hazyue

[hazyue]

Stop 89, Bus Number 642. Veritas Ratio.

Summary: In all your futile effort to resist, you never could stop yourself from being drawn to the stranger who sat himself at the back of the bus day by day. He was an enigma that sparked your curiosity and maybe a little more than that, too.

Author's note: Happy early birthday, Auphie! I love ya so much, girly, and I hope you enjoy your gift <3

The bus slowly rolled to a stop.

The sight of the trees that had been passing by turned from a blur of browns and greens to serene branches fluttering softly in the wind. It danced through the open door all the way to the book in your lap to stir the pages. You could feel them under your thumb, keeping them secured and stopping their futile resistance to turn to another chapter to lay down flat once again as the people in line slowly started to trickle in.

At first, it was an older lady with hollow cheeks who placed herself in the disability section, then a young teenager with headphones and a serious amount of eyeliner, and lastly, it was him.

A sandal met the treads of the first step.

Another step, and he was on the bus. The doors swinging shut behind him with a hissing creak.

The first time you had seen the stranger had been two months ago, but no matter how much time had managed to pass you by, he never failed to draw your eye again and again each time he moved across the walkway with poise to his seat. It was always the same one, on the outside right next to the aisle just two rows from the bench lining the back with cheap plastic and poor excuses of foam cushions that always left you with a sore rump at the end of the ride.

From the moment you first caught a glimpse of violet strands adorned by a single gold accessory securely pinned in place your interest was piqued, and yet it was the rest of the stranger’s attire that had you doing a double take to process him in his entirety.

Granted, there were always an odd passenger or two, from people dropping into the chairs with little to no remorse trying to get home after a long night drinking to those who lacked a single ounce of social decency as they yelled into their phone about how downright terrible they had been doing as of late- It's just this had been a bit more than either of those things. White and blue robes draping across his body, a ridiculously tight top you couldn't bring yourself to qualify as a shirt, and even a golden shoulder piece glittering in the low morning light clinging to him all painted the picture of a man trying to embrace his obsession with Ancient Greece in the modern day or a cosplayer trying to capture a character from a gacha game that hasn't quite found the line between cultural appropriation and appreciation.

All in all: He was a painting accidentally created in the real world with a stray stroke of a brush.

With an “Alright then” you had decided it was best to shrug that off. There's always strange sights on this side of the galaxy, and he was hardly the oddest thing out there.

Besides, your nose had already been itching at the time to bury itself back between the leather spine you had sat before you anyway, and you were ready to cast off the thought of him when you had caught sight of marble.. no…alabaster? Atop the man's head, and your confusion had turned into…well…more confusion.

The thought he was just a freak lingered for the rest of the ride all the way up until he had stood up, walked his way down the aisle with the same air of confidence he had when he walked in, and stepped out the bus’ double doors.

Gone.

Good riddance, right?

With that you had leaned back into your seat and called it a momentary distraction.

Only for him to show up again Monday after the weekend passed.

You had nearly coughed out the small sip of water you had been taking as his bright purple pants had flashed into view when he walked past you to place himself in the same seat he had been in three days ago. Alabaster head, legs crossed, and a hardcover in his hands; just as he had been before.

That was taking being committed to the bit too far.

Your water bottle had crinkled in your hand as you looked him up and down again, the sound just barely crackling in your ears over the music playing on the radio speakers. It was a pop song, but you hadn't registered anything besides the catchy beat when you had looked this stranger up and down again- scouring- only to stop on the book in his hands.

‘Metazoa: Animal Minds And The Birth Of Consciousness.’

You had read that one before. It had an intriguing perspective that had you stopping every few pages to reflect on and simply think. And there was Alabaster Head himself soaking it all in.

That day, you had taken note of where he had gotten off. Stop 89. It was the one right before the university. Students had already been walking about and getting ready to go to classes when he joined the crowd effortlessly, and worse still: it was just one stop before yours.

From there seeing him every weekday became a new part of your routine.

He never failed to make himself comfortable back there, but nonetheless put together all the same as he pulled out a notebook. Every pothole would have him muttering to himself and rolling his eyes as it ruined his writing. On other occasions, he went through books with ease, even ones you had difficulties with upon your first read, and when he was done, he'd simply pull out another without stopping.

You recognized a few titles, others you found yourself adding to your list and pulling out on the same bus. ‘A Defense of Common Sense,’ ‘Ignorance: A Case of Skepticism,’ and many more. A few were even snuggled up in the embrace of your bag your foot habitually pressed against to keep it from toppling over to spill all its contents out at the sudden motion of the bus rolling and stopping with every new passenger picked up.

On the day went, just like any other.

Then the next.

And the next.

Until there was a disturbance in your newfound routine you had just eased into, shattering it once more.

He had stopped, only for a moment, as the driver called out to the woman who had gotten on behind him to say she was short a few cents. The stranger had already reached into his pocket, the edge of a wallet and a zipper swinging back and forth causing you to squint at the light reflecting off of it when she had forced out an awkward laugh, apologized, and fished a few coins out of her purse. They jingled together as they fell into the counting machine. That's all it took for the strangers to hum and turn back around.

Only for him to stall, the passive disinterest he wore upon his face you had grown to recognize him for suddenly falling away into something new you knew well from all the times you've seen it in yourself every time a subject truly drew you in to catch your attention: interest. Specifically for the book in your hands. And then his eyes flicked up to you.

Onyx set ablaze to bring out shades of red and gold in its flame, rimmed by rouge stared back at you questioningly.

Like this it was easy to tell just how handsome he was up and close with a sharp jawline resembling that of the stone head he hides behind, a small wrinkle between his brows you could only guess was from furrowing them in concentration, and those lips…

A muttered hello was on the tip of your tongue, ready to be said, only for him to turn away and go to take his seat. As he walked away, you could hear him mutter “It's good to know I'm not completely surrounded by neanderthals.”

Your eyes followed him, just like they always did, and yet there was a change in how he captured your gaze- your half hearted interest in him from before couldn't compare to how you were now sitting there thinking it would be nice to know his name, maybe even more.

When you finally managed to will yourself to look away from your stranger you were left staring at your knuckle white grip that refused to relax until he had finally stepped off that same treaded step he used to get on.

When you had reached your stop, the thought of him was still in your mind.

Five miles hadn't been enough to purge him away.

Nor had the walk to your desk, the task of handling your job, going back home, doing chores, eating, and laying back in your bed wondering why you hadn't simply gotten up and followed him while you had the chance to ask one simple question.

Sleep had taken you that night, and when you awoke, you found that your pillow hadn't stolen your mindless daydreaming away like it usually did once morning came.

Its promise of comfort failed to seduce you with whispers of just a minute or two more as you grabbed everything you needed to head out and go back to the bus stop. Your pace was brisk as you walked, each step seeming to carry you a bit more than the last as you thought of just how you'd approach him- Only for the moment to finally come as you got on the bus to steal all your confidence away. Just like normal, you took a seat by the front, ignoring the one next to his entirely.

It was a normal day.

Nothing happened.

Besides glancing back at him to find your stranger looking back.

Immediately, your head snapped away only to hear him sigh and return to what he had been doing prior.

The next day was exactly the same.

Glances.

Glances.

Glances.

For weeks.

Before you knew it, it had become three months since that first day.

Ideas of going up to him as he sat there plagued you, made you sick with worry with all the ways it could go wrong racking you like a never-ending coughing fit. What if he couldn't hear you through that head? What if he outright ignored you? What if- You licked your lips, chapped from all the times you've nervously chewed at them.

At this point, a sheep would be able to face a wolf before you gathered even a sliver of courage to just talk to him.

How hard is it to simply ask “Hey stranger, what's your name?”

With a sigh you did your best to push the idea away as the cable behind you shifted, brushing against the back of your shoulder as your stranger gave it a light tug to signal the bus driver to pull over.

A robotic voice rang out saying “Stop 89” just like always.

You could hear chatter from the students running around outside, a few muttering about how their professor had thrown chalk at them and declared them an “utter buffoon” as they moved across the sidewalk to the school your stranger was already preparing to depart for.

There's always tomorrow you told yourself, knowing fully well you've repeated that same matra far too many times to count.

Your head hit the window pane behind you with a dull thunk. The cool air sneaking through its crack blew against you, but that wasn't what awoke gooseflesh on your skin. It couldn't be. Not when he looked back at you right before the open doors, eyes once again locking with yours as they had so many times now, and nodded.

A simple gesture.

Your hand raised in turn.

A barest flicker of a smile was your reward, leaving you reeling and planting your foot back against your bag as you expected the bus to suddenly roll off down the street again leaving the image of him as nothing but a memory, but he was still there, a testament to the fact the bus hadn't even budged an inch.

How badly you wanted to see that again.

Even as his broad back faced you as he left.

A sigh left your lips just as your head fell into your hands, a silent scream bubbling up in your throat just waiting to startle the group of people around you. Heat flared in your cheeks you were trying to hide away. Through your fingers, you could see the title of the book you had brought today.

‘The Nature of Love’ by Irvin Singer.

How ironic.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, you promised yourself doing your best to ignore the way your nerves were already matching the blaze affecting your face.

But for now, you grabbed the same cable for stop 90.

The same voice rang in your ear a day later as other passengers pulled on it, counting down with the screen at the front reading out each street you were on in bold red letters in a constant loop. You couldn't help but want them to stop. To go faster. To suddenly read out the same street, your stranger was always on when he got picked up.

A man beside you shifted, moving to sit down after he had been standing most of the ride.

You peered at him quietly, the movement drawing you in and almost making you miss the driver pulling the lever at his side.

The bus slowly rolled to a stop.

The doors opened.

A sandal met the treads of the first step.

You were already on your feet by the time he was walking right past you, your hand gripping onto the sticky yellow bar. A part of you hoped that was only because of the peeling caution sticker on it, and the other couldn't care less as you watched him.

He settled in, alabaster head hiding away the face you had found yourself searching for every day. The thought of him possibly smiling at you one more time was all it took for you to snatch your bag up and finally let go of your worries- leaving them behind with the warning sign.

If the driver yelled at you to sit down, you didn't hear him, not over the thrumming in your ears as your heartbeat accelerated when your stranger lowered the book in his grasp at your approach.

“May I take the seat beside you?”

“It's not as if it's occupied.”

You stood a little taller at his response, the idea of him brushing you off entirely no longer weighing you down. “I- I want a direct yes or no.”

A single finger, ornamented by a ring, tapped his book. “Then please, feel free.”

“Right….right.”

Before you even had a chance to squeeze past him, your stranger was getting up, those blue robes flickering behind him as he moved to allow you to take the inner seat right by the window. He stood tall, just like always as you moved past him to settle in, bag on your lap.

