#THEN it split between shallow and deep

[namelessprince]

god i love riptide. who wants to talk about how the prophecy has split and changed over the centuries and how we still dont actually know the original version of it

[rafessecret]

Older rafe and younger y/n

Y/n locking her legs around him making him cum inside of her

⋆˚࿔ younger¡ reader && older¡rafe cameron

CUM IN ME RAFE.

You’re younger, but not a kid. Just fresh—soft in all the ways Rafe isn’t. You’ve got that glowy, untouched look about you. Big eyes, glossy lips, thighs kissed with baby oil and sunshine. You still giggle when you talk. Still blush when he says something dirty. Still wear those little skirts that barely graze your thighs and shirts so small they rise when you reach for anything. You look like sin and feel like heaven, and Rafe’s a man who’s spent too long pretending he doesn’t notice.

But tonight? He’s not pretending.

You’re in your bed, tangled in cotton sheets and innocence, and Rafe’s over you, heavy, hot, thick cock buried deep in your slick, needy cunt. His shirt is still on, bunched at the elbows, sleeves damp with sweat. You’re naked but for the bracelet he bought you last week. Pink crystals. Baby charm.

He knows better.

He shouldn’t be here. Not inside you. Not with your legs hooked high around his waist, back arching up like your body was made to take him. You’re sweet, soft, and still new to all this. And Rafe? He’s seen too much. Touched too much. He’s a man with lines carved deep in his skin and darker ones in his past.

But God, you make it so easy.

You whimper beneath him, glossy lips parted, head tilted back as you tighten your legs around his hips—ankles locking behind him like you’re afraid he’ll leave. Like you need him to stay. Like the thought of being empty again terrifies you.

Rafe groans, hips stuttering, cock thick and aching deep in your soaked, fluttering cunt. Your pussy clamps around him like a vice, greedy and throbbing, all slick heat and pulsing desperation. ❝Don’t,❞ he breathes, voice frayed and breaking apart. ❝Baby, I’m close. I have to—fuck—I have to pull out.❞

You shake your head, shameless, drunk on it. ❝Don’t want you to.❞ You’re barely even whispering. ❝Want it. Want you to cum inside.❞ He stares down at you like you’ve cursed him. Like you’ve just ripped open his chest and crawled inside. His brows are pinched tight. His thrusts go shallow. His jaw clenches like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

❝What?❞ he growls. ❝Please, Rafe. I want it. Want to feel it.❞ Your fingers press into his back; your lips brush his throat. Your voice is syrup-sweet and ruined. He curses again, jaw ticking, breathing ragged. ❝Are you on the pill? Fuck, tell me you’re on the fucking pill.❞ You nod. Slowly. ❝Mhm. I am.❞

But he sees it—the way your lips twitch, the breath you skip, the way your cunt clenches even tighter around him, like it’s lying too. Like it wants it more than anything. ❝You sure?❞ he asks, panting. His eyes dark, fixed to yours. ❝Because if I stay in you, if I fucking cum in this tight little pussy—you’re mine. Do you understand me? Mine.❞ You nod again, breath catching. ❝I already am.❞

And that’s it. That’s the thing that rips the last bit of restraint from his body. He fucks forward hard—deep—his cock dragging against every slick, clenching inch inside you, splitting you open, filling you so full you swear you feel it in your belly. He ruts against your cervix, and you gasp, head thrown back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels.

❝Fuck, baby,❞ he groans, nose brushing yours, his voice breaking. ❝You feel that stretch? That’s me, sweetheart. That’s my cock pushing so deep it’s showing through your tummy.❞ And you do—you can feel it. One of his big hands slides between your bodies, pressing to your lower stomach where you’re bulging just slightly. He curses low. You moan higher.

❝You’re so fucking tight, baby. Fuck—your pussy’s fluttering.❞ His eyes roll as he ruts into you deeper, harder, more desperate now. ❝Like it’s milking me. Like it fucking needs it.❞ You whine, high and broken. ❝It does. I do. Rafe—please.❞

It’s all so wet. The sounds are obscene. Skin slapping. Your whimpers. His grunts. The sloppy squelch every time he drags it out of you just to slam right back in. You’re gasping now, clinging to him, legs shaking as that heat coils tighter, hotter, meaner. ❝Come inside,❞ you cry, your voice cracking. ❝Please, Rafe. I want to feel it. Want to feel you fill me up.❞ He breaks.

He shouts your name, hips stuttering as he bottoms out, cock twitching, and then he’s flooding you—thick, hot, endless. You feel it spill deep, feel it leak out around the base of his cock even as he keeps grinding into you, milking every last drop. It’s too much. You shatter with him, orgasm crashing over you as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight.

Your back arches. Your body trembles. You sob his name, nails dragging down his shoulders, mouth open in a silent scream. He holds you there through it all, buried deep, whispering filth against your cheek. When it’s over, you’re both wrecked. Panting. Slick with sweat, cum and heat. Rafe slumps over you, arms trembling, breath shaky as he presses kisses to your cheek, your jaw, and your swollen lips. ❝Fuck, baby… fuck. Look at you.❞

He pulls out slowly, and you both hiss at the mess. His cum drips out of your swollen, red pussy, thick and shiny, painting your thighs, the sheets, everything. You look ruined. Precious. Marked. He groans again. ❝You know what you just did?❞ he asks, brushing your hair back. ❝You just made me yours. Forever.❞

And you smile up at him—eyes soft, lashes fluttering, still trembling—with your legs wide open and his cum leaking out of you like you’ve never been more proud. And when he finally lifts his head, when his eyes meet yours, there’s something dark there. ❝You lied, didn’t you?❞ You blink, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. He smirks. Leans in, mouth brushing your neck. ❝Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now anyway.❞

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : thanks anon! not sure if this was meant for a specific au, but oh well, hope you like it! <3

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[animesmutspace]

pretty privilege

ღ heian sukuna x female! reader. lovey-dovey smut lowkey?? mdni please please. slave/pet vibes kind of, manhandling, power play, kidnapping, free use, surprisingly softer sex, mild choking, collar.

ღღღ --

sukuna never saw much value for women. he would much rather completely annihilate a village instead of keeping a whining bitch by his side. sukuna likes his space, honestly, and would much rather take over kingdoms in peace than figure out a woman. his dick getting wet comes second to his ability to destroy with his sheer power.

well, except for the case of you. he found you picking vibrant flowers close to a town he had just decimated a couple of hours ago, your pastel pink kimono in sharp contrast to the red blood that splattered over his mostly bare body. he'll never forget the way your eyes widened first in concern, not fear, confused as to why you weren't immediately begging for your life or attempting to run away.

sukuna knew he was going to take you within seconds of making eye contact with you.

you quickly became his little fuck toy he would come back home to in between his missions. right before a conquering. right after he slaughtered thousands of people. the warmth of your pussy became something he yearned, a safe place for him to lose himself to. he'd never admit it, of course, and would rather you believe that you were just a creature for his dick to go into with a tight grip around your throat.

and in most ways, you were just a slave to him. he preferred to dress you up like a doll in pastel clothing that barely covered anything of yours modestly, jeweled up in whatever gold he had the careless foresight to keep. he enjoyed the way your tits would move freely from just walking barefoot on his marble floors. he liked being able to slap your bare ass, despite being surrounded by pathetic servants who would scurry away in fear behind him. the collar resting by your throat was a sharp reminder of his power over you.

sex with him was constant. he was, in fact, a curse, with no end to his inhumane stamina. your time mostly involved him being physically inside of you, or sleeping, since there was very little else you could literally do. sukuna would even make you feed yourself and him while sitting on top of his cock, reveling in the way your tiny arms would shake as you struggled to accommodate for his girth deep inside of you. sometimes he'd even shift his hips with a vicious smirk to his lips, hoping you would drop a piece of food to the ground so that he could shove your face down and make you eat it.

being with sukuna was always all-consuming and rough, and there was nothing much your pretty head could really worry about other than the large cock that would bully its way into places you didn't know existed. every night without fail he would split you open on his dick, growing even harder at your soft whimpers and stupidly gentle touches. no matter what sukuna did to you, you would always be so gentle. if he was fucking into you with the hardest pace he thought you could handle in missionary, his hands holding your legs as far apart as they could go, your soft hands would hold onto his biceps with the most delicate grip. everything you did, from the way you gazed upon him to the way you touched him was so tender, in sharp contrast to the way he expected you to. there was just never any malice or anger you carried within you, seemingly simply content with the way you lived. granted, sukuna did end up inadvertently spoiling you with the richest of fabrics and foods, but he just didn't understand you.

his favorite part of the night soon became after sex. he would carry your limpless, sometimes even unconscious body, to his shallow backyard hot spring, placing you in the water on top of him. he would let you rest your head on his shoulder, chest to chest, until you gathered your breath. and once you woke, he relished how your eyes would take a second to focus on him, enjoying the way your arms rested on his shoulders even though his arms lay outstretched by the lagoon border. like he didn't need to force you to look up at him or touch him so lovingly. as if he wasn't a psychotic serial killer who enjoyed murdering people on the daily.

you would grab the cleansing cloth behind his head and lather it with soap, softly rubbing his body in close circles to wash the sweat off of him. sukuna found it cute how you would bashfully avoid his eye contact even though you were sitting in his lap, millimeters away from his dick that could only ever remain upright at the mere thought of you. and when you discovered his rock hard cock, you would look up to him for permission, and would be met with a gaze so stoically intense you could barely decipher. a whirlwind of emotions you didn't once think sukuna was capable of. with the slightest nod of his head, you would start to put his cock back inside of you, holding the large expanse of his shoulders for your comfort as you stretched around him.

sukuna would watch you with hooded eyes as you lowered yourself without any of his help or guidance, in contrast to his normal domineering character that would drag your body into the positions he wanted you in. the soft moonlight would fall onto your whimpering face, and sukuna could do nothing but admire the one person who never begged him for their life, and would do anything he demanded in a heartbeat. he liked seeing the scrunch of your nose as you struggled to get accustomed to his shape even though he has been in your body thousands of times before, and the sparse freckles across your face he traced softly when you were sleeping without your knowledge.

and when he bottomed out, and your lips peppered small kisses around his face in gratitude for the lack of his usual roughness, sukuna believed this was the closest to love he would ever truly get to.

ღ SOFT KUNA AYEEE how do we feel hehe

[lustlvii]

Ateez members when you squirt. Ft hyung line

Including: Hongjoong , Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang x fem!reader (all separate!)

Warnings: studio sex (hongjoong) dirty talk, squirting, name calling (slut, dumb little thing), mean! seonghwa, porn no plot, overstimulation, possessive! yeosang, unprotected sex, choking (yunho), size kink (yunho), Daddy kink (Yunho), dirty dirty dirty just dirty so prepare yourself, lmk if I missed anything

Authors note: I'm so happy the maknae line received lots of love 😚 here's the hyungs!!! I love yunho btw 😋

Hongjoong.

