#and I'd like to come back inside

[prettyflyshyguy]

Got angry about social media and wrote a mini rant, it's under the cut for comfortability's sake. On a positive note; I've made more progress writing for Virtual Ground tonight and that's Epic, but I'm still plagued by exhaustion. Anyway. I better get back to my scripts.

Can I have like a moment to just fucking whinge about how much I loathe the current state of social media. There are so many things I could complain about, and I do not miss the irony of that statement trust me, but mostly its frustrating as an artist who's recently made two intensive illustrations that I can't immediately share, and I'm writing a long-form webcomic with plans to post pages once I've completed the first episode (AND I'm also trying to write future episodes and iron out plot issues before I commit to drawing to ensure I've got a solid foundation)

It's just really. Really frustrating, when you don't feel like you've got anything to share, you have no energy to make something shareable, and the current nature of platforms demands something absurd from you and you feel a pressure to share something to retain relevancy. This in and of itself, is anti-art and it sucks because on the one hand I'd like people to Behold; My Stuff, but on the other I want to operate like an artist and make art for its sake, but on the other-other I'd like to make products that sell too and these all exist at odds with each other. I don't like what instagram wants from me, in terms of growth and outreach. I don't want to sign up for tiktok. I don't know if any good art-focused platforms or art-friendly platforms exist right now. Is it worth the mental energy signing up and trying?

Ultimately I'm procrastinating and wasting my time writing this post because I'm tired, and I want a dopamine hit because my brain has been fried and re-wired in a bad way and I'm doing my best to fix that. I think it's just frustrating.

All that being said; I'm really excited to make Virtual Ground. I've been holding myself back on this project for so long for the worst reasons and I'm tired of making excuses for it. It's been hard, writing for it. It's been scary. Mostly cause I really want it to be good.

Working on it's brought me a lot of purpose, that being said. And I'm still on track to have something before the end of the year. I just wish I felt better about it.

Anyway have a "haha funny" WIP of my faves which I'm slowly chipping away on, as a palette cleanser

[wereh0gz]

Something I just now realized is that the beam of light mephiles used to kill sonic in 06 looks more like a sharp glowing gem/blade in shadow gens. Like it looks like a gem protruding from his hand that he can control the length of

Mephiles quite literally stabbed sonic to death

[manglam-marfach]

dyke!Chilaios has me understanding breeding kink all of a sudden

[starscreamingg]

Somebody stop letting me play minecraft I hopped on to plant a couple of trees last night and three hours later I'm trying to join two continents together using exclusively deepslate

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: SUR'KESH

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Wrex With: Lt. Steve Cortez, Dr. Mordin Solus, Major Kirrahe, and Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Adm. Steven Hackett Alliance R&D has officially begun construction on the Prothean device. The team has dubbed it: "Project Crucible". We're throwing everybody who knows how to throw a hammer at it. This is gonna be the most ambitious undertaking in human history. I'm not saying it won't be a challenge- but we can do this, Shepard. You can do this. Never doubt that. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

+BONUS (the smirk™️)

[airenyah]

it's really funny seeing everyone salty posts about the hidden agenda finale and i actually agree with everyone but the thing is!!!! i'm just vibing!!!!

i went into this show with absolutely ZERO expectations (and in fact, i would have been extremely surprised if this show ended up being actually good dkfjkfddf), i've never given a single shit about the plot and/or the writing bc i came here for the joongdunk vibes and the joongdunk vibes alone and i had a blast watching this series

like, i'm not even gonna bother criticising this drama bc from the beginning i didn't expect it to be very impressive anyway and so i'll just keep sitting here in my pile of garbage and vibing with it <3333

[crushcandles]

I can't see the future, but my same job for five years senses tell me that at least next week is going to be a real rat bastard, if not the next few (or if I'm really unlucky, the rest of the weeks in 2023), so I spent most of my free time this weekend cleaning for the mental peace of not thinking about that at least, at the expense of writing time.

ronance: 10473 (+4.65%)

Funny how you can angst about a story for ages, and then it just clicks. Someone presses play on the tape and it's going. I'm not at the point where I can just bear down and finish it, but it's easier to sink into mentally than it's ever been.

