this blog is for posting miscellaneous writing since im sick of ao3. mostly rpf + original stuff. my specialties are political rpf and transhet romance. im bored and love to write so feel free to inbox me with requests! ill do anything m/m, m/f, or m/m/f (or even more m's than that xp). or gen, especially worldbuilding/political shit. for any fanfic requests i will likely de-copyright it and make it original, especially for fandoms im not familiar with.
it won't be exclusively smut on this blog, i write all sorts of stuff, but uhhh its a large portion of what i write hence why i made this blog to avoid getting marked as mature on main. sfw requests very much welcome ofc!
other than that, i am an adult and some kind of tranny. for any self-insert x reader stuff you can assume the 'reader' is too. if i dont want you following or interacting ill block.
Just fluff, he comforts the reader after a brain thing. This is so nerdy lol
You’ve been a fan of Scott the Woz for so many years. You never thought it would turn out like this, to go from being one of his thousands of fans to his one and only. The real Scott Wozniak, outside of his youtuber facade, is not that different, he always seemed to show a lot of himself in his videos. He loves to talk and to talk about video games most of all. It’s the same Scott, but you get to see it more intimately then you ever did behind a screen.
He’s poised on the couch, leaning over and concentrating. On the TV is Super Mario 3D World, a Wii U gamepad in his hand.
“This game is good and all,” he begins. “But is it what the Wii U needed? It’s a great Mario game, but it wasn’t the best announcement. It just felt odd.”
“Mhm.” You nod and smile, because you love to hear him ramble on. You wouldn’t have been a fan if not.
“The level design is great, the game looks great, but it doesn’t feel that inventive. It’s missing something. It’s not grand enough!”
You lean over and stroke his back a bit, rest your head on his shoulder. He keeps going on as he speeds through the levels he’s played so many times before, then passes the controller to you. You don’t have any Wiimotes, so for now you have to make to do with swapping back and forth.
But as you hold the massive hunk of plastic in your hands, something snaps in your brain. There’s something about this that reminds you of your past, of someone that hurt you in a way Scott never would.
Your hands shake. Mario falls down a hole and the game over jingle makes Scott’s eyes widen.
“Uh, hello?” He jolts. He’s never been one for pet names. “Are you okay?”
“I- I-” You’re crying. You can’t get the words out. Is this a panic attack?
“What can I do.” Right to business as always. Scott may not be a traditional romantic, but he’s always ready to be there. He’s the rock you need in your life.
“Just, h- h-” You can barely breathe.
“Hold you?”
You nod.
The gamepad drops to the couch, and Scott wraps his arms around you. You nuzzle into him and close your eyes as tears fall onto his gamer shirt. It’s like the rock holding back the rapids of your mind crumbles away, and the emotions you’ve been holding back pour onto him.
“Oh, oh god,” he breathes. “What do I, how do I,”
He’s freaking out too, obviously. You aren’t sure what you need. You just need something to ground you.
You point to the gamepad, still looping 3D World’s title theme abandoned on the couch.
“Oh, uh, you mean,” he stammers. “3D World? You want me to, uh, keep talking about it?”
You nod again.
He takes a deep breath, and puts on that excited youtuber front. He’s shaking a bit, his voice chokes up, but he stays firm and persists.
“Odyssey is a better game in many aspects. But they’re very different. There’s lots that 3D World does better. It’s much more re-playable. Odyssey has so many moons but lots of them are annoying to get, kinda just shoved in the levels with little thought. Y'know what I mean?”
The more he rambles the more a smile forms on your face. The last question is rhetorical, and he doesn’t bother with a pause. He’s practically talking to himself.
“It’s hard to choose between the two. Odyssey is more bang for your buck I guess. 3D World means a lot to me, it was hard to rate accurately when it came out because of the context of the Wii U’s poor financial performance. Odyssey had a similar thing but the opposite, I think many overrated it since it’d been so long since the last real sandbox Mario game. It’s difficult to choose-”
“You like them both a lot, huh?” He’s so passionate, even in a situation like this. The more he went on the less you cared about the past.
“I do!” He grins, kisses your hair, and squeezes you until you squeak.
“Keep going,” you whisper. You pull him down on the couch so you’re laying on top of him, kissing him all over as he continues his rant.
“With Bowser’s Fury, I mean, it’s not a fair comparison at all! That’s one of the best packages you can get in a game period, it blows Odyssey out of the water!”
You kiss below his chin, and feel yourself start to fade. You could fall asleep like this. He makes you feel so safe.
“You’re the best package ever,” you grog.
“I disagree, 3D World + Bowser’s Fury is much better.” Scott nods confidently.
You snort and poke his nose. “Dork.”
“Guilty as charged,” he whispers as he rubs your back. It feels like you melt deeper into him. “Love ya.”
