacking your ass again, only this time it’s softer. Not punishing, but rather claiming. With the sole intent to mark you up. His.

“Unngh–you asked me t’come!” you slur, your entire body jolting with the force of his body pounding against yours.

“Yeah, to be my pretty little TA,” Rafayel protests, “Not someone else’s fucking inspiration!”

He slumps over you, forcing you deeper, his chest lightly pressed against your upper back, his lips pressed into your shoulder, nipping gently.

“Ngh–knew I should’ve kept you under my podium,” he grumbles, only half joking. 

You give him a pointed look in the mirror, your face covered in sweaty strands of hair. Rafayel props himself above you with one arm, the other tenderly sweeping your hair out of your face. So he can see you properly. 

You were his. Only his.  

Even if it was just some unsuspecting university student. 

Rafayel grabs your chin, turning your face so he can kiss you. You crane your neck towards him, letting him capture your lips aggressively, possessively. 

It’s anything but a gentle tender kiss, but rather a dark claiming one. One where his tongue explores every inch of you, his teeth nipping your lips, swallowing your exquisite cries of pleasure. 

When he pulls away, a string of saliva connects you to him. His fingers still gripping your chin, he turns you back to the mirror. 

“You’re my muse. No one else gets to use you, innocent sketch or not.”

You nod submissively, inexplicably turned on by his jealous and possessive demeanor. Rafayel smiles at you through the reflection, a heated promise in his bi-colored eyes.

“Fuck—just like that, need to memorize every inch of you like this,” he moans, stroking your hair unbearably gently. As if he wasn’t rutting into you so viciously that his entire bed shook, the expensive wood legs of the frame scraping against the silk rug. 

“You—mmmf—always say that,” you tease him, “Surprised you haven’t—ngh—haven’t created an entire map yet.”

Rafayel gives you an unamused look, his bottom lip jutting out in that adorable Rafayel grimace.

”A map? No,” he lowers himself back to your shoulder, letting his warm breath tickle your neck. He leans his head against yours, his hips rolling like the tides of the ocean. Except maybe during a tsunami. 

He laughs when you nearly collapse, his angry tip hitting your g-spot. He catches you, hooking his arm under your stomach before you can lose that beautiful arch. 

“Raf—!” you moan, “Can’t…Can’t take much more.”

“Easy, cutie,” he kisses your ear, slowing his movements much to your dismay. It stifles your impending orgasm, making you whine in frustration. 

“D-Don’t tease Rafayel!”

He lets out a breathy laugh, giving you a single languid thrust before slowing again. 

“Well I can’t have you tapping out juuuust yet,” he smiles into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your pheromones, the left side of his chest burns as your scent clouds his brain. 

“I need more time, if I’m going to commit this image to memory,” he whispers predatorily into your ear, directing your face back to the massive mirror. The image reflected is so unbearably lewd.

Rafayel’s muscles ripple as he quite literally mounts you. You look so filthily undone beneath him, your skin flushed and shining with sweat, lips swollen and slick.

”Going to make a mural of you, exactly like this,” Rafayel grins wickedly, delighted by the way your eyes widen with horror, before rolling back into themselves. “Cheeks flushed, perfect ass up, hair disheveled…All for me.”

He gives you another gentle spank, your poor cheek reddened and marked.

“Think that will inspire him?”

caleb 夏以昼

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,417

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight improper evol use, mentions of zayne, against the wall sex, kinda leash use, caleb puts his dogtag in reader’s mouth, hickeys, brat taming

Against the setting sun, Caleb’s silver dog tag casts dancing flashes of light on the wall of his bedroom. Sunsets in Skyhaven have always been so much more magnificent. The floor to ceiling windows allow the waning sun to paint the entire room in a brilliant orange glow, the light bouncing off the necklace he never took off. 

The necklace that was now swinging wildly against your own naked chest with the force of Caleb’s desperate, forceful movements. 

”C-Caleb, o-oh god,” you cry, nails digging painfully into him, an angry trail of red welts already littering his muscled back. He hisses at the sting, but it only makes him more feral, his pelvis slamming so violently into yours that the wall behind you nearly tremors with his raw strength.

“Yeah? Finally being sensible, princess? Ready to be a good girl for me?” Caleb grins, his words lacking any real bite, balancing you in one hand as he moves your hair to one shoulder.