I'm going to commit to finishing the draft of this by the end of 2023. Bold move, considering how I feel like the Ralph Wiggum I'm in danger meme when I think about having free time, but I don't want to lose my carefully scraped up momentum at this point.

Also, since I guess it didn't formally make the post last week by a few minutes -

Posted:

Wrapped Around Your Finger (TWN, Geralt/Jaskier, 3.9k, explicit)

[rhapsodybenny]

I am poorer than I've ever been. Pay me $20, and I'll take the time to explain my new 4th dimensional THING. It's a t h i n g .

It's kind of a 4D mental framework, it's kind of a story idea, it's kind of a new way of packaging/extending the classic "2D-to-3D" analogue, it's kind of a practical method for designing 4D maps for 3D characters, it's kind of horrifying, but best of all, it's DEAD simple to explain with simple stick-figure drawings (and text).

$20 buys you my highest-effort reblog (this post) to date, complete with diagrams.

If you can't afford that but want to help me anyway (I love you), you can give me $5, and we'll figure out something (unrelated to the thing).

[cacodaemonia]

Okay but like. Elijah wanted this role with a burning passion. The project was so secretive that Jackson and the others in charge wouldn't send scripts to actors ahead of time and only gave them info about the films once they met in person. The actors couldn't even take scripts home.

So Elijah, who has an American accent, hired someone to help him learn a British accent, and then he went out in the woods in costume to film himself as Frodo in, presumably, a scene from the books. The VHS has never been released afaik, but he edited it and sent the tape to Jackson, who was blown away.

Here's a short interview with Elijah, Peter, and Viggo:

I know I've said it before but every rewatch I do cements this thought further - elijah wood's performance in LOTR is absolutely insane, they really had a character whose name means "wise by experience", hired an 18-year-old to do it, and he delivered so much that not only is it a beautiful and moving role on its own, it's a performance equal to those of the absolute powerhouses he played side by side with like ian holm and ian mckellen. to name just a few

[luvcaleb]

YOU'RE MINE.

nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.

“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”

And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”

You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.

...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”

You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”

You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.

“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”

Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”

Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”

Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”

The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”

He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.

He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”

“Ah, ah, Caleb!”

You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”

He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”

“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”

Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”

“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”

Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”

“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”

You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”

The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.

“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”

He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.

“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”

“Haa... haa...”

Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.

“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”

He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.

“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”

Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.

“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”

He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.

He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”

Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”

He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.

“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.

You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”

He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”

“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”

He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”

You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.

“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”

He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”

“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”

You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”

His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”

He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.

“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”

“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”

His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”

“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!” 

“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”

His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”

He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”

“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.

Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.

“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”

Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”

[ivebeenmade]

I haven't been awake an hour, and I'm already crying over her. I can't remember a day when the mornings haven't given me a reason to lose all hope.

hide it in the tags

[nothingsbroken]

.

[tarragonthedragon]

ghost stories are alarmingly easy to spread tbh

when I was like ten I was walking back from the chip shop near my gran's house with a neighbour and we took a short cut down an alley which was enclosed by garages except for one part which was wire fenced and led to the electricity shack

and while I was walking I chucked a chip over the fence. the girl walking with me, C, reasonably asks why I did that

"oh, don't you know?" I say, as if I'm not equally out of my own loop

she shakes her head. the enclosed alleyway has no streetlights. it's after dark. the shack is isolated in the distance.

"a little girl who lived up on the court climbed the fence once on a dare. she went up to the shack and touched it, but there was a wire sticking out, and when she touched it, she got electrocuted and died, right there. if you come back in the daylight, you can still see the black mark."

[editor's note: the court was the smaller road off the side of the crescent, which was the one C's family and my gran lived on. the houses there were slightly more expensive and newer, almost all occupied by wealthy commuters to the city, where most of the crescent houses were occupied by retirees and locals who worked on the trading estate. naturally, crescent kids hated the court. houses there got bricked about once a month.]

"no she didn't," C says

I made up this story for absolutely no reason and with no plan, but I'm not gonna back down now. "sure she did. and if you go past on your way back from the shops and you don't leave her an offering, she'll follow you home through the streetlights. one flickers behind you, then the next, then the next, until you get home. and then the lights start to flicker inside the house. even if you turn out all the electrics before bed, it'll be too late. she's inside. and you'll wake up on the night and see her, and she'll be so awful to see it'll stop your heart."