“Don’t move.” His voice cut sharp through the low hum of the studio monitors, barely audible over the looping instrumental still playing in the background.

You were supposed to be here for feedback on a demo. Just to sit pretty in his lap while he worked. But then he slipped his hand between your legs during playback—just to “check something.”

And now you were panting, lips bitten raw, clinging to the armrests of his black studio chair like they were the only things keeping you tethered to earth.

Hongjoong’s fingers were coated in your slick, his knuckles deep inside you while the pad of his thumb rubbed quick, unforgiving circles over your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured into your neck, voice low and dangerous. “So fuckin’ wet in my chair. Acting like you didn’t wear that skirt just so I’d do this.”

“Joong—p-please—” you whimpered, voice cracking, not even sure what you were begging for. To stop? To keep going? You didn’t even know anymore.

“You feel that?” he whispered as he crooked his fingers just right, curling them up against that spongey spot inside you that made your legs kick. “You’re close, aren’t you? So fucking close.”

Your hips bucked. The coil in your belly was snapping tighter and tighter and—

“Oh my god—!”

In a split second, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your cry as a gush of wetness spilled out of you, soaking the front of his sweats, the leather of his chair, and dripping down your thighs.

You squirted.

All over him.

Hongjoong stilled. His fingers still nestled deep inside your pulsing heat, the other hand still clamped over your mouth. His breath was shallow. And then he laughed.

“Holy shit.”

You squirmed, blinking hard, barely able to see through the tears blurring your vision. “I-I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled his soaked hand back slowly, glistening in the dim LED light, watching your cunt twitch around nothing now. “Fuck. That was beautiful.”

You flinched when he leaned down and licked the mess off his own fingers, groaning like he’d just tasted the best meal of his life.

“You made a mess, baby,” he mocked sweetly, palming the soaked fabric of your panties now stuck to your skin. “Didn’t think I could make you squirt, huh?”

You shook your head, cheeks burning.

Hongjoong gripped your chin, forced you to meet his gaze—intense and hungry, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re gonna do it again,” he said simply, like it was fact. Like you owed him that.

“W-what? I—I can’t—”

“You can.”

He dragged you off his lap, bent you over the mixing console, careful not to press any buttons—though at this point, you wouldn’t have noticed if the whole song deleted itself.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growled, freeing himself and shoving back into your soaked, trembling hole. “And this time, you’re gonna squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

The music kept playing. The beat rolled on. But all you could hear was the slap of skin, the lewd squelch of your wetness, and Hongjoong’s filthy voice in your ear:

“That’s it, baby. Dumb little thing. Cumming again already? God—you really are mine.”

And you did. Again. And again. Until you couldn’t even cry anymore, only whimper and shake and thank him with slurred babbles.

The studio was ruined.

He didn’t care. He kissed the crown of your head and whispered with a devilish smirk:

“Let’s get that on the next track.”

Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was so pretty when he was gentle. The soft-spoken voice, the feather-light kisses, the way he tucked your hair behind your ear like you were glass.

But that wasn’t the version of him hovering over you now.

His hands were planted beside your head, and his hips were deep—so deep inside you, your belly ached. Sweat glistened down his neck, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead. And his dark eyes… they weren’t soft anymore.

“Thought you said you could handle it, princess.” He thrust in once, slow but devastatingly deep. “So why are you crying?”

“I-I’m not—ah! Hwa—!”

Your voice pitched up into a sob as the next thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. You could feel yourself getting wetter, feel your thighs trembling and twitching as he pulled back and slammed into you again.

“Liar.”

He dipped his head low, kissing the tears from your cheeks while his cock bullied your walls open all over again.

“You said you could take it.” A hand slid under your leg and pushed your knee up to your chest. “You begged for it, remember?”

You nodded weakly, fingers gripping the sheets, eyes rolling back.

His pace was cruel now. Calculated. Your slick coated his lower stomach, smearing against his skin with every thrust.

“God, this pussy’s filthy. You’re fucking dripping,” he hissed. “Look at you. You're making a mess on me.”

“H-Hwa—please, it’s too much—!”

“Too much?” he echoed, mocking, as his thumb found your clit and started circling fast, relentless strokes. “This too much? Or this?” He pressed harder.

That’s when it happened—your entire body seized up and then released.

Warm liquid gushed out from you, soaking his thighs, your own skin, the sheets. You squirted so violently it splashed his hips.

Seonghwa didn’t stop. Not even close.

He growled low in his throat and pulled out for a second just to watch it. Watched your cunt pulse and gush and spasm like you were ruined from the inside out.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, voice husky and hoarse. “You squirted for me.”

You could barely breathe. “I—didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” he cut in. “You wanted to. Your body begged for it. Don’t pretend you’re not a little slut for it now.”

You whimpered, biting your knuckles.

Seonghwa climbed back between your legs, cock still hard, dragging it up and down your soaked slit. He didn’t slide in yet—just rubbed his tip against your clit, teasing, tapping. Watching you squirm.

“Wanna do it again.”

“I—I can’t,” you breathed out, voice hoarse from moaning.

“You can. You will.” He finally pushed back inside—too slow, too deep—and your eyes immediately crossed.

“There’s my girl,” he purred, kissing your jaw, then nipping it. “Gonna fill you up this time, make you squirt while I cum in you. Don’t stop till you do.”

And he fucked you through it, again and again, until the only words you could say were half-spoken sobs and the sound of your own squirt hitting the ruined sheets.

Yunho.

“Holy shit.”

Yunho froze for a half-second, blinking down at where you lay trembling beneath him—your thighs shaking, your pussy gushing.

Clear liquid sprayed from between your legs, soaking his stomach, his cock, and the sheets beneath you both.

He stared, wide-eyed, lips parted. Then his expression twisted.

Into a grin.

“Did you just fucking squirt?”

You let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands in pure embarrassment.

“D-Don’t—Yunho—”

“Oh no, no,” he laughed darkly, reaching up to yank your wrists away and pin them to the bed. “You don’t get to hide from me now, princess.”

His cock was still buried inside you, twitching, hot and hard and pressing deliciously against the spot that had just made you lose control.

“You squirted all over me, baby. That’s what this pretty little cunt does when it gets really full, huh?”

You couldn’t even talk. Just moaned, legs weak, cunt still fluttering from the orgasm that wrecked you.

“Was it too much?” he cooed mockingly, thrusting his hips once—slow, just to feel you twitch again. “Can’t handle it?”

You shook your head. “C-Can… but—”

“But what?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna do it again?”

Your moan gave you away.

He groaned, like he was the one about to fall apart.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled. “Knew this pussy would be obsessed with me. Can’t even stop leaking.”

With your legs still spread open and held wide, Yunho started to move again. More deliberate this time—less punishing, more controlled. Watching you the whole time like a man obsessed.

And when your thighs twitched again—when your moans pitched up, when your hips tried to wiggle away from the pressure—

He sped up.

“Don’t you fucking dare run from it,” he hissed. “Wanna see it again. Wanna feel you gush around my cock, baby.”

“I can’t—! S’too much—”

“You can. You’re gonna squirt for me again, just like the messy little thing you are.”

Your toes curled. Eyes rolled. The pressure hit you even harder than the first time—like a dam about to break.

And then—

“F-Fuck—Yunho—!”

It happened. Again.

Your second squirt hit his thighs, his cock, your belly, everything.

Yunho’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. He kept fucking you through it, holding your legs in place, watching you fall apart with complete awe and total pride.

“That’s my girl. That’s my dumb, messy girl.”

You were crying by the time your third orgasm hit.

And he didn’t stop. Not even close.

“Not done ‘til you’ve soaked the whole fucking bed.”

Yeosang.

You had always assumed Yeosang would be soft.

Gentle. Polite. Almost shy.

But now you were underneath him—spread open, legs over his shoulders, dress bunched around your waist, his cock buried inside you—completely wrecked and shaking.

And Yeosang?

Yeosang hadn’t said a word.

Not one.

Just stared down at you with that unreadable, infuriatingly calm look on his face while he fucked you slowly—so deep, so controlled, so consistent it was driving you insane.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Y-Yeo—can’t—”

His hand came up to your throat—gently, but firm enough to make your next gasp catch—and his hips rolled again.

Right into that spot.

Right into that place he kept hitting again and again and again.

“You can,” he finally said, voice quiet but sharp. “You can take it, baby.”

You whined, vision blurring. “M’gonna—f-feels—”

Yeosang looked down between your bodies, his brows twitching ever so slightly when he saw it.

The wet.

The way your pussy clenched hard around him and started gushing—clear liquid spraying with each helpless jolt of your hips.

You squirted.

You didn’t mean to. Didn’t expect to. But it happened.

“Oh.” His voice dipped lower. Still calm. Still steady. But different.

“You’re squirting?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “That’s how good it feels?”

You covered your face. “I-I—Yeosang—”

He reached down and pulled your hands away, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Don’t hide,” he said, and this time there was a flicker of something smug in his eyes. “Let me see what I did to you.”

You shuddered.

And then he did it again.

Same angle. Same roll. Same deep thrust right against the spot that made your body jerk.

You squirted again.

“Mm.” He tilted his head, blinking slowly. “So messy. What a cute little thing you are.”

“Yeo—Yeosang—too much—!”

“Then cum again.”

That deadpan. That almost disinterested tone as he kept pounding into your soaked cunt, no change in pace, no hesitation, just quiet confidence as he made you come again—

—and squirt again.

The sheets were soaked. Your thighs were shaking. You were gasping, clawing, babbling.

And Yeosang was still looking at you like you were his favorite fucking experiment.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Guess I’ll have to keep making it happen. Over and over. Until you can't even blink without dripping all over me.”

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[tetragonia]

Please Don't be Afraid of Me

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Arguing with Rafe is your daily meal, but this time he almost did something that could break you for life.

warning: mentions of (Y/N)'s father being abusive, toxic relationship, Rafe almost going a bit aggressive, trauma, no mention of (Y/N)

note: I really need a good angst and why not write one myself? I hope this one hurts you as bad as it hurts me :')

words: 800+

The air between you and Rafe crackled with tension, the argument escalating faster than either of you had intended. You both were standing near the docks, voices rising, cutting through the quiet night. Your frustration had been simmering for days, ever since you caught wind of some of Rafe’s shady behavior again—money missing, deals going wrong. You had confronted him, and it spiraled from there.

“You think you can just keep pulling this crap, Rafe? You think nobody notices what you're doing?” your voice was sharp, each word laced with anger. What you two have was toxic, you knew deep down. But somehow it was very rewarding, all those kisses and makeups you two would do after an argument.

But this one was different.

“Don’t act like you know me,” Rafe shot back, his jaw clenched. “You don’t know half the things I’m dealing with.”

“Then tell me!” you snapped, stepping closer, eyes blazing. “But no, you’d rather lie, cheat, and then act like the world owes you something!”