You whine in indignation, knowing exactly what brought about his sudden attitude. 

A certain raven haired surgeon you both knew all too well. 

It would be adorable if it wasn’t making him so damn animalistic right now. But who were you kidding—you loved it. Loved him like this. 

“Y-You were in important Fleet briefings all day,” you pant through the moans, his cock spearing up into you as he holds you firmly to the wall. 

He presses ravenous kisses to your jaw, his fist balling as it propped himself against the wall. “And? All you have to do is ask and I’ll have someone stand in for me.”

“You’re the Colonel–mmngh–you can’t just drop your duties every time I n-need someone to pick me up!”

“Fuck– so damn tight,” Caleb groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he ruts into you savagely, “and who says I can’t?”

There’s a childish and challenging lilt to his gravelly voice, squeezing your ass with his right hand, leaving flourishing bruises behind. If that arm couldn’t feel you, it’d sure as hell leave reminders he was there. 

Your eyes roll back, from the pleasure or Caleb’s ridiculousness, you’re unsure.

“It was right next to the hospital,” you whine, squealing when Caleb takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth, “Mmngh–Zayne was a-already there!”

Caleb’s rhythm doesn’t falter for a second at the sound of that name rolling off your tongue. In fact, it seems to only make him more determined. More feral.

He holds your jaw in his fingers, his violet eyes glowing with a cautionary sparkle. The cool metal of his dog tag rattles against your bodies, pressed together and slick with sweat.

“I would’ve been there too. If you called me,” he murmurs petulantly, his face transforming into that classic wet-puppy face that Caleb so expertly used to get his way with you. 

But the contrast of his adorable face to his downright filthy thrusts helps you stay clear-minded against his charms. Well, as clear-minded as you could be when he was being like this.

“Caleb, you’re being unrea—oh god!” you whimper, his fingers meanly pinching your clit, purposely trying to make you lose your train of thought, “U-Unreasonable!”

He pulls your chin to him, enveloping you in a feverish kiss, no doubt trying to get you to give in to his jealous little whims. When he pulls away, he tilts your chin up to look into the burning galaxy in his irises. 

“You’re my girl. Call me next time, okay baby?” His tone, commanding–nearly a growl, betrays his deceptively sweet words. 

You continue trying to reason with him, clawing desperately at the thick ropes of muscles in his back, “You w-were in Skyhaven! Would’ve been—angghh—been waiting for hours!”

Caleb presses warning kisses into your neck, his teeth nipping hard enough to leave marks. He takes one of your hands into his, intertwining your fingers slowly. 

”Personal aircraft. Did you forget? Even after you rode me that one t–”

You whine in embarrassment, cutting him off with a poignant roll of your hips, “Ngh–Caleb! Y-You can't possibly fly a whole ass plane to Linkon every time Zayne tries to–” 

Caleb interrupts your words with a growl, hips slowing down tortuously. His fingers wrap gently around your neck, his head tilted as he stares down at you. 

“Really? You’re going to keep saying his name when you’re crying out for me? For this?”

To punctuate his lightly veiled threat, he ruts particularly viciously, your entire body sliding up the wall. He presses against you so tightly that you shudder, the cool metal of his necklace like ice against your singed skin. His hand brushes along your naval, where he can feel his cock hammering in and out. He presses down, eliciting a beautiful scream from you.

“God, you’re such a brat today,” he growls heatedly in your ear, his hand abandoning your stomach, threading with your fingers again. He raises your joined palms above your head, pushing them into the wall, giving him a bit more leverage as he tries to use his cock to make you forget anyone’s name but his.

Particularly that of your beloved doctor. 

“I’m the brat?!” you say incredulously. He cuts you off, hammering until you can nearly feel him in your throat, but you don’t stop, “Y-You’re the brat! Still letting Zayne get under y–mmmf!”

Irritated at your unending talk of Zayne, his dog tag still swinging annoyingly with the force of his thrusts, Caleb cuts you off again. Using one hand to balance you, his free fingers place the tag of his bouncing silver necklace in between your lips. The cool metal brushes against your tongue and you whine as he squeezes your jaw, making it difficult to release it. 

“Only name I want to hear from you is mine,” he murmurs, voice deceptively soft. He smirks when your eyes roll back, his tag still between your pouty lips. Something about the sight of you, his claim in your mouth, your eyes nearly white with the sheer force of pleasure only he can give you? It sends him dangerously close to losing all control.