You were already toying with its straps when you heard the chair next to you groaning under his weight.

His arm brushed against yours.

“I am Veritas Ratio, an educator at the local

university.” A beat of silence passed before he asked “You are?”

Your name fell out on instinct, before you even had a chance to look at him again, and when you did you failed to find any dustings of white on his face or even a single bit of stone as he stared back at you. No glance could compare.

“I see. Well, I hope you know I intend to keep to my studies on this ride so do try to entertain yourself.”

The book he pulled out wasn't surprising. If anything, you half expected it along with him hiding away again, but all he did was flip through the pages occasionally. His hair would sway with every gust of cool air from the AC causing Veritas to occasionally reach up and push the strands back into place, his hand staying to rest on his temple for only a moment before dropping down.

“And try not to stare so obviously. It makes you look foolish.”

The rest of the ride had passed without a word shared between you, only the sound of both yours and his pages turning after you had pulled out a book of your own to pass the time away with the sun seeping through the windows to light up both of your pure white pages laid out before you.

That night, it fell back down to hide away in the sky.

And when it had risen again to mark the start of the next to once again shine on Veritas he had stopped before where you were sitting in those crappy chairs at the front of the bus to ask one simple question. “Well, are you joining me in my usual seat or not?”

Your answer was obvious. “I'd be foolish not to.”

[hazyue]

oh my gosh

[hazyue]

[hazyue]

SUNDAY is beautiful like… the ringing sound of church bells, chiming in the distance. preened wings, with not a single feather out of place. morning dew glistening over freshly cut grass. a flock of charmony doves. perfectly sliced figs and pears that have begun to spoil. sweet rot. tiny, glistening droplets of blood spilling onto polished tiles. the sun rising, allowing for a new day to break across the horizon. harmony. a lie, a secret, and a promise, passed through the screen of a confessional. the soft kind of love, as fragile and shaky as his own heartbeat.

ROBIN is beautiful like a flurry of songbirds harmonizing in the early hours of the morning. piano tiles and violin strings. pure, unrestrained laughter ringing through the air. dawn. a string of pearls clasped around a slender neck. the smell of fruit lingering in the air, so sweet you can practically taste it. one lone charmony dove, singing to distract itself from the solitude. camera flashes. hushed chatter. eyes, so many eyes, all focused on you. fallen feathers under your feet. stolen kisses in the rain, like a scene stolen right from a movie. a symphony, one note short of being complete.

AVENTURINE is beautiful like glinting gold and silver jewelry, inlaid with the most precious jewels. the deep blacks and vibrant reds of a roulette wheel, spinning so dizzyingly fast the colours blur into one. peacock feathers. tattered scraps of memories too faded to be recognizable. empty promises and sweet talk. a voice so charming, you can practically taste the false sincerities dripping from his tongue. fool’s gold. money, incomprehensible amounts of money at your fingertips. the tantalizing smell of victory at your feet, before it is swiftly pulled away.

MOZE is beautiful like a full moon rising over a quiet and clear night. a spotless, newly cleaned house. silence; glorious, uninterrupted silence. the gilded hilt of a blade, moments before it slices your throat. feathers as dark as ink and smooth as silk. a frenzied heartbeat pounding in your throat. two shadows walking perfectly in sync. the illusion of solitude. resolution that can’t be wavered; will that can’t be broken. a glint of silver blinking in the darkness. sickness, suffering, in the most poetic sort of way. the comforting, yet vaguely unsettling realization that you aren’t alone anymore.

MYDEI is beautiful like a blazing fire, spitting and crackling with sparks. freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. a roar of triumph after a vicious battle. the sun dipping low in the sky once more, allowing another day to pass despite it all. blood. gladioluses and chrysanthemums. victory, sweet, wretched victory with a cost so high, few would ever deign to call it such. blood, lining the sharpened edge of a sword. a crown of laurels set atop your head. blood, dark as wine and seeping through the folds of your clothing. all that is fair and just.

CASTORICE is beautiful like delicate butterfly wings. roses blooming under the feeble glow of moonlight. sweet relief. flower petals spilling out under bandages, sprouting in the warmth of open wounds. the loving embrace of death closing its arms around you. fresh linen. shades of purple, of white, and of pink. hands hovering close, but never touching. the intimacy of closeness without words. scattered pomegranate seeds and evenly sliced fruits. the signs of age—wrinkles, and cracks, and wear. bittersweet loneliness. the careless sigh of a long life well-lived.

©castorizz 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

[hazyue]

"Blow for me."

It was a common request from Aventurine, one you had grown so used to you didn't even think twice when he held his hand up to you - only to flick his wrist and let the dice once pooling in his palm dance across the table before you. Every time without fail, the odds would always cone out exactly how he wanted them to. Those clubs would face up towards the overbearing lights of the casino.

He always claimed it was because of you with a sly smile before taking his drink with the hand he always suspiciously kept behind his back when playing and drank.

A lucky charm.

So the next time he successfully wrapped up a project for the IPC, you couldn't help but use this excuse to give him something that had been on your mind for a while. After all, he wasn't the type to accept gifts just because, despite dishing them out for the same reason.

So the next time he held up his hand once again full of dice for you to blow on as you sat beside them, they weren't made of expensive material painted gold and teal, but of resin full of little kiss print charms you had desperately tried to find while making them for him.

The smile he flashed you after a successful roll from then on was always just a bit more...genuine.

[hazyue]

⭒ MYDEI, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

fem reader. face sitting. i am still getting used to him so please forgive my characterisation. sobsob. no plot, just filthy sorry.

word count. 1.9k of pure filth omg. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.

For a crown prince, Mydei could be greedy when he wanted to be— but only in certain instances. Not in the typical sense, he didn’t indulge in land or riches, trivial things that held up no weight amongst his other desires. There was no joy in acts of folly, people stumbling over themselves for foolish, materialistic means.

But there was one thing, that he would allow himself to indulge in— one thing he craved at all times, held more highly than the adrenaline of battle, the rattle of war.

It’s you, like this, now— when your slick is glistening along the side of Mydei’s cheeks and lower half of his face and you can hear him groan from his place beneath you as he laps at you like you’re the sweetest fruit. His face is pushed between your thighs so tightly that you can’t help but grind down on his tongue, and your juices can only drip down to pool onto the sheets beneath him— soaking the luxury fabric as his hair muses against them.

You feel the crown prince’s fingers flex into your hips, his hands lack the usual gold from his gauntlets, but even then it feels just as sharp with how tightly he’s holding you— fingertips squeezing into the skin between your hips and thighs as a thin sheen of sweat glistens against his marked, broad chest.

Mydei looks like a vision of every sinful thought you’ve ever had beneath you, his sharp gaze hasn’t left your body once— no matter how intoxicatingly you roll your hips down onto his mouth or how his tongue makes you arch. He works at you— messy hair, broad muscles, burying himself deeper into you to claim what’s rightfully his— like he’s a warrior who’s finally returned back from war starving.

And you’re his first meal in months.

It makes you shake with the effort that he buries into you, tongue flattening up against your clit as he bathes it in long licks. Until you’re fidgeting against the press of his huge palms, attempting escape from just how good he makes you feel because it feels like it’s too much, and that makes him groan before his brows are furrowing up at you.

“I suggest you think twice before making such a fuss.” You hear the crown prince growl, long and low beneath his breath as his words almost go lost between your folds. The ragged, hungry tone of Mydei’s voice sends vibrations of bliss straight to your clit as your hips twitch from the sudden jolt of pleasure, and the sweet reaction pulls another sinful sound from the man beneath you as your fingers smooth through his already mused hair.

You steady yourself with a breath, though it hardly serves to do much with how he’s got you spread on top of his face— you feel like you can barely breathe, so instead your words come out as more of a gasp.

“But, It’s— It’s so much, it’s hard to hold on.” Mydei can feel that, can feel the way your hole quivers around his tongue when he presses it in past your walls, but he savours the taste of you on it before he’s giving you a sharp— hungry look. You feel his grip on you twitch a bit tighter, as if calling for your attention but you can barely look at him from where he’s buried between your thighs and even meeting his gaze makes you tremble above him.

So instead he demands it, he growls again and it’s perfectly intoxicating when it’s pressed up against your clit — “And just what are you implying? That you can’t endure it?” His words are sharp but they only serve to make your thighs shake.

“I— I don’t know, it feels so good. I don’t know if I can take it.” His movements don’t falter but your voice does as he drinks in the very taste of you that has his thick cock twitching between his thighs. But he pays no mind to it— not when he’s got your back arching beautifully as he slurps and smacks at the taste of you, pushing your tits up perfectly to give him the perfect look.

And it’s impossible for Mydei not to reach out to flick his thumb back and forth over the perky buds before he answers you. Satiating you with another low growl,

“Oh, I’ve long been aware of your limits.” The drawl of his voice makes your hips roll, back and forth as you bare down more of your weight on his tongue— and everytime you arch it only serves to help him palm at your breast with one hand. The other still keeps you steady, and despite the way you’re almost sobbing— he knows you can take even more.

He’s insatiable, ruthless. He needs you creaming on his tongue before he can even think of anything else. So he huffs again, almost pants and you feel the exhaled breath cool over your spit-slick folds as your next inhale catches. It’s slow, the way he curls his tongue through the petals of your pussy next— stroking it across the nerves that long for him there until you’re jolting against his mouth again.

Mydei squeezes your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, not enough to hurt you but enough to make your thighs squeeze around his cheeks. And he looks at you again, “As for you, you could benefit from exploring that impulse yourself.”

And the next push of Mydei’s tongue makes you gasp when it presses inside of you again, welcoming more of your slick into his waiting mouth as he laps at you like a starved mortal and you can barely keep yourself upright. But he speaks again, muffled against your folds but still audible when every syllable is wrapped around your clit, “And i’m more than capable of having you succumb to it.”

The pleasure almost makes you lose your balance, far too focused on only the press of his mouth as you try your best to seek out more. And he has to steady you for a moment before he grunts, squeezing at your skin before pinching at your nipple enough to make you jolt.

“Careful, I’ve got you— but don’t get too careless.” Mydei’s own words have become more breathless now, wild and needy and you feel the coil in your stomach twist and tighten as he works at you. It makes your whole body quiver and the pleasure is almost terrifying— how good you feel. It’s like your mind is filled with cotton and when you cast a glance over your shoulder you see the effect riding the crown prince’s face has on him as you notice his cock twitch.

Precum glistens at the tip as it rests against his thigh untouched, rock-hard but he’s patient— he doesn’t care because you’re close, he can feel it as he shakes his head back and forth between the folds of your cunt and you bare more of yourself down on him again as he struggles to breathe.