Rafe's temper flared, his hand instinctively raising mid-argument, more out of frustration than intent. But the movement—sudden, aggressive—made you freeze.

You body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking an instinctive step back, your eyes widening in a flicker of fear. In that split second, Rafe’s hand hovered mid-air, his anger dissolving as guilt crashed into him.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t even realized how much his action mirrored something... darker, something that triggered a deep-seated fear in you. But seeing you flinch, seeing you step back from him, it hit him like a wave of cold reality.

“Baby, wait—” Rafe dropped his hand instantly, his voice softer, filled with an unfamiliar urgency. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were suddenly wide with regret.

He took a cautious step forward, but you moved back again, your breath shallow, still caught in the reflex of fear.

“I’m not him,” Rafe said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I’m not your father.”

Your chest tightened, the comparison too raw, too close to home. You blinked, fighting back the tears that were threatening to surface. Your heart pounded in her ears, but Rafe didn’t move again. He stood there, watching you, a rare vulnerability in his expression.

“I wasn’t going to—” he stammered, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I’d never... hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything, still processing the way your body had reacted, how automatic the fear was, how much he reminded you of the volatile moments with your dad—moments you spent years trying to forget.

Rafe took another step forward, more cautiously this time, his movements slower, gentler. “You...” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean—”

You couldn’t look at him directly, your mind torn between the image of Rafe you knew and the shadows of the past that haunted you. The tension in the air had shifted, no longer angry but filled with a raw, uncomfortable truth.

He reached out again, but this time there was no threat in his gesture. His hand hovered near you, waiting, offering. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You’s heart thudded painfully in your chest, your breathing still uneven. You swallowed, glancing at his hand. You hated yourself for flinching earlier, for letting him see that side of you, but you couldn’t deny that he had triggered something deep. Something you weren’t ready to confront.

Still, there was something in his voice, in the way he had softened so suddenly, that made you hesitate. Rafe wasn’t the man you had grown up fearing, wasn’t the man who left you with scars both seen and unseen. He was a mess, yes, but this... this was different.

Slowly, tentatively, you took a small step toward him, meeting his gaze. You saw the guilt there, the sincerity. The storm in your head started to calm, just slightly.

Rafe didn’t move again, letting you come to him at your own pace. His hand was still there, waiting. And when you finally closed the gap between them, you let out a shaky breath. You didn’t flinch this time as his hand gently touched your arm, his grip soft, reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice breaking through the quiet.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. “Just... don’t ever do that again,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but firm.

“I won’t,” Rafe promised, his thumb brushing against your skin lightly. His touch was tender, so unlike the rough edges of his usual self.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They stood there in the quiet, the intensity of the argument fading into something neither of them had words for. You’s heart was still racing, but not out of fear now. It was something else. Something unfamiliar, something you weren’t sure you could handle.

But as Rafe stood close, his touch warm and steady, you realized that you didn’t want to step back anymore.

[sualette]

best friend's brother!heeseung ?

yes yes yes yes YES!!

warnings : unprotected sex, cum play, deception, risk of getting caught !

you shouldn’t be in his room. your best friend’s downstairs, probably raiding the fridge or setting up a movie. you swore you were just going to grab a charger. and now heeseung’s got you pinned against the wall, hoodie bunched around your waist, your panties shoved to the side.

“just the tip,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous. “just to feel you for a second.”

you know that’s a lie. he always says that. and you always let him.

his cock pushes in slow, thick head splitting you open, and you gasp—legs already shaking. your hands scramble for something to hold on to, fingers clutching at his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

he groans against your neck, hips grinding deep but shallow, just barely moving. “fuck, you’re so warm, doll. so wet already and i’ve barely touched you.”

you shouldn’t let him. you shouldn’t want this.

but then he slides in fully, hips flush to yours, and you let out the tiniest whimper.

“thought it was just the tip?” you whisper.

he smirks, already pulling back to thrust again, slow and deep. “oops.”

from there it unravels. he fucks you hard—deliberately, like he wants to make you remember it all day. each snap of his hips is slick, loud, obscene. and when he cums inside you the first time, it’s with a growl of your name and his hands gripping your hips like he owns you.

but he doesn’t stop.

heeseung fucks you through it, cum dripping down your thighs, thrusts getting rougher. “not enough. need to fill you again—ruin this pussy until it can’t take anyone else.”

you’re babbling now, head against the wall, arms limp, just letting him use your body how he wants. the second time he cums, it’s with your legs shaking and cunt fluttering around him, pulling it all in like you need it.

by the third round, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with you in his lap, riding him slow, too full and too fucked-out to think. his cum leaking out with every bounce. a mess between your thighs. your brain’s gone.

“look at you,” he breathes, voice dripping with pride and filth. “so fucked dumb you forgot where you are. what if your friend walks in, huh? you gonna stop me?”

you shake your head, barely able to speak. and he just smiles.

“that’s what i thought. now be a good girl and milk one more out of me. i wanna see it dripping down your legs when you walk out of here.”

© sualette

[calebpups]

PAIRINGS. . . xavier x lumiere x fem!reader

CW. . . smut, threesome, rough sex, jealous!xavier, oral sex m! receiving

your back arched against xavier’s chest, your thighs shaking from how deep lumiere was pushing into you—slow, relentless strokes that left you whining with every thrust. you were sandwiched between them, xavier’s arms tight around your waist, keeping you still while his lips dragged lazy, heated kisses across your neck, tasting the sweat at your pulse.

lumiere's hands were on your hips, bruising, possessive in a way that made xavier growl low against your ear. jealous, even though he was the one who had said he could "handle sharing." sharing, he said. but now, with you gasping and squirming under lumiere's rhythm, xavier's patience was paper-thin.

"greedy little thing," xavier muttered into your skin, his voice dripping heat, teeth scraping along your jaw. his hand slid up your body, cupping your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple while his other hand drifted down between your thighs to where you were stretched and dripping around lumiere.

he rubbed tight circles on your nub that had you moaning brokenly into the open air, caught between their bodies and losing your mind.

you could feel xavier’s cock pressed hard against your back, twitching with every noise you made, every time lumiere bottomed out inside you with a heavy, deliberate thrust.

lumiere’s eyes stayed locked on you, heavy-lidded and dark, watching every twitch of your mouth, every flutter of your lashes. watching xavier too. knowing exactly how much it was driving him insane.

it was too much. not enough.

you whimpered, nails digging into lumiere's arms, and xavier bit your ear. "you want more?" he asked, voice gravel and silk. "say it."

you could barely breathe, let alone form words, but you nodded, desperate and wrecked.

lumiere smirked, slowing his thrusts to a maddening, shallow grind, while xavier pulled you back against him, shifting you both until you were spread open, straddling lumiere’s thighs. xavier’s hand wrapped around your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his kiss—messy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and desperate need.

and then he changed positions.

you barely registered it before he was guiding you forward, hands spreading your ass, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance while lumiere’s hands stroked up your sides, steadying you.

you gasped into lumiere’s chest as xavier pushed inside from behind—slow, deep, so full you thought you might split apart.

two cocks, two bodies, pressing you from every side, stretching you out so perfectly you could barely think.

lumiere cupped your face, thumbing your lips open, guiding you down to take him into your mouth. his cock was flushed and leaking, and you moaned around him as you sucked, messy and desperate, while xavier fucked into you from behind—hard, deep strokes that had your whole body jolting forward.

the noises were obscene—wet, needy, beautiful. your moans were muffled by lumiere, his hips barely flexing as you took him deeper, while xavier's hands bruised your hips, dragging you back onto him over and over.

you were wrecked between them, pleasure thick and overwhelming, your body slick with sweat and spit and need.

xavier fucked you like he had something to prove, like he could fuck out every trace of lumiere inside you, his teeth gritted, low curses falling from his lips.

lumiere just watched, lazy and amused and utterly indulgent, petting your hair while you gagged and drooled around his cock, his thumb brushing your cheek like he adored seeing you so undone.

xavier's thrusts grew rougher, angrier, pulling you back against him with brutal force, making you sob around lumiere’s cock, body jerking with every thrust.

you felt yourself breaking apart at the seams, the pressure unbearable, perfect, a firestorm about to consume you whole.

and in the center of it all they ruined you, together.

masterlist ⋆˚꩜ send me a kofi !

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN CANCER

venus in cancer wants a long-term relationship where they can safely build a family. they strive for a deep, heartfelt connection; this placement, once their guards are down, makes for a loving and sentimental partner.

chef!theo nott x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, praise, cursing

nav // event / more

it had always been difficult for theo, though he’d never admit it out loud. how could not not be? running a family restaurant meant seeing it every day – the happy couples, parents eating as their little ones played in the kid’s area… he was known for being focused and dedicated to his work, yet he just couldn’t help it sometimes – his attention strayed, and certain images filled his mind. the images of you pregnant with his baby, you as a mom, putting your child to sleep, so beautiful, so caring… it didn’t help at all that you’d always been vocal about wanting to start a family someday, which only fueled his fantasies and caused very inappropriate reactions in his neat uniform trousers.

and valentine’s day turned out to be an absolute torture – the amount of couples flooding the restaurant was close to diabolical, and theo ended up spending the entire day frustrated and painfully aware of his desires; you hadn’t left his mind even for a second. so, when he came back home from his shift – totally didn’t excuse himself by ‘important family matters’ – he was all over you.

you didn’t mind, oh, not at all. not when his heated body was covering yours so deliciously, your bare skin slick with sweat from close to an hour of endless lovemaking, his cock splitting your open enough to make you moan his name at the top of your exhausted lungs.

"cazzo, so fucking pretty for me," theo breathlessly murmured as he pounded into you, the movements slow but deep, reaching the spot just at your cervix. "wanna fill you up so bad, amore."

your nails dug more into his back at his words, leaving faint red lines all over, the ones he’d make sure to check out in the mirror later.

"please," you whined, struggling to keep your eyes open, yet determined to do it all the same – you were a bit obsessed with the way theo’s ocean blue was gazing at you, with the heady mixture of tenderness and hunger that you knew was reserved only for you.

"oh yeah? please what, baby?" he teased, though his smile was genuine, small but loving. he absolutely loved seeing you like this, all flushed and needy for him, and it made him feel blissed out enough to let his usual composure crumble, his carefully constructed facade fall, demolished by the overwhelming affection he felt towards you.

"please… god– fill me up, baby!" your voice went high, a signal that you wouldn’t last much longer.

"fuck–" theo felt himself grow closer too, his cock throbbing between the warmth of your walls, squeezing him so tightly, sucking him in in just the perfect way. "gonna give you my babies, amore. you want that?"

"yeah," you could only breathe out, ragged and shallow, as theo’s thrusts grew sloppier inside of you. you could tell he was about to cum, and the thought of him filling you up made you moan louder, his name the only thing left in your fucked-out mind.