“Loveyoutoo…”
His warmth is the last thing you think of as you fall asleep, all worries gone.
"Is that a serious question?" He's giving me that look again.
"Yeah, it is. I can never tell. Whenever I look they seem to change color. So tell me, how do you see them?"
That judging stop-asking-stupid-questions look turns thoughtful as he rests his chin on his hand and really stares at me. A smile slowly forms on his lips, a slight smirk that drives me wild.
"Like pistachios. Chopped up ones in a milky latte, you know what I mean?"
It catches me off guard. I giggle before I can stop it. I'm about to tease him for his answer before he continues,
"They're green with a slight hint of sunlight. Amber like a sunset. I dunno what you mean about 'changing colors.' That color is so consistent, I can always count on it when you look at me. I can always get lost in it."
I find I've lost my breath. He strikes me right in the heart and my shock gives way to a wide warm smile, my cheeks flushed.
"I'm gonna have to kiss you for that, you know." I climb onto his lap, wrap my arms around his shoulders and grin like the cheeky brat I am. He scoffs.
"Oh no. What ever am I gonna do?"
He kisses me so deep, so wanting, with fingers threading through my hair and another hand holding my hips. I moan into him, I can't help it. I feel his stubble with my lips and drink it in, and when I pull away there are his deep brown eyes bright with love. I want to protect those eyes. I never want to let them go.
"Man, T really did go for you in the facial hair department," I say, a little woozy. He laughs.
"Can't say the same for you." He kisses me again.
"Well, no, that's what the E is for. Silly."
"For making you into my soft pretty housewife?"
"Fuck off." I punch him in the shoulder, just a bit. He doesn't even flinch, and that destroys my facade. I rest my head on it and I swear I could cry.
No one's ever loved me like this. No one else can cut through to my heart like this with nothing but words. It's why he's my boyfriend, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.
You like to go out in your girl clothes as much as possible. It feels good to assert to the world your true gender. Being outside in dresses and skirts with so many eyes on you is exhilarating. Sometimes you get a little too excited, and have to take a break in a local bathroom or back alley. It’s totally not just a fetish, you say to yourself. It’s normal to get like that with gender euphoria. You have many excuses, but you know deep down how perverted this habit of yours really is.
That’s where you are now, hidden away and trying to calm your breathing, looking around to make sure no one is watching, reaching down into your skirt…
“Hey pal,” a man’s voice says, like he’s been waiting to ambush you. You startle and try to pretend you weren’t up to anything unusual.
“What?” You bite.
“Just saying hi.” He smirks. He’s older, with an expensive suit and sunglasses. “You got a job?”
“Yeah.” What kind of question is that?
“Doing what?”
“Retail.”
He chuckles. “Really? That’s no kinda job for such a handsome young man like yourself.”
You grimace, assuming he’s some kind of salesman, and try to walk away. He reaches into his belt and pulls out a revolver, just enough to show it to you and only you. You gasp as you see it, frozen in place.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” The man grins. “I just want to help you, that’s all. I’m your friend, really.”
You don’t believe him, and despite the gun you attempt to run, thinking if you scream someone will come and save you. He grabs you by the stomach and covers your face with a wet cloth before you can get out any kind of sound. Your cries for help are muffled into the rag as its smell overwhelms your senses, and you drift off into unconsciousness despite your efforts to stay awake.
“There there,” he says in mock comfort. “Just relax. It’ll all be over soon.”
Your world fades away. When you wake up it feels like it’s been a long time, and there’s a large gap in your memory. You can’t remember any dreams and it barely feels like you slept at all, just that you lost time. When your awareness returns you jolt in panic as you realize you are in a bed, handcuffed to the bedframe. The handcuffs are solid metal, and your attempts to tug at them are worthless. Your clothes are gone, and instead you’re wearing… jeans? And a black t-shirt with a band logo on it? You sob as you realize you’re wearing boxers too. This man stripped you naked and stole your favorite feminine outfit, and now you’re dressed like some emo fuckboy. Haircut included, you realize. He cut all your hair off. This man did all that and is sitting right in front of you, in a chair pulled up next to the bed. The room around you is dark and bland, with just one window in the corner. He leans forward and looks at you. His sunglasses are gone now and he has nice brown eyes, a deep and kind shade. He looks like he could be a kind father or teacher, someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly, or he would if it weren’t for the unmistakable sadism in his eyes. He looks at you like a toy, a thing to poke and prod to make whatever sounds or noises he wants.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he says.
“Where am I?” You shout. “Who are you? Let me go, please! Do you have a phone I can use?”
You babble on until he clicks his tongue and pulls out a whip, slashing the bed with it right next to your arm as a threat. “Let’s get a few things straight. You will address me as ‘master’ or ‘sir’ and nothing else. Understand?”
You freeze and try to say no and he cracks the whip again. You nod.
“Say it.”