[editor's note: the streetlights always flickered. this was because our neighbour monkey george kept setting the junction boxes on fire]

"I never did before and she never followed me home!"

"do you come down the alley after dark? or do you take the main road with the streetlights?" I knew she didn't use the shortcut, because I'd been the one to talk her into it that night. she was three years younger than me and scared of the dark.

C claims not to believe me, but she throws a chip over the fence too, and walks the rest of the way looking over her shoulder. I get to pride myself for the night on being good at scary stories, and don't think much more about it.

fast forward six or seven years. I'm back in town. I'm on my way back from the chip shop, taking the same shortcut home. ahead of me on the road are a couple of kids I vaguely recognise as old playmates' younger siblings.

they stop, and I watch one fish out three sweeties from the pack they're sharing. they take one each and throw them over the fence. they carry on walking.

I realise that this is probably my fault, as are any resulting pest control issues around the old electricity shack.

when I get to the fence, I throw a chip over.

[muntitled]

Tic-Tac-Toe

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex

A/N: Hell is empty

4k Words

You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.

It's terribly annoying.

At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?

Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.

It should have bothered you.

The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.

But you want him to trust you, for some reason.

Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?

"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.

If only for a few hours.

You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.

Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.

You are in love with him, perhaps.

That's a logical response isn't it?

You laugh almost.

Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.

Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.

The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.

"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.

Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.

A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.

Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.

But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.

Although-

"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.

He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"

He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.

"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.

"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.

You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."

Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.

"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.

You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.

"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.

"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.

"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.

"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."

You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.

"Am I going to have to insert-"

"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.

"Hide and seek?"

He snickers, "A favourite-"

"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.

"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.

"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"

"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.

He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.

"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.

He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.

"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.

"With a twist, I presume?"

"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."

"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."

"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.

"You want to start or should I?"

"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"

He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.

"You pick which one goes inside you."

Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.

"Th-That's insane I-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "

"What happens if you win?"

"Then I choose." He says.

Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.

"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."

You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.

"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.

Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.

Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.

"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"

"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.

"Anything you want, my little winner."

You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.

"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.

"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.

"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.

If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.

"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."

"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.

"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."

"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.

"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."

You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.

"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"

His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.

He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.

"Alright, My turn to start-"

"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.

"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.

"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.

"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.

You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.

You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.

You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.

"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"

"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.

"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.

"Fuck off."

"In that case, I have to win."

Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.

"Tic-" you block him again.

"Tac-" you block him some more

"Toe- I Win."

A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.

You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.

Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.

"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.

"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.

"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"

You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?

"PLEASE-NO-"

"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.

You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.

"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.

"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.

"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"

You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.

So desperate to please him.

In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.

Please him.

Just please him and you'll live.

"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.

"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.

You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.

You're free.

When did that happen?

"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.

You're free.

"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.

He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.

He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.

"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.

"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.

Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.

"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.

"Not yet anyway."

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[satrs]

Baby, Baby!

SYNOPSIS; Babyfever with the l&ds men<3

FEATURING; ZAYNE. XAVIER. SYLUS. RAFAYEL. CALEB. xfem!reader

TAGS; ADULT/NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! unprotected intercourse, smegual intercourse. br$$ding. creampi. heavy dörtytalk. extremely pathetic crybaby caleb alert!!!. mention of kids, duh!. doggy in rafs. mating press in sylus'. spooning in xaviers. cowgirl in calebs.

✎ A/N; FUCK SWEETIES! FINALLY FINISHED THIS!! I thought I'd see the pearly gates before I get to live this day LMAO. Couldn't stop thinking about my babytrapper!Caleb post, so this came out of it ^^ This might be my fav work yet ngl hehe

ZAYNE ✰ How to make a Baby 101!

"You",

Zayne stops himself as he takes a deep breath, a grunt rumbling in his throat, "You want a baby?"

It's as if you could read his mind. He's been thinking about this—about a baby—for quite a while now, seeing it as a next step after your established wedding. You're his love — his darling wife, so it only seemed it would be natural for you both to consider this next big step in your life.

Zayne loomed over you, his gaze dark, smoldering, and consuming. His breath was ragged, uneven, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs, spreading you open beneath him.

Your eager nod was all it took for him to stuff his entire length inside you in one swift motion, feral, low grunt erupting from the depths of his lungs.