"you’re gonna be such a good mom." theo sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold back, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to very soon. "can’t wait to get you pregnant, amore. so prettily round with my baby…"

an image of you with a big, swollen stomach carrying his child made theo lose it – warm, thick spurts of sperm spilled deep inside, completely coating your walls and seeping out, onto your inner thighs, as he continued thrusting into you, determined to bring you over the edge as well. it didn’t take long – a few more seconds, and you were coming after him, your nails carving scratches into his back. he straightened out, looking down at where your bodies connected, and slowly pulled out. your hole clenched, squeezing his cum out, but he quickly gathered it all with his fingers and pushed them back into your sensitive entrance, causing the muscles of your lower abdomen to contract.

"have to be sure it’s all in, amore. gotta make sure you’re all nice and pregnant real soon, yeah?"

[syoddeye]

cygnet, plucked | price x reader | part three, final part two cw: dubcon, noncon, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome (kind of), endearments, vague/implied first time, grief, guilt, mild body horror, pregnancy mention a/n: many thanks again to the anon who originally suggested this. part one | part two | masterlist 🦢

The lake is choppy the day John marries you, its surface churned by a coming storm.

Cold water laps at your ankles, bare feet numb in the shallows. The hem of your dress drinks deep from the surface. Soaking up what memories it can before you're further bound to man.

John says marriage is sacred, unbreakable. A higher purpose. It's a slap in the face to what you lost.

The nameless friend he brought stands smirking between you, reciting empty words. Invoking a god you do not recognize, but curse all the same. You answer only when John squeezes your hands. The veil, stitched from your ruin, is a mockery. A whisper-thin shield.

John lifts it with reverence, eyes bluer with the lake beside him, darkening at the edges where clouds gather. He looks at you the way he did that night. Hungry and triumphant.

After slipping a thin gold band on your finger, he kisses you, deepening it until his friend chuckles. Holds your face as if you are delicate and cherished. And for one fleeting second, you hate him less for it.

But when his lips leave yours, you feel it. That hollow space. The sore spots between your shoulder blades. A rift not easily mended.

His friend claps him on the shoulder, bids you both well, and winks as John steals another kiss.

Thunder rolls over the water, threading through and shaking the trees in warning. You doubt he hears it that way. To him, it's nothing but weather. 

The first drops hit before you reach the cabin, cool pinpricks that swell into a downpour. John's grip tightens, tugging you along as the storm swallows you both. He laughs as you stumble inside, slamming the door behind him, bracing against it like you've outrun something wicked.  

His laughter fades as his eyes rake over you. Your dress clinging, veil slick to your skull. Shivering. He watches for a breath too long before turning toward the hearth.

"Strip," he says, kneeling to coax the fire back to life. "You'll catch your death."

He tells you he overspent on dinner, whatever that means.

The honeycomb drips viscous gold, pooling in the flat of a salted biscuit before spilling over your lips. John hums, pleased, pressing the next bite to your mouth. You chew, tasting the wildflowers.

His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, solid and warm, still slightly damp. Tracing whorls of hair with your eyes. His arm is heavy around you, holding you firm in his lap, as if you might slip away between bites. He feeds you another, thumb brushing your lips.

With the fire and rain pattering the roof, it's almost tolerable. Nice. 

Then his fingers bump against your lips, sticky and insistent. The last of the honey, scooped up and offered. You hesitate. He does not. Two fingers slip past your lips, pressing sweet and heavy against your tongue.

You suck them clean, head buzzing as he pets your tongue. Their rhythmic draw over the muscle elicits a ghostly tug at your nethers. A string of spit breaks and splatters on your breasts when he extracts them. He gathers it as he did the honey, then drags them between your legs.

Outside, the storm howls. The cabin groans under the wind, trees clawing at its walls. Rain batters the roof, thunder cracks, lightning splits the dark.

He puts you on your back. It's only proper, he says as he climbs over you, for a man to first lie with his woman this way. Separates them from the animal.

You don't bother pointing out that it's foolish, him justifying his acts. That you expect him to do whatever he damn well pleases.

Your tongue stays fastened to the roof of your mouth, holding back words that wouldn't change a thing. Self-loathing leaking out with every pulse of your puffy, needy cunt, your feathers soaked from his attentions.

What a creature he's reduced you to.

You go rigid when it's clear he's done playing around, that there will be no more easing you into it. You fold your arms tight, the same as when he sets down a plate of something unappetizing and expects gratitude.

John merely exhales through his nose, a near-silent huff, and keeps on. He grabs an ankle, yanking you closer with an unbroken focus. Your display is nothing more than a child's sulk.

"This was meant to be, honey," he muses, tucking his hands under your knees and opening them. "You and me, right here." 

A heavy, hot weight slots into the crease of your thigh, and your head jerks up, unable to stop yourself from looking. It's flushed, redder than you imagined. Thicker, too. Crowned with a thatch of coarse, wiry hair that looks like it'll pull at your feathers.

He strokes himself, fist tight enough to push pearls from the tip, dribbling them over your swollen clit. You shudder, torn between repulsion and enthrallment, each equally strong and disorienting.

John licks his lip. "Arms around me."

You hug yourself tighter on instinct now that you've seen, up close, what he intends to shove inside you. He bristles.

"Fine. Be difficult." 

Surprisingly, he doesn't force the issue, but—

"No matter how you deny it or fight it, this is where you belong." His jaw clenches, fingers flexing on your hips like he's barely keeping himself together, thumb pressing a shade too firmly into your skin. Like the fact of finally having you underneath him is almost too much. "Me and you. Me and my wife."

He nudges your lips apart with his length, exposing the core of your heat to it, and glides through until you're squirming. He keeps bumping your clit, purposely nudging the rim he worked open by the fireside. Then it catches for real, and the head alone makes you dizzy. Much bigger than his fingers. A blunter, harsher pressure. 

You fought him on that third finger, back on his lap. You regret it now.

When he starts to push in, you picture egrets skewering fish. Impalement. Gasping, wide-eyed, and belly-up. Your arms fly open, startling a laugh out of him, abruptly cutting into a grunt as your nails sink deep into his furry chest.

John exhales hard through his nose, adjusting his grip, palms slick with sweat as he pulls at your hips. "Hell's sake, Shy," he mutters, voice threaded with frustration, but he tamps it down quick, replacing it with something softer and meant to soothe.

A hand lifts, and his thumb strokes over the hinge of your jaw, coaxing it loose. You're tense all over. His eyes are darker now, a thin ring of blue around the black swell of his pupils. The coldest part of the lake, where the light can't reach.

"Ain't doin' yourself any favors, it'll feel good, promise," he says, bracing an arm beside your head. Crushing your chest with his for another kiss. "Relax."

A deafening crack of lightning follows his words. A tree could come down on the cabin right this second, but he wouldn't even blink. Nothing would draw his attention away. That's obvious when he raises slightly and starts again with renewed purpose. 

"John," His name cast as a lifeline. Desperate, grasping. "Too big."

"You're alright," he grits out, voice tight, breath uneven. His cheeks, florid beneath his whiskers, lift in a grin when he takes another inch. "That's a girl."

You hiss angrily, spitting mad. Pinned and helpless. Humiliated even as your heels jam into the small of his back.

It keeps doing that, your body. Moving of its own accord, traitorous thing. Clinging when it should let go, leaning in when it should recoil. Caught between the urge to shove him off and the quiet, irksome need to let him in deep.

In, in, in. Your head presses into the pillow beneath it, mouth falling open as he makes a place for himself in your body. 

The pain blurs at the edges, numbing into something almost unrecognizable. No, unfathomable. A creeping, repugnant pleasure germinates where his cock drags. And just when your toes start to curl, coming around to the idea of it, to acceptance—he stops.

Confusion fizzes and pops between your ears, leaking steadily through the sieve he's punched in your skull. You slur the beginnings of a question, but the words sharpen, solidifying when he withdraws too suddenly. Something within stirs, sensing his intent, desperate to intervene.

"S-Said you'd take care of me," you choke out. "Be nice. Be nice." 

John falters, swallowing hard. He stares down at you, so intensely you think he'll lash out, every bit of him flexed.

"This you saying you'll behave?"

You don't answer right away, breath hitching when his thumb drags over your ribs, just shy of tender.

"Well?" His patience draws taut over the word, a fraying thread poised to snap like his hips. "Say it, honey."

There's but one answer he'll accept.

"Yes," you lick your lips. "Yes, John. Please."

He waits a moment, waiting for you to take it back, then tests: "Arms around me."

This time, you oblige.

How kindly he keeps this promise. The minute shake in his arm from the restraint he shows from not simply barging in. Sweat sluices over the swell of his bicep, tracing the ridges of muscle and the veins pulsing beneath the hair on his arm.

His eyes brighten—just barely. A flicker of tenderness, the same glint you've caught in stolen moments. The longing he's kept at arm's length, from across the table, from the beam outside the cabin, from the doorway. Burned into the back of your neck at night where he confesses but never apologizes.

This time, he unhurriedly feeds you his cock again, bottoming out with a groan, and rubs a circle into your hip.

"This is where you belong," He echoes, half-growling the sentiment with a grind that has you noiselessly pulling him closer. "Not in the muck, not in the grass. Bet you were a pretty thing with wings, but as a woman?"

John doesn't finish the thought, instead fixing his gaze to where you're stretched around him, silently deeming you acclimated. He kept his word, now to keep the others. It's like he said—he'll teach you every little thing you need to know. He'll make it good.

You're not naive about what's happening when he begins to move. Apart from the men you've spied on, you've seen wild animals. But knowing doesn't stop your breath from catching in your throat or the moans that follow.

Noises indecent enough to heat your face, each languid thrust finding its mark. They'd scald you with white-hot shame if emptiness didn't seem so awful a notion now. His cock jerks at a particularly sweet sound that stutters and skips like a stone over water and ends with his name on a sigh.

His fingers dig in, guiding the roll of your pelvis to meet his, grunting out filth. How wet you are, how right you feel.

"Don't even understand what you do to me, do you?"

You don't. Haven't since you arrived. It's still a mystery why he chose your dress from the dozen on the shore. Surely, he hadn't known it was yours. Hadn't picked you especially, hadn't spied you before—your mind severs the thought at the root, a little hysterically.

John switches arms, planting the other elbow beside your head to bear his weight. The other disappears, but you don't follow its path. His breath grows rough, eyes half-lidded and weighted with devotion and its twin. He picks up the pace, rolling his hips harder, bludgeoning his thick cock into you with urgency.

He surprises you by wedging his hand between your bodies, trapping it on the feathered slope of your cunt. He thumbs your pearled clit, stroking over it in tight circles. It makes you clench down greedily, rewarding you with a roll of his eyes and flash of gritted teeth.

It's—He's—

You've no point of reference for this turmoil.