“Mydeimos… I’m going to cum, what if I—“ Your lashes flutter beautifully as Mydei watches you, it’s like you’re breaking piece by piece infront of him— like he’s pulling a fruit apart between his palms and he can only admire you.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Embrace it.” His fingers continue to toy with your tits as he suckles on your clit, groaning even louder as your moans take a pitch higher and he’s so buried deep within you, his next breath makes his lungs quake.

And for a moment— for an immortal, he’s never imagined a more desirable death than where he rests now.

He should be ashamed, but Mydei’s never felt so desperate— every swipe of his tongue serves to pull an even sweeter sound from you and he can’t stop. Not until he’s grumbling low against you himself and the sound is only pushing you out even further towards the edge, sparking something hot across your nerves until it feels like your skin is on fire as he rocks you into his tongue.

Your thighs tremble either side of him, and they squeeze his cheeks again as he gives you another sharp look. Movements unrelenting as he feels your orgasm draw nearer, “That’s it.” He growls again— merciless as his fingers squeeze so tight at you they’ll surely bruise and it makes you gasp.

“M-mydei!” You babble his name through pouty lips and your clit knocks against his nose with every uncontrollable buck of your body. Every press of your cunt into his mouth squelches loudly and every stuttered connection with his tongue only serves to make you even wetter as he growls against you.

And Mydei grabs at you this time, holding you there. “There’s no shame in losing yourself to desire.” He reminds you, breathing heavily. But with his next inhale he emphasises it by suckling your clit between his teeth, and it’s with the first nibble on the sensitive bud that your orgasm finally, suddenly washes over you.

The pleasure makes you rigid, and your thighs tighten around his cheeks in response— you think the hold would crush any regular mortal but instead, Mydei only wraps his muscled arms up to hook around your hips even tighter. The position gives him perfect leverage to push his tongue between your walls again, to feel the way they’re clamping desperately around him, and it’s lewd the way you can hear him slurp and drink up everything you offer.

It doesn’t take long until you feel your body finally slacken and you ride out the lingering remnants of your pleasure before every flick of his tongue is making you twitch. The comedown makes your hands tremble, and you can only grab at the lavish headboard in Mydei’s quarters to steady yourself as he continues to bathe your clit in messy kitten licks. Every movement shooting tiny aftershocks through your body until you’re wriggling away enough for him to offer you a grumbled “Hmph.”

He looks messy beneath you— the lower half of his face is soaked with a reminder of you but you can’t help but find him beautiful. You try to rise your hips from him, but his strength forces you to remain there, just inches short of his face and it’s so close you can feel every exhale. His breath panting across your still recovering folds as you try to settle the shake in your thighs.

But the sharpness, hunger in Mydei’s gaze still remains watching you and it’s only after a few moments that he takes his first full breath. It just happens to be against your pussy once more when he leans in to press a messy kiss up against your clit— and despite the way your thighs almost buck from beneath you, there’s an intoxicating cadence to your voice that Mydei can’t ignore when you don’t push him off.

So he makes sure you feel his next words, because the pace he takes on your pussy this time is something slower— intoxicating as he makes out with the still sensitive spread of your folds and every twist and smack of his lips against you almost makes you cry out for him. But still, you don’t struggle against his hands, not from dislike anyway as he offers you another growl. Deeper this time,

“Well, it seems you’re still able to endure. So, are you ready to go again then?”

top star divider by @ saradika-graphics

[hazyue]

ehehe lion!mydei mates with cat!reader since lions are just big cats !! :33

✧ warnings : nsfw/smut, size difference, overstimulation, jealousy, biting/marking, heat/rut implications, rough but affectionate s*x, mild breeding kink, purring, growling, hybrids & cockwarming.

You don’t even see him move.

One moment, you’re laughing, ears twitching as a younger male tugs at your tail in a playful challenge. The next, a low, guttural grow rips through the air, and your body is hauled backward, heat blooming where clawed fingers dig into your hips.

The world spins, grass and sky blending as you’re thrown down.

Mydei looms over you, golden eyes burning with something dark, something dangerous. His tail lashes once before curling tight around your thigh, holding you in place. Caging you in.

“What the fuck was that?” His voice is low, rough—more animal than man.

You barely get a breath in before he’s on you, nose pressed into your neck, scenting you. He inhales deeply, lips curling in a snarl as his fangs scrape against your pulse.

Your ears flatten instinctively. Your tail flicks, but his grip tightens.

“Thought you could let them touch you?” Mydei growls, pressing his body flush against yours. His cock is har, burning hot even through his clothes, rutting against your stomach as if he can’t help himself. “Mine.”His tail tightens around your thigh, a vice of velvet and muscle. “All mine.”

His teeth sink into your throat—not deep enough to break skin, but hard enough to sting. A warning. You gasp, thighs twitching beneath him, and he purrs. It’s deep, reverberating through his chest, his whole body vibrating with it.

“Mydei—”

His hands move fast, one gripping the base of your tail while the other rips away the thin fabric covering you. Your fluffy ears twitch as your back arches, the sharp jolt of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“You don’t get to say my name like that,” he hisses, spreading your legs wider. “Not after making me watch you play with them.”

Then he’s pushing in.

You cry out, nails digging into his arms as he stretches you open. He’s thick, forcing your pussy to take every inch, every ridge, every pulsing inch of him. Your body clenches down hard, too tight, too much—

A sharp bite to your shoulder makes your muscles go slack. Mydei takes the opening to thrust, fully seating himself inside, his cock throbbing against your walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping against yours. “You feel that? How you’re gripping me?” His tail unwinds from your thigh, dragging up to stroke between your legs, teasing, pressing. "This is what you needed, isn’t it?"

You can’t answer, mouth slack as your body pulses around him, already twitching from the intensity of it all. Your ears flick back, overstimulated, but he just purrs, pleased and possessive.

“Too late to act shy now,” Mydei breathes, grinding into you, slow and deep. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his hands everywhere—gripping your hips, pinning your wrists, holding you open.

His teeth graze your throat again, and he groans. “Gonna make sure they all know. Make sure your scent is drenched in me.”

You don’t doubt it. He’s not letting you go—not tonight, not until your body screams his name louder than you ever could.

Mydei’s grip on your hips is bruising, his claws pressing just hard enough to remind you who’s in control, who you belong to. The sharp bite of pain only makes the pleasure more intense, and when he pulls out—just enough to tease the stretch before slamming back in—you choke on a gasp.

“Yeah,” he groans, voice thick with satisfaction, “you needed this, didn’t you?” His tail drags up your thigh again, this time curling against your stomach, tracing soft patterns along your skin before dipping lower.

Your breath stutters when the velvet tip of it brushes against your clit, teasing the swollen nub as he grinds into you, hips rolling slow and deep.

“Mydei—” Your voice breaks, body twitching as overstimulation creeps in, your pussy already fluttering around him. He feels too good, cock hitting just right, heavy and throbbing inside you.

His purring deepens, vibrating through his chest as he watches you struggle. “That’s it,” he murmurs, dragging his tail back down before curling it around your waist like a leash. “That’s my good girl.”

You barely have time to react before he shifts, angling your hips up, locking you in place as he starts to fuck you properly.

Each thrust is sharp, pushing you further into the soft grass, making you feel every inch of him. His cock is thick, stretching you open over and over, forcing your body to take him.

“You’re so wet for me,” Mydei growls, his breath hot against your throat. He licks over the bite he left earlier, soothing the mark before nipping again, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through you. “This pussy was made for me.”

You can only moan, legs shaking as he presses down on your stomach, feeling himself move inside you. “Bet you’d take my cubs so well,” he mutters, more to himself than you, golden eyes dark with hunger. “You’d look so pretty, all full for me.”

A whimper escapes your lips, body clenching down around him, and Mydei chuckles. “Oh, you like that?” His pace slows, dragging himself out so only the tip remains before sinking back in, keeping you stuffed, making you feel every inch of him.

He stays there, deep inside, filling you completely, letting your body mold around him. You try to move—try to grind against him, desperate for friction—but his hands clamp down on your waist, holding you still.

“Mm-mm,” he murmurs, smirking against your skin. “We’re not done yet.” His cock throbs inside you, a steady reminder that he’s not letting go anytime soon. “You’re staying right here—warming my cock, keeping me nice and buried inside this perfect little pussy until I say so.”

His tail tightens around your waist, his purring deepening as he settles over you, completely caging you in. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, his body heat swallowing you whole.

And as he slowly starts to grind again, lazy and deep, you realize he’s not stopping until he’s completely satisfied. Until you’re thoroughly ruined for anyone else.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[hazyue]

giggling into each other's lips with aventurine while falling through the elevator's doors in an awfully expensive-looking hotel you stumbled upon just so fortunately, with the lobby strangely empty.

he's fumbling for the key card that should be somewhere here, it was that pocket—, you're fumbling with his jacket. off, you breathe impatiently against his mouth and aventurine groans, half-sexually frustrated half-childishly irritated. the piece of clothing is on the floor after he shrugrs it off carelessly, disposing of it without any care for the price he'd paid for the tailored garment.

the key card surfaces from his pants' pocket just in time for your back to hit the nearest door and he grins, bringing his lips back onto yours with a satisfied exhale and a shameless moan after licking his way into your mouth, at the same time that the door beeps open and lets you fall into the room. by the time it's autolocked itself, his hands are already fully back on you.

"is this the right one?" you manage against his lips, pulling away—just to make sure.

he resists a disgruntled sound. "'s mine," he only says, pecking your lips after.

"the suite?"

aventurine grins, entertained, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

"the building, sweetheart."

[hazyue]

If his 2nd form is 18 inches, then how long is normal phainon 😧😧

phainon transforms into that 2nd form when he's about to bust a nut and I'm tired of pretending otherwise.

Oh yeah, it grows too. You guys have fun.

[hazyue]

phainon transforms into that 2nd form when he's about to bust a nut and I'm tired of pretending otherwise.

Oh yeah, it grows too. You guys have fun.

[hazyue]

Puppy Phainon who trembles, overwhelmed by the sheer heat of your touch. His eyes are glassy with tears, wide and desperate, as he clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His cock twitches helplessly, already leaking, already needy. He doesn’t understand why it feels so good — only that he never wants it to stop. His tail thumps behind him in nervous, eager arcs, betraying his innocence even as he presses closer, whining like a good little mutt.

Every thrust is messy, frantic, and soft, like he’s scared of hurting you, scared of letting go. But your pussy is so warm, so wet, it pulls him in deeper every time, wraps around him like it wants him to break. He buries his face in your neck, gasping out apologies he doesn’t mean — “I’m sorry, I c-can’t hold it, I’m— I’m g-gonna—!” — but you shush him, pet his hair, tell him he’s doing so well. That’s all it takes. His cock pulses inside you, and he sobs as he cums, completely undone.

