mudhorn-djarin19 - Tumblr blog

mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 minutes ago

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❝just the ti—❞ - caleb 夏以昼

“just the tip.” need i say more? caleb can’t keep his hands off you, and vice versa. please mind the warnings!

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: caleb x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with no plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 5.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, coercion (both from mc and caleb), slight manipulation, somewhat dubcon, lack of restraint, use of ‘gege,’ technically first time (not canon compliant), pussyjob, no-condom, no pulling out, marking and possessive behavior, let me reiterate coercion

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: please read the content warnings. if coercion or dubcon makes you uncomfortable, maybe skip this one! but i think it’s on the milder side. the desire and consent is evident.

this got really long so fast idk how it happened. i’ll be honest, it was really hard finishing this because i’ve lacked motivation. the state of the fandom has been rough and it makes me uninspired. if it sucks im sorry im honestly not very happy with this writing. hopefully its not too bad though!

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

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

You should have known it was a ridiculous idea.

You should have known there was no way you and Caleb could keep your hands off of each other.

“C-Caleb—!” you gasp, thighs clenching as you straddled his lap. His lips are firmly latched onto your pulse, no doubt purposely leaving a deep and visible hickey there.

Caleb groans at the way you cry his name, so painfully hard that his entire body trembles beneath you. Your name spills from his lips, desperate and pained.

“Sh-shit,” he groans, breath tickling your ear, “O-Oh God…” His forceful fingers dig into your hips, controlling your movements against his clothed erection.

“S-Slow, remember?” you murmur into his thick hair, though you make no moves to stop him or yourself, “We’re taking it slow.”

Caleb ruts his hips upward, unable to keep himself from your touch, “I know baby—I know. I’m trying.”

You giggle breathlessly, kissing his throbbing neck. You knew he was trying his hardest. You’d both agreed to “take things slow.” Not because you were virgins, because you weren’t. Nor was it because you weren’t ready, or he wasn’t ready, you both were. Maybe too ready, with the way you guys were going at it like horny teenagers on your couch.

But, amidst the landscape of your changing relationship, you’d wanted to tread carefully, fearful of what could happen if this all imploded. If maybe you weren’t meant to be more than the relationship you’d held all your lives.

You didn’t want to let the lust take over and distract you from something you’d wanted nearly all your life. Caleb.

You honestly couldn’t be sure if Caleb had agreed to it because he actually agreed with your reasoning or simply because, for his entire life, he’d had trouble saying no to you.

In any case, he agreed and he’d been a wonderful sport about it.

But it was fucking painful. It’d been a few weeks since those deeply hidden feelings had come tumbling out of both your lips. You weren’t sure if you were always this way, or if this was the result of years of denial and restraint, but it was nearly impossible for you to keep your hands off him, and him you.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t found other ways to indulge in each other. Your cheeks heat as you recall the vivid memories of other things you’d done on this very couch. The days he visited Linkon, or you visited Skyhaven, were filled with lots of making out and heavy petting. But never more than that.

“W-We should stop,” Caleb pants through clenched teeth, burying his face into your shoulder, “Now. Before things go further.”

“Y-Yeah, we should,” you agree, but you make absolutely no move to climb off his lap. In fact, your hips continue rhythmically rolling against him, making him throw his head back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck—you’re killing me,” he whispers, kissing your temple—not trusting himself to taste your lips right now.

“We can still do other things, remember?” you murmur, fingers already finding his belt, hesitating before moving further. Caleb curses under his breath.

“God…The things you do to me,” he mutters lowly, his eyes hooded and swirling darkly as he speaks again.

“Okay, show me what you want to do then, princess.”

You bite your lip, knowing Caleb has given you full reigns—wanting, needing you to take control, lest he take things too far. He couldn’t trust himself around you and needed your guidance to know what was too much.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your hyperactive nerves. Suddenly, under Caleb’s intense and curious eyes, you felt shy. While you had held him in your hands before, you’d never gone farther than that—than an innocent little handjob or some innocent clit play.

Caleb hesitates before leaning back, giving you more space between your bodies so that you can do whatever it is you’re planning.

You try your best not to gawk when you see how thick Caleb is in your fingers. You’d seen it before, but it was impressive every time. Caleb’s head is thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you give him a few languid pumps.

“C-Christ,” Caleb growls. His entire body trembles, fighting with himself to not thrust his hips into your palm.

“Just like that, princess,” Caleb gasps for air. He’d experienced your fingers a few times before, and he’d never tire of it. Everything about you was soft, warm, and perfect.

Watching Caleb’s face contort in pleasure, feeling his plentiful pre-cum spilling over your fingers, makes your own core ache with desire, the familiar and uncomfortable feeling of your panties smearing against your wet core making you squirm.

You wanted to feel good too.

Caleb’s eyes widen when you wriggle out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing other than your soaked lace underwear. His heart pounds so forcefully that his ears start to ring.

“W-What are you—”

He’s cut off by his own moan when you give him an unsteady jerk, struggling to do both things at once.

“S-Sorry,” you giggle nervously. Caleb’s fingers itch to each out and touch your sweet spot, like he had several times before. But before he can even open his mouth to ask, you’re releasing him from your fingers and scooting closer.

Caleb’s mind races a mile a minute, hypnotized by your glistening folds, mere inches away from his own leaking cock.

“S-Seriously, what are you doing?” he chokes out your name, doing everything he can to not move—to not mold himself against you. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of you and he wanted it.

“Trying something new,” you whisper, taking the plunge before you lose your courage and pressing right against him. His hardened shaft parts your lips, your body enveloping him without penetrating,

Caleb lets out a string of expletives that would make their grandmother roll in her grave. He grips your hips, stilling your movements.

“What—hah—happened to taking it slow?” Caleb demands, unsure how far you’re willing to go right now. If it was up to him he’d lift you and impale you on his cock right then and there. And he could. He really could.

“We still a-are,” you insist, already fighting against his strong grip on you. At that, Caleb gulps—suddenly understanding what it is you’re trying to do.

Honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough. To resist the temptation of what he’s been fantasizing about for years, especially when it was right there. Grinding against him.

But his hands have a mind of their own and he guides your hips in a slow and tortuous roll against him, his cock sitting between your warm lips, fitting against you like a damn puzzle.

“C-Caleb…” you choke, your vision going white at the delicious friction between your bodies. You hold onto his shoulders while your back arches, your rhythm growing frantic against him.

Caleb moans your name, the sound broken and beautiful on his tongue, “J-Jesus—harder. Princess, please.”

You whimper, quite literally bouncing on his lap now. With every movement, you make sure your clit gets to feel the throbbing veins along his thick length. Caleb looks up at you, glassy-eyed and staring at you with a swirl of conflict, adoration, and hunger.

“F-Feels so good,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as you imagine how he’d feel inside you.

Caleb’s fingers dig painfully into your hips as he imagines what would happen if he shifted, just slightly, he could slip right into you. Feel your wet warm tight walls around where he needed you most.

No. He promised you you’d take things slowly. He couldn’t do that.

A fresh wave of guilt washes over him as he tries to push away those desires. The quickly dwindling rational part of his brain speaks for him and he stutters, “M-Maybe we should stop now. Before I—”

You whine at the thought of stopping, never quite having felt a pleasure like this before, “Caleb—please. N-Not yet.”

You watch Caleb fighting with himself internally, the turmoil written all over his face. Feeling cheeky, you pull out your favorite and most effective weapon.

“Please, Gege?” you murmur into his ear, still riding against him—effectively giving him his first pussyjob.

Caleb stiffens under you, his breathing quickening at your words, “Fuck—you’re such a spoiled brat.” You grin and kiss his jaw teasingly.

Whenever you called him that, it unraveled him. And you knew that.

He starts to rock you against his lap again. He curses himself for not being able to say no to you, for still being so weak to you, especially when you called him that. But deep down, he doesn’t want to stop. He never wants to stop.

With every millisecond that passes like this, Caleb’s self-control wavers until it dwindles to the point of no return.

“Just a little bit mnngh—more then.”

You nod vigorously, agreeing urgently. He watches you, stars in his eyes, one hand reaching to grip the back of your skull and gently tug on your hair, “You’re killing me.”

As your movements grow sloppier and more desperate, the thick head of his cock begins to catch along your movements. The sticky arousal smears against your thighs and abdomen, the lewd sounds making your head spin.

Caleb is mesmerized, watching you ride his lap. It gets increasingly more intense, the movements becoming more and more dangerous. Every roll comes impossibly close to penetrating, his tip getting caught at your entrance with every thrust.

He could swear you were torturing him on purpose. He couldn’t take much more of this. Not if he wanted to keep from lifting you and slamming you down onto his cock right then and there.

Fuck—no. I can’t. We promised. Slow.

He holds your hips firmly, but is unable to force himself to stop you completely. In fact, it felt like pulling teeth forcing his words out, “No more princess. If we keep going, I can’t guarantee…”

You bite your lip at the clear warning in his words—conflicted with yourself. The idea of stopping now…it physically pained you.

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper, your words contradicting your actions as you purposely drag his engorged head against your entrance, so close to slipping right in.

You were the one who wanted to wait. Why couldn’t you stop?

“We shouldn’t,” he parrots, wrapping his thick arms around your back. His hips are moving against your thighs now, thrusting himself between your dripping lips—acutely aware how close he was to penetrating. He could literally angle one degree…and he’d be right inside you. That thought actively haunted him.

You’d whittled his restraint down until there was none left. And now, the roles were reversed.

Now, he was begging.

“I know we shouldn’t,” he murmurs into your shoulder, kissing your collar tenderly, “But fuck baby, I want to so badly.”

It was doable when you were the one begging and Caleb was the one being level-headed and smart. But now?

This wasn’t good.

“I-I want more,” you admit breathlessly, “But…we said…” You trail off, honestly unsure what to even say. You wanted it and you were counting on Caleb to stop you.

“Slow,” he finishes your words. But instead of stopping, he thrusts slowly, purposely missing and gliding up against your stomach, causing you to convulse against him. His strong hands guide your movements, muscles bulging as he works your body against his own.

“Caleeeeb,” you whine, not convincing even yourself. You find yourself losing the fight against desire with every passing second, face contorted in pure pleasure as you both continue to rock into each other.

“Just a little?” he whispers lowly, his voice quite literally dripping with temptation, “Couldn’t hurt, could it?”

You hesitate, biting your lip and testing his words on your own tongue, “Just a little…?”

“Just a little, princess,” Caleb reaffirms, nudging you in the direction of pleasure. The guilt gnaws at him, knowing how much you trusted him and still trying to lure you into the wild.

But he was too far gone.

“I promise.”

Your reluctance fades and you nod slowly, feeling unbearably safe in his hold—drawn to his reassuring words like a moth to a flame, “O-Okay. Just…just a little. Just—” You nearly cringe as you say the words, but you’re too far gone.

“Just the tip, o-okay?

Caleb’s heart skips with a dark excitement, his cock twitching between your soft thighs at the mere thought of breaching your tight perfect body.

He gently rolls you over until he’s hovering over you. Holding the base of his erection, he rubs it along your core until he finds your entrance, nearly being sucked in by sheer desire. You glistened beneath his intense gaze, your body practically beckoning him.

God, you were so fucking irresistable.

“Yeah, no more than that, Pips,” he reassures, using his cock head to toy with your entrance. He fully intends on sticking to that.

But somewhere in the back of his mind…he knows that that might just be wishful thinking.

A small part of him knows he should feel guilty, ashamed—knowing he should be the bigger person and stop this. But the look of desperation and arousal on your blushing face fuels his dark desires.

She’s enjoying this. She wants this.

Maybe he’s just seeing what he wants to see, but that’s all the justification he needs. His hand trembles with excitement as he begins to press into you, his jaw clenched so tight it begins to ache.

“W-Wait, should we use a c-cond—” you start but whimper abruptly when you feel him starting to stretch you open.

“It’s just the tip, we don’t need it,” he reassures you, stroking your hair soothingly, “I’ll pull right out. Nothing will happen to you.”

He hardens further when you nod, so trusting and willing.

God, he was going to hell.

“Just a little more…” he chants, almost as if reminding himself—cautioning himself. He watches as he disappears into your perfect glistening folds, your body trembling beautifully for him.

You bury your face into his shoulder, biting down at the feeling of him slowly pushing in, thicker than you thought you could take. Eyes rolling back, your back arches deeply—like a bowstring being pulled back—when his thick head finally slips into you.

“O-Oh—god—!” you pant as you struggle to accommodate even just this little of him.

Caleb presses his lips into your forehead, his own voice low and shaky, “Shhh—just relax okay? Relax for me.”

You nod, your eyes squeezed shut with both overwhelm and bliss. He was stretching you so unbelievably wide, the sting already becoming addicting.

A wave of primal satisfaction washes over him as it sinks in that he’s finally inside you, even if only partially. How many times has he dreamt about this moment, and every single time paled to reality.

“Y-You’re so warm—so soft,” he growls, trying to keep himself in check. But you felt so unbelievably tight, gummy walls so damn perfect around just his tip. His mind kept wandering to what it’d feel like if he just…sank all the way in.

No. He promised.

You pull away from Caleb’s shoulder to look down between your bodies. His shaft glistens with a combination of your arousals, and sure enough—only the tip is hidden and buried inside you.

Every muscle in Caleb’s body trembles with effort as he forces himself to stay impossibly still. For a brief moment, you both just gaze at the other’s pleasure clouded faces, everything else fading into the background. The moment feels suspended in time.

“Nnngh…feels so g-good Caleb,” you choke out, hips squirming uncontrollably. Caleb swears, using one hand to keep you in place, grip bruising your hip.