Caleb’s fist slams into the wall next to your head, gasping out a string of expletives, his hips stuttering with the overwhelming emotions he feels when he looks at you. Taking a deep breath, he tries to collect himself, not quite ready to give you your release. His fist softens, stroking the chain of the necklace as it dangles from your mouth toward his chest. 

“You gonna be good?” he coos your name, his smooth, heated voice doing little to betray how dangerously close he is to coming undone into your impossibly tight heat.

You give him a rebellious glare, your eyes saying no. You were this close to being cock drunk and giving in to enabling his possessive behavior, but you did your damned best to hold onto your pride.

Caleb chuckles darkly, freeing your chin which lets you drop the metal tag from between your teeth. He catches it in his fingertips, stroking the damp steel, his wordlessness feeling almost sinister.

You yelp when your neck is yanked towards him, close enough that you can feel his threatening breath against your lips, a dangerous glint in his eyebrow-shadowed eyes.

At first you think it’s his Evol, both his hands still occupied–one gripping the dog tag and the other gripping your ass. But at the slight sting at your nape, you realize you’d completely missed him slipping the gifted necklace over your neck. That he probably with his Evol.

And now he was using it like a leash, pulling you toward him like he owned you. 

You gasp when he tilts his head, still gripping the necklace gently, your back slamming into the wall as he fucked into you with renewed vigor. He inhales your choked breath as his own, wanting to consume you entirely. 

With his Evol, he holds you flush against the wall, using one hand to guide you with the pull of the silver jewelry, the other cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw. 

“I hope you don’t have any more plans this weekend. Especially not with Zayne.”

His hand slides from your jaw to your neck again, squeezing in a way that has not only your throat constricting but also your cunt, in pure thrill.

“We’re going to be here until the only name you remember is mine. Now be a good girl and be quiet, yeah?”

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[jazz-the-writer]

Guys I’m afraid 🫠 so afraid…. The DS Lee Felix AU fic….🫠 I fear it writes itself every fucken day he spends here in California ……look I wanted to buy a ticket to the show in Cali but I’m a broke bitch and I needed some shit I was actually going to use.

I drew on the fucking picture of Felix ok? I’m. He just \(//∇//)\ LOOK AT HIM WITH PINK IN THE OHOTO HES SO DREAMY I CANT HE LOOKS LIKE HE IS IN A CHERRY BLOSSOM TREE THi NG IDK i HAVE NEVER FUCKEN BEEN to a tree like that

(● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

Even if I did buy the tickets it wouldn’t have been the ones I want. I would have bought seats pretty far maybe balcony ones of whatever tf there called. Look I’m a hermit fangirl who just spends her time thinking up filthy fantasy versions of the only kpop boys I am geeked over. They got me hooked line and sinker and I fear that my heart always wavers in their favor.

But I will admit only Jimin comes close to my love for ….im gonna leave it there. This is already an over the top confession of a post….this is the beginning of a second DS Lee Felix fic ramble….maybe ??? I wanna say it’s just me being a simp for skz.

Lee Felix. I was awake when you fucken posted on instagram. I felt attacked and it’s not fair for you to use that song cause it 100% applies to you 🫠 ….im. It’s midnight. I need sleep. I fucken finished the tags okay I might come back to add to this. I am still organizing the other fic ramble all the screenshots are there already. I posted it a a week ago I think….

Time 🫠what is? It’s fucken 00:24

[asiatic-apple]

What the birthday boy wants...

aka, marathon sex

Caleb x female reader

You’ve spent weeks planning for this day. The bakery order. The string lights. The playlist tailored to every one of Caleb’s favorite songs. A whole night built around making him feel as loved, celebrated, and special as he always makes you feel.

But when your boyfriend steps through the door, none of it matters anymore.

He drops his bag, eyes locking on you like you’re the only thing in the world worth seeing. He barely spares a second glance at the birthday banner above the kitchen. Doesn’t notice the cake, frosted to perfection and waiting on the counter. Not even the presents lined up in a neat little row by the sofa.

All he can focus on is you. Standing there in that dress he’s obsessed with—the one he bought for you and said made you look “dangerous.”

“Happy birthday,” you say, soft and nervous while fidgeting with the black ribbon on the strap of your dress.