His little body shudders against yours, tail still wagging uncontrollably. The knot swells at the base of his cock, locking him inside you. He cries harder now, from the intensity, from the pleasure, from the way your pussy milks every drop out of him like it owns him. You stroke down his spine, cooing softly, and he just melts — all tension gone, replaced by a sleepy, raw ache in his hips and the lingering throb of overstimulation.

You whisper sweet things into his ear, and he whimpers like he’s going to cry again. “You were such a good puppy,” you tell him, and his whole face crumples. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses your shoulder, still locked inside, cock still twitching now and then with aftershocks. His hands are gentle now, trembling as they hold your waist. He doesn’t want to let go. He never wants to be anywhere else.

And as the minutes pass and his breathing slows, he stays nestled in your warmth, tail curling around your thigh. The heat of your pussy cradles him like a reward, like a home he never knew he needed. He doesn’t know how to ask for more — but he hopes you’ll feel it in the way he nuzzles against you, in the way his cock refuses to soften, in the way his heart beats wild and fast against your chest.

[hazyue]

Mydei had a habit—one that made you weak in the knees no matter how many times he did it. Whenever the two of you were tangled up in bed, skin flushed and limbs heavy from love-drunk exhaustion, he’d shift you gently onto your side, press his chest to your back, and settle himself between your thighs. Not to thrust. Not yet. He just liked to rest there, his cock nestled right up against your warm, soft pussy, like it belonged there. And it did. You could feel the heat of him, thick and pulsing, perfectly fitted between your folds—teasing, heavy, and achingly still.

He’d wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close until there wasn’t a breath of space between your bodies. His other hand would always find its way to your hips or your belly, smoothing over your skin like it was something sacred. Sometimes he kissed your shoulder. Sometimes he just breathed you in, golden eyes half-lidded and dazed, “You’re so warm down here,” he’d murmur, voice husky from pleasure and comfort. “I could stay like this forever.” And maybe he meant it—because he never rushed. He just held you, cock resting against your pussy lips, soaking in your warmth until it drove both of you wild.

It wasn’t just about the physical contact, though the way his cock fit between your thighs was enough to make you squirm. No, it was the way he made you feel—like your body was a sanctuary, like your pussy was holy, like his place was right there with you, soft and messy and close. Even if you whimpered or wiggled your hips to get more, to beg for him to move, to push in, Mydei always made you wait. He liked to savor it. To hear your little needy noises, feel the way your thighs squeezed around his shaft, slick already coating him just from resting there. He wanted you dripping before he even moved.

Eventually, he would. Slowly. Lazily. He’d rock his hips forward just enough to slide his cock up and down your folds, smearing himself against you, teasing your entrance but never breaching it. “You’re so wet, princess,” he’d whisper with a grin against your ear. “All from this? From just having me here?” And the way you clenched and whimpered in response made him groan low in his throat, the sound thick with worship. Every motion was a promise—of what he’d do to you when he finally sank into your pussy. Of how he’d fuck you slow, deep, and possessive like you were his whole world.

But for now, he stayed like that. Resting. Breathing. Letting his cock throb against your pussy while you lay there, flushed and aching, wrapped in his arms. He loved it. Not just the feeling, but the intimacy. The closeness. The way your body welcomed him without needing anything else. Just his weight, his warmth, his cock pressed to your soft, wet slit. He didn’t need to move to feel everything. You were already perfect like this—open, slick, trembling for him. And gods, he loved you more than anything when you let him stay between your thighs, right where he belonged.

[hazyue]

how they sound in bed

featuring: albedo, childe, ei, navia, kazuha, arlecchino

content: sub!genshin characters, dom!reader, begging, mentions of overstimulation + biting (arlecchino), a bit of degradation (childe)

albedo:

gentle and pure, like freshly fallen snow. albedo isn't the most reactive by nature, and on top of that he's pretty good at holding his voice back if necessary, letting no more than a few hums and hitched breaths meet your ears. but when the pleasure overpowers his self-control and he does let out a moan for you, it’s pure heaven. his voice is so soft and sweet, he sounds every bit as delicate as he looks. when you take him slowly, he lets out airy sighs that make you eager to push him further and see what kind of noises you can coax out of him. when you go hard and fast, tiny little whimpers rise in the back of his throat that surprise the both of you. they build up higher and higher in pitch until anything he tries to say makes his voice crack and his cheeks heat up a bit.

albedo doesn't talk very much unless you prompt him to, but every now and then he catches you off guard with the most sinful, filthy plea for more. he does have a smart mouth after all, and he knows exactly how to beg with it while sounding as princely as ever. his curious nature never stops for even a second, so the entire time you're picking him apart, he's trying to study you too, so he can see what reactions of his turn you on the most. everything he does, right down the noises he allows himself to make, is all for approval. he's not very loud when he cums. rather, he chants out frantic little "ah ah ah"s when his high approaches, sucks in a sharp breath as he reaches his peak, then lets out a long, feather-light moan that's like music to your ears. it's rare to get an intense reaction out of him, but the way your name sounds on his soft-spoken lips more than makes up for it.

"use me," he breathes, quietly resolute. "i was made for you."

childe:

insanely vocal. not just in the sheer amount of sounds he makes, but verbally, too. childe is one to moan, whine, gasp, grunt, groan, whimper, and make every noise under the sun, all while trying to stutter out sentences in between because he can't keep his mouth shut to save his life. the more worked up he gets, the more he starts to babble, almost like a puppy wagging his tail in excitement. his attempts to tease you range from endearing to unbearable; usually in the form of throwing out weak, breathless taunts just so you can go harder and put him in his place. he makes it no secret when something feels good, and unless he's being a brat, he’s not ashamed to beg for you. even if his face starts to flush a little when he hears the pathetic noises coming out of him, childe gladly chases the pleasure you dangle in front of him, moaning and whimpering for you like a dog in heat.

he has a filthy way with words that drive the both of you wild, and the way you degrade him for sounding like such a whore just makes him throb harder. he swears a lot and repeats words over and over like a broken record. when he gets close to cumming, his speech starts to slur together into one long, incoherent whine, only made worse by the drool pooling on his tongue. you can cover his mouth with your hand to try and quiet him, but even, then his muted whines still break through. he'll almost definitely start licking and biting at your palm like the little freak he is, too.

“please, please, please—ah, fuck! please, lemme cum ‘m a good boy," his frenzied whines echo off the walls. "been so g-good for you. so so—mmph—good!”

ei:

a combination of elegant and cute, ei’s true voice is a stark contrast to the cold, commanding tone of her shogun puppet. she’s not very loud or vocal at first—especially because she has a tendency to suppress herself, it can be hard for her to let her voice ring out naturally. so when she holds her breath to try and keep in a gasp of pleasure, she ends up making muffled squeaking sounds instead that are painfully cute. it flusters her a bit when she can't control herself like she normally would, but she feels more encouraged when you coo over how pretty she sounds, even if she doesn't quite understand why you're so enamored with something she finds to be an embarrassing lack of composure.

if ei is service topping (which she often does, she’s very obedient and will bottom if you ask her to, but she gets antsy if she feels like she’s not working hard enough to satisfy you) she lets out soft but enthusiastic grunts of effort, so concentrated on making you feel good that she doesn't worry about keeping her voice down. her breathing gives away how turned on she really is, as it grows more labored every time you praise her for doing a good job. when she's on the receiving end of pleasure, especially when she’s close to climaxing, she breathes out quick little "oh oh ohs" that are as sugary sweet as the desserts she loves so much. even when ripples of pleasure are shaking her body, she has a certain poise and grace to her, moans spilling out of her as soft as flower petals followed by blissed out sighs so gentle that listening to them could soothe you to sleep.

“please…i-if you keep going so fast," she murmurs breathlessly. "i still want to please you, too. let me be of good use to you.”

navia:

passionate. navia is so expressive in anything she does and this is no exception, so controlling her volume is the last thing on her mind when you’re making her see stars. she’s receptive to your every touch, eager to let you know how good you’re making her feel with sharp gasps of pleasure and the most irresistible, high-pitched whines for more. it's very hard to deny her what she wants when she begs so sweetly. playfulness is a given for navia, she loves making cheeky remarks to spur you on, though usually not to the point of full-blown brattiness. communication is a big part of sex to her, it eases her nerves to have a comfortable back and forth with you, knowing she’s safe to fall apart in your hands.

sure enough, though, her banter slowly fades out along with her boldness once you take things further, replacing her teasing with moans so pretty you’d think they were practiced. but navia is far too focused on your mouth and fingers to force any of her reactions, and it shows with all the cute, involuntary squeaks every new sensation earns from her. her glossy lips fall open and stay parted the entire time your fingers plunge in and out of her, spilling out pleas so primal and desperate that they send shivers up your spine. she’s so lost in the pleasure that she doesn’t notice how loud she is until you murmur "listen to yourself" in her ears, but even as her face flushes with embarrassment, she can’t help how vocal she is. when she reaches her high, it’s a burst of passion, crying out your name over and over until her voice breaks and trails off into tiny, satisfied mewls. having to muffle her volume with a kiss as she cums is a very common occurrence, and it always leaves her blushing up at you with a shy pout.

“don't tease me! y'know i-i can't...help it," her protests lose effect when she’s stammering over every word. "you just m-make me so crazy. please, baby, i’m so—ah!—close.”

kazuha:

angelic. it’s almost unfair to you, how every word, every sound that leaves this man's mouth feels like a silk blanket draping over your brain. his voice is gentle and melodic as a songbird's, and though not very loud, kazuha is incredibly vocal. he wants to appear calm and composed in front of you so badly, he cherishes being able to spin together the most beautiful sentences for your ears, but all of his eloquence effectively crumbles to dust the moment your lips find his neck and your hands roam his body. he’s sensitive. his unique constitution has all his senses perfectly in tune with the natural world, after all, which is something he typically considers a gift until a simple touch from you elicits the most pathetic whimper from him. you’ve gotten used to having to tug his hands down when they fly up to cover his burning red face, mortified by his own mewls echoing off the bedroom walls. kazuha isn't much of a whiner, but embarrassing him like that is one definite way to earn the cutest whines from him, pleading shyly for you to let him muffle himself.

broken whimpers and hums rise in his throat over every little burst of stimulation you give him, and he’s hyperaware of every single one. he bites his lips a lot in an attempt to hold himself back from moaning, turning them into breathy squeaks just like the ones he lets out after giggling. it’s hard for him to get words out between all the sounds he makes, and when he does manage to speak, it's all stuttered and slurred together in a whirlwind of “please” and “more”. the complete contrast to his usual poetic word-weaving makes it all the more satisfying to see what a mess you’ve made of him. when his orgasm hits, kazuha’s honey voice almost always cracks because he’s not used to crying out with such intensity. he doesn’t swear very often, even when you’re fucking him senseless, but sometimes when he cums, a few hushed curses slip out in between his moans. it’s a crime how even the filthiest words can sound so sweet and innocent on his tongue.