The closest thing is the storm outside, wild and unrelenting. Rain pelting the earth, flooding the soil, swelling the lake beyond its banks. A force that drowns and nourishes in equal measure, tangling ruin and rebirth.

And under your skin, your blood simmers into a rolling boil. It spreads, curling through every inch, pooling under your navel and tightening.

"Give it, honey. C'mon, can feel it," He rasps, punctuating his demands with an ungentle grind of his cock and a quick succession of firm pats to your clit. "C'mon, on my cock, now, Shy."

You don't fight him, but you don't make it easy either. 

When you come, euphoria wrestles with doubt. A current that sweeps you away from him, tumbling hard and fast, only to throw you back, gasping for air. And through it all, John's voice, steady as the shore.

"That's it," he rasps, preening, "Knew you had it in you. My good girl."

Your vision returns in fragments, palms sliding from his shoulders, falling limp to either side of your head. He's still moving, the lewd slap of flesh on flesh and squelching loud in your ears. He's fully abandoned his earlier pledge, any pretense erased. Rutting and battering your walls with a singular goal. Exploiting how you've unraveled beneath him. Gives him the perfect excuse to unleash weeks of pent-up frustration, you think hazily.

He bears down on you when he gets close, breath heaving against your neck, your forehead. Chasing his release with such an effort, part of you understands why he must've played the waiting game with you. He's saved his fury, all of it, for this.

John finally follows with a prolonged groan, head tilted back, sinking to the hilt to spill deep. Cheek to cheek, whiskers scraping and sopping up stray tears. Shuddering above you, crushing until your ankles unhook from his back. Until the tension bleeds out of him, freeing him to move. Sated at last.

He lifts enough to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his eyes tiredly twinkling as he drinks in whatever stupefied expression you must be wearing. Then, with a sigh, he finds your mouth. 

"Did so good, honey," he murmurs, "Knew you'd be perfect."

He lies with you for a couple minutes, humming at how you tremble around his softening cock as it drags out of you. Pulling out spend which he gingerly pushes back in, mouth twitching at the quivering of your thighs. He stands, wipes his hand on his flank, then staggers away, knees popping, to fetch a towel.

He cleans his excess spend from your thighs and lips, then tends carefully to your feathers. Though in the lantern light, it's as if a different veil has been lifted. All you have is the aftermath. 

A belly full of cum. Finger-shaped bruises. A fierce ache. The spell breaks, and whatever idea of romance you had vanishes.

He stole your dress. Plucked and stripped you of your feathers, offering no alternative but the cage of his arms. Earthbound and alone, save for him. You're not yourself and never will be again.

Outside, the night hangs unnaturally still. You know it's a false hope. That this is just the eye of the storm.

When John crawls back into bed, his hand finds your stomach. He murmurs about the future—how fine a wife you'll become, how fine a mother you'll be.  

His breath stirs your hair as he chuckles. 

What'll it be, honey? A baby or an egg?

You nearly break apart all over again.

Babies. Cygnets. You don't know if it's possible. This union, this wretched coupling, is the first of its kind that you know of.

But from how he takes you again in the morning, nesting within you until he softens, if there is one man who could make it happen—

It's John.

You don't know what you want. Maybe you never did. The thought of leaving gnaws at you in the quiet moments when the fire is low and John's asleep, one heavy arm slung over your waist.

You could slip away. You could try. 

But then what? 

The forest is vast. The lake depressingly empty. The town full of strangers. And you are neither swan nor woman, not truly. There's no going back to your sisters, no wings to carry you home, wherever that is now. And even if there were—would you take them?

Would you abandon the warmth of his hands, the way he looks at you like you belong to him, like you belong somewhere at all? More precious than the matching gold on your fingers or the money hidden beneath a floorboard.

The guilt coils tight, constricts your ribs. You shouldn't hesitate. Shouldn't find comfort in the rough edges of this man, in the way he steadies you, feeds you, calls you honey and darling like he means it. 

He stole from you. He broke you open and reshaped you into something else that fits into his world, not yours. He doesn't even know your true name.

And yet, when his fingers trace lazy circles against your skin, when he murmurs Shy in the dark, you wonder—if you had the choice, would you take it?

It's best to tuck away your past life. Fold it like the lace in the trunk beneath your marriage bed. Shove it into a dark corner and relegate it to a memory to take out on rare occasions, softened with time. Best to recall the sweetness and not let the bitter ruin it.

Months later, you wake from a nap and find feathers strewn across the bed. Your heart stops.

With a trembling hand, you reach for the small of your back, and feel smooth, bare skin.

A wail rises in your throat, but then a tiny kick flutters deep in your belly.

You swallow the grief.

[ginxyy]

Seungcheol’s hands found their way to the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper, his tongue tracing the edge of your lips, demanding entry. There was no gentleness now, only raw need, the kind that had been building between you for too long. You didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. His body pressed into yours with a desperate urgency, making you feel every inch of him—his chest, his heat, his desire.

But you couldn’t let go completely. Not yet. Not after everything.

You pulled away, breathless, your hands still gripping the collar of his shirt. “You think this changes anything, Seungcheol?” you whispered, your lips still swollen from the kiss. “You think you can just come in here and—”

He didn’t let you finish. His mouth found yours again, this time with an intensity that stole the rest of your breath away. His hands slid down your back, pressing you harder against him, his body a wall of muscle and heat. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel—his hands, his lips, the way his body fit perfectly against yours.

But when you pulled back again, this time for real, the look in his eyes made your pulse spike. “You think this is about changing anything?” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “This is what I’ve been waiting for, Y/N. You’re the one who hasn’t figured it out.”

“What are you talking about?” You were dizzy, the fog of his touch clouding your thoughts.

“I’m talking about this—this fight, this mess between us, all of it. You want it, just like I do. You want the chaos, the pain, the tension. You think I don’t see how you look at me? How you push me away just to pull me back? You’re addicted to it. And so am I.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, you wondered if he was right. But the sharp, defensive edge in you fought back. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you shot back, your voice unsteady. “This isn’t your game to play.”

He gave you a mocking, bitter laugh. “It was never a game, Y/N. You know that. And deep down, you like it. You like me fucking with your head, making you question everything, because it feels real. You don’t want easy. You want the fight. You want me.”

“I don’t need you,” you spat, even though your pulse was racing, your body betraying you with every thumping beat.

Seungcheol’s smirk twisted into something darker. “No? Then why the hell are you still standing here?”

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands roamed, gripping your thighs, pulling you up against him until you could feel the growing heat of him pressed against your core. Your breath hitched, the force of the kiss leaving you dizzy and desperate for more. But you refused to let him have the last word.

You broke the kiss, chest heaving, and forced a smile. “You can’t break me, Seungcheol. You want to? You’re gonna have to try harder.”

His eyes narrowed, fire igniting behind them. “Don’t tempt me,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

You stepped back, giving him a defiant glance. “You don’t control me. Not anymore.”

But the look he gave you told a different story. Without warning, he pulled you back towards him, his hands on your waist as he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His body was heavy against yours, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts as his lips brushed the side of your neck.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. “Tell me you don’t want me like this.”

You gasped, the heat building between you unbearable, but you swallowed the words on your tongue. You knew he was right, but admitting it— surrendering to it—was a whole different thing.

But Seungcheol wasn’t going to let you get away that easy. His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, kissing you until you couldn’t think straight. His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips brushing against your skin, and you couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran through you.

You moaned into the kiss, the tension in your body slowly dissolving, only to be replaced with the raw hunger for more. You knew this was a dangerous game. One that could break you both.

But when his hand slid lower, brushing against the waistband of your pants, you didn’t stop him. You wanted him to push you further, to make you lose control, because you knew—deep down—that this was the only way you would ever feel alive again.

“Say it, Y/N,” Seungcheol growled, his hand pressing firmly against your core, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your pants. “Say you want me. Now.”

You closed your eyes, heart pounding, unable to resist. “I want you,” you gasped. “I want you, Seungcheol. Don’t stop.”

A growl escaped his throat, and with that, he took control once more, the world outside forgotten, leaving only the two of you, lost in the storm of everything you couldn’t say, couldn’t do—until now.

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘱𝘵 2) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 3k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵(?)

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮-𝘪𝘴𝘩!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘺 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 😵‍💫

note: not proofread... pls excuse any shitty grammar 🥲

pt 1, pt 3

Simon held you to his promises. he held pinned your leg up while he fucked you through another earth splitting orgasm on his fingers, long and thick and stretching you with a careful practiced hand. prying your thighs wide open with a tight grip, warm strong chest right at your back and his deep voice in your ear.

“like this, luvie? still want more?”

when you had whined, rolling your hips down onto the curl of his big fingers, he had praised you. praise, praise, praise—you couldn’t get enough of the sweet words he whispered against the shell of your ear, lips warm and soft.

“good girl. so, so good. c’mon, i need to see you cum, pretty girl.”

in reply, you had raked your hand over the muscle of his forearms, drinking in the sight of his full sleeve of dark ink with a heady greediness as you keened and whined his name.

then, when you soaked his hand in a thick ooze of your juices, he had sucked them off his own hand like they were the sweetest thing in the world.

“where do you wanna be when i fuck you, baby?” he asked with a mouthful of fingers, voice rough but sweet all at once.

“under you,” you whispered weakly, letting him manhandle you into the blankets, legs lolled out as he pushed them up and all pliant from the double orgasmic bliss hanging over you like a hazy cloud.

he leaned down to swirl his tongue around your sensitive nipples till your hands were in his hair, begging and pleading for more.

you watched him slide off the bed, dark gaze still on you as he unbuckled his belt, nothing in the room but your shallow breath and the metal clicks and rustles as he kicked off his pants, prowling back onto the bed with a tight looking pair of boxers that were stained with a dark patch around his strained cock.

impatient, you hooked a thumb into the waist of them but he pinned your hand above your head with a low grunted warning, stooping down to run his nose over the skin of your collarbones and neck, licking over your skin.

“eager?”

you nodded quickly, spreading your thighs a bit wider for him as he nestled between your legs, impatience only growing when he kept sucking at your neck and jaw.

finally, after what felt like forever, he shifted back, admiring the spit and slick over your skin and the light pink marks over your collarbones before pushing down his boxers, thick and veiny cock springing up against his stomach.

you moaned softly at the sight, resisting the urge to paw at the aching tension between your thighs. he kicked his boxers off somewhere so that they landed on the floor and then he leaned over you, knuckles braced against the bed beside your head.

“ready, baby?” he asked, low and throaty as he picked up a hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your lips before hooking it inside so that it pressed firmly against your tongue.

you could only hum, wrapping your lips around his thumb and sucking on it, satisfied when you drew a gentle groan from the back of Simon’s throat.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasped, reaching down to pump his cock a couple times before lining up against your entrance.

after a bated breath, you felt a familiar, pleasurable stretch, back arching at the sensation as he pushed the leaking head of his cock in slowly, grip tight on your hips and his breath shallow.

once he was seated fully inside, pushing your thighs up so you could hook them around your waist, hips flush to your ass, he leaned down to pepper more kisses over your chest and tits as he ground into your heat.

you whined, hands snaking into his hair and pulling. 