"l'll give it to you. Gonna-" he stops himself with a hiss, hips stuttering at your greedy grip onto his dick, "Gonna give my sweet darling a baby."

"P-please Zayne. Need it soooo bad!"

A helpless, broken mewl spilled from your lips as your nails clawed into his shoulders, heels digging into his back in a desperate attempt to pull him in deeper. His body shuddered at your neediness, at the way you begged so sweetly, so pathetically.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, strained, like he was holding himself back. Like he was fighting the urge to ruin you completely.

His fingers traced along your jaw, down your throat, until his hand traced circles on your belly. His lips parted, his tongue darting out to wet them as he stared down at you like you were something he could devour whole.

"You always let me have you like this," he rasped, his hips rolling forward, stretching you open inch by inch over and over again. "Like you were made for me."

You gasped, back arching, hands flying to his biceps, gripping tight, and Zayne let out a deep, guttural groan. His head fell forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath fanning over your lips as he pushed deeper, until there was no space left between you.

"Fuck," he hissed, his teeth gritting and his hands clutching at your waist like he was trying to ground himself. "Can’t hold back when you’re like this."

His hips snapped forward, the sudden movement pulling a shaky moan from your lips, and he drank it in like a man starved.

His pace was slow, deep, and precise—savoring the cramped space of your cunt, memorizing every pulse, every clench, and every desperate little noise you made.

"You feel that?" he whispered, pressing his circling hand down against your stomach, his touch firm, possessive. "Feel how deep I am?"

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping into something low, rough, almost dangerous. "Nobody else gets to have you like this." His teeth nipped at your earlobe, his breath shuddering. "Nobody else ever will."

And when he pulled back—just enough to see the way you were falling apart beneath him—his lips curled into a dark, satisfaction.

"Mine."

The gluttonous vibration of his voice startled you almost, his mouth hot against your neck as you both simultaneously come undone, rolling your puffy clit between his digits to ride out your high.

But he wouldn't stop cumming - he couldn't. He has to make sure you take it. Fat spurts of cum paint your walls completely, pumping the oh-so familiar fluid into your womb.

"You'll be the best mother ever- fuckkk." He continues to ram his now spent cock into you, growing full erect again, the thought of your pregnant form just plastered before his vision.

You huffed, trying to shove at his chest, but the wicked smirk on his lips only deepened. Voice dripping with something dark and sweet, "I think I should go for another shot, just to be sure."

And a crazed smile creeps up his usually nonchalant features at your aghast expression, quick to plaster a sweet, dotting kiss to your plump lips.

He rolled his hips, slow, deep, deliberate, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into you, and he knew that this really didn't make any difference on the outcome from a medical state point but right now everything in him screamed to pump you full.

One thing is for certain, though— you're not coming out of this not pregnant with his child. Or maybe in plural as in children? Yeah, that sounds way better.

"Yeah," he chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to your jaw,

"One more for good luck."

XAVIER ✰ Oopsie-Daisy!

The first thing you felt was warmth—the heat of Xavier’s body pressed tight against yours, his arm heavy and unyielding over your waist, keeping you right where he wanted you. Even in sleep, he held you close, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away.

You weren’t sure how long he’d been awake, but the lazy caress of his fingers over your stomach told you he’d been lingering in this moment, taking his time. Soft, slow circles, the barest drag of his fingertips across sensitive skin—teasing, testing.

A slow roll of his hips, and suddenly you did feel it—the firm, heavy weight of his cock dragging through your slick folds, grinding right up against your clit.

A sharp gasp left your lips as he did it again, long and deliberate, letting the thick head of his cock glide through the wet mess he was making of you.

His fingers dragged lower, barely brushing over your clit before pulling away—keeping you right at the edge, keeping you desperate.

“You’re not leaving this bed ‘til you’re full," he promised, his cock sliding against you again, so damn slick, so damn hard. "So damn full you got no choice but to take, take, take.”

His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He must’ve felt it because a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

In one swift motion he slides into you with ease, walls clenching around the all too familiar girth, his leaking pre smeared onto your insides.

"Mm-mm," he tsked, his gravelly voice thick with amusement. "Ain’t no runnin’ now, baby. You’re right where I want you."