"p-please, my love, i can't take much more," he begs, voice turning up in a helpless whine. "you make me feel s' good, so, so good. i really...hah...won't last."

arlecchino:

the epitome of discipline and self-control, arlecchino has spent her whole life ensuring that she always has a secure handle on her emotions. it makes her the perfect sub if she’s willing to obey you, but it also means she’s not very expressive. the most reaction you typically get out of her is long claws digging into the mattress or a few shaky exhales through her nose, even when you've pushed her to her limit. it takes a while for arlecchino to unlearn the belief that being vulnerable in bed isn’t a sign of weakness, and that you want to know what makes her tick. she doesn't exactly get it, but she's willing to comply, for your pleasure, if nothing else. when she first allows herself to let a sigh slip out, she's a bit stiff, almost awkward in a way that you probably shouldn’t find so endearing. if it weren't for your consistent orders for her to let loose, she'd revert back into old habits immediately and go quiet.

she relaxes her breathing little by little until every exhale starts to hold a bit of a rasp to it, letting you know that her guard is gradually lowering. her voice is so seductive without even trying. it's low both in pitch and in volume, a husky, rich tone that only makes you more determined to get some proper reactions out of her. sinking your teeth into her skin is one of the best methods to achieve that, the way her breath hitches in her throat, followed by a soft grunt, is addicting to you. her exhales get heavier the more the pleasure creeps up on her, as do the content hums bubbling in the back of her throat. with the delicious edge her voice has, it almost sounds like she’s purring for you. as her peak draws closer, the heat in her core combined with the feeling of your mouth sucking marks into her neck becomes all-consuming. her groans rumble under your teeth when you bite down on her flesh, and when you swirl your tongue over her skin, she hisses softly. her orgasm comes with a quiet warning and a sharp inhale. then, she goes silent for a moment before a deep, sinful moan rings out. but the best part comes when you keep going without giving her a chance to recover from her high, overstimulating her into louder, less controlled reactions. it leaves her panting heavily, voice hoarse and a trembling plea for mercy on her tongue.

"am i...doing this right?" she mumbles. "whatever you desire, just say the word and i'll obey."

[hazyue]

Mydei loves taking you from the front—there’s something about being face-to-face that drives him wild. He craves the way your eyes roll back, the way your lips part in breathless moans when his cock pushes deep inside your pussy. Every little expression, every gasp and whimper, he watches like a man possessed. His golden eyes are glowing with hunger, and his messy blond hair sticks to his forehead as he pants against your mouth. He wants to see your pleasure, to own it, to feel it in every trembling inch of your body.

He kisses you as he thrusts in deep, slow strokes, groaning into your mouth every time your walls clench around him. His cock is thick, curved just right to hit that perfect spot inside you, and he makes sure to grind his hips down each time to make you cry out his name. Mydei’s hand curls around your waist, pressing you close, his cursed markings glowing hotter with every passing second. “Look at me, princess,” he growls softly, forehead pressed to yours. “Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fuck this sweet pussy.”

Phainon, on the other hand, is the exact opposite—he’s obsessed with taking you from behind. He loves bending you over, pulling your hips up, and sliding his cock into your dripping pussy while your face presses into the sheets. The view drives him mad: your ass bouncing, your back arching, your body trembling as he fucks you ruthlessly from behind. He’s a refined man, but the way he claims you is filthy, primal—his armor discarded, gloves still on, gripping your waist like he owns you.

His thrusts are powerful and precise, each one making your whole body jolt forward, pussy squelching around his thick cock with obscene, wet sounds. Phainon’s voice is calm but cruelly teasing, whispering in your ear as his hips slam against you. “Such a needy little thing,” he murmurs, his voice a breathy purr. His hand slides down to your clit, rubbing it with slow circles just to watch you squirm and beg for more.

[hazyue]

ARE YOU A P★RN STAR?

paring : phainon, mydei, anaxa, aventurine, sunday x f!reader

tws : nsfw / smut, creampie (vaginal), cow-girl, nipple play, biting, hair pulling, tit-fucking, slight slut-shaming, breeding kink, licking, spitting in mouth, degradation, humiliation, nasty sēx, filthy sēx, cōck-drunk reader, slight pūssy drunk Sunday and spanking.

synopsis : when the fucking is sooo good he thinks you’re a pornstar. minors do not interact.

☆ PHAINON !

Your thighs are shaking from the effort, hips grinding slow but deep, taking every inch of Phainon’s cock like you were born for it. His back is relaxed against the headboard, long white hair draped across the pillows like silk, armor undone just enough to expose his pale chest and the faint sheen of sweat catching in the hollow of his throat. He watches you ride him like it’s a performance made just for him—those blue eyes soft, but hungry.

His hands are everywhere. One draped low on your waist, thumb brushing just beneath your bellybutton, right over the obscene bulge his cock makes inside you. The other? Pinching your nipple between gloved fingers, tugging and rolling until your breath stutters and your body clenches down around him.

“Mmnh—fuck, P-Phainon…” you whimper, already a wreck.

He laughs softly—low, intimate, like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“You ride me like you’ve done this before,” he murmurs, gaze lazily trailing from your tits to your hips. “You fuck me like you’re on camera. Should I be tipping you for this performance?”

Your face burns, but you moan when he rolls his hips up into you, stretching you even deeper. The size of him still makes you twitch, even after being split open for so long—your cunt sucking around him greedily, sloppy and wet, strings of slick coating his thighs. He’s so thick it hurts, but you don’t stop riding. You can’t.

Phainon leans forward with a soft growl, grabs your jaw, and coos, “Open.”

You obey, mouth wide and tongue out like a good little pet—and he spits. Warm and slow. It hits your tongue and you moan, dizzy and desperate. His smirk deepens as he watches you swallow it without hesitation.

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect. Filthy little thing,” he whispers, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. “So sweet when you beg for it, but look at you now. You’re just a slut when I let you ride, hm? Just a tight little hole to milk me dry?”

His words make your hips stutter, your body starting to fold forward, overwhelmed and clenching.

“Aww,” he croons, mocking gently, “You gonna cum from that? From just being used? Go ahead, baby. Cum on it—show me how bad you want to be full.”

He grabs your hips, holding you steady, and fucks up into you with slow, brutal force. Every thrust is heavy, obscene—your soaked cunt squelching around him, drool slipping from your lips as you cry out, helpless to stop it.

“I’m gonna cum—!” you sob, nails digging into his shoulders, body trembling violently.

Phainon’s voice is low and rough now, breath hitting your ear. “You’re gonna take every drop. You hear me? I’m gonna fuck it so deep it sticks. I want it dripping out of you for hours, ruining your thighs—soak the sheets, make a mess. That’s what this pretty pussy’s for.”

You scream his name as you cum, hard and loud, pussy locking down around him in waves. And he keeps going.

Keeps. Fucking. Up. Into. You.

He watches your eyes roll, your body twitch and convulse, your moans turning to dumb little cries as you drool down onto his chest.

And then he groans—deep. Loud. Body tensing. He thrusts up and stays buried, cock twitching inside you as he cums. Hot. So much. You can feel it pulse, feel your insides getting filled, and the warmth makes your legs give out.

But he doesn’t stop.

He fucks it in. Keeps thrusting slow, deep, holding your hips down while he pumps every last drop inside. You’re whimpering, overstimulated, already full—but he groans again, voice raw with hunger.

“Did I say I was done?”

His hand reaches between your legs, fingers to your clit, rubbing in slow, cruel circles.

“I want to see it spill. I want to watch you leak all over me. But not yet—not till I’ve filled you again. You’ll take it. All of it. You’re mine. You were made to be fucked like this.”

You sob, nodding, brain white-noise and legs trembling.

And Phainon smiles, soft and wicked.

“That’s my good little star. Keep riding. We’re not stopping, ‘till you can’t take it anymore.”

☆ MYDEIMOS !

Mydei’s hands are brutal on your hair, gripping thick strands and yanking your head back just enough to expose your neck. You gasp, mouth open, lips wet and trembling from how badly you need him. Your body is a trembling mess—so soaked, so hungry for every inch of him that your thighs won’t stop trembling, your hips nearly losing all control.

He leans in, teeth grazing your skin with sharp bites, lips trailing down your neck in hot, sloppy licks that leave you gasping and squirming.

“You ride me like you’re some kind of fucking pornstar,” he growls, voice low and ragged, dragging you down to his level by your hair. His golden eyes flash with fire and something darker—pure, raw hunger. “How the fuck do you ride this big cock like that? You trying to make me cum everywhere?”

You whimper and moan against him, your tongue slipping out to taste the salty skin beneath his jaw. Your mouth moves on instinct, licking and biting his neck with a desperate need that makes him snarl in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So goddamn messy. You’re leaking all over me, babe. You want me to breed you, huh?” His grip tightens, fingers clawing into your hair harder, making your head jerk back. “Tell me you want to be full of me. Tell me you want me to fill you up till you can’t walk.”

You nod, breath coming in desperate gasps, voice trembling but raw with need. “Please, Mydei… fuck me so hard. Fill me up. I want all of you.”

He snarls, pushing into you with a force that steals your breath, hips slamming up with hard, punishing thrusts that make your whole body scream. Your nails dig into his shoulders, clutching him like a lifeline as he fucks you deep, balls slapping against your slick folds.

His mouth finds your throat, teeth sinking in just enough to leave marks as he growls, “You’re mine—mine to breed, mine to ruin. You’re gonna take every last drop, you hear me? Fill you up so full you’re dripping and leaking all over my cock.”

Your moans come out choked and messy, your head spinning from how good it feels and how much you want more. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably around him, soaking him through and through, desperate for every thrust.

Mydei’s hand moves down to your breast, grabbing hard, fingers pinching your nipple until you cry out and arch into him, your mouth falling open in a shaky gasp.

“You’re a filthy slut for this, huh?” he spits, voice thick. “Riding me like I’m the only one who’s ever fucked you right. Like you belong to me.”

You whimper, biting your lip hard, tongue flicking out to taste the salty mix of sweat and spit that drips from his mouth.

“You’re such a whore, aren’t you? Can’t get enough, can you? Riding me like your whole world depends on it.” His thrusts get faster, rougher—pounding you deep and hard until you’re nothing but heat and wetness and trembling flesh.

He growls again, voice low and deadly, “Cum for me. Show me how bad you want it. Show me you’re mine.”