He doesn’t answer. You blink and he’s surging toward you like gravity has shifted and his body has no choice but to fall into yours.

Caleb kisses you like he’s starving.

No gentle greeting, no birthday speech about how lucky he is (he’s definitely thinking it, though). Just his mouth crashing into yours, hands gripping your soft waist like he needs to anchor himself while he loses control.

You stumble back blindly, barely registering that he’s walking you toward the wall until your spine hits plaster and his hands are already sliding beneath your dress.

“I’m sorry,” he whines, leaving sloppy kisses along your jaw, your throat, then the top of your cleavage. “I know you planned so much. I saw it. And I swear I love it all. But I can’t—I can’t do any of it right now.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling his head back just enough to see his eyes. His pupils are so dark and dilated that you barely see the rings of vibrant violet around them. Yet through his desire, he manages a needy pout—begging for forgiveness even as he looks ready to fuck you into the wall.

“Caleb, you don’t have to apologize.” Chuckling softly, you brush your fingers through the hair along the nape of his neck. “If this is what you want, then I can’t deny the birthday boy.”

That’s all the permission he needs before he’s back on you again.

“All I’ve thought about today is you,” he groans. “Knew you’d be waitin’ for me, all dolled up. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

It’s clear he’s getting more and more riled up as his hands wander your body. You love when he gets like this, all slurred words from being drunk on the sight and feel of you. He hasn’t even gotten your dress off yet, but he’s already a mess.

“I don’t want dinner,” he murmurs, fingers trailing up to tickle the band of your panties. “Don’t want cake. Just want you.” His declaration makes you whimper, thighs already pressing together at the sound of his voice—how low it drops, how hungry it sounds. “Please, baby. Wanna taste you. I need it.”

One shaky nod from you is all it takes and then he drops to his knees, eyes locked on yours as he tugs your panties down your legs.

“I’ll make it up to you for ruinin’ your plans,” he says. “Gonna lick this sweet pussy ‘til the candles on that cake melt.”

You barely manage a breath before his mouth is on you.

There’s no buildup, no teasing. He’s too impatient to take his time—and he already has plans to fuck your cunt with his tongue all night long anyway, so he doesn’t need to savor this.

He devours you, tongue parting your folds, hot and wet and focused as he sucks on your clit like he’s trying to get drunk off the taste of you. His large hands envelop your thighs, keeping you still as you shake against the wall.

It’s barely been two minutes of his lips on you and it already feels like you’re close to coming. The way his head is buried beneath the frilly skirt of your dress, his fingers digging into your plush skin—it’s so filthy that it makes the pressure build in the pit of your stomach. 

His tongue keeps flicking your clit with a single-minded focus on making you come as hard and fast as humanly possible. The devastating rhythm has you gushing all over his lips while you cry his name. If you could see him right now, you’d catch the sinful sight of your juices mixed with his spit as it trails down his chin and neck.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hips stuttering forward. “Caleb, you’re gonna make me–”

“Do it,” he growls against your pussy. His words are muffled while he’s unwilling to part from your flesh for even a second. “Come f’me…”

Your orgasm hits hard, too fast, the pleasure spiking so sharp that your legs buckle as he groans against you. And Caleb keeps licking and sucking you through it like he wants to wring you dry.

He stands before your knees fully give out, catching you with one strong arm around your waist. You desperately try to suck in deep breaths, but they catch in your throat at the sight of his slicked up mouth and chin—coupled with lust-blown eyes that say he only wants more.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs. “Better than cake, I bet.” Then he kisses you—tongue and all—and you moan into it, dizzy from how quickly you reached your peak.

He lifts you into his arms effortlessly and carries you to the bedroom, shedding clothes with barely restrained urgency. His shirt hits the floor. His belt clatters across the carpet (god, it’s so hot when he undoes it with just one hand).

He kisses you between every hurried step, mouthing every patch of skin he can reach without ever slowing down. A quick bite on your bottom lip. Then he sucks harshly on the sensitive spot under your ear, surely trying to leave a mark that lasts.

When your back hits the bed, you reach for his cock already peeking out between the unzipped top of his pants. He’s already achingly hard, already leaking enough precum to make the lazy glide of your hand so smooth and slick.

Caleb shudders from your touch and whispers, “Need you, baby. Need you so bad I can’t think straight.”