His grip tightened slightly, his palm pressing just a little firmer against your stomach, like he wanted to hold you there, to remind you exactly who had you like this. His nose brushed against your jaw, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss beneath your ear.

"Feel me in there?" he murmured, voice thick with possession. "All deep inside you, right where I belong."

His hand flexed, fingers splaying wider, pressing down just enough to make you feel every inch of him buried inside you.

"Tell me you love it," he whispered, his lips dragging down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "Tell me you love bein’ mine. That you love me fillin’ you up like this."

Your breath hitched, and the second you whimpered out, "Hhnnn! — I love it when you fill me up, love you—"

Xavier growled low in his throat, his arm tightening around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his hips snapped forward in a slow, aching thrust.

"Damn right you do," he murmured, a smirk pressing against your skin.

Your breath hitched as his hips rolled forward, pressing his already-hard cock against your dripping heat between your thighs. A knowing chuckle rumbled through his chest.

"You want me to fill you up, don’t you? Fuck a baby into you?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but the second his fingers gripped your hips, the moment he rolled his own against you—

A small, broken gasp slipped out instead.

„Everyone's gonna know. They’ll know your mine. They’ll— goddd your squeezing me so damn tight, I can’t—„ his nonstop rambles only continue, accompanied by the lewd sounds echoing off the walls.

His breathing turns rapid, hooded eyes fixed onto your tummy, propping one strong leg onto the bed to sink deeper into you.

His chest pressed flush against your back, warm and solid, trapping you in his arms, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, giving him the perfect angle to bury himself deeper, harder, where you needed him most.

His hands—god, his hands—one pressed firmly against your stomach, splayed wide over your lower belly, like he could already feel himself inside you, claiming you from the inside out. The other? Sliding lower, fingers teasing along your inner thigh, thumbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you cry out.

"Well," he breathed, lips brushing against your ear, voice dripping with pure sin, "who am I to deny my girl?"

The way your body shuddered at his words, the way you clenched down around him had Xavier groaning, curses spilling from his lips, his hips faltering for just a second before snapping forward with renewed force.

"You like that, huh?" he rasped, his fingers tightening their hold on your stomach. "Like knowing you’re mine? That no one else gets to see you like this?"

Plap. Plap. Plap.

His hips rolled, slow, deliberate, deep.

"Say it," he demanded, voice wrecked, desperate, pushing his forehead against your shoulder. "Tell me you’re mine. That I’m the only one who gets to have you like this."

His thrusts grew more frantic, his breath ragged against your ear, his grip almost bruising.

"Tell me," he rasped, grinding deep, making you feel every inch of him. And the second you did—the moment you choked out that you were his, that no one else could ever have you like this—

Xavier lost it.

His arm wrapped around your waist, locking you in place as he drove himself as deep as he could go, his body trembling against yours as he came undone.

And even as he shuddered, even as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, his hands never left your stomach.

Because now?

Everyone was going to know.

SYLUS ✰ Mission: Impregnable!

"A-again." His slight stutter doesn't go unnoticed by you, despite the loud echoing of his hips snapping into yours. "Say it again."

He had to have misunderstood something, right? Because if he didn't, if you really said what he thought you said- you're fucked.

You whine at his guttonal voice, his desperate hips drilling his dick further into your depths. "Wan'- oh! Wan' you to make me a mommy, Sy."

Sylus had that look in his eyes again—the kind that made your breath catch, the kind that sent a thrill up your spine. His fingers ghosted along your skin, calculating, possessive, until they found comfort with your hand interlocked with his.

"You realize," he murmured, voice low, precise, mere inches from your lips, "that biologically speaking, your body is at its most receptive right now."

You see, Sylus was no dummy. Of course, he was keeping track on your cycle. Who do you think he is? And it just so happened that today you're the most fertile.

Core burning in pure excitement, your heels dig into his lower back, eager and hungry for his seed. You whine as you feel his swollen cock bullying your poor cervix.

"Sylus-"

He silenced you with a slow, deep kiss, fingers tightening on your waist.

"And if I were to push you past your limit tonight—again and again—" his voice dipped, sending shivers down your spine, "well, statistically, the odds would be in my favor, wouldn’t they?"

Your breath caught as he tilted your chin up, making you look at him. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous, obsessive, completely focused on you.