You scream his name, cumming so hard it feels like your body’s going to shatter. Your legs shake violently as he keeps fucking you through every wave, dragging you down into a dark, filthy haze where nothing exists but him pounding into your dripping cunt.

When he finally cums, his roar is deafening, hips jerking hard as he spills inside you, filling you so full you swear you can feel every hot drop.

He holds you tight, fingers tangled in your hair, and breathes out, “Goddamn… you fuck like you’re getting paid, baby. You’re mine.”

Mydei’s not done making you his messy, dripping little breeding prize yet—he’s got you right where he wants you, and he’s about to push you even further over the edge.

His heavy breaths fog up the room as he pulls out just enough to watch your body tremble, slick and swollen around him. Your pussy is dripping wet, dripping all over his thick cock, and he’s gripping your hips hard—like he’s marking you, claiming you as his.

“Look at you,” he snarls, eyes dark and wild, “so fucking needy and fucked out already. You want more, don’t you? You want me to fuck you again and again till you’re shaking and begging?”

You’re panting, cheeks flushed and slick with sweat, mouth open in a desperate pant. You nod, words falling apart in your throat, but your body screams the truth—soaked, slick, full of that raw hunger only he can feed.

His hand snaps forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair again and yanking your head back hard enough to make you gasp in pain and pleasure. His lips find your jawline, biting harshly then licking the bite like a cruel lover savoring his prize.

“You’re mine,” he growls, voice rough like gravel, “and I’m gonna breed you so hard you won’t remember your own name. You’re gonna ride me until you’re leaking all over my cock, crying my name like the filthy slut you are.”

You moan, trembling, the words like fire in your veins. You feel so empty and so full at once—your pussy dripping, clenching, burning from how much you’ve already taken, but still aching for more.

Without warning, he flips you over with brutal strength, pressing your chest down to the mattress. Your breath catches as he slaps your ass hard, a loud smack echoing in the room.

“On your hands and knees. Take it like the good slut you are.”

You obey instantly, hips jerking back when he lines up and slams back inside you. His cock stretches you deep and hard, driving into you with rough, punishing thrusts that make your vision swim.

His hands grip your hips and then slide up to your waist, squeezing hard, one hand trailing down to find your clit. He rubs it fast, cruel, making you squeal and shake as he fucks you harder.

“Look at this pussy—mine, dripping all over my cock,” he growls, voice thick with lust and satisfaction. “You gonna take every drop I give you? Gonna let me breed you full?”

You’re choking on a sob, biting your lip so hard it bleeds, body trembling in pure overstimulation. His cock pushes deeper, hitting places that make you scream.

His hand shoots forward, grabbing your hair again, yanking your head back so you meet his gaze.

“Say it,” he commands, teeth flashing, “Say you’re mine.”

“Mine…” you gasp, tears streaming,

“That’s it. Good girl.”

His thrusts speed up, pounding into you with merciless force, hitting deeper, stretching you wide until you’re shaking violently beneath him.

Your moans turn into desperate cries as you cum again, hard and wild, pussy clenching so tight around him he groans deep in his throat.

And then—his own body tenses, hips jerking as he empties inside you, filling you with hot, sticky ropes of cum. You’re so full you feel like you might burst, but he holds you tight, fucking you through every pulse until he’s spent.

Finally, he collapses next to you, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you close.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, voice low and satisfied, “always.”

☆ ANAXAGORAS !

Anaxa’s eye bore into yours like a predator sizing up his prize. The heat in the room was thick enough to suffocate, but you barely noticed—because you were already drowning in the feeling of him beneath you, the way his body pressed up, claiming every inch of your skin.

He smirked, that slow, dangerous smile that promised both pleasure and pain. “Are you sure you’re not some kind of fucking porn star?” His voice was low, teasing, laced with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

You flushed, heart pounding as you rolled your hips over him, feeling the thick length of his cock pressing deliciously against your slick core. “Maybe I am,” you whispered, biting your lip. “Maybe you’re just lucky enough to find out.”

Anaxa chuckled, a throaty sound that sent vibrations right through your bones. His hands slid up your sides, fingers curling around your ribs before slipping under your shirt to cup your tits. The warmth of his palms set your skin on fire.

His thumbs found your nipples instantly, flicking and pinching with expert precision. You gasped, hips stuttering as a sharp spike of pleasure radiated through you. “God, you’re so fucking sensitive,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he tightened his grip. “Don’t stop,” you begged breathlessly. “Please.”

Anaxa’s grin deepened. “You’re such a dirty little girl, begging like that.” His fingers pinched harder, rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger until you squirmed under his hands.

You leaned forward, lips brushing against his jaw, breath hot and shaky. “Make me yours,” you whispered, “Breed me, Anaxa. Fill me up.”

His hands dropped from your chest, one sliding to grip your hip firmly while the other tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough so you met his smoldering gaze.

“Ride me like you mean it,” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

You lowered yourself slowly onto him, every inch of his thick cock sliding deep inside you. The sensation was overwhelming—hot, full, and utterly consuming. You closed your eyes, savoring the way he stretched you, the way your bodies fit perfectly together.

Anaxa’s hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you began to move. You set a slow, steady rhythm, hips rolling forward, grinding down onto him like you were claiming him as yours.

He moaned, low and rough, fingers digging into your skin. “That’s it, Show me how badly you want this.”

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing hotter as you picked up the pace, bouncing on him harder, hips snapping with urgent need. The slick sound of skin sliding against skin filled the room.

Anaxa’s hands roamed your body—down your back, tracing the curve of your ass, up your sides again, before settling on your breasts. His thumbs returned to your nipples, flicking and twisting them with expert teasing.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut. The mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating.

“You’re such a fucking good girl for me,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “So wet, so ready. You’re made to take me like this.”

You gasped as his cock pulsed inside you, hitting deep with every thrust. You felt your body tightening, the coil of pleasure building faster and faster.

Anaxa leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re going to come for me, I want to see you lose control.”

Your hands clenched into fists at his shoulders as your hips moved frantically, desperate for release. The warmth in your tummy bloomed, spreading out in waves of heat and dizzying pleasure.

“Fuck, yes,” you moaned, voice breaking. “Anaxa—please.”

He growled, thrusting up harder, faster. His grip on your hips tightened, nails biting into your skin as he chased his own climax.

Your body tensed, muscles trembling as the first orgasm crashed over you, hot and overwhelming. You cried out, head thrown back as you rode the wave, trembling beneath him.

Anaxa didn’t let up, driving into you with fierce determination, pushing you through your high and straight into his own.

His breath came out ragged, voice thick with need as he cursed your name, releasing deep inside you with a shudder.

The heat of his seed filled you completely, and you felt yourself soften around him, a delicious haze settling over your senses.

He pulled you close, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Mine,” he whispered, lips brushing over your temple. “Always mine.”

You smiled, heart pounding, chest rising and falling beneath his steady hands. “Forever.”

Anaxa’s fingers drifted back to your nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds even as he held you. “Look at you—marked, full, and dripping for me.”

You shivered, nerves raw and trembling, but burning with satisfaction.

“You’re my perfect girl,” he murmured, voice rough with pride. “And I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath hitched again as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing softly.

“Ride you again?” you whispered, needy and bold.

Anaxa laughed, deep and satisfied. “Always.”

You rose up, hips moving slow at first, savoring the feeling of his cock filling you, then faster, harder, until the room echoed with your cries and his low groans.

He teased your nipples mercilessly, flicking and pinching, the pleasure sharp and delicious, pushing you closer to the edge again and again.

“Come for me, baby doll,” he growled. “Fill me up, show me how good you are.”

Your body clenched, eyes closing tight as another shuddering orgasm tore through you.

Anaxa matched you, crashing over the edge with a groan, his seed hot and wild inside you.

You collapsed together, sweat-slick skin pressed tight.

“Porn star,” he whispered with a smirk, voice teasing but full of love. “That’s exactly what you are.”

☆ AVENTURINE !

Aventurine’s grin was slow and knowing as he watched you settle onto his lap, the heat between your bodies already thick enough to choke on. His fingers traced lazy patterns across your thighs, teasing the bare skin visible beneath your skirt as you straddled him like you owned every inch of the bed.

“You like sitting on me like this?” His voice was low, smooth, carrying that teasing edge that made your pulse race. His hands slid up, palms pressing against your hips, fingers digging in just a little, reminding you he was in charge even as you took the lead.

You smirked, hips rocking gently in response, feeling him hard and ready beneath you. “Maybe I do.”

His breath hitched as you pressed closer, the wet heat of your slick folds brushing his cock, already thick and aching inside his pants. He tugged at the waistband of his trousers, sliding them down with a lazy, possessive tug until his length sprang free—long, thick, and already glistening with precome.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, hands gripping your hips tighter, thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “Look at you, all wet and hungry.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw, voice breathy and low, “You want to taste me?”

Without hesitation, he tipped his head, catching your mouth in a slow, deep kiss that burned with heat and promise. His tongue slipped inside, exploring, claiming, as his hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails raking gently, teasing him as you slid your hips forward, rubbing yourself against his bare cock. The slick, sloppy sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, wet and messy.

He groaned into your mouth, hands moving to your breasts, cupping them hard. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, rolling the hardened buds until you shivered against him, breath hitching.

“God, your tits are fucking perfect,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to suck one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing lightly, sucking and biting with delicious possessiveness.

You gasped, arching into him, slick folds grinding harder against his cock as you felt him pressing up, aching to slide inside you. His hands moved lower, gripping your hips as he lifted you up and down, slow and steady.

“Ride me,” he commanded softly, voice thick with need. “Make a mess on me.”

You sank down onto him, slick warmth swallowing his length as you moved in a steady, slow rhythm. The bed creaked beneath you, the slick, sloppy sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

His hands gripped your waist, thumbs digging in as he held you close, pressing his chest to your back. His lips brushed the curve of your neck, leaving hot kisses that made you shiver.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, voice low and possessive. “So fucking perfect.”

You leaned forward, hands on his chest, grinding harder as the coil inside you tightened. His cock pulsed inside you, thick and demanding, filling you completely.

His fingers slid under your shirt again, squeezing your tits roughly, thumbs flicking your nipples as he thrust up into you. The mixture of his hands on your tits and the feeling of him deep inside sent your breath spiraling.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, voice trembling.

He didn’t. His hands rolled your nipples between fingers and thumb, pinching harder now, his cock pistoning inside you with relentless, messy force.

You cried out, the pleasure spilling over, burning through your veins as you came hard, muscles clenching around him, squeezing him deep.

He groaned, voice rough as he followed, releasing with a shuddering growl, thick ropes of cum flooding into you, hot and heavy and marking you.

You collapsed against his chest, breath ragged and sweat-slicked skin pressed tight. His hands still kneaded your tits, thumbs flicking the sensitive nipples as he whispered against your ear, “So fucking beautiful when you come.”