“move please,” you squeaked, eyes pricking with tears at how delicious the head of his cock felt rubbing against that sweet spot inside you, how sensitive you were after two orgasms.

“patience, baby,” he whispered, nose brushing over your own and black pupils blow-wide gazing down at you, blonde lashes looking long and full in the dim light. 

you crept your fingers to the base of his head, pushing him down to your lips, humming when he easily complied. his lips enveloped your own, soft, warm, and wet when his tongue slid along yours. you would’ve got lost in it if he didn’t lift his hips and roll them back down, sliding against the gummy, textured walls of your cunt.

the movement left you breathless and wanting, fingers tracing from his hair to his muscled, broad shoulders as you dug your nails into the flesh. he practically growled into your mouth, fucking you with a slow, sensual intensity that left you squirming beneath him.

the dark hair littered along his navel brushed over your clit when every thrust, and his lips trailed down to clasp onto your swollen nipples, pinning you down to the bed with his large hands wrapped around your forearms. pinning down so you couldn’t do anything but squirm.

“what a perfect little pussy,” he grunted against your skin, the blatant praise making your face heat up. “finally got you exactly where i want you.”

the words were so hushed that you almost missed them, but the sparking ache deep in your tummy clutched onto his words, a spasm going through your core at the prospect that Simon had you trapped exactly where he wanted you—squirming beneath him, unable to move, unable to do anything as you just took every inch of his big cock.

“just take it, pretty,” he whispered into your ear, and you whined, bucking your hips up in time with his own thrusts so the hair at his naval rubbed against your clit harder.

“Simon,” you warned, shocked at the pleasure rippling through you.

his shifted, towering above you as he fucked you just a bit faster, those deep, rolling, slow thrusts pushing you closer and closer to a chasmic edge. the pinched look of concentration on his face—intense and clouding his eyes, jaw clenched and sharp in the dim light—sent another spasm through you.

“gonna cum on my cock?” he asked in a heady, rough tone. there was a ghost of a smirk gracing his lips that twisted the heat in your tummy harder.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, squirming in his immovable grasp. 

“s’okay,” he whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. “you can do it. let go for me, baby.”

the twitchy ache of your clit was brushing against his naval and the way he was fucking you so slow and sensual and not even chasing his own pleasure and leaving you a writhing, overstimulated mess beneath him—

you came all over his cock, spasming tight around him as you moaned out, breathy and whiny as he fucked you through it, murmuring sweet little praises in your ear as a dreamy white haze blanketed your mind.

you were lost in the sheets, body leaden and soft as you sunk down into the mattress, barely registering his gentle touch against your skin until the rough pads of his fingers were rubbing against your clit.

you jolted up with a gasp, snatching his wrist to push his hand away, overstimulated and oversensitive and—

“alright, sweet thing?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek.

you whined, pushing at his hand, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Simon, please—”

“shh,” he hushed, slowly pulling out of you without a warning, a raw gasp torn from your throat.

you felt empty and cold without the warmth of him as he sat back, a thin sheen of sweat making the muscles of his stomach gleam in the low light. you looked further down, seeing a creamy white coating over his swollen cock, flushed tip leaking pearls of precum.

whimpering, you crawled forward as best as your limp body could move, eyes darting to his as your lips parted, tongue swiping along your lower lip as a silent offering to take your mouth as well.

but he just pushed you back to the bed, rolling you so your cheek was pressed to the mattress, hands braced against the bed as he arched your ass up just a little so your tummy was still against the sheets.

“how does this feel?” he whispered, and you shivered when you felt a finger trace down your spine, stopping just above your ass.

“good,” you whimpered, craning your neck to look at him from over your shoulder.

the look on his face was insatiable. almost unrecognizable as he stared at you in the position, muttering a low curse and then something like pretty as he swung a leg over the back of your thighs, cock pushing up right between your asscheeks.

you whined, reaching back to grip at his meaty thigh, willing him to move—to do something even if your body was still twitched with sensitivity.

“you sure?” he asked, smoothing a hand over your ass and cupping it lightly before squeezing.

you yelped, jolting forward, but his weight on the back of your thighs caged you down to the mattress.

“think you can cum again?” he pressed on, groping your ass now.

you nodded against the sheets.

“words, luvie.”

“yes,” you whispered, nose wrinkling up with embarrassment. he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. you felt the sticky tip of his cock press against the tight rim of your swollen cunt.

“still gonna bake me those brownies if you do?”

he slowly pushed in, your little laugh cleaved by a pitched whine as you pressed back against him so he bottomed out with a wet smack against your ass.

“hm?” his pinched the fat of your ass gently and you squirmed.

“yeah, anything,” you gasped against the sheets, wanting him to just move already.

“anythin’?” he probed, sounding almost bored as he continued to just massage your ass.

you were about to send him a confused look over your shoulder when there was a light smack and an acute sting in your asscheek, ripping a loud moan from your throat. the sting turned into tingles of pleasure.

“Simon?” you gasped, feeling high and delirious when his hips pulled back and snapped into your ass, his grip on the flesh borderline possessive as he started fucking you. faster now. rougher than before.

“what is it, baby?” he asked, voice deceptively soft and even when he smacked your ass again, lighter this time, almost affectionate as the sting dispersed over your body in a shower of tingles, pricking heavy tears up in your eyes.

“s’good,” you admitted, the tears spilling from your eyes when you jolted as another smack came down on your other asscheek. 

“yeah?” his voice was breathy—less even when it was pressed right against your ear. 

you searched behind your shoulder for him, making contact with the soft skin of his shoulder and something mottled beneath your fingertips, a scar perhaps, when he caught your wrists and pressed them beside your head. he pinned you beneath him as he fucked you down into the mattress, your swollen clit brushing against the sheets with every thrust.

“your ex fuck you this good, sweet thing?” his tone was throaty, aggressive, bordering on something dangerous and lustful and possessive. it sent your mind reeling.

“never,” you admitted, more tears spilling from your eyes when your eyelids drooped shut, just taking his rough fucking like the good girl you were and loving every second of it.

“ever since i first saw you,” he rasped, breath shallow and fast as his hips slammed into your ass, “wanted to fuck this sweet pussy.”

a raw moan was ripped from your throat, your cunt throbbing around his thick length stretching you wide open.

“bakin’ me sweet things. such a sweet girl. donating to vets n’shit. fuck.”

that spongy spot deep within you throbbed with a wild, pulsing need. 

“my own soft ‘nd pretty little housewife.”

at that, the tight coil in your tummy snapped and you were coming around his length, your fourth orgasm tearing through you like a blazing wildfire, sweeping you away somewhere delicious and sweet and distant. you were faintly aware of the tears staining your cheeks and his soft whispers in your ear.

“such a good girl. my good girl. mine.”

shaking with overstimulation, his rough thrusts suddenly overwhelmed you, twitchy clit brushing against the mattress stringing you through razor sharp sensations. little whines and whimpers falling from your mouth, he gently shushed you, reaching down with a strong arm to bind around your waist, pulling your hips up from the mattress as he continued to rut into you.

“shh, shh, s'okay. you can take it.”

and you could. wanted to, for the first time in a long time. wanted to please him not just for him but to please yourself—because his pleasure melded into your own and it was submerging you into overwhelming waves of pleasure, half-begging him to just fill you up already.

“please Simon,” you gasped, feeling him smile against the nape of your neck.

you jolted when his arm bound around your waist snuck down, fingers rubbing at your clit as he grunted in your ear, blurring into slurred groans as he reeled closer to an edge. just the sound of him so close and needy and desperate for it had you coming all over again, ripping you through an orgasm that you didn’t even know you were approaching.

soon after, he was spilling into you with a low tortured groan, face pressed into your neck as a slimy, hot liquid rushed into your womb. it filled you, leaving you full and satiated when he collapsed to the bed, practically crushing you beneath him as you both fought to catch your breaths.

after some more silent moments in the dark, you felt Simon’s hand stroking at your hair, returning soft and sweet just as he had been at the start of the night.

“gonna pull out now,” he warned, and you just nodded, feeling sleepy as he clambered to his hands, sliding out his softening cock inch by inch until you were empty, save for the gooey mix of cum and saliva and ooze between your thighs.

you didn’t bother to move, just laid limp against the bed as you heard him moving around behind you, grabbing something from your nightstand as he gently lifted your leg. 

a tissue, you realized, as he wiped your skin free of most slimy debris.

“alright, luvie?”

you nodded. his warm hands were at your back, smoothing over your back and sore ass before he was gently turning you over to your side. you met eyes with him from where he sat at the edge of the bed, gaze dark and softened in the dim light.

“you sure?” he probed, thumbing over your tear stained cheek.

“yeah,” you croaked, lazily lifting a hand to touch his back, broad and adorned with a few scars before you. 

you ran your fingers over a textured one, fingertips tracing lower. you gasped when you spotted a green and yellow mottled bruise over his lower back. about the size of a peach. you ran your fingers over it.

eyes flitting up to his in question, he twisted around, clambering into bed beside you.

he pulled you flush into his bigger, muscled form that easily swallowed you up, warm and strong and the steady swell of his chest right by your ear.

“compliments of the job,” he explained.

his fingertips spidered over your throat and down to your sore breasts.

“will you be leaving again soon?” you asked, craning your head to look up at him.

he stared at you for a long moment. “not for two weeks.”

you nodded. two weeks was all you would need.

“stay with me,” you offered, voice soft and open. you could only hope it didn’t sound half as desperate as you felt.

his brows rose slightly. “m’only just across the hall.”

at that, you blushed, feeling sheepish as you gazed up at him. “i just mean that…”

you didn’t know what to say. what you said was exactly what you meant. and looking up into his strong, honest gaze, you couldn’t force your way through a bluff.

“i’ll bake for you every day,” you promised, biting down a smile when he grinned, wide and sort of wolfish.

he leaned down, crushing you to his chest as he peppered kisses across your cheek.

“in that case…” he whispered, low and sultry by your ear as his other hand ducked down to your naval, creeping closer to your cunt.

with a choked guffaw, you squirmed away from him, relishing in the way he laughed—silent and suppressed. but looking over at the way his shoulders shook, hiding his face behind a palm pressed to his eyes, it was laughter nonetheless.

“don’t start, Riley,” you chided him, weaseling your way beneath the covers and turning so your back was to him.

“no first name basis?” you could feel him prod at your shoulder.

“maybe if you sleep with me,” you said, letting your eyes close.

he slid into the blankets behind you, curling a strong arm around your waist—the inked one, you noticed with a quiet giddiness—and tugging so that you were against his bare chest. his sigh, low and rumbled, spread a tingle through your back.