His fingers slid down your stomach, tracing slow, calculated patterns, as if mapping out the future he was about to give you.

"I should be thorough," he mused, almost to himself. "Another round would increase the probability of success by at least—"

You didn’t get to hear the end of that sentence.

Because Sylus surged forward, lips crashing onto yours in a way that was desperate and all-consuming, like he was finally allowing himself to break past his carefully maintained restraint.

Like an unstoppable force, he slides out of you until only his crown was engulfed by your puckering hole until he slams! His entire length past your sobbing ring.

The ridiculous stretch his dick inflicts onto your poor pussy is otherworldly, almost unbelievable. As he forces his girthy inches further into you, a noticeable bulge appears on your tummy.

And oh boy, does he notice it.

All it takes is one glance — one look of those rubies of his— downwards to the gradually growing imprint of his tip meanly poking against your tummy, and he snaps.

His big arms reach for your legs and in almost an instant, you’re folded into the meanest, nastiest mating press known to man.

„O-Oh!“ you surprised hiccup does nothing to soften his antics — quite the opposite. A feral grunt erupting from the depth of his lungs lets you know in what condition your beloved Sylus is in.

„Twins. I‘ll give you twins.“

"Ah!- T-twins!?"

He‘s gone mad.

What's left of him is a disheveled mess, crazed out mind deadest on pumping you full of his gooey load, even if it's the last thing he'll do.

"Yes. Two sweet little girls, just as beautiful as their mother."

His massive frame caged you in, your thighs now folded up to your chest, leaving you completely at his mercy. His body was trembling, slick with sweat, but his grip on you was ironclad. He wouldn’t let you run, wouldn’t let you escape—not from him, not from this.

His chuckle swells your heart with so much love you can barely breathe. Or was it because of his dick reaching so ridiculously far up into you, you could almost feel him in your throat? Both perhaps.

Flaming eyes, usually so warm and gentle, were wild now—dangerous, obsessive. This wasn't your Sylus anymore. This is the leader of Onychinus—conquering and claiming everything he desires.

And at this moment, his desire was to make you the mother of his offspring.

"There," he growled, his voice raw, almost a snarl. "That’s where I need to be. Need to be deeper—need to—fuck—"

His hips snapped forward, sharp, relentless, sending white-hot pleasure sparking through your veins. Lips were parted, panting, his expression one of pure, animalistic need.

Your head lulled back, words failing you, but he wasn’t having that. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, forcing your gaze back to him.

"Stay with me," he pleaded in a whimper, his voice thick, strained. His thrusts were turning frantic now, sloppy, desperate, like he was losing control. "Wanna see your face when I fill you up."

You whimpered, and that was all it took.

Sylus let out a broken, guttural groan, his body shuddering violently as he bottomed out, burying his throbbing cock as deep as he could go. You could feel him— only him  — hot, thick cum spilling inside you in endless waves, stuffing you full.

And the way he was still pressing his weight into you, still rolling his hips in slow, lazy circles, made you realize—

He was nowhere near done.

RAFAYEL ✰ Catching Feelings & Babies

The room was dimly lit, warm, and filled with the soft sound of ragged breaths and skin meeting skin. Rafayel’s strong hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place, keeping you exactly where he wanted you—where you belonged.

"You look so perfect like this," he murmured, voice deep and rich, like he was admiring a piece of fine art. Like you were something sacred. His fingers traced over the dip of your spine, down to where you stretched around him, taking him so beautifully.

"B-been waitin' for this sooo long baby, finallyyyy." Breathless, he pounds his hips against your plump ass again, again and again. His repeated movement rams you deeper into the soft cushion.

Rafayel’s hands were gentle, reverent, gliding over your heated skin, like you were something fragile and precious.

But his eyes?

Dark and Deep. Filled with something unshakable.

Your body arched instinctively, seeking more, needing more, and Rafayel only chuckled—low, dark, and knowing.

A broken gasp tore from your throat, your fingers clutching the sheets, barely able to hold yourself up as he pressed even deeper, stretching your hole to the very limit.

"Shhh, love," he soothed, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades. "Let me take care of you."

He rolled his hips in slow, deep strokes — each one hitting the perfect spot, each one meant to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was softer than usual, thick with emotion. His fingers splayed over your lower stomach, pressing just enough to make you feel every pulsating vein of his, every knock against your cervix.