Caleb grits out your name, choked and pained, “Hah—shit. Princess please stop.”

“I-I can’t,” you whine, feeling your back arch all on its own, wanting more of him. Your body ached to feel complete.

Your wriggles cause more of him to slip into you. Caleb’s eyes squeeze shut, expletives spewing from his lips. But he makes absolutely no moves to withdraw.

“Christ please y-you’re—”

But he shuts up when your arching body pushes against him, his cock inadvertently sinking in deeper.

Yeah, he was not surviving this.

Though the both of you had initially agreed on “just the tip,” when Caleb looked down he realized that nearly half of his cock had disappeared inside you.

Nearly hypnotized by the sight, he can’t help but want more. Even though you were taking it slow. Even though he was inside you with no protection.

“It’s…it’s already half way in, princess,” he whispers, his finger rubbing dizzyingly soothing circles into your thighs, “Fuck…please…let me just—”

“Caleb—nnngh…” you gasp when he slides in further, the friction against your sensitive walls making it hard to think straight.

“Fuck—you’re sucking me in,” he groans, feeling himself inch closer and closer to you, “I can’t—m’sorry—��

He grips your head, fingers massaging the back of your head bringing you in for a kiss that consumes you whole. As you moan into his hungry lips, he sinks another inch into you. And then another. Another. Another.

You’re unable to protest even if you wanted to, his tongue tangling with yours and occupying you entirely.

He only pulls away when he’s fully seated in you, his eyes delirious with ecstasy. He fills you so incredibly full that you can hardly breath, never quite having anyone as well endowed as Caleb. He grabs you by your hips, panting raggedly.

“I couldn’t stop—f-fuck…I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your temple. You shake your head, squirming against his pelvis, chasing the friction you’d felt as he sank into you, inch by delicious inch.

Your mind struggles to reconcile the overwhelming pleasure with your original hesitance, “I—It’s….It’s okay. You feel…s-so good.”

“Yeah? You feel fucking incredible,” he growls, not thrusting but grinding against your own wriggling hips. It makes rational thought nearly impossible.

“You’re driving me insane, princess,” he says, almost cautioning you as your hips squirm tortuously against him.

With his cock fully in you now, your mind is an absolute mess of desire and hesitation—and desire was definitely winning. But as you start moving more, Caleb holds you in place—a dangerous warning swirling in his eyes.

As much as he wanted more, he’d already taken things too far. And if you went any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

“No. Behave.”

You whine sulkily, trying to rut against him, unable to control yourself. The feeling of his cock sliding into your depths was seared into your brain and you wanted to feel it again.

Caleb groans with frustration, holding on by a splintering thread, “I’m serious, baby. Any m-more and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop.”

“That I won’t fuck you, right here and now.”

The dark warning in his filthy warning only makes you want to push more.

“J-Just one,” you beg, pouting, “Just once.”

“D-Don’t give me that face,” he growls desperately, “Damn it—you know I can’t—”

When he curses, you whisper, “Caleb, please. We don’t have to go all the way. Just one, just once—please.”

Caleb’s dick, buried deep inside you, twitches with excitement at your begging, “You’re killing me.” But from the way his hips tremble you can tell your words are quickly eating through his lingering resolve.

“I-I’m not wearing a condom,” he forces out, using the last bit of his restraint.

That wouldn’t stop him, but it might stop you.

“It’s jus’ one thrust,” you plead, “We don’t need one.”

Caleb’s pupils dilate in front of your eyes, his breathing growing increasingly erratic. How could you be this stupid—naive? Offering yourself up to him like this? Letting him do this, much less with no protection. Letting him feel you, bare and raw.

Didn’t you know he’d fucking devour you?

“Christ—okay just one. And then we stop.”

You nod eagerly, sitting up on your elbows so you can watch the space between your bodies. Slowly, wanting to savor the “single” thrust you’ve agreed on, Caleb pulls out, only his tip is inside your warmth. The sight is so damn filthy your toes curl.

Your eyes roll back at the friction, “C-Caleb…please.”

At your strangled plea, Caleb thrusts back into you—a perfect mix of rough but sensual. It knocks the breath out of you, every nerve ending in your body seeming to pop with fireworks.

“Sh-Shit—Y-You’re so tight…” Caleb groans, sweating from the sheer amount of restraint it takes to not repeat that single action—over and over and over.

Forcing yourself to see clearly, your eyes widen when you see Caleb nearly hyperventilating above you.

“Caleb?”

Caleb looks straight into your eyes, his irises dark and dangerous. Gone was the soft sunset hues, replaced with a near-black indigo that stared back at you like predators would appraise its prey. Your eyes widen, skin tingling at the unfiltered animalistic energy in his eyes.

“I-I…”

You gasp when you feel Caleb’s hips moving, withdrawing a torturous inch before thrusting shallowly back into you.

“Nnnghn—w-wait,” you writhe with pleasure at the small motion, “Caleb, we said—”

“I know what we said,” Caleb groans, cutting you off, “I know we shouldn’t, but God—”

He thrusts shallowly again, actively losing himself to the feeling of your perfect body, dragging you down the abyss with him.

“Caleb,” you gasp, “W-We shouldn’t…” Your words are unconvincing, even to yourself, as your legs tighten, pulling him closer.

“I-I don’t think I can stop. Please baby,” he begs, hating himself but asking nonetheless. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the inside of your thigh—almost as if trying to coax you into saying yes.

You bite your lip in contemplation. You wanted more of the pleasure he’d just given you, you really did. But you were scared.

What if he didn’t want you after this?

You knew it was a ridiculous notion. But then again, you could be quite ridiculous.

Caleb can see the turmoil written across your face, forcing himself to still his hips.

“You trust me, right pip-squeak?” he whispers, thumb brushing against your lower lip. His gut twists as the words leave his lips, knowing he’s being unfair. Especially when you look up, eyes fluttering at him—wide-eyed and so damn trusting. That look makes Caleb’s consciousness stir with a vicious mix of guilt and desire.

“I-I do. Mmmngh—I…I trust you more than anything,” you gasp when Caleb stirs again, his pelvis brushing against your clit.

The look of ecstasy on your perfect features encourages him, pulling out again—just a few centimeters before thrusting back into you. You moan, toes curling against him, your legs wrapped around his back.

He was making you feel good. That couldn’t possibly be a bad thing, could it?

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers, gently kissing your lips, “I always do.”

As he dips down to reach you, his hips shift—giving you more friction. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself—that he shouldn’t push you like this.

But how could he not when you felt like this?

“Please…don’t make me stop,” he pleads, eyes hooded with a vulnerability that Caleb never let show, least of all to you.

This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment—lust. He needed this connection with you.

While you’d been insecure that Caleb might not want you anymore after this, Caleb felt insecure that you’d disappear at any moment—that he’d wake up and find himself trapped in the role of big brother again.

He wasn’t sure that he deserved this. Deserved you.

“Caleb…” you trail off, battling with yourself internally. But the white flag is within sight, your resolve absolutely shattered.

And Caleb can tell.

“I’ll take care of you,” he forces out, his voice husky and tender—gently giving you one last push, “You know that, right?”

You nod vigorously, getting lost in the moment once more—enchanted by the truth behind his silken words.

“Okay Caleb…I-I want…I want more.”

Caleb’s eyes widen fractionally before he devours you in an explosive kiss. He greedily swallows every beautiful little moan—you’re unable to contain them as Caleb starts to roll his hips. He starts slow, sensual, and intentional.

As he pulls away, he buries his face into your neck, “F-Fuck—thank you, princess.”

And he’s genuinely thankful, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt for—what feels like to him—taking advantage of your trust. But he truly can’t stop himself. His pelvis smacks your inner thighs as he gives you a powerful thrust, making you see stars. He scoops your smaller hands into his, raising them above your head and restraining them against the couch arm.

“Gege will take care of you.”

You gasp at his filthy promises—using the same word you’d used against him moments ago. Your back arches off the couch as his pace quickens considerably. His charming words make you all but forget your reservations.

He made you feel so safe. How could this be wrong?

“I-It’ll be—ngghh—okay, right?” you babble, watching him with your arms restrained and your lower body pinned under his. You don’t say it, but you’re both thinking it. He hadn’t put on a condom.

Your tummy flutters at the thought.

Caleb squeezes your thigh reassuringly, his head thrown back with a look of pure bliss, “Hah—of course, princess. I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

His hips pound against your legs now, the couch legs scratching against the hardwood floor. Filthy sounds echo around the living room—wet skin against skin, cries of ecstasy, whispered declarations of reassurances and love alike.

Caleb grows increasingly more emotional as the pleasure and intensity climbs to new heights, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

“I’m sorry,” he rambles, “I’m so sorry, baby. I couldn’t stop…I shouldn’t have—C-Christ—!”

“D-Don’t,” you plead, completely forgetting altogether why you’d held this off for weeks, “Mmmngh—please don’t stop.”

“God, and I thought you felt good earlier—” he cuts himself off with a pained growl.

You don’t know if Caleb is naturally gifted or experienced—all you know is he knows exactly what he’s doing. He seems to find all your sweetest spots as if he was following a map.

But what’s more is the way he speaks to you, the way he caresses your thighs, the way he rubs your wrists as he restrains them. How safe he makes you feel, when just moments ago you were terrified of the consequences.

Maybe you were naive to just let yourself be ensnared by his velvety words, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore.

It felt too good.

“Never letting you go,” he promises darkly, letting go of your wrists so he can hold your face in his fingers, “Not after this.”

You whine with satisfaction, chest heaving as his hips work tirelessly to send you over the edge and straight to heaven. You weren’t sure why you’d ever doubted him.

“Please don’t,” you plead whole-heartedly, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. Caleb looks surprised for a second, his face softening at your words.

“Never,” he murmurs, “Need me to prove it?”

As you nod Caleb’s face darkens considerably, the excitement and arousal written all over his perfect features. Your body tingles violently, close to bursting.

His hips begin to lose their rhythm as he thinks about what he wants to do to you. What he wants to show you.

“Y-You trust me, right princess?” he asks again, breath short and desperate. When you nod, Caleb buries himself into your neck, breath so warm it makes you shiver.

Caleb groans when your trembles cause you to tighten around him, knowing he can’t hold back his orgasm much longer—not when you feel like heaven and sin wrapped around him.

At your blind trust, whether he deserved it or not, Caleb is ready to fold. To give you all of him. And to take absolutely all of you.

“Gonna mark you,” he declares darkly, his words dripping with warning and possession. Though he says it like it’s a choice that he’s making, it really isn’t. In reality, he couldn’t stop. Maybe not even if you asked. That thought terrifies him.

“Mmmngh—!” you gasp, feeling close to finishing yourself, “I-Inside?”

You knew you shouldn’t let him. It’d already gone way farther than you’d intended. But the thought of it…

It was too fucking tempting to pass up.

Caleb chuckles, apparently able to read your conflict and desires easily, “F-Fuck…yeah. You like the sound of that, huh? You’re squeezing me so tight, princess.”

The thought of being so wanted by him that he’d do everything he could to possess you. Carnal primal possession in every sense of the word.

You’d never be able to go back, and he knew that. You knew that.

And that’s what you wanted.

You nod, hugging him to your chest—your legs trapping him. Caleb groans at how receptive you are—how willing you are to give yourself to him completely.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers into your ear, voice strained, “If anything happens, I’ll be there.”

You’re about to speak but Caleb’s hand wriggles its way between your bodies to find your clit, rendering you absolutely speechless. His own moans fill your ear, the sounds of unrestrained pleasure sending you reeling into an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Caaleb—!” you cry, hiccuping, “C-Cumming, o-oh God—!”

Caleb curses as you cum, your body tightening like a vice. He wants to hold on—to make it last just a little longer, but you make it impossible for him. Especially as you cry out repeatedly for him, your smaller body trembling under his.

“You’re mine.”

That’s the last thing he’s able to say before he lets go, spilling everything he has inside of you—consequences and restraint be damned.

His muscles quiver as the waves of his orgasm ravage his body, holding you impossibly close to him—not letting even a centimeter of space between you. His hips continue to rock into you, fucking his seed deeper into you, igniting your body from the inside out.

“F-Full,” you gasp with satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of being so completed by him. It was starting to sting, still gently thrusting in and out of you, but you can’t bear the thought of losing this connection.

“I know, baby” he praises, gripping your thigh as he continues to unload into you—his cock still twitching as it paints your walls, “Y-You’re doing so good. Taking it all for me.”

You nearly purr with satisfaction, unbelievably happy with the way he praises you as he connects with you in the most intimate and primal way possible.

As the intense tidal waves of pleasure recede back into the current, Caleb comes to his senses. He pulls away so he can look at you, wanting to see you.

“That was…” he trails off—dazed, absolutely lovestruck. He couldn’t even begin to put what he’d just experienced with you into words.

He rolls onto his side, bringing you to his chest. He’s sure not to sever your connection, still savoring your warmth. Maybe he’d never leave. Maybe he could keep you here forever, well-fed and well—

He shakes himself out of his increasingly feral thoughts, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in with a shaky breath—your scent always able to ground him.

“You’ve ruined me.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, still too breathless and fucked dumb to speak. Caleb chuckles, wiping the drool from the corner of your kiss bitten lips. Your smile makes his chest flutter, but he can’t help the resentment that starts to creep in.

“Are…” he trails off, Adam’s apple bobbing thickly as he continues, “Are you okay?”

You can see the guilt in his sparkling amethyst eyes—the disbelief. That he’d let himself take things this far. That he hadn’t been able to control himself—like he was some horny deranged teenager and not the revered and disciplined Colonel he was supposed to be.