“no brownies either?” he asked, sleepy and raspy by your ear.

you hummed. “in the morning.”

with a gentle grip, he turned your chin so that you could see his face. just one of his eyes was cracked open, peering down at you and then your lips. you craned up to kiss him, soft and sweet and slow. so slow it felt like you were melting. so slow your heart was bursting with warmth.

“in the morning,” he confirmed against your lips, laxing back down to the bed and curling around you—a strong, protective force at your back that coaxed you into a sweet sleep, his soft breath by your ear, and even sweeter words on his tongue.

“i missed you, sweet thing.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved @rayamaya

[lowkeycasanova]

something you/they do during sex that's a complete turn on

headcanon

NSFW**

I imagined every scenario in missionary. Oops.

characters: monster trio + usopp and law

Luffy

You meet his eyes and he smiles down at you while deep in mid stroke. His breaths are shallow and hurried and his chest rising and falling with his efforts. "Hi." he giggles and lets out in a ragged breath. And you completely lost it. Any effort to maintain your composure was thrown out the window. Because it's just a simple, soft "hi" while completely wrecking you. It's the contrast of it. He's not as innocent as he seems. But he's so adorable. You hate it. That cheeky ass grin will be the death of you.

Sanji

The two of you were just about finished. He's slowly getting up and starting to pull out and you grab him by the shoulders to stop him, knowing the impending physical ache you'll feel when he's out. You pulled him back and whispered in his ear, "I'm not done feeling you yet." His breath caught in his throat, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. His mind began racing. Holy shit. Yes ma'am. No problem. Anything you wanted, he was going to give to you.

Zoro

You just can’t keep your mouth shut. The more he fucked you in missionary, the louder you became. He brings his hand up to your face, uttering “shhh” softly as he caressed his thumb against your lips. With narrowed eyes and a sexy smirk, he fucks you harder, knowing he’s making this even more difficult for you. You shut your eyes shut and gritted your teeth behind closed lips, trying your best to be quiet. He looks down at you like the cocky asshole he is, pleased with himself.

Usopp

Your eyes were closed but you opened them, lifting your head up and admiring him with the glassy appearance. No words were exchanged between the two of you and for a split second, he thought he was doing something wrong. But you closed your eyes again and laid down on the pillow, seemingly more relaxed and pleasured. “Fuck…you’re so hot.” You told him. Sure, there were times he might have felt insecure. Everyone does. But rest assured, he will never be again. His mind registered what you said and his face broke out into a wide smile. You’ve just increased his God complex to another level.

Law

His hands rest on both sides of your head. You feel the tip of him as he’s about to slide himself in. You grab ahold of his shoulder and it causes him to stop momentarily, wondering what you’re about to do. Bringing a hand up to him, you tentatively brush the dark hair out of his face. “I trust you.” You whispered. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of surprise in his eye. Emotions swirled within him. Validation, responsibility, vulnerability, affection. Your trust meant everything to him. He mirrored your actions by reaching his hand out to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. He plants a soft kiss to your lips and slowly but surely, slides himself in in a connection only meant for the two of you.

[spatialwave]

Jayce x Reader for the kiss prompts with the ‘kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex’ 👀 please please please

your wish is my command, hehe.

be quiet.

pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader word count: 957 tags: mdni! smut, shameless slut, pwp, vaginal sex, rough sex, choking, forceful kissing, reader is being way too loud lol. notes: an ask from this prompt list!!

You couldn’t help it, his cock was stretching you with every thrust and leaving your cunt aching for more. You rolled your hips against him, arms lifted above your head and pressed to the headboard as his name rolled off of your tongue.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, a large hand pinning your hip to the bed as he fucked you, huffing as he kept up a quick rhythm.

“Can’t,” you whined, “your cocks so big, I really can’t help it.”

You may have been overacting your coy behaviour, but it was true. Every thrust had you mewling in pleasure and it was near impossible to stifle the sounds.

It was a great compliment which stroked Jayce’s ego, but he still knew that fucking in the guest room that shared a wall with Caitlyn’s bedroom needed to be treaded carefully. Especially when the headboard was already thumping against it.

Your hands clawed at his chest, legs wrapped around his hips, “fuck me harder,” you whimpered.

“I said quiet,” Jayce groaned, leaning down and burying his face against your neck, lips and teeth dragging along the skin as his hips thrusted forward with a ruthless pace. The walls of your cunt felt so fucking good squeazing around his length, and he was doing his best to keep his own moans suppressed, but it wasn’t looking so good for either of you.

All he wanted was to sit upright on his knees and dirty talk you as he fucked you—watching the way you squirmed and would try to hide your face. Legs spread wide apart for him, his thumb circling your clit in a terrifyingly quick rhythm and watching your pussy take his big cock with no struggle like the good girl you were.

The best part? You could be as loud as you wanted, he could hear you scream his name until your throat was raw and fuck you until you were begging him to slow down.

But neither of you had that luxury as you were so graciously housed in the Kirramman house for a few nights.

You let out a sharp, loud moan when the head of his cock bruised your cervix—so deep you wanted to writhe away from his touch and treat the night like a game of cat and mouse.

Jayce was quick, lifting his head up from where he’d begun to litter your chest with love bites and capturing your lips into a heady kiss.

Immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck. Lips parting to give him access to your mouth, tongue gliding against yours and swallowing your moans.

“You like that?” He mumbled against your lips, tongue brushing against your teeth as he snaked a hand between your bodies and rubbed slowly at your swollen clit, his pace slowing.

You couldn’t answer back, lips and voice muffled by the way he assaulted your mouth with his tongue.

It was so fucking hot, almost hotter than the way his cock pushed in so deep you felt like you were being split open. Your thighs tightened around his hips, arms gliding up until you could grab his hair in a fistful, the other resting on the front of his throat.

“Yeah” you whined into his mouth pathetically.

Jayce snapped his hips harder once again, fucking you relentlessly as the bed shook. He had to take shallow thrusts, anything too forceful slammed loudly against the wall and risked someone hearing.

“I’ll be quiet,” you urged against his lips, attacking them and licking into his mouth to taste the remnants of a black spiced tea.

“You sure?” he whispered, eyes fluttering as his stomach twisted. Sweat had begun to build up on his forehead and the back of his neck, meanwhile the pillow princess herself laid back and began to play with her tits while he did all the work.

Jayce loved it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, cheeks burning hot as the thumb circling your clit did wonders to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the bundle of nerves getting sensitive with each passing second, little jolts of electricity making your pussy tighten so hard around his cock he had to whine into your mouth.

“Fine,” he muttered, lips trailing down your jaw and neck, “you make any more sounds and I’ll stop.”

You were obedient, chewing on your bottom lip fiercely to keep yourself from moaning. You even had to lift a hand, the back of it covering your lips as you met your boyfriend’s gaze.

His free hand had gripped the top of the headboard, tight enough the wood creaked as he looked down at you, admiring your beautiful fucked out face.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna’ cum,” he whimpered against your skin, jaw clenching as his orgasm neared with each harsh snap of his hips, “gonna’ fill that pretty pussy.”

Your hand fell from your lips and you closed your eyes, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape as your own release crept up on you. Before you could stop it, his name was rolling off your tongue loudly and he was forced once more to press his lips to yours and place a hand at your throat, fingers pressing on each side of your windpipe.

”Sorry,” you breathed into his mouth, nails digging into his chest as his choking left you pleasantly dominated.

“No you aren’t,” he mumbled, tongue licking against yours as you both met your release together in near-silence. Blissfully ignoring the idea that Caitlyn could hear everything.

…She could.

[smutmind]

When it Doesn't Fit ft. Tzuyu

idol x bbc

The moon hung low over the Eastern Palace, its silver glow shimmering across silken banners and jade-tiled floors.

In her private chamber, Lady Tyuzu reclined upon a cushioned dais—long legs draped in violet silk, delicate fingers idly twirling a jade hairpin.

Tonight, she had been promised a rare gift—a "specimen" from the far Western lands.

A soft knock.

“Enter,” she called.

Two eunuchs entered, flanking a towering figure—a black slave, stripped to a simple loincloth—muscles gleaming under the lanterns.

“Your gift, my Lady,” one whispered—bowing low.

Tyuzu’s gaze sharpened.

Her breath caught.

The man was massive—towering, sculpted—his dark skin a stark contrast to the pale silks around them.

But it was the bulge beneath the cloth that made her throat tighten.

“Leave us,” she ordered softly.

The eunuchs withdrew silently.

Tyuzu rose slowly—bare feet gliding over the cool floor.

“Remove it,” she commanded.

The cloth dropped.

Her gasp was sharp, unbidden.

His cock hung heavy and thick—veined, monstrous—far beyond anything she had seen.

“It’s… too large,” she whispered—pulse racing.

A soft moan broke the silence.

Tyuzu turned.

One of her young handmaidens, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, had remained hidden behind a screen.

“My Lady—may I?” she whispered, voice trembling.

Tyuzu hesitated—then nodded.

“Show me.”

The girl knelt before him—small hands trembling as she stroked the dark shaft.

“It’s so heavy—so thick—”

She leaned in—tongue flicking across the tip—then swallowing it slowly.

He groaned deeply—cock thickening further.

“Mmmphhh—so big—” she moaned, tears streaming as he fucked her throat.

“Enough,” Tyuzu breathed—eyes dark with lust.

“Take her.”

The slave lifted the girl easily—laying her on the silk cushions.

His cock pressed to her tight entrance—forcing its way in.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH—IT’S TOO BIG—”

He thrust deeper—slow, relentless—stretching her tiny Asian cunt to the brink.

“AHHHHHH—no—please—it hurts—”

Her cries grew ragged—tears flooding down her cheeks.

Blood trickled around the thick shaft as it forced deeper.

“AHHHHHHHHH—you’re—splitting me—AHHHHHHH—”

Tyuzu watched—pussy throbbing, breath shallow—one hand slipping between her own thighs.

The girl came hard—body shaking—cum and blood dripping from her ruined cunt.

Tyuzu could no longer resist.

“Now—take me—NOW,” she commanded, silk robe falling from her shoulders.

Her pale breasts heaved—nipples hard—thighs slick with need.

The slave knelt before her—lifting her easily.

First, he sucked her nipples—rough, hungry.

“AHHHHHHH—yes—suck harder—”

Then he lowered her slowly—massive cock spearing her tight Asian cunt.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Her nails raked his shoulders—eyes rolling back.

“It’s—it’s too deep—you’ll break me—AHHHHHH—”

He began to thrust—slow, deep strokes—cock stretching her impossibly wide.

“AHHHHHHHHH—it won’t fit—I can’t—AHHHHHHH—”

Tyuzu straddled him—hips grinding—nipples in his mouth.

“YES—YES—fuck me—fill me—break me—”

Her climax hit hard—squirting around his cock.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—more—I need MORE—”

He flipped her easily—ass high—cock slamming deep.