"Y-yes", you swallowed hard, head spinning in circles while nodding. A slow, warm smile curled his lips, but beneath it was something more dangerous. Something primal.

"Good."

"That’s it," Rafayel praised, his voice like liquid gold, soothing and possessive all at once. "Take all of me. Let me give you everything."

He adjusted his angle, thrusting deeper, harder, slower, dragging out every sensation until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

"Listen to her. Cryin' for me ta fill her up." He follows suit with his long finger pressed against your plump lips, consoling you. "Shhh, baby. I know, I knowww. But ya gotta hold on for me, mkay?"

You cry out his name as his hefty length hits every spot imaginable inside of you, stars appearing behind your eye sockets. "Nghhh! Rafayel, I can't!"

Dizziness overcomes you as you reach back for his beefy arm, nails clawing crescent moons into his flesh. His steady hips cause his bulging head to nudge at your gushy spot repeatedly as your juices coat his length in a glossy essence.

The lewd squelch sounding from your cunt has him in a chokehold. Each rapid thrust of his sinks your body further into the sheets, his head spinning at the obscene sight of your back in a nasty arch, his pelvis snapping against your ass, each jiggle robbing a needy sound from him.

He‘ll never get enough of this— enough of you.

"Sh-Shit, cutie. Gonna give it to ya realll good. Fill you up — f-fuckkk! Make you a mommy.“ The slight crack in his voice gets drowned out by the loud sound of his heavy balls snapping against your poor swollen clit.

Hm. Mommy has a nice ring to it.

His hand left your waist, only to wrap around your throat, pulling you up—back against his chest and you didn’t think that it could be possible for him to get even deeper, but he did. His lips brushed your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, an unshakable truth. "And when I fill you up—" he thrust harder, dragging a desperate moan from your lips—"yer' gonna stay mine forever."

And the way he was holding you so close, fucking you so deep, made you believe every single word.

He could burst right at the sight of your fucked-out face, and he starts to imagine how perfect your child would be. With your gorgeous hair and that stunning smile of yours, and—

"M‘ gonna cum! G-oshhhh please don’t stop don’t—"

She, no — they would have his eyes and—

With your head leaned against his shoulder, blue and pink ombre orbs fixate on your face.

His repeated shallow breaths tickle your neck, an impatient hand cups your belly, finger soothingly brushing over it, his hot breath brushing against your ear.

" Mhmmm yeahh. We’re gonna have two gorgeous girls, can’t have her be all alone, can we?“

"T-two?“ you manage to choke out in shock, only to be startled by his chuckle. "Yeahhh, you’re right. Two is too little. Four is more like it.“

The speedy plap! plap! plap! Against the valley of your ass turns irregular, needier, even.

"Four—fuck—four perfect little babies," he panted, his lips brushing over your temple, his voice thick with love and obsession. "We’ll have the perfect family, won’t we? You, me, our little ones—"

His thrusts turned sloppy, desperate, and then—his entire body locked up. A deep, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spilled inside you, claiming you, filling you up until there wasn’t an inch left untouched.

He collapsed against your back, his weight warm, grounding, safe. His chest rose and fell in heavy pants, his lips pressing lazy, feather-light kisses along your skin.

"You’re mine," he murmured, his voice softer now, no less possessive but full of warmth. "My love, my home, my everything."

A shaky breath left you, your body spent but satisfied. "Four kids, huh?" you mumbled, exhaustion creeping into your voice.

Rafayel hummed, his arms wrapping around you, holding you impossibly close.

"Or maybe five."

CALEB ✰ Practice Makes Perfect

He must be dreaming, surely.

"Please, Caleb. Need it- need it so bad pleaseplease-"

Yeah. Because if there is heaven, fucking you raw for the first time surely is just that.

His head pressed against the bed, his breath coming in shaky, uneven pants, his hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure he’d leave bruises—but he didn’t mean to.

"So—so good," he whimpered, his voice breaking on the last syllable, like he was barely holding himself together. "D-don’t—don’t move, I can’t—"

You clenched around him, and he quite literally sobs.

He's a mess.

It's pathetic, really. Tears stream down his face as he sniffles back the waterfall from flowing. But he couldn't care less, honestly.