You whimpered, lips brushing his neck. “More.”

He laughed low and dark, hips still twitching as he slid one hand down to your dripping folds, fingers slipping inside you to stroke and tease.

“Always more,” he promised, eyes burning with hunger.

You pushed up, grinding back onto his fingers as he sucked your neck, marking you, claiming you.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back gently so he could look at you. “You like being my messy little slut?”

You nodded breathlessly, lips parting in a needy smile.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in another deep, possessive kiss before rolling you onto your back. His hands roamed your body like he was memorizing every curve, every inch of wet skin.

He cupped your breasts again, this time bringing them together as he lined his cock up with your mouth. “Show me how much you want it,” he murmured.

You wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking him slowly, tasting yourself on him, the slick warmth mingling with his salt and musk.

He groaned, hips jerking as you deepened the kiss, his cock filling your mouth, hands tangled in your hair to hold you steady.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark and hungry. “Such a fucking good girl.”

He flipped you back onto your hands and knees, pressing you into the bed as he knelt behind you. His hands gripped your hips hard, spreading your legs wide.

“You’re so wet,” he growled, pressing his cock against your entrance before sliding inside with a slow, deep thrust that stole your breath.

You cried out, his length stretching you open, filling you completely.

His hands slid up to your chest, squeezing your tits roughly, thumbs pinching your nipples as he started pounding into you from behind, messy and relentless.

The slick sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mixing with your cries and his low, filthy growls.

He reached around to cup your face, brushing your hair back as he whispered, “You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.”

You shivered, body trembling as the coil of pleasure built again, thick and wild.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, voice rough. “Let me fill you up again.”

Your body clenched, muscles spasming as you came hard, hot, and wild.

He followed, releasing deep inside you once more, his breath ragged as he held you close.

You collapsed together, slick and tangled, the mess of cum and sweat marking the proof of your fire.

He kissed your shoulder, voice soft but still thick with want. “You’re perfect. Always.”

You smiled, flushed and trembling. “Yours.”

☆ SUNDAY !

Sunday doesn’t stop staring.

From the moment you straddle him, skirt rucked up around your waist and nothing underneath, his pretty yellow eyes go wide. His tongue darts across his lip as you sink down, slow, letting him feel every second of his thick cock sliding into your soaking heat.

“Ah—fuck,” he gasps, hands trembling against your thighs, grip tightening like he’s scared you might disappear. “You’re… you feel… you’re too good, it’s too much—”

You lean in, planting both hands on his chest, your hips starting a steady grind, slow at first, then with a messy slap that makes both of you gasp. His wings twitch. Delicate, those opalescent wings behind his ears flutter once—like a flicker of his pleasure leaking out without his permission.

You smirk. “You always this sensitive, or is it just me?”

He groans, high and desperate, his hands flying up to cup your hips. “Just you. Fuck, just you. I never—never felt anyone like this—”

Your pussy squeezes around him hard and he shakes.

“God,” he pants, “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You roll your hips in a deep, dragging circle, the sound of your soaked cunt taking his cock again and again filling the air, lewd and obscene. His head falls back against the pillows, neck exposed, flushed and gleaming with sweat.

“You gonna cum already?” you whisper sweetly, nails dragging across his chest, over the silk of his shirt. “Just from me bouncing on it a little?”

“D-Don’t say it like that—!” His hands jerk against your thighs, trying to grip harder, control something, anything, but you keep riding him with that same smooth rhythm, your pace unbothered, steady, cruel.

He bites his lip hard, hips stuttering underneath you. “I can’t—fuck—slow down—I can’t—”

You grab a fistful of his soft silver hair and yank his head up.

His gasp is filthy, his whole body jolting. The wings twitch twice, shivering behind his ears like they’re about to start fluttering full-on.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” you coo, watching the heat bloom across his cheeks. “Good boy.”

A noise slips from his throat—high, broken—and he chokes on his own breath, trying to thrust up into you even as you keep control of the rhythm. His cock twitches deep inside you, so hot and swollen you can feel the desperation in every twitch of his hips.

“I wanna fill you,” he babbles, helpless. “I need to. You’re gonna take it, right? All of it? Let me stuff you full—make you mine—”

You laugh, filthy and delighted, and bounce harder, the lewd sounds of your bodies clapping together echoing around the room.

“Then do it,” you purr. “Breed me, Sunday.”

His eyes flutter back in his head, hands flying to your ass, squeezing hard as his body tenses—

And then the wings behind his ears start flapping.

Not twitching, flapping. Fast, erratic, panicked with pleasure as he cums inside you hard, his breath stalling, mouth open, hips jerking helplessly. Thick warmth spills inside you, pulsing deep as he fills you to the brim.

“Ahhh—oh fuckfuckfuck—!” he whimpers, panting as your pussy keeps milking him through every wave of orgasm. “It’s so good—I’m gonna—gonna—nghh—”

You don’t stop.

Even as he shakes and trembles, you keep moving, rolling your hips slow and mean, making sure every drop stays buried deep inside. His cock twitches again, and he sobs, clinging to you like his life depends on it.

“I can’t—can’t stop cumming—” he gasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Feels too good—too fucking good—!”

You grab his face, tilting it toward you as you ride him into overstimulation.

“Then don’t stop,” you whisper, voice syrup-sweet. “You wanted to fill me, right? Then make sure it sticks.”

He cries out, hands tangled in your skirt, his breath ragged and broken. His wings keep flapping, wild and frantic with every wave of pleasure that wrecks him.

You slow the pace, dragging his cock deep inside with each bounce, making him feel every squeeze of your walls, every slick movement. He’s whining now, legs trembling, face buried in your chest.

“More…” he breathes. “I need more—can’t stop—I wanna do it again, wanna fill you up again—fuckfuckfuck—”

You grin, raking your fingers through his messy hair.

“You really are needy,” you hum. “Cute.”

He looks up at you, face flushed, lips parted, pupils blown wide. “Say it again,” he pleads. “Say I’m yours. Say you want it—want me to breed you again—”

You ride him slow, deliberate, dragging his cock out almost to the tip before sinking back down with a wet, squelching sound that makes you both moan.

“Breed me again, Sunday,” you whisper, voice hot in his ear. “Put another load in me. Ruin me.”

He whimpers.

His cock twitches violently, already hard again despite the mess dripping between your thighs. He grabs your hips and begs— “Pleasepleaseplease, let me, I can, I swear, I’m gonna give you everything—”

You lean down, mouth at his ear, whispering filth while grinding your clit against him.

His wings flutter again, light and frantic, like they’re betraying every desperate, aching feeling he can’t put into words.

You kiss his cheek, sweet and cruel.

“Then give me everything, sweetheart.”

Sunday is panting underneath you, his flushed chest rising and falling fast like he just ran a marathon. His soft white hair sticks to his forehead, his yellow eyes glazed over as he tries to remember how to speak.

You’re still on top, your thighs sticky and sore, cum dripping out of you in slow, hot spurts, but you don’t move. His cock is still buried inside, twitching weakly, too sensitive, too hard again.

His trembling fingers trail up to your hips. You watch him gulp, throat bobbing, his mouth barely working before he blurts out—

“…Are you a porn star or somethin’?”

You blink. Then laugh, hard.

He looks up at you like you’re magic and sin wrapped together, his pretty little wings flapping weakly behind his ears as he stares in complete awe.

“I’m serious,” he breathes, sounding dazed. “That was—that was not normal. No one’s ever—fucked me like that—talked like that—rode me like—like you knew exactly how to break me—”

You smirk, leaning down, your lips brushing over his jaw.

“Poor baby,” you purr, voice like warm syrup. “You thought you could handle it. Thought you could just lie back and breed me like it was gonna be easy.”

He groans like you punched the air out of his lungs.

“You made me—f-fuck, I came so hard I think I blacked out,” he admits, his cheeks bright red. “My legs don’t even work. You milked me.”

Your hips roll again, slow and taunting. He yelps, body jolting underneath you, tears prickling in the corners of his pretty golden eyes.

“You’re still hard,” you whisper, amused, “and you’re still inside. You wanna go again?”

He makes a broken, needy sound in the back of his throat, hands gripping your waist like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Yes,” he pants. “God, yes. Please, again. I’ll cum again, I swear—I’ll give you so much—I wanna fill you until it leaks out when you walk—‘til I can see it dripping down your thighs—”

His wings twitch harder, that fluttering picking up again. You grab one fistful of his hair and pull, and he moans.

“Such a messy little thing,” you say sweetly. “You like that your cum’s dripping out of me, huh?”

“Yes,” he whimpers.

You clench around him on purpose, just to watch his jaw go slack and his back arch off the sheets.

“That’s why you thought I was a porn star?” you tease, licking along his cheek. “Because no one’s ever let you cum this much?”

“N-No one’s ever—talked like that—fucked like that—”

You start to move again, your pace a little meaner now, riding him slow but deep, messy wet sounds filling the air as another rush of cum spills from between your thighs.

His head falls back, mouth open, eyes fluttering.

“Oh fuck—again—” he gasps. “You’re gonna make me cum again—so fast—ah—ahhh fuck, you’re perfect—”

You lean close to his ear, your voice low and hot.

“Gonna knock me up this time?” you whisper. “Gonna make it take?”

He screams.

His hands dig into your hips, slamming you down onto him as he cums again, hard and fast, stuffing you even fuller than before. His wings beat out of control behind his ears, frantic, like they’re about to lift him off the bed.

“Oh fuck—baby—fuck—it’s so much—!” he moans, sobbing as he pumps you full again. “I can feel it—it’s everywhere—fuckfuckfuck—”

You rock against him gently as he twitches, body shaking under you.

By the time you finally still, both of you ruined and soaking in his cum, he’s just staring up at you. In love. Destroyed. Worshipful.

“…You gotta tell me if this was real,” he whispers, hoarse. “Because if you’re not a porn star, I think I just saw God.”

You grin.

“I’m not a porn star, sweetheart,” you whisper, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “I’m worse.”