“No, I'll never be okay again. You’ve created a monster,” you trail your featherlight kisses across his chest to his shoulder. You’d never be able to get enough of this. Of him.

Caleb chuckles warmly, kissing the top of your head with relief, “You’ve always been a little monster, you can’t blame that on me.”

You clench down on him in warning—eliciting a delicious groan from his puffy lips. It fuels you with confidence, making you want him all the more.

“You should be scared,” you warn playfully.

“Should I now, pip-squeak?” Caleb grins, enjoying your attitude. But as much as he adored your brattiness, what he loved more was putting you in your place.

He withdraws from the comfort of your tight walls, smiling smugly when you whine and writhe with dissatisfaction. Your fingers automatically find his shoulders and dig in, trying to stop him from leaving you, not ready to be without him yet.

“Caleeeb,” you whine unhappily. His smile only widens. There was that look he loved so damn much.

“What, baby?” he coos, condescending and teasing all at once.

When you don’t speak—just continuing to glare childishly at him, Caleb laughs, “Come on, use your words. You know Gege will give anything you want.”

“Oh I’ll use my words alright…” you grumble, unbelievably petulant, “To hurt you and your stupid feelings.”

Caleb throws his head back with amused laughter before leaning into your ear, “Come on, you can do it. Ask for it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feign innocence.

Mischief glimmers in Caleb’s eyes, “Oh? But you were so cute earlier when you were begging for just the ti—”

You sit up abruptly and scramble to climb off the couch, your cheeks flushed and warm—absolutely mortified those words had ever come out of your mouth, “Nevermind. I’m good.”

But Caleb’s quicker, immediately wrapping his thick arms around your bare waist. His laugh rings in your ear as he buries his face into your hair and pulls your back flush with his chest.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he murmurs warmly into your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there. You let yourself be pulled to him, feeling his cock pressed against your lower back—hardening again.

“You know I’ll give you much more than that.”

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

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

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 3 days ago

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rough sex with zayne

zayne was the picture of composure in everyone’s eyes—calm, polite, the kind of doctor patients trusted with their lives. his voice was always measured, his actions gentle, his manners pristine. but the man who stood behind you now, thick cock buried to the hilt as he bent you over the mattress, was nothing like the professional the world admired. with you, he was raw, relentless, and mean in the way his hips slammed into yours, the way his hand pressed the back of your neck down to the sheets to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“z–zayne, oh my goodd... aaahhhh...” your voice cracked into high, breathy cries as the force of his thrusts sent your body jolting forward. the slap of skin-on-skin echoed in the room, mixed with the wet squelch of your pussy struggling to take his size, cream already slicking down his length.

“fuck,” zayne’s groan rumbled low in his chest, breaking into ragged exhales as his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. “so tight, sweetheart… you’re taking me so well.” his tone was still tender even as his pace was brutal, thick veins dragging along your walls until you were drooling into the sheets, your voice slurred and shaky.

your nails clawed at the mattress as you moaned, “y-you’re so deep... ahhhh.. f-feels too good, zayne, p-please don’t stop!” each word came out broken, your body arching as his cock hit that spot that had you seeing stars.

zayne gritted his teeth, a strained groan falling from his lips as he shoved in harder, his large frame caging you in from behind. “i’m not stopping. not when you’re this perfect for me. look at how you’re milking me, baby…” his hips snapped forward with a wet, obscene clap, his breath hot against your ear when he leaned down just enough to whisper, “god, you’re creaming all over my cock.”

the force of his thrusts had you babbling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out, “s-so biiggg... mmmnghhh... zayne, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he cut you off, voice steady but dripping with heat, every word punctuated with a punishing snap of his hips. “you always do—fuck—that’s it—” he let out a strained groan, jaw tight as your walls fluttered around him. “so good for me, sweetheart. my perfect girl.”

the messy rhythm of your bodies filled the room, your broken moans mixing with his grunts and sharp exhales as he fucked you harder, deep strokes bruising your cervix until you were clenching down on him uncontrollably.

“gonna fill you up—fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight.” zayne’s voice cracked, raw and needy as his thrusts grew rougher, less controlled. with one last deep grind into your cunt, his hips stuttered, cock twitching as hot spurts of cum spilled into you. the warmth spread deep, thick and messy, dripping around his length even as he stayed buried to the hilt.

your cries melted into soft whimpers, body trembling under him, while zayne’s chest heaved against your back. he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head, hand soothing your waist even as his cock remained buried inside, keeping every drop in. “you did so good for me,” he murmured, voice low and reverent, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you raw.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 5 days ago

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0.613CM ( caleb x f.reader ) — caleb’s chest got bigger and you can't keep your hands off, can you? | suggestive . shameless ogling . groping . reader is a simp . we all love big hearted caleb .

You’re standing in the kitchen, aggressively mixing your overnight oats, when Caleb walks in fresh from his shower, towel draped loosely around his hips, chest glistening with stray droplets of water.

And holy mother of all things sinful.

Your mixing spoon freezes mid-stir. Your jaw goes slack. Because his chest… his chest looks bigger. “Morning, pipsqueak—” he starts, but you’re already striding over with murder (lust) in your eyes. You poke his pec with your index finger, frowning deeply.

“Why is this so big,” you demand, giving it a firm squeeze. It’s rock solid under your palm, warm from his shower. He blinks down at you, confused but amused. “Uh… training? It’s only like… 0.613 cm bigger, relax,” he chuckles, wrapping one large hand around your wrist, but you ignore him completely.

“ONLY?! ONLY 0.613 CM BIGGER?!” you shriek softly, your voice breaking as your hands cup both pecs fully. “Caleb. Caleb. Caleb. Do you even realise what you’re doing to me right now?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Enlighten me,” he says with that stupid cocky smile. So you do. You bury your face right into his left pec, nose smushed against his soft skin, inhaling deeply like a deranged cat. “Mmmhhh,” you moan, absolutely shameless. “They’re like boobs. Big, warm, muscular boobs. Everyone loves boobs. I love boobs. Your boobs.”

“They’re pecs, pips,” he corrects, voice strained as your hands knead into his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples. His towel slips a little lower on his hips. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Nope,” you mumble against his pec, lips pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the curve, biting down lightly just above his nipple. He chokes on a groan, gripping the counter behind him.

“Baby…” he warns, voice low and gravelly. But you’re too far gone. You continue your shameless assault – kissing, biting, licking lightly to soothe the bites, leaving soft pink marks across his chest. Finally, you pull back to admire your masterpiece, lips swollen and eyes glazed.

You snuggle your cheek against his pec with a dreamy sigh. “So comfy… I could sleep here forever.”

“You’re insane,” he laughs breathlessly, his free hand cradling the back of your head as his chest rises and falls rapidly beneath you. His towel is hanging on for dear life. “My insane little pipsqueak.”

“Mmhh. Your pipsqueak who loves your boobs,” you murmur sleepily, hugging his waist tighter. “Now shut up and let me snuggle them before I go to work.”

He just shakes his head with an exasperated fond smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Whatever makes you happy, baby.”

And you fall asleep right there, standing, face smushed into his pecs – because honestly, it’s the best pillow you could ever ask for.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 days ago

Text

Piano Fingers

Alternatively: Clark Kent and his big ass hands

MDNI 18+

Kind of inspired by this-

He feels so good, he always does. You swear his fingers alone are bigger than a few of the guys you’ve slept with. The first time you told him that Clark made you cum three times with just his hand.

From Afternoon Delight (A Very Professional Lunch Break)

Word Count: drabble, 1-1.5k (god forbid I write something long form)

Warnings: size kink!! fingering, reader has a personality and is implied to be shorter than Clark, nothing descriptive other than that though, cursing, mentions of Clark Kent’s gargantuan cock, mentions of cockwarming, overstim if you squint, 🤞 <- keep this in mind

Clark Kent x Fem! Reader (no use of y/n)

Clark is a big man.

You (and his tailor) know this with certainty.

The first thing that you ever noticed about Clark was his height, towering over everyone he passed on his morning commute. The ache you felt in the back of your neck after every conversation with him.

You still remember the first time you really noticed it though, it was a hopelessly mundane moment. You were flirting with him at the coffee station, and your eyes just happened to drift down and clock how his hips ended just where the counter-top began. You're only human, it's not your fault your first thought was about how easily he could fuck you while you sat on it.

You couldn't look him in the eye the rest of the day.

His size became even more obvious after you started dating.

"You know when I was a kid, my Ma signed me up for piano lessons." Clark says, his voice casual, like he's not knuckle deep in your cunt. Clark is sprawled on the couch beneath you, looking pretty as ever. His lips glossy and swollen from your kisses. You had done all the typical third date things, nice dinner, pretty dress, prettier lingerie underneath. He'd walked you home, taken up your entire door way and acted like he wasn't silently begging to come inside.

You were less patient, grabbing him by the lapels and pulling his lips onto yours.

You can hardly breathe, his finger curling inside as he speaks. "Really?" you ask, voice breathy. You knew his hands were big, you'd seen them hold his phone and make it look like a toy, watched with fascination as he struggled to hold the little teacups they gave you at the Chinese restaurant (first date).

Looking at his hands was a lot different than having them inside you.

You had rolled eyes when he talked about preparing you. ‘Not a virgin Clark’ you’d murmured against his lips.

Clark had hummed, pulling back to bag those pretty lashes you. ‘Gonna feel like, unless you let me open you up.’ He argued.

You scoffed, reaching for his belt but Clark grabbed your wrist. He fixed you with a look, or more accurately a warning. Then he dragged your hand down past his belt and planted it firmly on his bulge.

Oh.

‘Can I please finger you?’ Clark asked, his blue swimming with want. You could drown in them.

You swallowed, trying to save face. ‘Yeah.’ You croaked, voice cracking.

Which brings you to now. “I wasn’t into it.” Clark explains. His thumb is working your clit in slow circles, helping ease his finger out to the tip and then side it back down until he reaches the knuckle. “But one of ladies in town got it into head, kept telling her I had piano fingers.”

“What does that even mean?” You ask, fighting back a moan, doing your best to seem unaffected. Your body betrays you, a gush of wetness seeping down and drenching Clark’s palm.

“You’re so wet baby.” He coos, sliding another finger in. “Means I have big hands.” He continues, “Long fingers.” He curls them, for emphasis of course.

“Fuck.” You gasp. You feel yourself clenching, your hands gripping his shoulders and feeling nothing but steel, absolutely no give.

Clark makes a shushing noise, his thumb picking up pace and he drags his fingers in and out, over and over. His lips plant wet kisses along your neck, sucking on your pulse point as you whine.

He’s deeper inside you than you’ve ever been able to get with your own fingers, deeper than any of your exes ever reached. Forget about length, they’re thick too. You make a note to ask him about his ring size later, for reference.

“I got you, it’s okay.” Clark whispers into your mouth, his fingers picking up speed, his thumb increasing its pressure.

You already feel like jello, between his lips, and his fingers, and the coil pulling tighter and tighter in your stomach you didn’t stand a chance.

“Clark.” You moan, then force yourself to swallow the next one “If these are your fingers-” you gasp as he curls his fingers, as if on cue. Your thighs twitch around his hand, your train of thought completely lost.

Clark hums, his eyes are reverent, his free hand reaches up and cups your face, catching it as you try tuck into his neck. “What was your question pretty girl?” He asks, guiding your head so your forehead rests against his.

Despite the fact that it’s your world getting wrecked, Clark’s forehead is sweaty, his eyes glistening as they study your every reaction. You whimper, hips frantically grinding down onto his fingers. Clark curls them again.

“How big is your dick?” You pant.

Clark chuckles, and then because he can, he twists his fingers together inside you and thrusts them again.

“Let go baby.” He tells you, and you nod, your stomach burning with pleasure, so close. “Let go and I’ll show you.” He promises.

With one more hard pass over your clit, Clark is catapulting you over the edge. His fingers still wrapped together inside you as you squeeze him like a vice. He can’t wait to feel it again when he’s inside you.

In the meantime he helps you ride it out, letting your head fall into the nook between his neck and shoulder. Your entire body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your thighs clenched tighter than tight around his wrist.

After what feels like an eternity, you stop shaking, your breathing finally levels out. “Oh my god.” You groan into his neck.

Clark presses a to the side of your head, his dry hand stroking your hair. The other is still inside you. “That’a girl.” He whispers.

You squeeze his fingers, body reacting before you can tell it not too. The fucker smirks, surely filing that reaction away for later.

You kiss him, hard, hoping to distract, to finally get your hands, or better yet you, around what you want.

Clark groans into the kiss, matching your force with fervor. His tongue dances alongside yours, tracing the top of your mouth, doing his best to swallow you whole.

Then his fingers start again.

“Clark.” You protest, pulling away.

Clark tries to follow you, leaning off the couch and chasing your lips. You manage to stay just out of reach. “What?” He asks.

You pout, but grind down onto his hand nonetheless. “Thought you were gonna fuck me.” You whine.

Clark doesn’t answer, instead he takes the opportunity to unbuckle his belt (one handed- after all the other one is still busy). He only unzips enough to free himself.

You watch, silent, and stare at it. Clark ever so patient, takes your wrist, and this time he wraps your hand around him.

Once again, Clark Kent has made you feel oh so small.