“Yes, sir,” you squeak.
“What’s your name, boy?” He says, voice suddenly soft.
You open your mouth and start to say the name you ask people to call you, your girl name. He shakes his head. “Your real name. The one your parents gave you.”
You tell him your deadname, and he smiles. “What a nice name. Your real name. I’ll also address you as slut, boy, and fucktoy, and you will answer to those as well.”
“Yes, sir,” you say.
“I am a gay man. I have no interest in women. When I look at you, I see a boy who doesn’t yet know how to be a man. I am going to help you with that, and in exchange you will be my personal cocksleeve and do whatever I ask of you. Understand?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” You have never been more scared in your life.
“Oh shhh…” He pets your leg. “There there. You’re doing great, and I know you’re gonna keep doing great. You just gotta trust me, okay? Here, look how much progress you’ve made already.” He pulls out a mirror, and you gasp as you see yourself. All the hair you worked so long to grow is gone. You knew that he had cut it but actually seeing it is another story. You barely look feminine at all, and the new style specifically accentuates your most masculine features. It pushes you over the edge and you cry, mourning the girl you used to be, the girl you tried so hard to become.
Seeing the sight fills you with anger, and you try once more to be defiant. “No, no. This is all wrong! I don’t even like guys. I’m a lesbian. You need to let me out of here, NOW–“
He cracks the whip again, this time right on your forearm. You scream in pain and whimper back into silence as he sneers. “Lesbian? Seriously? You are a man, you are male. Lesbians are women.”
He unbuttons the jeans he gave you, pulling down both them and your boxers and revealing your soft cock. He grabs it with his huge rough hand and pinches the head. You try to push your mind away but you react to his touch, your legs twitch and your cock starts to stiffen. You cry in humiliation and moan all the same as you get hard under his touch.
“So what you’re telling me,” he continues. “Is that you’re a straight boy. No problem. You’ll be my gay-for-pay slut. That’s what I need you for, buddy. When I saw you a couple months ago I knew you had the perfect face to be the star of any gay porno.”
“No… Please, stop that…” He chuckles. Your whiny protests just sound like moans.
“Oh yeah? Sure sounds like you’re enjoying yourself. Your cock’s certainly liking it.” He tightens his grip and keeps stroking you. “That’s a stud’s cock, nice and thick.” He licks his lips. “They’re gonna love this one, especially when it’s bouncing back and forth while your tight ass gets fucked.”
You try to shout that no you don’t like that, you only like girls, you don’t want to get fucked in the ass, but it’s worthless. Your body betrays you and cum all over his hand, dazed and head fuzzy at the thought of being his fucktoy.
“There we go,” he purrs. “That’s my boy.”
He brings you your dinner later, and makes you eat it without your hands like a dog. You do it eagerly and he pets your hair, letting you nuzzle into his hand and let out content hmmm sounds. After being so obedient he rewards you by taking your handcuffs off and letting you walk around, though the room you are in is still tightly locked. He leaves you for the night and you skitter around looking for an exit but it’s obvious there isn’t one. The one window is out of reach and there’s nothing else in the room except for your bed. You can’t even manage to climb up and look out the window to see where you are. You are stuck here and completely at his mercy. At your master’s mercy.
Your master returns the next morning with urgent news. “You can’t start your career just yet,” he says. “You still need to be trained, and as part of that training there will be an… operation.”
“Operation?” Your voice is shaky.
“You took that ‘medication’ for a long time.” The air quotes are heavy. “Those things you grew on your chest… Well, they can hardly be called ‘tits,’ I mean look at them!” He chuckles and you cry. “They gotta go. Just a little bit of fixing up, eh?”
You try to get angry, try to attack him, but he just holds you down and chastises you. You don’t want your boobs gone! You spent so much time and money to grow them, and sure they look different from a cis girl’s but they’re still cute… That’s not what he says though. He says they’re aberrations. The result of a failed medical establishment who nearly chemically castrated a handsome young man all for their sick agenda. He tells you you won’t feel a thing and he’ll pay for all of it, make sure you’re comfortable.
He spends the next few weeks training you. Making you do push-ups and get in shape. You struggle to do even a few exercises at a time with how out of shape you are, but he pushes you and shouts at you all the same. You’re left sweaty and exhausted for the entire day each time. He controls your diet too, making you eat and drink the things he decides. Even that short of amount of time changes you. You feel yourself masculinize and get hairier, feel your body get leaner and ever so slightly more muscular. Whatever is in the food he’s giving you is changing your physique to his liking. His training is brutal and lasts all day. You learn his exercises and drills and learn to fight just like him. The routine is like a roller coaster hitting your weak effeminate body, but you push through. Whatever he’s feeding you is making you feel full of adrenaline and rage. He lets you fight him. It’s never much of a fair fight, but by the time of your operation you’ve managed to land a few hits on him and give him a bruise or two. You can only manage that while taking a beating yourself, but that’s part of the fun, it makes you feel alive.