And Sunday’s pretty little wings shiver all over again.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[hazyue]

their kinks pt. 2 ! ✩ genshin boys hcs x gn!reader ↳ ft. haitham, childe, wriothesley, ayato

HAITHAM is obsessed with your size difference. he towers over you, not only when you stand next to him, but even now, as you lay under him, you seem so small compared to him. no amount of prep or foreplay can ever get you used to how fucking big he is. the way he can pin both your arms above your head with just one hand, how he can effortlessly take control at any second. it's alluring; the mere thought of you under him makes his head spin <3

CHILDE's having a great time fucking you through your clothes. you're on his lap, perched right on top of that bulge that he's so proud of you for causing. he rocks his hips and digs his fingers into your sides, straining against your soaked panties. he loves watching you get more and more desperate, trying to find a better angle where you could actually feel him, but he's never been one to rush things <3

WRIOTHESLEY is a gentleman in his daily life, but when it comes to sex, he's vicious. he loves biting, digging his teeth into the elegant crook of your neck while he's deep inside you. he'll make sure to never hurt you, obviously he'll be gentle enough; but he gets a huge thrill out of having your sweet skin between his teeth, pulling your lip along with him while he kisses you <3

AYATO is easily the most refined man in all of inazuma. but no one knows that he's got you bent over in front of his mirror, making you watch yourself while you're moaning his name in the most undignified way. the way he works your body, he knows just how you like it. and it seemed like a waste to him if you couldn't see yourself while he fucks you, so deep, so hard, so sweet <3

© 2025 flwrxiao → don't copy, translate or repost dividers: @/cafekitsune

@stargirlstabber :)

[hazyue]

synopsis: sent as a spy by the fatui, readying her duty to threaten the duke of meropide and gather intel, only to find herself under his not so gentle touch.

tags: smut, hate sex, betrayal, sexual manipulation, rough handling, dark scenes, angst, no happy ending, smut with plot, harsh words.

word count: 2k

rating: 18+, sexual activity, and mild violence.

Your hand hovers steady over his neck, the cold edge of your blade kissing his skin—just enough to threaten, not yet enough to draw blood. His pulse thrums beneath the steel, unhurried, unafraid, as if the weapon pressed to his throat were nothing more than an inconvenient touch.

Wriothesley doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

His eyes lock onto yours, dark and unreadable, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. The bastard has the audacity to smirk.

"Typically, people look for other ways to kill me." His voice is a low, rough drawl, edged with something dangerously close to boredom. One eyebrow lifts, mocking, as he leans further back into the sofa, the picture of ease. The movement presses his throat harder against your blade, daring you to do it.

Your fingers tighten around the hilt, knuckles whitening.

"Did the Fatui send you?" His tone shifts, sharpening like the very knife at his neck. The amusement fades, replaced by something colder, something furious. "Did they force you to butter me up? Make me trust you?"

He leans forward abruptly, forcing you to either cut him or retreat. You hold your ground, but your breath hitches as his face comes inches from yours, his presence overwhelming—heat, leather, and the faint metallic tang of old blood.

"I need information," you grit out, fighting to keep your voice steady.

A harsh, humourless laugh escapes him. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, the endearment a venomous thing. "Don’t you think you’ve gotten enough of that from snooping through my office?"

Before you can react, his hand snaps up, calloused fingers clamping around your wrist like a vice. Bone grinds against bone as he twists, merciless, forcing a sharp cry from your lips. The blade is almsot forced out of your hand, but your grip tightens at the hilt, yet despite your desperate hold, in an instant the tables turn—his other arm slams into your chest, shoving you back against the nearest surface with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.

Now, it’s his body caging yours, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, "Let’s talk about who really sent you."

Your breath hitches as his familiar heat consumes you—the scent of leather and steel, the lingering trace of smoke and sweat. Memories surge unbidden: the press of his bare skin against yours in the dark, the rough scrape of his calloused hands tracing your spine, the low murmur of his voice, warm and honeyed with promises he never meant to keep.

For a single, damning second, you hesitate.

It’s all he needs.

Wriothesley’s grip on your wrist tightens, his thumb digging into the tender pulse point until your fingers spasm, the blade slipping from your grasp. The clatter of steel against the floor is deafening in the sudden silence.

His other hand fists in your collar, yanking you forward until your forehead nearly brushes his. The proximity is suffocating—his breath fans over your lips, the same lips that once traced the scar along his ribs, the same lips that whispered lies into his skin.

"Pathetic," he rasps, voice thick with something between fury and betrayal. "You should’ve tried cutting harder."

His knee slots between your thighs, pinning you in place, a cruel mimicry of the way he’d crowded you against the wall that first night, all teeth and whispered threats that melted into something far more dangerous.

But this time, there’s no tenderness in his touch. Only the cold, calculating grip of a man who’s decided you’re not worth mercy.

"Now," he murmurs, dragging the tip of a dagger—your dagger—along your jaw. "Let’s try this again. Who. Sent. You?"

Wriothesley was many things:

Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. Lord Incognito of the murky depths. A man who thrived in the shadows, who ruled with an iron grip wrapped in velvet courtesy.

But above all else—he loathed traitors.

And you? You had played your part too well.

His grip on you was unrelenting, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your throat just enough to remind you—he could crush you if he wanted to. His other hand still held your wrist, twisted at a brutal angle, your blade long since discarded.

You thrashed against him, but he only tightened his hold, his breath hot against your ear.

"Who. Sent. You."

Each word was a hammer strike, cold and precise.

Your lips parted, defiance warring with something darker—fear.Not of death, no. You’d danced with death before. But of him. Of the way his eyes, usually alight with wicked amusement, had gone glacial. The way his body, once warm and yielding against yours in the dead of night, now felt like unyielding steel, cold like sharp ice.

"Father," you choked out.

The word hung between you like a guillotine’s blade.

Wriothesley went utterly still.

Then—he laughed.

A low, humourless sound, more dangerous than any snarl.

"Ah," he murmured, his thumb brushing your pulse in a mockery of tenderness. "So the Fatui did send me a little spy. And not just any spy—Arlecchino's little pet."

The name of The Knave, the Harbinger who had raised you, shaped you, sent you here, seemed to carve the air between you.

Wriothesley’s grip shifted, his free hand tangling in your hair, wrenching your head back to force your gaze up at him.

"Tell me," he said, voice deceptively soft. "Did she know you’d spread your legs for me, too? Or was that your own initiative?"

The words were a knife, twisted deep.

You swallowed hard, but there was no defense. No lie left to tell.

Wriothesley’s smile was razor-edged.

"Good." He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a cruel parody of the way he’d once whispered to you in the dark. "Then she’ll know exactly why I’m sending you back to her in pieces."

"Wriothesley!"

Your voice was sharp, desperate, as you arched against him, your body straining beneath his weight. His knee pressed harder between your thighs, the rough fabric of his trousers dragging against the sensitive skin of your inner leg. The friction was cruel—almost deliberate—a taunting reminder of how easily he could shift from pain to pleasure, from punishment to something far more dangerous.

"Don’t do this," you whimpered, the words breaking in your throat.

His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back further, exposing the vulnerable line of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, lips grazing the spot where your pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.

"Why not?" he murmured, voice thick with something between fury and hunger. "You didn’t seem to mind when it was you fucking me into the mattress. When it was your nails digging into my back. When it was your lies spilling from those pretty lips."

His free hand slid down your side, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise.

"Oh sweetheart," his voice lowered, his breath hot against your ear. "Did you think about the Knave when you were screaming my name? Or were you too busy pretending you actually wanted me?"

You shuddered, shame and desire twisting together in your gut.

His laugh was dark, mocking. "Pathetic."

Then, with a sudden, brutal shift, he yanked you forward, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. It was a punishment. A claim.

And when he finally pulled away, his lips were stained with the copper tang of your blood.

"You don’t get to beg now, sweetheart," he whispered, thumb swiping roughly over your lower lip. "Not after what you’ve done."

Wriothesley’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back further, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, lips grazing the spot where your pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.

His free hand slid down your side, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise. You gasped, arching into the pain—or was it pleasure? The line between them had blurred long ago with him.

"Tell me," he growled, pressing closer, his body a furnace against yours. "Did you think about the Knave and your mission when you were cock drunk on my dick begging for more?"

You shuddered, shame and desire twisting together in your gut. His knee between your thighs pressed harder, the rough fabric of his trousers dragging against your sensitive skin, teasing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"And look at you all ready and shivering for it, already wet and begging like a desperate slut for my cock because that's all you're good at doing" he grinds his knee briefly on your wet cunt, the evidence there through the dampness of the fabric.

His hand slid down to the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping beneath the fabric with deliberate slowness. You tensed, but he only smirked, his breath hot against your ear.

"But I’ll let you squirm for it."

His fingers found your clit, circling just once—teasing—before retreating. You bit back a whimper, hips jerking forward instinctively, seeking the friction he’d denied you.

Wriothesley chuckled, low and cruel. "Oh? Still so eager for me?" His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your gaze up to meet his. "Even now?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

His smirk deepened. "Good."

Then his hand was back, fingers slipping inside you without warning, curling just right to make your back arch. A choked moan tore from your throat as he worked you ruthlessly, his thumb pressing down on your clit in tight, punishing circles.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice rough with something darker than anger. "Still so fucking wet for me. Even after you sold me out."

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. But just as you teetered on the edge, he withdrew, leaving you empty, aching.

"No." His voice was steel. "You don’t get to come until I say so."

Before you could protest, he spun you around, shoving you face-first against the nearest surface—the desk, the wall, it didn’t matter. His body pressed flush against your back, one hand fisting in your hair while the other yanked your pants down just enough to expose you.

You heard the slick sound of him spitting into his palm, the rustle of fabric as he freed himself. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasing, torturing, before he slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, the stretch bordering on pain, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow. His hips snapped forward relentlessly, each movement driving you harder against the unforgiving surface beneath you.

"This what you wanted?" he snarled, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "You thought you could play me? Use me?"

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t think—every nerve was alight, every thrust dragging you closer to the edge despite yourself.

His hand slid around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of his control. "Look at you," he breathed, lips brushing your ear. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for it."

The words shouldn’t have sent heat pooling low in your belly. But they did.

He fucked you like it was a punishment, like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else. And when your body tightened around him, pleasure cresting despite your shame, his grip on your throat tightened just slightly.

"No," he growled. "Not yet."

You whimpered, trembling on the edge, but he didn’t relent. Not until his own rhythm faltered, his breath coming ragged against your skin. Only then did he finally let go, his fingers slipping between your legs to press hard against your clit as he drove into you one last time.

"Now."

The command shattered you. Pleasure ripped through you like a blade, sharp and blinding, as he spilled inside you with a low, ragged groan.

For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing, the slick heat between your thighs, the weight of his body still pressed against yours.

Then Wriothesley pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants with deliberate calm. When he turned to face you, his expression was ice.

"Clean yourself up," he said, voice devoid of anything resembling warmth. "Then get the hell out of my sight."

He turned to leave, but not before tossing your discarded blade at your feet.

"Next time you try to kill or threaten me," he said over his shoulder, "make sure you mean it."

And then he was gone, leaving you trembling, ruined, and—worst of all—wanting more.

had this idea and wrote it at 1am in the morning so please bare with me if there are any errors, spelling mistakes or weird sentence structure. please don't plagiarise or post my work on any other platform. 🩷

- kay