He doesn’t break eye contact, but he makes a noise low in his throat that has you gushing around his hand again, for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Okay you can finger me a little more.” You say, as if it’s actually your idea, “If you really want.”

authors note: look at the scenes of him holding a phone and tell me I’m WRONG, anyway idk how I feel about this one so everyone tell me their thoughts! I insist

masterlist

love you! say it back <3

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 days ago

Note

haha… clark and size kink…. haha…. god i need him

cw, just pōrn no plot — clark kent and size kink + headlock + tummy bulġing | also anon… you’re smart RAHHH

clark kent who gets hard just from picking you up. doesn’t matter if it’s to move you from the couch to the bed, or out of the way in the kitchen. his hands span your whole waist, your feet leave the ground, and he’s imagining how you’d look hanging off his cock instead.

clark kent who uses his size difference like it’s a game. holding your wrists with one hand above your head while the other grips your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “stay like that, hm?” you’re struggling just enough to make him smirk, knowing you couldn’t get free even if you tried.

clark kent who fucks you slow just to make you feel every stretch, whispering in your ear about how small you are, how deep he is, how you’re “barely taking me, sweetheart” and “look at you, all stuffed full.”

clark kent who keeps you in his lap, bouncing you lazily on his cock, one huge palm pressing against your belly so you can feel him inside. “that’s me, baby—right there. you feel how far i am? you’re so tiny i can see it.”

clark kent who loves the headlock position—your back against his chest, one massive arm hooked loosely around your neck, keeping you still while he pounds into you. his other hand is cupped over your lower stomach, feeling the bulge each time he bottoms out.

clark kent who won’t stop until you’re shaking. overstimulating you just because he can hold you in place, murmuring in your ear, “you can take more, can’t you? so small, but you keep opening up for me…” until you’re gasping and tapping at his wrist.

clark kent who gets so wrecked when you tap out that he buries his face in your neck, whispering, “i know baby, i know.” but still pushing in shallowly because he needs to feel you around him. he’ll guide your hand to his curly hair, urging you to hold onto him, voice breaking when he says, “i’m so far in you, baby.”

clark kent who uses his body to cage you in—pressing you into the mattress, crowding you against the shower wall, pinning you to the kitchen counter with his hips. everywhere you go, you’re surrounded by him.

clark kent who ends every rough session with something unbearably tender, pulling you onto his chest, kissing your hair, tracing the marks he’s left on your skin, and whispering how much he loves you for letting him lose control like that.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 days ago

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Sex Positions with Superman

cw: Explicit adult content (18+),multiple sex positions, rough/possesive. dom/sub dynamics, vulgar language, and intense physical intimacy.

It starts with a list.

You’re flipping through Clark Kent’s open notebook on the couch, meaning to check his handwriting (which is ridiculously neat for a man who can crush steel in his hand) when you see it. In the margin of a page that’s otherwise full of half-scribbled case notes is a bullet-point list titled, very plainly:

Positions I Think Might Actually Kill Her.

You choke on your sip of wine. “You’ve been… cataloging ideas?”

Clark freezes in the kitchen doorway, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He looks like a deer caught in headlights—if the deer were six-foot-four and had biceps. “I… can explain.”

“Oh, you better explain,” you say, flipping to read more. “‘Wall lift—too risky without restraint.’ ‘Standing wrap-around—high risk of wall damage.’ Clark, what the hell?”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “I was trying to figure out what I could do without… you know. Accidentally launching you into orbit.”

You’re grinning now, because he’s blushing, because he’s the most absurd man alive. “This is adorable. And also incredibly hot. Which one’s the ‘might survive’ list?”

His mouth twitches. “That’s in my head, not in my notebook.”

“You’re going to tell me, right?”

“No,” he says, already crossing the room. “I’m going to show you. Eventually.” His voice dips lower, softer. “When I’m sure I can trust myself not to break you in half.”

You set the notebook down slowly, like it’s a live wire. “Eventually?” you echo, feigning scandal. “Clark, you can’t just dangle death-by-sex over my head like that and then walk away.”

He sits beside you on the couch, the cushion dipping under his weight. You hate—no, you love—that it makes you feel smaller, pulled in toward him. “It’s not death-by-sex,” he says, voice warm with amusement. “It’s more like… I’m trying to work out the safest possible way to give you what you keep asking for.”

You blink at him. “Safest possible way to—Clark Kent, are you making a safety plan for screwing me?”

His jaw flexes. His blush spreads, creeping all the way to his ears. “Would you rather I didn’t? You think I don’t know what you’re doing every time you pull me toward a wall? Every time you wrap your legs around me? You think I don’t notice when you look at me like you want to find out how strong I actually am?”

You’re caught—guilty and grinning. “Maybe I do.”

He leans in, forearms braced on his knees, his tie dangling loose like an afterthought. “And maybe,” he murmurs, “I want to give you that. Every single thing you’ve been imagining. But I can’t just… let go. Not with you. Not until I’m sure I won’t—”

“—break me in half,” you finish for him, biting your lip.

Clark smiles faintly. “Exactly.”

You tap the notebook with one finger, smug. “So what’s at the top of the ‘might survive’ list in your head?”

His eyes glint. “If I told you, you’d spend the rest of the night trying to talk me into it. And I’m this close to caving as it is.”

Your heart flips. “Guess we’ll just have to test them one at a time, then.” You’re laughing before you even realize it, but it dies in your throat when he leans in—close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips, but not close enough to actually kiss you. The bastard.

“Think you can handle me testing one?” he murmurs.

You blink. “Right now?”

“That depends,” he says, eyes dropping to your mouth. “On whether you trust me.”

your thighs are already pressing together and your voice comes out in a whisper: “Yes.”

His smile turns downright sinful. “Good. Because the first one’s simple.”

You open your mouth to ask what it is, but suddenly you’re airborne—lifted like you weigh nothing, your back hitting the wall beside the couch. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, his hands under your ass holding you there like you’re glued to him. You make a startled sound that melts into a moan when he rocks you just slightly against him.

“Wall lift,” he says, voice husky in your ear. “Low risk. Unless I stop holding you.”

You dig your fingers into his shoulders. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he teases, bouncing you once—effortless, just enough for you to feel the strength in him. “You asked for this, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond, he shifts his grip, one arm hooking under your thighs while the other cups the back of your head, lowering you onto the couch so fast you barely have time to gasp. He follows you down, braced above you, caging you in. “Position number two,” he murmurs, and you can feel him everywhere—his thigh pressing between yours, his weight holding you down, his cock thick and heavy against your hip. “Standing wrap around. High control, minimal risk.”

“Minimal risk,” you scoff, though your voice breaks halfway through when his thigh presses harder between your legs. “Feels like high risk from here.”

His mouth curves, and before you can blink, you’re hauled back up—this time not to the wall, but spun and bent over the arm of the couch. Your hands grab at the cushion to steady yourself, but Clark’s palm is already on your lower back, pushing you down so your ass tilts up for him.

“Reverse bend,” he says, like he’s ticking off items in a damn field report. His hand slides under your dress, fingers grazing the backs of your thighs until they hook in the thin strip of fabric between your legs. He tugs—not gently—and your panties tear in half like they were nothing. “Better access. Better angle.”

You make a sound you don’t recognize as your own, biting the cushion as his fingers trail up your slit, not even pretending to be slow. “Clark—”

He slips two fingers, deep, curling up until your knees nearly buckle. He fucks them into you slow at first, then faster, until the slap of his palm against you echoes in the room. You push back on his hand without shame.

“Greedy,” he mutters, pulling out abruptly—and then you’re airborne again, flipped like you weigh nothing, your legs lock around his waist on instinct.

He carries you two steps—two blurred steps—and drops you onto the bed. No time to adjust, because his hands are already under your knees, folding you in half until your thighs are pressed to your chest.

“Jackknife,” he says, and there’s nothing clinical about his tone now. “No way you’re walking tomorrow.”

The first thrust knocks the air out of you, the second drags a filthy moan from your throat. He sets a pace that’s obscene—hard, deep, relentless—and the way he’s holding you pinned means you can’t move even if you wanted to.

“You wanted to know the list?” he growls. “Every. Single. Position. Until you can’t remember your own name.”

Your nails rake down his forearms, and all you can manage is a choked, “Please.”

He grins and flips you again, this time onto your stomach, dragging you up onto your knees. One hand wraps in your hair, the other grips your hip, and he drives into you from behind so hard you scream into the pillow.

“Prone bone,” he pants, hips slamming into you. “Low risk for you—high risk for my control.”

From there, he doesn’t even slow—switches again, pulling you back into his lap so you’re straddling him, chest to chest, his cock still buried in you. His hands grip your ass, lifting and dropping you like you weigh nothing, each slam making you wetter.

“Cowgirl,” he says against your mouth, but then adds with a smirk, “Supercharged.” And God help you, you know you’re not surviving the night.

You scream his name, riding each thrust like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, your body trembling on the edge until finally—finally—you shatter, clenching around him as you come undone in a storm of heat and noise.

Your body shudders violently, muscles clenching around him like you’re trying to pull him inside you, over and over, and Clark groans deep in his throat, pumping harder, chasing his own edge. He throws his head back and spills hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you so completely it takes your breath away.

When he finally collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air, he laughs, “Think you can handle the next one?” he rasps.

You grin, breathless and already ready for more, “Bring it.”

a/n: gonna start a cult called sluts for Superman

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 days ago

Text

I think caleb eavesdrop through the door while you're on the phone with your best friend. Listen, he doesn't mean it, but his ears perk once the conversation starts getting interesting.

"I knooow! And it just feels- well, boring after a while. I don't know how to finger myself. Yeah, it's overrated, uhuh."

He presses his ear closer to the door, your muffled voice becoming clear.

"No, I can't buy a vibrator!- You forgot I live with my grandma?! She goes through every package that arrives at our porch. It's a pain. I'll give her a heart attack, and she'll give me an earful. I'd rather not." — "Yeah, and sometimes caleb's packages get mixed up with mine. I'd never hear the end of it if he found a stupidly bright pink vibrator in the middle of his plane legos."

Caleb's imaginary tail wags behind him. It's pathetic. Anything related to you makes his jaw tighten and his dick leak with watery beads of precum.

And listen, he really doesn't mean to intrude, but he barges in anyway.

And there you are, lying on your tummy and twirling your hair while talking to your friend. Ass up wrapped in the cutest yellow panties. Shit.

"Caleb- girl, I'll call you back in a minute- Caleb what the fuck?! Knock first?? Get out-" — "Don't buy a vibrator."

☆!

“wait- caleb!” – “shush.”

a quick slap to your puffy clit stops you from running away from his lap. between you and caleb, he has always been the strongest — while roughhousing, he wins easily, during his workout sessions in the morning, he asks if you can help him and sit on his back while he does push ups. so manhandling you and holding you down on his lap is no biggie for gege.

parting your legs with his, his large hand holds you down by pressing on your tummy, making your back hit his hard chest.

“stop squirming, pipsqueak. caleb will teach ya, hm? be nice for gege.”

two fingers in and he already got you drooling and panting like a puppy. his fingers — much different from yours — are big, thick. the rough pads press up inside you, rubbing the warm, spongy flesh with enough pressure to make your head spin and the tiny huffs that left your lips escalate to whiny moans.

“this,” he flexes his hand, fingers pressing with just a little more insistence, “that’s your g-spot, pips. feels good, uhuh? your little fingers can’t reach it, especially with those beautiful nails of yours, but it’s okay, gege is here to help.”

his tone is serious but you know he’s teasing – your walls tighten around him anyway, making his knuckles sticky with your slick.

you barely have time to compose yourself before caleb lets go of your stomach, approaching his hand to his face and spitting on his middle and ring finger and shoving it down your legs.

“this,” he starts again, genuinely interested in his own lesson, “is your clit, pips. but you know that already, right?” a hmm vibrates on his chest behind you, maybe in satisfaction, and the two, saliva coated, pads circle your clit in gentle but tight movements.

the whines leaving your throat please him, a grin quickly blooming on his face as the sounds echo and ring on his head. it’s not his intention to be too mean or too much of a tease, you’re his dear, cutest, sweetest, oh so lovely meimei, of course! no, he doesn’t plan to stop but he does press a kind kiss to your temple to soothe you.

“don’t buy a vibrator, pips. who knows if silicone is actually body safe? you need something, you come to me, are we understood?”

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 15 days ago

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Lads Men: What kind of eater are they?

This idea came about because I was chatting with the girls on discord about their *ahem* eating styles 😈

MDNI 🔞

**divider by @cursed-carmine

Xavier- Messy Eater

In my humble opinion, Xavier is THE munch. One orgasm isn’t enough. He will make you come until you pass out. He loves to be on his knees while you hold your legs to your chest. His large hands hold your asscheeks, palming them, while he sucks on your pussy with his eyes closed, totally blissed out.Totally messy when he’s eating it, he likes to slurp, lick, and suck all over your clit. The wetter his face gets, the better. He loves to fuck you with his tongue. He’s a pianist, so he definitely gives the finger tongue combo and you squirt every damn time. He’s a nasty one so after he creampies you, he definitely loves to eat you out after, then kiss you so you can taste your love.

Caleb- The Beggar

He literally begs to eat it. “Please, pips, pleaseeeee. I just wanna eat your pussy.” He literally doesn’t want anything in return he just wants to taste you on his tongue. He don’t give a damn if you’ve been out all day and haven’t showered, he wants his meal right then and there! He watches your face the entire time. Every look burned into his skull. It’s scary how well he knows your body. 69 is cool, but Caleb loves when you sit on his face. And you BETTER sit all the way down. If not, he uses his evol to literally suffocate himself with your pussy. He’s so into pleasing you his literally cums untouched. “See what you do to me pips?”