You don’t keep him waiting any longer. He hikes your dress up around your hips while you guide him to your entrance. And then he pushes inside fully with one deep stroke.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, bracing himself over you, arms trembling. “God, you feel so good. So perfect—always so wet for me.”

His thrusts start fast. Like he can’t slow down even if he wants to. The tip of his cock drags against your g-spot so deliciously that your eyes roll back. And he watches in awe, mesmerized by the way you moan for him.

You claw at his back and wrap your legs around his waist as he pounds into you, the bed creaking beneath every motion. It’s not long before you come again with a sob, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around him. He kisses the tears from your cheeks and slows for a moment before pulling out.

The sudden loss makes your breath stutter in confusion. But just as quickly, he flips you over and pulls you onto your hands and knees.

“Don’t worry, pips,” he pants, pressing back into you with a broken groan. “I’m not done with you. Need to make you come again.”

You’re not sure if you’ll even be able to do what he wants when your whole pussy is tingling with oversensitivity. But he fucks you through it—through your cries, through the overstimulation, through the way your arms collapse beneath you and he has to wrap an arm around your stomach just to hold you upright.

You can feel him shaking behind you, can hear how close he is in the way his voice starts breaking, the way he whispers, “Gonna come inside you, fill you up—fuck—gonna mark you.” When your moans pitch higher, it only makes him even more crazed. “Yeah, you want that?” he murmurs, thrusts turning more erratic. “Then you gotta come for me again, pretty girl.”

Before you can say a word, his fingers glide down your front. They dip beneath your dress and hastily lock onto your clit, rolling and pinching the throbbing bud with the intent to make you flutter around him.

The two of you come together this time, your moans entangling and turning into the most obscene symphony.

Caleb twitches inside you before spilling one of the biggest loads you’ve ever taken from him. It leaks from your swollen pussy when he pulls out, but he wastes no time smearing it around and pushing some of it back inside with two thick fingers.

You can already tell your dress is going to be ruined—the top all damp with sweat and the hem messy with your combined releases. 

It’d make sense for Caleb to stop now. After such an intense orgasm, you’re expecting him to be too tired and not hard enough to keep going.

But when he eases his fingers out of your sore pussy and rolls you onto your back, his eyes are still full of something wild.

And when you glance down at his cock, it’s already half-hard again.

He slides back into you slowly, cradling your jaw with one hand and your thigh with the other. He moves like he wants to memorize every part of your body.

Every time you whimper, he moans. Every time you cry out, he praises you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers. “So good for me, letting me have you again and again.”

You lose track of time. Hours blur into one long, aching haze of pleasure. He takes you every way he can—on your back, on your side with your leg hitched around his waist, then riding him until he’s trembling beneath you and gasping your name like a prayer.

And every time you come, he tells you how good you are. How lucky he is to have you. How you’re the only present he ever wants on his birthday.

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had when you’re wrung out and raw, eyes glassy, thighs trembling and sticky.

But Caleb is still insatiable. Still making up for all the years he never got to have you like this. Your legs are spread by his strong hands, and he licks into you again—achingly slow this time. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s finally getting tired or if he just wants to take his time worshipping you.

“Hm, you taste even better after I’ve come inside you,” he whispers.

You moan, twitching beneath him, and he just smiles against your folds.

It takes longer now that you’ve had so many orgasms already, but he diligently pulls one more out of you. And after you come with such a sweet moan, you both collapse in a tangled heap, breathless and sore.

Caleb yanks you to his chest, his fingers playing with your hair while you catch your breath. His eyes are still half-lidded with desire as he mumbles, “Best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You snort. “You didn’t even get to blow out your candles.”

He looks at you with a lazy, wrecked smile. “I blew your back out instead.”

You swat his chest, but he catches your hand and kisses your fingers, then the inside of your wrist with a wet smack.

“I’m still not done,” he says, like it’s a threat. But you must be just as crazy as he is, because you faintly feel the pulse of arousal between your thighs yet again.

“Caleb, isn’t it getting too late–”

“It’s still my birthday for another hour,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your sweaty neck. “Doesn’t that mean I get whatever I want?”

Your breath hitches and your body gets all worked up again as he slides his leaking cock up and down your slit.

“And what I want,” he whispers, “well…you already know.”

a/n: thank you to the anon who requested this!

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[reignpage]

❀ In which you beg husband!nanami to skip the foreplay

“Please, Ken? Just do it. Just fuck me.”