Scenarios of you with a round and glowing belly, the birth of your shared child, their first words, steps - hell, even their graduation. He had all of it laid out in a timeline.

If you could see his thoughts, you would've probably called him crazy. And he wouldn't even blame you.

His fingers trembled as he tried so hard to keep himself together, but he was slowly falling apart, crumbling, unraveling.

"I—" he choked on his own breath, tears pricking his lashes, his entire body shaking as your hips work faster, grinding harder against his pelvis. " ‘M too deep—too full—fuck, I can feel it—"

His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close, clinging, needy.

"Please," he begged, voice so broken, so wrecked, like he was praying to something greater than himself. "I-I wanna stay inside—I wanna stay with you forever."

His lips ghosted over your stiff nipples, soft, desperate kisses, imagining how full and plump they'll become once you're pregnant. And when you shifted the tiniest bit, he gasped—a wrecked, breathless little sound.

Your breath quickens, orgasm creeping up your spine with each rocking of your hips, desperately chasing your high.

His hips stuttered at the mere image of you - pregnant, movements turning frantic and uncontrolled, like he couldn’t take it anymore.

"C-caleb, I—" Mind going blank at one particular quick kiss against your cervix, you crash head first into your orgasm, pussy spasming around his girth.

A broken, wrecked sob tore from his throat, and you felt it—

The way his cock twitched inside you, the first thick pulse of heat spilling deep, painting your insides in long, desperate spurts.

His entire body shook, his arms wrapped around you so tightly you thought he might never let go.

"M-makin’ you a mommy," he babbled, voice thick with exhaustion, heavy with love. "Gonna—gonna make you so full, so round—"

God, he was a lost cause.

"I love you," he cried, his voice shaking, raw with need. "I love you—I love you—"

"Love you too, Caleb. You're s-so good for me. Gonna be a great papa." you spurt out in a spent, wobbly voice, body collapsing onto his in exhaustion.

And then he came. Again.

It was with a broken whimper, a desperate, wrecked sob, his entire body shaking, panting. He shoots endless ropes of cum deep into your womb, the overwhelming fullness in your tummy causing your mind to go hazy.

His orgasm was so intense and forceful, you can still feel stringy, weak cum dripping from his cock, only adding the cherry on top of your jammed vacancy.

He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t.

Even as his spent cock twitched inside you, even as his warm release dripped out in thick, messy streaks, he held you there, buried deep, unwilling to let even a drop go to waste.

His fingers clutched at your waist, desperate, like letting go would tear him apart. His chest rose and fell in quick, shaky pants, his eyes glassy, and his lips kiss-swollen and parted as he tried to catch his breath.

“P-please,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, pleading. “Don’t—don’t move yet.”

His face was flushed, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, tears clinging to his lashes. He was ruined, wrecked beyond repair, and it was all because of you.

A soft whimper tumbled from his lips as he nuzzled into your shoulder, his hands trailing weakly down your sides, needy, restless.

“Need to feel you just a little longer,” he mumbled, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “Can’t—can’t be away from you yet.”

You could feel him still twitching inside you, his cock softening, but reluctant to leave. His release seeped out around the base, warm and sticky, but he just shifted his hips, pushing deeper, as if he could keep it all inside you.

"Made for me," he murmured, feverish, pressing sloppy, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your neck. "You're made for me."

His fingers roamed lazily, tracing the shape of your hips, your waist—like he was memorizing you, worshiping you, committing every inch of your body to memory.

"Promise me," he whispered against your ear, soft and broken. "Promise me you'll never leave me. That you'll always let me have you like this."

There was a plea in his voice, raw and vulnerable, like he’d fall apart if you said no.

You ran gentle fingers through his damp hair, soothing, reassuring and tugging him even closer.

"I'm yours, Caleb," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

His breath hitched. His thighs trembled beneath you.

"Say it again," he whispered, so quietly it almost wasn't there.

"I'm yours."

A broken whimper slipped past his lips, his hands gripping you tighter, his body pressing so close you could feel every inch of him molding into you.

And with a deep, shaky sigh, Caleb finally let himself go—sinking into you, into your warmth, into the one place he always belonged.

Nowhere else. No one else.

Just you.

Always you.

©︎SATRS. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify.

[chasingrainbcws]

tag drop ! pt 1.