Zayne- Master of Precision

You thought his medical knowledge was just limited to the heart? WRONG! Zayne knows the human body, more importantly, he knows YOUR body. He knows that when he eats your pussy, you like to have your nipples pulled on at the same time. And if he sucks softly on your swollen clit, you keen and whine so sweetly. And if he puts three fingers inside your sopping went cunt and curls them just right? You’re gushing like a fucking waterfall. “There you go, my love. I love when you let go for me like this.” But Zayne isn’t done. Next you’re gonna sit your sweet pussy right on his face, while you gag on his dick in 69. He’s sucking on your clit, two fingers thrumming against your g-spot, while his other hand is pushing your head down, forcing his cock down your throat. You both cum at the exact same time.

Rafayel- Performance Artist

Everything can be art when it comes to Rafayel. Your sex life is no different. This time he’s got you tied to the bed, his face buried between your legs. You lost count how many times you’ve orgasmed. His silk sheets are ruined with your release. His dick is straining through the fabric of his boxer briefs, a giant wet patch from the precum oozing from it. Ignoring his pleasure in favor of your own, Rafayel slips a dark colored canvas underneath you. “Just one more cutie. Can you give me one more?” His amethyst eyes darken as he dives back in, watching you like a hawk as he sucks and slurps on your overly sensitive clit. Your toes curl as he slips four fingers into your sloppy cunt, immediately targeting your gspot and attacking it relentlessly. “C’mon cutie, give it to me, you can do it.” You don’t even have time to react before your final orgasm strikes you hot and quick. You release a guttural scream, as your pussy unleashes like a hurricane, dousing Rafayel’s face and the canvas he placed under you. When he pulls the canvas from underneath your trembling body, there’s an intricate blot design where you squirted on it. “Now THIS” Rafayel holds up the canvas for you to see, “this is fucking art.”

Sylus- The Sniper

Sylus eats for the love of the game. He knows he can’t devour your soul (no matter how much he wants to) so he settles for your pussy. The lower half of your naked body is suspended in air as Sylus holds your lower half to his face, bringing his meal directly to him. Your legs fall open even wider than before and he growls before spitting on your pussy, then diving back in. He groans and growls in delight as he slurps on your engorged clit, moving downward to stick his tongue in your quivering hole, you whine as his thick muscle bullies its way inside you. Sylus almost comes on himself as he sees your hips move in tandem, fucking yourself on his tongue. Using his free hand to rub circles on your clit, you speed your movements up and before you know it you’re cumming and squirting all over his face. Sylus lowers you down on the bed and flips you over, face down ass up. “I’m still hungry.” He darkly whispers as he spreads your cheeks and dives face first into your ass.

**I swear I’m not overly freaked out! I just have a very active imagination 🫠🫠

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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Messing with Xavier is all fun and games until he gets too worked up. Now? You must face the consequences of your actions.

"These look heavy." You're stiffening out of surprise when his warm breath ghosts the nape of your neck, large hands coming around to cup your breasts through your t-shirt (his t-shirt). "Let me hold them for you, yeah? Don't want my star's back to hurt."

You can only squeak, fingers tightening around your whisk as your steady pace falters. You had been making him cookies, meant to be an apology gift for being a little shit and riling him up all day.

"Xavi, it's fi-ah-ne!" But your nipples are stiffening against the material of your shirt, poking into his warm palms. How could he possibly resist that? Your body was responding so readily for him.

"They look sore from being in a bra all day, let me massage them." Before you can mumble out an excuse, he's moving his hands in a kneading motion, playing with the sensitive, pliant flesh while you begin to whimper over your cookie dough.

"X-Xavier, my cookies-" He's cutting you off with his nose nuzzling your neck, lips warm and wet as they begin trailing kisses. "I can think of a much better cookie I'd like to eat. One that has been teasing me all. day. long." The whisk slips from your hand as he bites down, earning a sharp squeal as he squeezes your breasts.

"I've let you have your fun, my little star, now it's my turn."

Your back arches, pressing snuggly into the hard-on poking your ass as Xavier presses you into the counter. "Let's see, should I play with these pretty tits until you're crying?" He rolls your nipples through the shirt, releasing them a moment later to flick his fingers over them.

"Or should I play with your pussy? Either way, I'm not feeling generous enough to make you cum." He tugs at your earlobe with his teeth, hissing softly as he rolls his hips into your plump ass. "Maybe I should just fuck this pretty ass, hmm? You'd like that huh?"

You're gasping, hands digging into the cool marble of the countertop. "Xavi-" But he tuts, hands slipping under there fabric of your shirt and cupping your breasts bare. "Nah, I don't think I gave you permission to speak, little star."

And your lips are snapping shut, head craning back to look at him as he smirks. "Good girl, that's your first time listening to me today. Maybe you are capable of being good... until you can prove it..."

You're whimpering as he slips a hand out from under your shirt, sliding it around your throat and squeezing slightly. "..You're at my mercy. You know the safe word, and you'll do whatever I say, got it?"

You're nodding, eager as ever, because this is what you wanted, no?

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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LaDs: the craziest place you’ve done it.

~ I have no explanation for this one, just one of many thoughts that surfaced in the alphabet soup called my brain

Xavier: The hunter association conference room mid-meeting. You’d argue that it was the time you two had sex in one of the no hunt zones, but having Xavier’s fingers inside of you while Jenna droned on about recent statistics and reports took the cake.

Zayne: Against his office door. Zayne had a reputation to upkeep so he really can’t risk getting caught mid-thrust, ya feel me? But his office is just the right amount of public for him to feel risky. Against the door though, that was really pushing his luck.

Rafayel: During one of his art exhibitions, I’m talking out in the gallery, people everywhere. Somehow, nobody noticed the famous artist and his beloved bodyguard slip off into one of the darker corners of the gallery hall and fuck like bunnies.

Sylus: On a moving jet ski, full throttle, fully inserted. He took you on a tropical getaway with his private yacht. Heard you wanted to go jetskiing so he bought two and only ended up needing one. After the amusement of being cock warmed by you while zipping in the water became too unbearable, he turned the jet ski off and pounded you.

Caleb: Mid-flight while he’s the one piloting. You had that whole plane bouncing shit. Riding him within an inch of his life while trying to navigate the skies. He had his headset on and everything, talking with air control and the DAA while you clenched around his cock over and over again. Somehow, he didn’t take a nose dive when he came.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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Ovulating around Clark Kent? Good Luck, Babe!

It started the second you woke up in his bed—his shirt hanging loose on your frame, soft and worn from years use. You padded into the kitchen barefoot, wearing only his worn Metropolis U shirt from the night before. It barely hit the tops of your thighs, the faded cotton soft against your skin and clinging where your body was flushed and hot. Your nipples were hard, embarrassingly so, the peaks clearly visible through the thin fabric.

Clark glanced over his shoulder, and that fucking smile—soft, sweet, and knowing—spread across his face. “Morning, baby.” His voice was warm and low, like honey dripped over gravel. His eyes dipped to your chest for just a second before he turned back to the stove. “You slept okay?”

“I… yeah,” you said, though your voice was breathier than intended. You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze raked over his broad shoulders, the flex of muscle as he worked. God, you wanted him to touch you. Everywhere. Right now. Every damn time you ovulated, it was like Clark became your personal gravitational pull. You couldn’t stop touching him—holding his hand, pressing against his chest when he passed you, trailing after him like some love-drunk groupie. Even now, you were already moving before you realized it, crossing the kitchen to press against his warm, broad back, arms wrapping tight around his waist.

“You’re clingy this morning,” he teased gently, resting his big hands over yours. “Not that I mind. You wanna sit down and eat, sweetheart?” But you shook your head, burying your face between his shoulder blades, inhaling him like he was oxygen. Your thighs rubbed together as you tried to ignore the slick heat gathering between them.

“No… I just… wanna stay here for a minute,” you mumbled.

Clark’s chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Mhm.” He turned in your hold so easily, big hands landing on your hips to tug you closer. “You’ve been following me around all morning.”

“I haven’t,” you lied breathlessly, fingers curling into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Mm.” He didn’t sound convinced. Setting his mug down, he turned toward you slowly, eyes dragging over your body until your skin felt hot all over. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Your stomach flipped as he stopped in front of you. His huge hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “Not mad at me, are you?” he teased, thumb stroking over your lip.

“N-no,” you breathed. You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your legs in a way that was impossible to ignore. Your fingers tightened on his sweatpants as his hands slid down your waist, settling firmly on your hips. The worn fabric of his shirt rode up, exposing the smooth curve of your belly, the dampness between your thighs growing impossible to hide. He smiled, slow and knowing, and bent his head, lips grazing your neck just below your ear. “Been a long day already, huh?”

You whimpered softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. “I’m… I’m trying,” you confessed, voice shaky but desperate. “You were… last night…” Your cheeks burned, but your hips betrayed you, rolling forward against the hard line of him.

Clark pulled back just enough to grin down at you, amused as hell. “You’ve been trying to keep it together all morning, huh? That’s pretty impressive.”

“Not really,” you whispered, voice rough, trembling. “I’m so fucking wet.”

He laughed softly, like it was the best confession he’d ever heard. Then, without breaking eye contact, his hands moved lower, cupping your ass and lifting you effortlessly against him. “Come on, baby,” he said, voice thick with promise. “Let me take care of that.”

“Please,” you whispered. “I can’t—fuck, Clark—I need you.”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, lifting you like you weighed nothing and setting you on the counter. “You’ve been squirming all morning, poor thing. Should’ve said something sooner.” And then his mouth was on yours, deep and possessive, swallowing every broken sound as his fingers slipped under the hem of his own shirt—your only layer—and found you already wet and throbbing for him.

“God, you’re soaked,” he groaned against your lips. “You were trying to hide this from me? Baby, you know I’ll give you whatever you need.”

You whimpered as he pushed two thick fingers inside you, curling them perfectly, already making your back arch against the cabinets. “I fucked you so good last night I thought you’d be satisfied for a while,” he teased, his free hand sliding up to squeeze your breast. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you even harder this time, hm? And God, with the way he was manhandling you already, you knew he meant it.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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clark kent fucking you in a headlock. | 18+

“i bet you could keep me in a chokehold and fuck me stupid at the same time.” you’d announced to your boyfriend, using your best fuck-me eyes, nudging your knuckles under his chin with that bratty smile he hadn’t built up any resistance to. the full arsenal which you knew would short-circuit his conscience.

he’d lasted maybe two hours after that. and now—

cheek’s mashed into the mattress, one of your arms is pinned awkwardly under your chest, the other caught between his body and yours, useless. he’s sunk in balls-deep and barely pulls out more than a few inches to build momentum before slamming back, his pelvis crashing against your asscheeks like he’s trying to fuck you through the bedframe. every ounce of his body wants to let go, to let you feel the full brunt of what he’s truly capable of. but he doesn’t. he won’t.

he’s got you in a tight headlock, arm flexed around your throat, just shy of a blackout. tactically tight, so not as to crush your windpipe, all the while giving you exactly what you desired: the pressure, the floaty, hotheaded rush from getting fucked like a dog and being half-strangled simultaneously. your mouth stretches around the thick curve of his bicep, teeth sinking into the firm meat. it’s right there—so yummy and tempting, and biting down is the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely. you drag your tongue along the veins, moaning into his skin. clark barely reacts to all of this: he simply groans through clenched teeth, hips still slamming into you mercilessly, the wet plap-plap-plap of skin loud and obscene.

“s-sorry,” he pants, voice cracking. heat sears between your connected bodies, sticky with sweat. “you’re okay? you—you can tap out, you know that, right?” a weak, muffled noise from you. doesn’t matter though, as your pussy’s doing all the talking, squeezing the life out of his cock like it’s trying to milk him dry.

“should’ve stopped,” he mumbles to himself, almost remorseful but apparently not enough to stop. “should’ve—shouldn’t be doing this to you.” but he is. still is. and you’re taking it all the same, pussy sucking him in greedily like a vacumn. your vision goes blurry right before you cum—air thinning out of your lungs, brain neurons misfiring. clark feels you clench again and groans into the crook of your neck, hips pistoning viciously through your orgasm like a man possessed. not even for himself—just to wring every bit of pleasure out of your body.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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clark kent who… | size kink blurbs.

clark kent who accidentally bumps into you in the office hallway and immediately grips your waist to steady you—his hand nearly spanning your whole side—and says, “sorry, didn’t see you there,” even though you’re literally half his size.

clark kent who always hands you your coffee with his fingers brushing yours, making you feel how comically large his hands are compared to yours. one time, you wrapped both hands around his wrist just to feel the difference, and he stopped breathing.

clark kent who stands behind you during meetings, and when he leans down to whisper something, his voice rumbles in your chest and his body completely eclipses yours.

clark kent who always crouches a little when talking to you, murmuring things like “this better?” with a crooked smile, and you hate how flustered it makes you feel standing next to his massive frame.

clark kent who picks you up by the waist like it’s nothing—to move you out of the way, to set you on a counter, to carry you over puddles—and always murmurs, “you’re light as a feather,” like it’s your fault he’s built like a god.

clark kent who slips his jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold and doesn’t say a word when it falls to your knees, swallowing you whole. he just watches you wear it with this unreadable, hungry look in his eyes.

clark kent who brushes a hand down your back and spans your whole spine in one pass. you shiver. he feels it. “sorry,” he murmurs. “too much?”

clark kent who can’t help groaning the first time you palm him through his slacks, because your hand looks tiny on him and you’re barely covering half of what’s there. “sweetheart,” he pants, “you sure about this?”

clark kent who lifts you like a doll and sets you down on his bed, spreading your legs with those thick, calloused hands like he’s opening a present. “look at you,” he whispers. “so soft. so small.”

clark kent who holds your wrists above your head with one hand and uses the other to tease you until you’re gasping, squirming, begging—his voice wrecked as he says, “need both hands to touch me, but i only need one to ruin you.”

clark kent who goes down on you slow and reverent, holding your thighs open with ease while he eats like a man possessed. when you cry out, overwhelmed, he just groans, “let me. i can take it. i want all of you.”

clark kent who whispers, “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart,” as he stretches you open on his cock—thick and massive, taking everything in you not to break. “almost there, baby,” he coos, kissing your neck. “just a little more. you can take it. be good for me.”