You’ve been begging your husband to forego the foreplay and take what he wants from your more-than-ready body for what feels like hours now, but, ever the gentleman, he refuses again and again. Groaning initially, he shook his head and tried to get his hands delving into your panties, insisting that you needed attention before he could even think about letting your pretty pussy take his cock whole. 

Kento sighs. “Sweetheart, you know it’ll hurt.”

“It won’t! I’m already wet, I told you.”

Straddling his big thighs, he can hardly fight you off when you’re pushing your panties to the side and aiming his pretty pink tip to your hole. You have your bare breasts shoved in his face and he has half a mind to succumb to the pillow-like softness of your body. Still, he argues, “That may be so but you haven’t been loosened at all, darling. It’s going to hurt.”

“Don’t you want to, Kenny? Don't you want to make love to your wife? Oh, I get it. Maybe you’re just trying to make excuses not to fuck me.” Twirling a lock of his blond hair, you pout, really pushing the theatrics on him just as you pump him once and twice. “Maybe I’m not pretty enough for you anymore – my tummy hasn’t bounced back as quickly as I’d hope and all these stretch marks make me look like a tiger. Is that not your thing, Ken? I bet you wish I was younger and hotter and tighter everywhere, right? I’m sure you want to upgrade to the latest model.”

His brow twitches. Jaw flexing, he throws his foggy glasses off to the side and grabs your hips firmly, a fiery resolution boiling in those eyes off his. You clit twitches at the sound of his deep timbre, taking a threatening pitch. Oh, how you love this side of him; Mean Ken you call it. Mean, Scary Ken.

Kento growls, “That’s enough. You’re playing dirty again. You want my cock that bad? You want to be filled up, to be fucked, so badly that you’d let filthy lies leave these lips of yours? Well, then, here you go, honey.”

In one harsh tug, he’s inside you. Inches are shoved into your pulsing pussy, forcing your doughy walls to stretch suddenly, accommodating that thick girth of his that never fails to leave you panting for mercy. It’s too much too fast. Fuck. He was right. He’s always right. Shit. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders, back arching, thighs threatening to snap shut around his hips, head thrown the fuck back. 

“Ah! S-stop, Ken. It -hah- hurts. Stop. Please.”

Kento shakes the overwhelming lust making him stupid. He got carried away. And, though he vowed to satisfy you, to fulfill every whim and desire, and to spoil you rotten, he should have had the wisdom and control to know this could only end one way. But his wife sounds so pretty and angelic when she begs. Now, look. His darling wife is wincing, body shaking like a leaf, and biting back tears. Something tightens in his chest and he has to resist the urge to stand in the middle of oncoming traffic – a dramatic habit to self-sabotage he never fully left behind from his teen years. 

Cooing, he says, “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Look at me. Let Kento see your pretty face. Hi, darling. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you like this. Fuck. I told you, didn’t I? I told you, you needed to be loosened properly. Foreplay is important and I shouldn’t have skipped it. I’m sorry. Forgive me, darling.”

“No, I’m sorry, Ken. It was stupid. Ugh, I just wanted to make you feel good; you came back home looking more tense than usual. And I hate feeling useless when you’re working so hard to provide for us.” 

He clutches you to him, calloused hand rubbing circles into your back as the other grips your bare thigh and thumbs at the crease where your leg and hips meet. “How many times do I have to tell you, honey? Making you feel good makes me feel good; I could spend hours tending to you, never touching myself, and I’d be more than happy. Don’t you know by now how much I love eating your cunt? Don’t I show it enough? Have I not been a very good husband lately?”

You shake your head. “No, you’re the best, Ken. Always the best.”

“Hmm, aren’t you sweet?” Kento nuzzles your cheek, teasingly scratching your skin with his growing beard the way you like and slowly pushing his hand up and up until it’s squeezing a tit tight, flicking your nipple on the way to listen to your sharp intake of breath. “If your husband is as great as you say, don’t you think he deserves a reward?”

His cock slides out of you with a pop! and you’re laid out on his desk, papers crinkling under your body, faster than you can say ‘yes.’

With your pussy lips spread for his viewing pleasure, he teaches you the importance of patience, foreplay, and letting your husband take what he needs from you the way he wants and not how you assumed. That evening, you learn a valuable lesson: listen well.