“AHHHHHHHHH—yes—yes—break me—I’m yours—”

Her screams echoed through the chamber—voice hoarse, mind slipping.

He pinned her beneath him—legs wide—fucking fast, deep, brutal.

“YES—AHHHHHHHHH—yes—cum—CUM IN ME—”

With a final roar, he buried deep—spurting thick seed inside her overstretched cunt.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Tyuzu collapsed—overstimulated, twitching—cum leaking from her abused, gaping cunt.

She had never known such pleasure—nor such ruin.

Her mind swam—body trembling—addicted already.

She smiled faintly—voice a breathless whisper.

“You’ll return—tomorrow—again—”

And so a new hunger was born.

[aventurineswife]

In the quiet, galactic space of the Astral Express’s observation room, you find Dan Heng standing alone, his form ethereal and strong, back turned to you. In his Vidyadhara form, he appears almost otherworldly—a being of dragon heritage with sharp features, midnight-black hair that fades to teal, and curled horns casting shadows on the walls. His clothes, a blend of warrior regalia and quiet elegance, reflect both his heritage and his inner conflict.

You hesitate at the doorway, admiring the serene yet guarded figure before you. He knows you’re there—Dan Heng is never unaware—but he says nothing, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. In the silence, the space between you feels almost sacred, as if speaking would shatter it.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, daring to approach him. “Dan Heng?” you say softly.

He glances at you, eyes a striking, vivid green that glow faintly in the dim light. For a moment, his gaze flickers with emotion—something raw, buried deep within. But he holds it back, as he always does, his face returning to the composed expression you know so well. “You should be resting.” he murmurs, though there’s no admonishment in his tone.

You can’t help but give a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep. And… it seemed like you could use the company.”

For a moment, he says nothing, but his silence is answer enough. Slowly, he nods, turning his face back to the galaxy. Encouraged, you come closer, standing beside him as the two of you gaze out into the void. His presence is calming, yet electric; you can feel the restrained power within him, the weight of his lineage and the memories he hides.

“You don’t talk about it much.” you say quietly, unsure if he’ll answer.

He tenses slightly, but doesn’t move away. “There isn’t much to tell.” he replies, though you sense the reluctance in his words.

“Even if it’s just with me?” you ask, heart pounding as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his hand.

For a moment, he remains still, as if deciding whether to let you closer. But then, slowly, he turns to face you fully, his hand slipping into yours. His eyes are intense, searching your face for something, perhaps reassurance or understanding. It’s as though he’s teetering on the edge of something—vulnerability, maybe, or trust.

“Being here, with you…” he murmurs, voice low and filled with an emotion he can’t quite conceal, “makes me wonder if there’s a part of myself that I could share, that isn’t… tainted by the past.”

His words stir something deep inside you, a mixture of empathy and a need to bridge the chasm he keeps between himself and everyone else. You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, his skin warm beneath your touch. “You’re not defined by what’s happened. You’re allowed to want more. To want someone.”

Dan Heng’s eyes search yours, his breathing shallow as he lets your words sink in. Then, his hand lifts, his fingers ghosting over yours as he draws you closer. His forehead rests against yours, a sigh slipping past his lips, as if he’s finally allowing himself to let down his guard.

The moment stretches, filled with a quiet tension. Then, his lips meet yours, soft at first, cautious. But as you press closer, a new urgency fills the air, the kiss deepening as he lets go of his restraint, just for you. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers gentle yet firm, drawing you in as his lips part, inviting you further.

It’s then that you feel it—a faint, unfamiliar sensation against your tongue. You realize it’s his split Vidyadhara tongue, a delicate, serpent-like touch that’s both unfamiliar and thrilling. A shiver races down your spine as he explores, his breaths growing unsteady. The unique feel of his split tongue intertwining with yours is mesmerizing, an intimate act that seems to bare the quiet vulnerability he keeps hidden from everyone.

Dan Heng’s hands settle at your waist, his hold tightening as he pulls you flush against him. Each movement is tender, filled with a longing he rarely lets himself indulge. His lips trace yours, slow and deliberate, as though memorizing the shape, the feel of you. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale carrying the unspoken desire he’s kept buried.

For a moment, he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours once more. His vivid green eyes meet yours, softened by an emotion that words can’t quite capture.

“You make me feel…” he murmurs, voice barely audible. He trails off, as though he can’t bring himself to finish, but his expression says enough. In his gaze, you see it all—years of solitude, of battles fought and regrets carried, all melting into the gentle warmth he shares with you now.

His lips find yours again, this time with a sense of urgency, an unspoken promise. His split tongue brushes against yours once more, sending a thrill through your senses as he pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back, grounding you against him.

In that moment, the walls he’s built around himself crumble just a little more. Dan Heng, the stoic guardian, allows himself to be vulnerable, to be human, if only with you. And as he holds you, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment, you realize just how deeply he feels for you, even if he may never find the words to say it.

[luveline]

hello! do you think you could maybe write a james x fem!reader where he helps her calm down from a particularly bad panic attack? hyperventilating, zoning out, crying, etc? definitely not for my own personal wellbeing hahaha

James considers offering you his stress ball. It’s a palm-sized squishy rugby ball with deep grooves and splits from years of squeezing, but it does the job the same as any other. He always thinks it’s shameful that office jobs are stressful enough to require the invention of something to take your worries out on. 

He thinks it might be doubly shameful to let you sit there without asking what’s wrong. 

“Hey.” 

You raise your head to smile at him. It’s a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James already knows. “Hi.” 

Things are less frosty between you both. Honestly, James would say he likes you. Like, a lot. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

You take a steadying breath. 

“You don’t sound fine,” he says softly. He gives the office a quick survey and stands. “Come on, we’ll go sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” 

Your eyes widen. You don’t stand. 

Your breathing is too quick. James knows from experience that if you don’t get some time to yourself soon, you’re going to burst. It might be too late already. 

He takes your elbow into his hand. “Come on, it’s okay. We’re gonna take a walk.” 

Your breathing worsens by the second as James leads you out of the office. By the time you’re near the elevators, you’re struggling. Your inhales are short, shallow, and your exhales sound painful. It’s like you can’t get the air in, and when you do you can’t breathe anyways. 

“Hey,” he says, “it’s okay, angel, just take a big breath. One big breath, let’s slow down.” 

James is startled when you grab him, your face pressed hard to his shoulder. It came on so quickly, but he really does have experience in this. He’s got two best friends with a cargo hold of agonies each, and he’s learned how to take care of them. 

He finds he’d love to take care of you. There’s no reluctance there, only worry. 

“It’s okay,” James says, wrapping an arm around you lightly where you’re grabbing him. He could call you ‘angel’ again, toys with ‘sweet girl’, the s on his tongue, but it’s a little much for the moment.  He says your name instead with all the tenderness of a pet name, desperate to reassure you. “You’re okay.” 

You’re not listening, you can’t. You’ve zoned out of the present, panicked tears forced from your eyes with each harsh blink. You make a sound, a pained moan as you begin to buckle. 

James grabs you tightly. “Honey, it’s okay. It is, I promise. Take a deep breath. Just a deep breath, and we’re gonna sit down.” 

He’s sat with Remus through panic attacks that lasted long enough to consider taking him to the hospital. He has no idea what tripped you into this, but he can get you out of it eventually, with patience, and with care. James sits you down in an empty room along the hall and opens a window. He turns on the light, and he drags a chair to yours to sit almost knee to knee, taking your hand to hold.

“Can you copy me?” he asks. 

You shake your head. Your knee is jumping up and down in a hard jostle. Tears streak and drip from your cheek in jagged lines. Your panic is hot, sweat at your hairline, and it’s not pretty, but James doesn’t need it to be, he’s just desperate to make you feel better, and he’ll try every way he knows how. He takes breaths for you to copy, presses your hand to the seat to ground you, to force you to feel the starch of new tough leather on your fingertips. 

When it doesn’t work, he moves on. James doesn’t panic, it won’t help. He can imagine the fiery ache in your throat, and he’s concerned you might go light-headed, but he knows this is just panic. It’s something he can fix. 

“You’re doing so good,” he says softly, aware of the quiet in the room, your breathing the loudest echo. “But can you do something for me?” 

“James–” 

“No, I know, I know, it feels like it’s not going away, but it is. I need you to watch me, okay? Watch my arm. Watch this, angel, it’ll make sense.” 

And he begins raising and lowering his hand. He pushes it into the air, as high as his fingers can reach, and he brings it slowly to his thigh. Your eyes watch it move, at first frantic, and straying to other places, but eventually his arm begins to ache with the motion, and you’re following it diligently. He takes measured breaths as he does it. 

You copy his breathing. Your hyperventilating turns to plain crying, and then the tears come heavily but without sobbing. 

James lowers his hand. With the other, he rubs your thigh. “You did amazing, honey. You’re amazing, well done.” 

“I…” 

Your voice is hoarse. You don’t finish what you’d wanted to say. 

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks, worried it’ll start again. 

“No,” you say. James can’t tell if you're lying for his sake, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind if it happens again. 

He hates seeing you cry, though. “Good job,” he murmurs, rubbing your trembling leg, head ducked to be on your level, “good job, honey. You really did so well. All you have to do now is sit here and relax for a little bit.” 

“I have so much stuff to do.” 

“And I’ll help you. But right now, we’re gonna sit here.” 

You grab at his hand where it’s tracing a path. It’s definitely an overfamiliar touch, but you don’t mind, curling your fingers over the back of his palm. 

You have nothing to say. 

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. He hopes his smile says it’s fine to not want one. 

“Please.” 

His chest aches a little. He slides his knee between yours and does the majority of the bending to hold you to him. “It’s okay,” he whispers as you take a shaky breath, his hand carving a path down your back. 

“I felt like…” 

James waits. Your voice is raw, but you’re not trembling as badly as you were. 

“I felt like I was gonna have a heart attack,” you confess. 

“I know. But you’re okay.” 

“I know,” you say with a sniffle that announces more tears. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

“You didn’t do anything. Nothing you had control over doing. Don’t think about it that way.” He pats your back. “Just try to feel better, that’s all you can do.” 

“You made me feel better, James. Thank you.” 

James hugs you. He tells you that he didn’t have much to do with it. All the hard work about panicking is the body that does it, he knows the ache of it afterwards, and he can feel your exhaustion. 

He’d let you fall asleep in his arms if that was what you needed to do, but after a while you’re okay to sit back. James leaves to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine, and when he returns you’re standing by the window and wiping your wet eyes. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks. 

You sniffle. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“Can I give you another hug?” he asks. This one being entirely for him. 

He can’t stand to see you sad. James wraps you up in a hug and sways you from side to side a couple of times. By the end of it you’re both feeling better than when your attack started, and that’s a job well done in James’ eyes. If he keeps special attention on you for the next few days, that’s his right.