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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By Such A Little Taste

Sylus x fem!Reader

This got so far away from me ngl One minute you're staring at Sylus's hands while he plays the claw machine, the next you're writing 4k words about those hands

Title from "Hooked (Addicted You Might Say)" by Eleisha Eagle

NSFW, smut below the cut

Warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, hand/finger kink, marking, biting, kissing, teasing, dacryphilia/crying, swearing, praise kink, choking, breathplay, pet names, nipple play, embarrassment, shyness

Word Count: 4,085 (Y'ALL 😭)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Which one do you want me to get?”

You look through the glass of the arcade machine. The attendees always make sure to keep it clean from any kids leaving sticky fingerprints on it, so every plushie is on full display. A red fox with a little wintery cape, a hermit crab with an ice cream cone on its back, and a cockatiel with bright red cheeks. You just love looking at them all.

“Do you think you can get the Cone Crab?” You point to it through the glass, without touching of course. “I don’t think I have it yet.”

Sylus smiles down at you. “Whatever you want, sweetie.”

He inserts the token smoothly, pressing it into the slot with his thumb. You cozy up to his side like you always do, holding his elbow while trying not to restrict his movements. His hand rests lazily on the joystick, fingers relaxed as he adjusts the claw. His fingers occasionally tap thoughtfully against the red top, trying to decide the best plan of attack to get the plushie you so desperately want.

Though, now that you’re here, the plushie is the last thing on your mind.

You’ve always known that Sylus has nice hands. They’re huge, easily dwarfing yours every time you hold them. Sometimes, you even hold onto just a few of his fingers or his pinky, just so your hand doesn’t get too tired. He loves it, too. He loves when you’re curled up into him, playing with his hand, comparing the sizes.

Tonight, though, those thoughts go a little bit further. You think about the way it effortlessly curled around your neck in the photobooth earlier tonight. How his fingers traced along your back when the crowd at the mall got a little too dense for your liking. The way they showed no mercy to Wanderers, yet tenderly bandaged your wounds.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when his elbow gently nudges you. “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

Your cheeks burn red hot, as if he could possibly ever know what you were just thinking about. You scoff. “Nothing.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans down to whisper by your ear. You can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice as he says, “Then, why aren’t you claiming the prize?”

Claiming the- Oh. You jolt away from him, blush creeping up to your ears as you reach down and push open the flap to grab the Cone Crab. You hug it to your chest and determinedly avoid meeting his eyes. You nod into the machine again. “Okay, what about a Snowy Fox? The one I have is getting a little lonely.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder to draw you back into his side. “Of course. Try to pay attention this time, sweetie,” he purrs the pet name.

You can feel his muscles shift as he wraps his arm around your shoulders to hold the joystick once more. It’s hardly an issue with how tall he is, but you can tell he’s drawing you in closer than necessary… That being said, you don’t move. No, you just bite the inside of your cheek and stare down the claw like you have a vendetta against it.

It shifts along the top, honing in on a Snowy Fox plushie that sits off to the side. Thankfully, it’s not right up against the wall, or else he wouldn’t even have a chance of getting one without using his Evol. He hums, the sound deep and resonating within his chest right by your head, as he presses the button. The claw descends, loosely “grabs” at the fox’s head, and drops nothing but air into the chute.

Unfortunately, the proximity draws your eyes right back to his hand.

You really try not to keep staring. Really, you try. But it’s a useless attempt at best and woefully futile at worst when he chuckles, staring down at you with that knowing glimmer in his eye after he catches you staring at the prominent veins that run through his hand.

He shifts his hand back so his fingers curl sinfully around the red top as he pushes it forward to hover back over the Snowy Fox he missed just seconds ago. Your breath hitches in your throat as his lips graze the curve of your ear. “I see where your mind is tonight,” he muses.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding, he lifts his hand off the top of the joystick until just his fingers, long and practiced, trail along the front as he shifts the crane back a touch. His thumb, coming around the side, shifts it to the left.

“Remember to breathe.”

You jab your elbow into his ribs. He chuckles, standing up straight as he presses the button. The claw comes right down over the fox and finally gets a good grasp on the plushie. You watch it get carried through the air and to the chute. He releases you so you can retrieve it, clutching it to your chest with the crab.

“Would you like a turn now, sweetie?”

You narrow your eyes up at him. He’s planning something, you just know it. But it couldn’t be worse than watching his hands at work. You shove the plushies into his chest. He takes them and steps back. You definitely do not notice, at all, how both plushies fit in just one of his hands.

He slips another token into the slot, arm brushing against yours teasingly. You don’t react. The bear has been poked plenty, you don’t need to rile him up any further.

Eyes on the prize, the Golden Throat, you move the claw so it hovers just over the bird. Mephisto would surely love to play with it. (Even if playing with it meant ripping it to shreds.) The thought eases the tension in your shoulders. With a few minor adjustments, you press the button. And… nothing. The cockatiel falls over onto its side, staring forlornly up at you.

“Would you like some help, sweetie? Remember, you’ve only got one shot left.” He brings his hand around, golden token shining in the dancing lights of the machine as he slips it between his fingers. He holds it up with his thumb, pressing the coin face into the side of his index finger. It’s so small in his hands.

“No, I can do it.” You take the coin from him and jam it into the slot. Your face is scrunched up with concentration as you realign the crane.

You take a little longer than usual to line it up. A warm hand covers yours, engulfing it as his fingers curl overtop yours. “You’re so close, kitten,” he muses. The double entendre isn’t lost on you. “Just a little…” His index slides between two of your fingers, pushing them aside until it nestles at the crook. You feel your face burning again. “There.”

You push the button, too dazed to even check his work. His breath fans across the back of your neck. If the arcade was crowded today, you’re sure you would have been kicked out by now. The winning jingle sounds with a flash of lights.

“Good girl.”

And that’s what breaks you.

You practically push him away so you can grab the toy, not even taking the chance to cradle or admire it like usual. You shove it into his arm while he laughs, taking his free hand to drag him out of the mall as fast as possible.

He’s even worse in the car ride home. One of his hands is on the steering wheel, calmly turning it with just the flat of his hand around corners, or running his thumb in circles over the hardened leather all too knowingly. His other is on your thigh, between your legs, almost but not quite where you need him right now. It takes all your willpower not to guide him there yourself in the middle of traffic.

Once you’ve passed the border into the N109 Zone and he’s recklessly speeding up now that there are no laws to stop him, he squeezes the fat of your thigh. “You’re being so patient, kitten. Just a little further.”

Your sigh comes out shaky and impatient. “You’re still an asshole.”

Sylus just smirks.

You thank your lucky stars that Luke and Kieran are nowhere to be seen when you get to the mansion. The plushies all haphazardly lay on their sides in the back seat. You can’t think to feel bad for them, can’t think about anything else but the need pulsing between your legs, as you grab his hand and drag him inside.

Once you’re past the threshold, he’s lifting you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You squeal at the sudden shift in perspective, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. His other hand holds your thigh, fingertips digging lightly into the plump flesh, thumb stroking just under the hem of your dress. You kiss behind his ear, along his jaw, bite at his pulse. He nips at the helix of your ear playfully.

As soon as you’re in his room, you’re being laid out on the bed, his hand cradling your neck so you don’t land too harshly. His knees cage your hips as he supports himself over you with one hand. Warm lips slot over yours. His free hand slides under your dress, slowly working it up your body. His touch feels heavenly, igniting every nerve that was already burning on the way here.

The kiss is languid, remaining so no matter how much you try to deepen it. His wicked grin taunts you. “What happened to all that patience you had earlier?” he teases. You bite his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, moving down to bite just under your jaw. “Behave,” he warns. “I’ll take care of you.”

He sits up to fully remove your dress. You’re a vision that would be coveted by the Romans who would think you a goddess of the highest renown. Your chest rising and falling, already panting with desperate need. Your eyes staring into his, begging for more, more, more. Your hands reaching out to grab the hem of his red sweater. He grabs them, securing both wrists in just one of his hands to pin them above your head. He tsks with a grin.

“Not yet, darling. I need to make sure I fulfill all your fantasies from earlier, first.” Your face heats up. You have to look away, turning your head to hide your embarrassment against your arm.

He releases your hands, his own sliding down and reaching under you to undo the pretty lace bra you’d bought for yourself with his black card. He’d teased you about trying it on for him when you got back, having seen the purchase on his phone. It very quickly became one of his favorites. He drops it off the side of the bed with your dress, but leaves your panties on, even as you buck up against his hips.

“Patience, remember?”

You groan pathetically. “Please, Sy,” you beg. “Just touch me, please.”

“I was already planning on it, sweetie.”

He leans down over your body again, keeping himself up by his knees as he trails open mouth kisses along your neck. His hands mirror each other, running down the sides of your ribcage, down to your stomach and back, until they reach your breasts. His mouth seeks out your nipple, sucking, licking, savoring the soft flesh against his tongue. You gasp when his teeth nip at the hardened bud, back arching to press your chest further against his mouth.

A beautiful coating of saliva shines on your breast when he pulls away. It becomes lubricant for his thumb as he rubs slow, teasing circles along your areola, pushing his spit around like paint on a canvas before it finally brushes over your nipple. His other hand guides your neglected tit into his mouth, squeezing rough enough to leave marks as he takes his sweet time tending to you.

His red sweater rubs against your overheated bare skin. The soft fibers scrape over your stomach, tickling you and making your body flinch away on instinct. His pants are no better, acting as a solid barrier between your aching heat and the bulge pressing against you. You try to cant your hips up again, trying to get the friction you need, but his hand lets go of your breast to hold you firmly against the mattress.

Your nipple is released from his mouth with a wet pop, covered in saliva and red markings. His lips find your pulse, leaving gentler kisses over the artery. “I wonder what you were thinking about,” he muses, voice rough with lust. He can feel your heart racing against his lips. He’s tempted to bite down like the vampire from his story, but he settles for sucking a mark into the unmarred skin instead. It sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps up your arms, still staying obediently above your head. “Watching my hands… What did you picture, sweetheart?”

The thoughts come rushing in all at once. The beautifully prominent veins on his hand. The way his fingers curled around the joystick. The sinful way he teased your fingers apart while helping you…

The whimper comes utterly unbidden when his fingers trail from your hip to dance across the top of your panties. “Talk to me,” he encourages in a low purr. His fingers curl under the elastic band, slowly teasing one side off of your hip. “What were you thinking of?”

Your face is burning red hot with embarrassment and desire. You always struggle with speaking like this, when he asks you something so simple but so sinful. But you know that he’ll reward you so nicely if you speak up. It’s a dangerous motivator sometimes. “A-At the photobooth, when you wrapped your hand around my neck,” you stutter out.

His eyebrow quirks up with a smirk to match. “Do you like having my hand around your throat, sweetheart?” He lifts his head from your neck, watching as his hand trails from your panties, along your body, over your collarbones to your neck. The way your body twitches with every light brush is addicting. “Do you like knowing…” His palm rests over your trachea, fingers curling around the sides of your neck. “... just how easy it would be for me to… choke you?” He squeezes his fingers lightly for emphasis. He feels when you swallow, throat bobbing against his palm.

You nod slightly, biting your lip to fight back the noises he so easily draws from you. Even still, small whimpers emanate from your throat.

His index finger shifts up to rest along your jaw. He turns your head to the side slightly, taking notice of how your eyes flutter shut under his control.

“Oh, does this kitten like to be controlled? Should I get her a lovely little collar?”

The thought alone draws a mewling whine from deep within you. He chuckles, tilting your head back in place with his thumb as he leans down to capture your mouth. He pulls your lip from your teeth, sucking on it until it's beautifully swollen before he kisses you properly. His tongue delves into you, licking into your pliant mouth with deceptive sweetness as he tightens his hold again. He growls when he hears the hitch in your breath.

“Good girl,” he whispers, releasing the pressure and rubbing his fingers soothingly along the sides of your neck. “What else were you thinking of, hm?”

His red eyes bore into you so calmly, so naturally. It’s hard to keep looking at him, especially as you fight to answer his question. “How big they are,” you admit.

He smiles. It’s such an innocent remark. He knows how big they are compared to yours, how much you love laying your hand over his just to remind yourself. He leaves his hand on your throat, raising the other one to brush his knuckles along your arm as he seeks out your hand. You curl your fingers between his almost instantly, holding onto him like a lifeline. He turns them over to bring your hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “What else?”

You whine, closing your eyes to hide from his stare. “Please don’t make me say it,” you beg.

“Why not?” You don’t answer his question. “Hmm. Shall I guess, then?”

He disentangles from your hand after one last kiss, bringing it to rest in his hair. You dig your hand into the soft locks immediately, like it’s second nature. He kisses your lips softly. The feeling lingers even as he trails kisses down your body once again. Down your neck, over your sternum, taking one detour to bite at your tits. His hand follows in his wake, massaging and caressing your skin.

He shifts to be kneeling between your legs, resting them over his thighs as he reaches your navel. His hand passes him, however, pulling your panties down your other hip. “Am I warm?” His hot breath fans over your stomach, making you shiver. His lips brush sinfully over the edge of the elastic band. His eyes meet yours again.