After all, Kento always knows best. 

[yeagurt2]

It starts with you crying.

Not the kind of crying he likes — no broken whimpers under his mouth, no teary moans while he’s got you bent over.

No, this time it’s real. Ugly. Raw. You’re curled up on his mattress in one of his hoodies, knees to your chest, cheeks blotchy and eyes red, breathing all uneven while you try to keep it in — like he won’t notice.

He notices.

TOJI stands in the doorway, towel slung over his shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. He says nothing at first. Just watches. Lets you cry. Lets you shake. Gives you space.

Then he moves.

Silently. Slowly. The bed dips under his weight as he sits beside you and runs a rough palm over your back.

"Hey," he murmurs. “C’mere.”

You don’t move.

He sighs and just wraps an arm around you, tugs you into his lap like you weigh nothing, lets your face bury into his chest as the sobs shake through you.

“Breathe, baby. S’okay. Just breathe.”

And you do. You breathe. You cry. And he holds you through it, big hand rubbing circles into your lower back.

Minutes pass.

You try to speak but it comes out messy, trembling, wet. “I’m s-sorry.”

Toji frowns. “What the fuck for?”

“For being like this.”

His hand pauses.

Then he grips your chin, tilts your head up — and fuck, your face. Your cheeks are streaked, your lips trembling, lashes wet.

He should be focused on comforting you.

But something about the way you’re clinging to him, broken and trusting and vulnerable, starts to stir something dark and hot in his chest. And lower.

“Don’t apologize for feeling shit, baby,” he says quietly. “You don’t gotta be strong all the time.”

You nod. Sniffling. Eyes still glassy.

He wipes a tear with his thumb — but doesn’t move his hand. His palm cradles your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek again, slower this time.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you cry,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You freeze.

“Toji…”

He exhales, sharp and shaky, like he's trying to shake it off. “Didn’t mean to be a fuckin’ creep, but—fuck. You cryin’ like that, clingin’ to me? Can’t lie, it’s doin’ things to me.”

You blink up at him. Confused. Curious. But not pulling away.

So he keeps going.

“You want me to stop, I’ll stop. But baby…” his hand slides down to your thigh, squeezes, voice dipping low, dark. “I can make you forget all of it. Just let me take care of you.”

You nod.

It’s small. Shy.

But it’s permission.

Toji wastes no time — kisses you deep, slow, the kind that bruises. His hand slides up your hoodie, cups your breast, thumb grazing your nipple until you whimper into his mouth.

“You’re still cryin’,” he mutters against your lips. “Fuck. You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

He pulls back, strips you bare, lays you out across the sheets like a prayer. You’re still sniffling, eyes puffy, and it makes his cock throb. Something about the contrast — your broken little face, your trembling thighs, and the way you’re still spreading them for him like you trust him with all of it.

He presses kisses down your chest, your stomach, settling between your legs like he belongs there.

“Gonna take my time, baby. Gonna make you cry for a different reason.”

And he does.

His tongue’s relentless. Slow and filthy. Long licks through your folds, tongue flicking against your clit while his hand holds your thighs apart, his grip bruising.

You gasp. Arch. Tears spilling fresh again as the pleasure hits harder than you can take.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cry f’me. Let it all out.” He groans into your cunt, tongue fucking into you, licking like a man possessed. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet when you’re sad.”

You cum quick. Too quick. Body jerking under him, sobs mixing with moans as your legs shake. He doesn’t stop.

He keeps going.

Keeps licking until you’re begging, until you’re pushing at his head weakly, voice all broken: “T-Toji, wait—s-sensitive, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “Be good. Take it.”

You squirt. Hard. All over his chin. He groans, licking you through it, drinking every drop like he’s starving.

When he finally pulls back, his face is soaked, eyes dark, cock straining against his sweats.

He climbs up your body, kisses the tears off your cheeks.

“You still crying, baby?”

You nod. He smirks.

“Good.”

He fucks you slow and deep, praises you through every stroke. Tells you how good you feel, how proud he is, how beautiful you look even with your mascara smudged and your voice wrecked.

And afterward, when you’re curled up against his chest again, sore and dazed, the tears finally drying — he kisses your forehead and mutters:

“Next time you feel like crying? Come straight to me.”

“You’ll comfort me?”

“Mm.” He smirks. “That’s one word for it.”