You nod. His thumb caresses your jaw, a silent praise for answering him. You lift your hips experimentally, worried he’ll push them down again, but his hand slips under you instead, dragging down the fabric over your ass. As more skin is revealed, his kisses get lower. You tug at his hair, trying to push him closer. “Sy, please…”

He hums, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hip. “Hm? What is it, sweetheart? Do you feel like telling me what you were thinking of now?”

You halfheartedly glare at him. “You’re such a bastard.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

His hand glides smoothly over your ass, fingers guiding your panties further down your thighs. Before you can be fully uncovered, he leans down between your legs to kiss your cunt through the soaked fabric of your panties. You gasp sharply, opening wider for him. He makes sure you’re watching when he gathers the material in his teeth and drags them down. You hope you never forget that sight.

He sits back to remove the final piece of your attire, slipping off your heels in the process. You wish you could sit up and tear his clothes off of him, throw them to the side with reckless abandon to expose his body to you. That thought is immediately gone the second you feel his fingers finally dragging through your folds. Just like he mimicked at the arcade to your fingers, he parts your lips until he finds your clitorus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, the rough edges to his voice softening. He kisses your thighs as he gathers up your slick on two of his fingers, groaning at how absolutely soaked you are. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He raises his coated fingers to your lips. You suck on them without question, moaning around them as you taste yourself, as you lick up every drop he gathered until all that remains is your saliva. He presses down on your tongue, choking you gently at the same time until you gag. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, soothing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your scent fills his senses. All he can think about is how good you must taste, how you’d feel clenching around his fingers and tongue as he ravages you, your heady scent consuming his every coherent thought until he’s utterly drunk on your cum.

He can’t wait any longer.

His hands slide down your body to grasp your thighs, spreading them wider, guiding your calves over his shoulders as he dives in like he’s starving on death row and you’re his last meal. He moans as he licks a stripe up your cunt, swallowing everything you can give him and seeking more. His fingers create divots in your skin as they press down, promising bruises as they tug you closer and closer, until your head is barely on the pillows anymore.

You cry out his name through moans and gasps. Both of your hands tangle in his hair, keeping him firmly against you. He nudges his nose against your clit. Your hips jerk to ride his face and he nearly lets you. Any other night, he would have loved to flip you over so you could sit on his face, use him, ride him, until he’s suffocating in all of you. Tonight, though, he pulls his mouth from your weeping hole to suck on your clit.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. You’re torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, begging him mindlessly, though you don’t know what for. One of his hands releases your thigh to take over where he left off. One long finger pushes slowly into you, easily accepted with how fucking wet you are, dripping slick down his hand. It fucks into you, curling to rub at your g-spot with a professional expertise. His second finger slides in just as easily, creating a steady rhythm that draws you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Tears slip down your cheeks, so fucking lost to the intensity of his attention to your clit. You’re so fucking close already. Air gets caught in your throat, forcing its way out through ragged moans. You can’t even get the words out to warn him. That swell of pressure builds in your abdomen too fast. Your cunt clenches harshly around his fingers, trying to draw them in deeper. Sylus’s eyes watch your face in a half-lidded haze, desperate to catch the exact moment you come undone for him.

Your thighs squeeze his head as your orgasm snaps inside you. Your head is thrown back against the pillows, fingers in a death grip in Sylus’s hair as your cum gushes out of you. He eases up on your clit when you tremble, shaking your head without conscious thought as it becomes too much. His fingers gently ease you through the afterwaves, hand drenched in your delicious slick. When your hands and your thighs relax, he pulls away.

You blearily open your eyes to watch him clean his hand with his tongue. It curls around his fingers, slides up his wrist and forearm to ensure he doesn’t lose a single drop; licks his lips as he pants for air. His eyes flicker to your cunt. Your walls clench around nothing. Your clit is swollen and sensitive to all hell. As much as he would love to go back in, clean you up with his tongue alone, he resists.

He gently lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging your thighs to ease the lingering tension from them as he leans down to kiss you softly, sweetly. All you can taste is yourself on his lips. You comb your fingers through his hair, carefully trying to make up for any pain you may have caused. He sighs into your mouth, completely relaxed with your touch.

It’s you who pulls away first, tilting your chin up to get him to let up. He trails his kisses along your cheek instead. “You still haven’t been taken care of,” you point out.

He chuckles airily. “I assure you, I’ve been well taken care of.” You turn your head so he sees your look of confusion. He sighs as he sits back up. Sure enough, there’s a wet spot on the front of his pants that is definitely not from you. Your face burns as you look up at him.

“I… You came just from eating me out?” you gape in disbelief.

His cheeks are pink, too, despite the way he playfully shakes his head. “Don’t let it inflate your ego too much, sweetheart.”

You watch as he gets off the bed to go to the ensuite bathroom. It’s not hard to tell it’s uncomfortable being in his soiled pants, but he gets a wet cloth to take care of you first. You lay back, grinning like an idiot as he tends to the mess you’ve made. “I’m flattered.”

“Leave it alone, kitten.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll spend the rest of the night finding every single way I can make you cum without touching you.”

“...”

“... Promise?”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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His favorite way to make you 💥💦

Raf/Xav/Sylus/Caleb/Zayne

Art: omi-resources

Xavier's favorite way to make you cum is by using only his tongue, proving that he's a true master of the art of munching. He takes his time, savoring every fold and crevice with patience and dedication that leaves you breathless.

His soft, warm lips brush against your skin as his tongue delves in, stroking and caressing you from your entrance to your clit. He takes his time exploring every inch not rushing a single moment.

As he senses your about to cum, his hands gently but firmly spread your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen needy clit. Then, his lips close around it, engulfing it completely as his tongue begins its dance. He starts slowly, circling and flicking the sensitive bud, his mouth creating a delicious suction.

With each pass of his tongue, he picks up speed, the pressure and intensity building with each lap and swirl.

As he feels your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps, he delivers the final blow. He runs his flat, wet tongue slowly from the bottom of your clit to the tip, applying just the right amount of pressure, and holds it there as your world explodes.

He continues, bringing you down gently from your peak, his tongue now soft and slow as he licks you through the aftershocks. By the time he's finished, your body is limp, sated, and completely satisfied.

Rafayel loves it when you cum around him. He gets immense pleasure from the way your inner muscles squeeze and ripple along his cock, massaging every inch of him as you approach your peak.

It's a plus when he can watch your pussy gripping and releasing his lenght as he stays still inside you. He enjoys seeing your little hole stretch and squeeze around him, your arousal coating his length and dripping down to the base.

When you cum he remains perfectly still. His rockhard cock stays deeply inside your pussy while he plays with your clit. He savors the sensation of your gummy walls gripping and massaging his cock, as if your body is desperately trying to hold him deep inside you.

For Rafayel, your orgasm is not complete until he feels your arousal flooding out around his cock, allowing your slick walls to glide and slide along his length. The way your cunt soaks him, drenching his pubic hair and dripping down his balls, is a testament to your intense pleasure.

Sylus loves to make you cum. PERIOD. But he has an insatiable fascination with watching you as you cum. He takes immense satisfaction in witnessing the way your body surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

When your climax approaches, Sylus leans in close, his forehead pressed firmly against yours. His eyes, intense and focused, bore into yours, not wanting to miss a single second of your transformation. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy, mingling with your own ragged pants as your heart races towards your peak.

He watches, transfixed, as your eyes begin to flutter closed, your long lashes casting shadows on your flushed cheeks. Just before your lids droop shut, your eyes roll back slightly, exposing the whites and revealing the depth of your surrender to the moment. This sight, coupled with the breathless, keening moans spilling from your lips, is almost more than Sylus can handle.

He listens intently to the sweet, erotic symphony of your cries, feeling them vibrate against his own lips as he maintains the intimate proximity. Each sound, each breathless whimper driving him closer to his own climax.

Caleb's favorite way to make you cum is by using his evol to keep you pinned and helplessly at his mercy, allowing you to fully surrender to the pleasure without a care for anything else. He takes great satisfaction in watching you let go completely, your body trembling and writhing with ecstasy as you're held in place.

Perhaps he has you pressed against the wall, your back arched, breasts heaving, as your climax builds to a fever pitch. With a mere thought, Caleb activates his evol, an invisible force enveloping you, molding to the contours of your body. It's a strange sensation, feeling both weightless yet anchored, suspended in a cocoon of gravity.

As your pleasure mounts and your moans grow louder, more desperate, Caleb ensures you remain firmly in place, unable to collapse or stumble, even as your legs threaten to give out.

Your body undulates against the wall, your hips bucking and jerking as the first waves of your orgasm crash over you. Caleb holds you, letting you feel the cool surface against your skin as you writhe and tremble. The contrast of the unyielding wall and the soft, yielding flesh of your body is erotic in itself.

He keeps his grip on you, keeping you pinned and secure, even as your body thrashes and your climax reaches new heights. Your breasts bounce and sway with each shuddering breath, your hardened nipples brushing against him, adding to your pleasure. All the while, Caleb watches, enraptured by bliss etched on your face as you cum, truly letting yourself go.

Zayne like to make you cum using his skillful surgical hands and long fingers. As a highly trained and accomplished surgeon, Zayne possesses an intimate understanding of the human body, and he uses this extensive knowledge to play your anatomy like a finely tuned instrument.

He begins by teasingly tracing the delicate folds of your pussy, his fingertips gliding along your slick, heated flesh with a featherlight touch. He takes his time, building anticipation as he learns the nuances of your body's responses, committing every gasp, every shiver, every minute reaction to memory.

As your arousal grows, so does the pressure and intensity of his touch. His long fingers delve deeper, parting your soft folds to expose the sensitive, throbbing flesh within. He circles your entrance, painting abstract patterns on the slick skin, before slowly, teasingly, sinking a finger, then two, then three, into your tight cunt.

His thumb finds your clit, pad rubbing circles around it as his fingers pump in and out of you. With careful precision he seeks out that special spot, the one that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in bliss.

He increases the pace, his fingers plunging into you harder, faster, curling with each thrust. His other hand slides up your body, cupping your breast, kneading the soft flesh, rolling your stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger all while he whispers in your ear to cum for him.

The deep tone of his voice, combined with the skillful assault of his hands on your most sensitive areas, proves too much to withstand. Your body tenses, your back arches, your toes curl, and with a silent scream, you cum around his fingers.

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 1 month ago

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SLUT ME OUT ! — LADS MEN

[♕]: warnings— fem!reader, makeout session, cum/cock drunk!reader, p in v, bj in xaviers, overstimulation, reader is freaked out, 69ing in rafayels, smut with little plot. [౨ৎ] synopsis: how the lads men react to you being hornier than usual! [♡₊˚ ♕]: her highness's decree: yall really liked the last one so...here you go! Didn't really proofread much lol.

like these jewels? check out --> lads masterlist

SYLUS.

you had been living with sylus for about a year and a half now, but never, ever, had you seen him look so sexy in a black button down. Yes you seen him in it before, but you haven't seen him like this in it before.

Coming up behind him slow, you let your palms wander over the hard planes of his chest, fingers shamelessly tracing the lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric. You felt him inhale, a little sharper than usual, as you slid your hands lower, down his torso, feeling the warmth of him through the shirt.

“Hey, Sy,” you breathed, soft and affectionate, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his neck. “Whatcha reading?” He turned a page slowly, “Mm… reports. Just work.” His voice was calm, but the way he shifted in his chair betrayed him.

Your lips brushed over the line of his jaw, the faintest hum vibrating against his skin. “You look good like this,” you whispered, your hands sliding down to his stomach again, feeling him tense under your touch. “Can’t stop looking at you.”

His dark eyes flicked to the side, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” he teased, his tone lazy, though the faint flush climbing his neck didn’t escape you. “That all you wanted to tell me sweetie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned in, letting your fingers slip between buttons, brushing over bare skin. “No,” you whispered against the shell of his ear, your breath making him shift in his seat. “I want you sy.”

That made him pause, the brown file lowering in his hands. His smirk shifted, deepening into something darker, more intrigued. “Really now?” he murmured, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that always made your stomach flutter.

You didn’t even try to hide the slow smile curling your lips as you leaned in, humming as you pressed a soft kiss to the curve of his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt.

“You always look good every day…” you whispered, your words trailing off as your fingers wandered lower, brushing dangerously close to the sharp line of his v-line. A rush of heat stirring deep in your core, your tongue flicked out to wet your lips as your gaze lifted back to his.

“…but you look really sexy right today.” you breathed, your voice hushed and honest, eyes drinking in every detail of his face. Before he could reply, you moved around the side of the chair, slow and deliberate, until you were in front of him. A low chuckle escaped the white haired man as his eyes follow you, dark and gleaming. "Maybe I should wear this everyday if it makes you this forward then."

As you set the file aside on the couch, your hand graced his shoulder with a gentle push, swinging a leg over his thigh, you straddled him with practiced ease, your body settling against his lap. Hands already coming up to grip your waist and slid up your shirt, "You could wear anything and I'd still wanna get in your pants." You whispered, quickly closing the gap between you two as your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your lips crashed against Sylus’s, heat sparking the instant they met. One hand slid up instinctively, fingers threading through the pale strands at the nape of his neck before curling into his hair, giving a soft, desperate tug.

Soft moans spilled against his mouth as you shifted in his lap, grinding forward with a needy roll of your hips that pulled a rough curse from him. Veiny hands clamped harder on your waist, thumbs digging in like he needed to hold on or lose himself.

You barely broke the kiss, lips brushing his as you breathed, shaky and hot, “More…” before crashing back into him, kissing deeper, tasting him, pressing yourself flush against him as your hips rocked again—another groan tearing from his chest.

“You’re insatiable, kitten…”

ZAYNE.

Your Zayne was always a respectful, always gentle. A sweetheart. Never wanting you to think that sex was simply a means of pleasure, that it was an act of love between the two of you that went beyond words and terms of endearment.

Though at this very second, you wanted the farthest thing from that.

You had come for the third time that night but the need seated deep in your cunny still burned, not as big- but hot. So when zayne kissed your shoulder and asked if you were okay all you could breathe out against his pillows was, "Harder."

His breath caught, the soft murmur of your request seeming to coil around his spine and snap something loose. “Harder?” he echoed, voice low, almost disbelieving, like he needed to hear it again to be sure.

You nodded quickly, hips still rolling back against him, needy and slick, a tremor running through your thighs. “Yes—need it,” you gasped, “need you to make me take it please zaynie.” You whined out.

For a heartbeat, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then you felt it—his body tense behind you, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth. The twitch of his cock in your walls as he breathed.

“My angel …” he rasped, as one of his hands slid up your spine, fingers splaying over your shoulder blade like he was grounding himself. “You say things like that—” his voice broke into a low groan, “—and you don’t even know what it does to me.”

You felt the soft brush of his lips against your ear, his words spilling over you like molten honey. “You want me to make you take it?” His voice was lower now, rougher, almost feral. “Then hold on, because I won't stop until you beg me to.”

Then suddenly Zayne’s hands, which were always so tender, suddenly tightened—fingers digging into your hips with a bruising grip as he shifted behind you. You felt him press in deeper, the head of his cock deliciously kissing your cervix, making your mouth drop open in an 'o'. But what really made your eyes roll back was the way he almost fully pulled out before thrusting all the way back in your walls, practically fucking the air out of your lungs as you screamed.

A sharp cry tumbled from your lips, half-pain, half-pleasure, and he growled low in your ear, “Like that?” Your nails curled into the sheets, head dropping forward as another wave surged through you. “Yes—fuck, yes yes!"

Your body jolted with every movement, legs trembling as the coil inside you wound tight again. Brain melting as you felt his cock drag against every trembling, swollen spot inside you, stroking deep enough to make your vision blur.

“Zaynie—” you whimpered, voice breaking, “you’re so deep—s'good—” The words spilled out unchecked, raw and hungry, nothing like the shy murmurs you usually gave him. “Your so good love, s'good. Love you so much zaynie."

You felt him twitch at that, hips stuttering for just a fraction of a second before he groaned into your neck, the sound guttural and strained. “Yes,” you gasped again, louder now, back arching as another thrust drove you forward, “just like that—fuck me harder, Zayne—ruin me, please—!"

A strangled curse tore from his throat, his rhythm snapping into something even rougher, hips slamming forward with a force that left you crying out against the pillows. Soft gasps and groans further spurring you on. Dirty words continuing to fall from your lips, frantic, breathless, shaking as you chased the edge:

“Want it—wanna feel you so deep it stays in me—shiit, you’re gonna cum with me, aren’t you? Fill me up zaynie, fuck—yes, please, please—”

Your own voice cracked as the tension finally snapped, pleasure tearing through you in a hot, blinding rush. Your legs quivered violently as you cried his name, the world narrowing to nothing but him—his grip, his thrusts, the deep, ragged groan he let out as your body clenched down hard around him, milking him as you finished with a shuddering, bliss-drunk whimper.

“Such a dirty girl,” Zayne rasped against your ear, his voice wrecked, thick with the strain of holding on. His hips stuttered once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt, a broken moan ripping from his chest as he spilled into you.

XAVIER.

There was something hypnotic about Xavier that night—the way he stood at the counter under the warm glow of the kitchen light, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, forearms flexing with each careful slice of the knife. He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, just chopping vegetables, but there was a quiet focus in his movements, a softness in the curve of his shoulders, that made your pulse quicken and your thighs press together under the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him.

You crept up behind him barefoot, the cool tile under your feet a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your belly. Your arms slipped around his middle, cheek brushing between his shoulder blades as you breathed him in—soap, faint cologne, him.

He chuckled low, a rumble you felt through his back, clearly used to your little hugs while he cooked. But when your hands drifted lower, fingertips tracing over the waistband of his sweatpants before cupping the growing heat there, his knife paused mid‑slice and his breath caught in his throat.

“Baby,” he murmured, a warning tangled with amusement, “I’m trying to cook.”

You hummed against his back, lips grazing the space between his shoulder blades as your palm cupped him more firmly. Your other hand snuck in to tug at the drawstring of his pants, loosening them.

He paused, then slowly turned around, eyes warm as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you—soft, slow, like he wanted to savor the moment and satiate your hunger with just that.

But you broke the kiss, breathless, shaking your head. “Need more..” you whispered, voice thick with need. " 'need a different kiss from you.”

His eyes darkened, heart hammering in his chest as you sank to your knees right there on the tile. You looked up at him, lips parted in that slow, sinful smile you knew drove him wild.

“Let me taste you, Xav,” you said, already tugging his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free, thick and flushed, the head already leaking precome. His hands gripped the counter like he needed the anchor. “God… you’re gonna kill me star.”

You leaned in and licked a slow stripe along his length, your tongue curling around the head before you swallowed him deeper, lips stretching, your fingers curling around the base to guide him. His hips jerked forward with a groan, knuckles white where they clutched the counter.

“Fuck—sweetheart, you don’t—” His voice broke off into a strangled sound when you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deep until the head bumped the back of your throat.

You moaned softly around him, your free hand gripping his hip, pulling him in just a little deeper, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt his cock twitch against your tongue. “So good, hah star—” Xavier’s hand left the counter to tangle in your hair, not pushing, just holding, his hips rocking forward helplessly as you set a rhythm—deep, eager pulls, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet kitchen.

Your own voice was muffled around him, but you managed to breathe out something filthy against his skin, your lips brushing the sensitive underside as you worked him: “Want you… wanna taste you so bad… fill my throat, Xav, please—give it to me.”

His thighs trembled under your hands. “Baby—fuck, don't say that, you're gonna make me—” You didn’t let up, sucking harder, your nails digging into his hips as you pulled him into your mouth, your throat relaxing as you took more, swallowed more, until his rhythm broke entirely.

“God—” he gasped, hips jerking, before he spilled deep, hot, filling your mouth as he groaned out your name in a raw, shuddering rasp. You stayed there, eyes closing, swallowing every drop, your hands still holding him steady until his breathing evened out and his grip on your hair loosened into something tender.

“Fuck,” Xavier whispered, breathless and wrecked, looking down at you like you’d just undone him completely. His thumb brushed over your cheek as you looked up, licking your lips. "You taste so sweet xavy..cmon lemme have another."

CALEB.

Caleb was always patient, always soft with you. Every time you two ended up tangled in the sheets, he treated you like something fragile—something precious. Even when his chest was heaving, when sweat was dripping down his temples, his voice stayed low and soothing, always checking on you, always asking if you were okay.

But right now, there wasn’t a shred of that patience left in you.

Your thighs were already trembling, sticky and sore from riding him through two hard, messy releases, but the ache between your legs was a fever that wouldn’t die down. You sat straddling him in the dim glow of your bedroom, his back propped up against the headboard, his chest still rising and falling heavy as you ground your hips down in slow, circling rolls.

“Pips��” His voice was hoarse, wrecked, a hand sliding over your thigh like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you. “You already—fuck, you already got me twice.”

You only whimpered in response, nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked your hips forward, dragging his sensitive cock against your slick walls but never lifting, never giving him a chance to slip out. “I know,” you gasped, your voice shaking, desperate, “but I still need it—need you still, you feel so good—”

He groaned low, head tipping back against the headboard, the tendons in his neck flexing as you rolled your hips again, deliberately grinding your clit down against the base of him. The wet drag made his hips twitch up in reflex, a broken sound falling from his lips.

“God, baby—” his voice cracked, hips shifting helplessly under you, his hands gripping your waist tight but not pushing, not stopping. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me…”

Your eyes fluttered half-shut as you kept moving, circling your hips, leaning forward so your chest brushed his, your lips brushing against his jaw as you panted against his skin. “Then let me,” you whispered, feral and shaking, “please—let me take it, Caleb. Let me make you come again. Wanna feel it—want you so bad.”

He shuddered hard, and you felt him twitch inside you, overstimulated but thickening again from your desperate rhythm, from the wet sounds filling the room and the way you whimpered every time you ground yourself down onto him.

Caleb’s hands slid lower, gripping your ass now, but only to hold you there, to anchor himself as his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re fuckin insane pips,” he rasped, voice breaking as your walls clenched around him again. “You’re gonna—shit—”

The next grind had him choking out your name, his hips jerking up hard in an instinct he couldn’t stop, and you moaned deep in your throat, nails raking down his chest as you rode the motion, grinding faster, harsher, lost in it.

“C’mon,” you begged, voice high and broken, “do it again, 'leb, give it to me—I need it, I need it—”

His breath hitched, a shudder running through his whole body as he suddenly buried his face in your neck, hips bucking up once, twice—then a strangled groan ripped out of him, low and raw, as you felt him spill deep again, twitching hard inside you, thick and hot as you squeezed down around him.

You gasped out his name, trembling on top of him, still grinding in tight, slow circles as he whimpered through the overstimulation, hands clutching you like he couldn’t tell you no even if he tried.

“Shit pips, you’re—” his voice broke into a ragged laugh against your throat, “you’re too much…”

But he never stopped you. Even as he shook from the sensitivity, even as you kept rolling your hips with a wild, hungry rhythm, he just held you close, letting you take everything you wanted, letting you ride him through every aftershock and beyond—panting, desperate, both of you dizzy and undone and still needing more.

RAFAYEL.

You had been shy with Rafayel at first. Not just in the way you looked at him, but in what you let him do to you, what you allowed yourself to ask for. There was something about him—his calm voice, his warm hands—that made you feel safe, and yet when he looked at you sometimes, eyes dark and patient, it scared you how much you wanted to give him.

So when he whispered softly one night, “Let’s try something new, hm cutie?” your heart almost jumped out of your chest.

“Rafayel—wait, I—” you stammered, lying back against the sheets as he eased you onto your side, then onto your back. Your breath stuttered as he kissed the inside of your knee, sliding your leg over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I… I don’t know if I can—”

He stilled, gazing up at you with that soft, unwavering expression that always made your pulse race. “You can stop me anytime,” he murmured. “But I want to taste you while you taste me. Only if you want it.”

Your mouth went dry. You’d imagined it before—shameful little flashes in your head when you were alone—but now, with his calm hands guiding you, your body trembled with a heat that frightened and thrilled you all at once.

“Honey…” you whispered, unsure if it was a plea or a warning.

But then his lips brushed your inner thigh again, slow, tender, and something in you broke. You reached for him, tugged at his arm, your face hot as you whispered, “Okay… okay. I… I want it.”

The world tilted as he guided you, careful and slow, until you were both lying opposite ways, his broad shoulders bracketing your thighs while his cock, already heavy and flushed, hovered inches from your lips.

Your breath caught as his tongue found you first, hot and slow, teasing until you whined and shivered beneath him. Your hips twitched, trying to press back against his mouth, but your attention quickly shifted to him—how thick he felt in your hand, how the head already leaked warm across your fingers.

You licked him softly at first, shy little flicks of your tongue that made his hips jerk against you. A soft groan rumbled from his chest, the vibration spilling through your cunt and making you moan around him.

“Mhm… good girl,” Rafayel breathed against you, his voice ragged.

Something in you melted at that, and you wanted more—needed more. You took him deeper, lips stretching, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, tasting salt and skin, desperate to make him lose that careful composure.

He groaned louder now, hips jerking again, his hands flexing against your hips but not pulling you away. “F‑fuck, cutie, you’re—ngh—” His voice broke into a rough sound as you bobbed your head faster, saliva dripping down your chin, your moans humming around his cock.

His rhythm on you faltered; you felt it—the twitch in his length, the way his thighs tensed under your hands. And you didn’t stop. You wanted it. Wanted him undone.

“More…” you whimpered around him, words garbled, desperate. “Need you—need your cum, please honey—”

That broke him. A strangled groan ripped from his throat, his hips thrusting shallowly into your mouth as he spilled hot and sudden over your tongue, pulse after pulse flooding you. You moaned helplessly, swallowing around him, sucking him through it, milking every last drop until he trembled above you, voice breaking on your name.

And still—still—you didn’t stop.

Your mind went dizzy, drunk on the taste of him, your jaw aching but refusing to let go. He twitched in your mouth, over‑sensitive, and you whined, licking and sucking slow, greedy, as if you could keep him hard forever.

“Angel—oh… oh god—” Rafayel’s voice was wrecked now, hips jerking despite himself as your tongue swirled around the head, your spit slicking him down as you took him again, deeper this time.

You were cock‑drunk, eyes fluttering, moaning low as you rocked your hips against his mouth without thinking, needy and lost in him. His hands trembled where they gripped your thighs, but he didn’t stop tasting you either—licking, sucking, groaning into you as if your desperation was contagious.

You moaned louder, the sound breaking around him, your throat working greedily while your legs shook around his head. He cursed softly, hoarse and shaken, as you swallowed him down again, relentless, chasing another twitch, another pulse, even as he shuddered and spilled every ragged sound into you.

By the time you pulled off him, panting, lips swollen and chin wet, your voice was nothing but a trembling whisper: "Please… need more raf.”

And the way he groaned at that, dragging his tongue against your clit again, let you know he wasn’t going to stop until you both got exactly that.

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