Of course when you lose that’s when he claims you. He mostly just forces you on the ground and shoves his cock in your mouth. It’s thick and makes you choke every time. One time you throw up all over it, and he makes you clean it up naked after. You learn to take it and swallow his cum but the salty slimy humiliation of it never lessens. He never leaves you unattended though, and always returns the favor with his hand on your cock. No matter how you disgusted you feel you always get a hard-on when he uses your mouth. He trains you to get on your knees on command, and stomps on your cock to get you hard when you do. Your body starts to react before it even happens, when you get on the ground and say, “Yes, sir.”
He loves hearing that from you, your total obedience and submission. When the operation comes it’s swift and painless. He injects you with something and you go under, then are out just as fast. You are a man now, with a strong chin, short hair, and flat chest. It hurts as you mourn the change, and he is there to let you mourn. Your master lends you a shoulder to lay your head on and feel your pain. You train yourself not to cry though, even as it’s hard to prevent it sometimes with him so near. Still you control yourself and get rid of the impulse. You know you can’t afford to feel that pain anymore.
You’re knocked out in bed for a while and your master helps you recover. He’s clearly obscenely rich or a mobster or something. You don’t know but you see the resources he has at his disposal, the doctors he employs to see you. You recover swiftly, and feel any sort of womanhood or girlhood has left you. You are a man and you have been forged into solid steel.
It’s then that your body has gotten hairy and manly enough for your master’s tastes. He’s been waiting to break you in and take your virginity. He wanted you to be a man, to be pleasing to his sights, and now you are.
You both undress each other. “You’ve never truly aroused me,” he says. “Not until now. I was just doing you a favor all those other times.”
You scoff, feeling ashamed at all the ways he’s violated you. Yet still seeing the contours of his body and the muscles his suit has covered up is intimate. Being so close to him is exciting. He holds you and touches you and admires all the ways you’ve changed, and you let him, bask in it. It’s easy to. You look like a Greek god, chiseled and forged into something magnificent.
“Now I see you,” he says.
“And now you wanna fuck me?” You say back. Your voice shocks you. It’s the voice of a man, of a horny stud with a throbbing hard cock and thick hairy ass who’s looking to fuck hard.
“Now I want to own you,” he hisses, and grasps his thick cock. He takes yours in hand as well, and presses them against each other, comparing them side by side. He’s still bigger than you, but not by much. You’ve grown big time, thanks to your master. He’s given you this chance to be a man. To have the perfect cock you deserve.
You grab his cock too, and stroke it. His hand encompasses both of your cocks, but you just want to feel him. You grasp the underside and feel his hardness, feel its warmth up against your own. It feels incredible, and soon your humping into his hand, desperate for more stimulation on your throbbing cock.
You bend over and arch your back for him. He prepares you slowly with his fingers and a generous amount of lube. Even still his cock is massive, and the pain as it goes in is overwhelming. Every bit of it is accompanied by pleasure, and the desire to be full of your master’s cock. It’s then that it slips out:
“Daddy…” You moan, and then wince, expecting a reprimand.
Your master just chuckles and smiles. “You can call me that as well, if you like. You are like a son to me, after all.” He says this as he pulls his cock out and rams it back in roughly. You want to scream but you hold it in and grit your teeth, turning it instead into a low man. The pain feels better and better and you’re a man, you know you can take it.
He fucks your ass hard and you take it like a champ. Every thrust pushes in deeper and deeper, and you can feel his balls slapping on your ass. Your cock is hard and twitching every time he fucks you. He hits your prostate and each time it goes straight to your cock. He reaches around to stroke your cock in time with his thrusts. His cock fits right inside you and you take it like a man, you cum from his touch like a beast with a primal sound of manly pleasure that tears through you and births you again anew.
You take his cum and howl, his body on top of yours and his breath in your ears. His deep and rough voice as he cums pleases your ears. You are full of your master and his cum, bound to him as the one who was the first to claim your tight ass. You don’t know if you really are gay, if you even want to be a man, but it doesn’t matter. Your cock throbs all the same, and any delusions of being a girl are gone, replaced by the base desire to fight, drink, and fuck.
After that your life rolls out ahead of you, as your master lets you out into the world. You get to star in loads and loads of gay porn. At first you could maybe call yourself a twink, but you keep getting hairier and manlier, and you have a brief twunk phase before becoming a full-on masc hunk. You have a hot bod and a throbbing cock and you do anything and everything. You fuck and get fucked and shoot big loads. You’ve got the type of cock that makes men jealous and everyone wants a taste.
It’s a new type of life where you can live free and fuck any guy you want. All of that dumb girly phase of yours is gone and now you’re the gay fuckboy you were always meant to be. You get lost in the drugs and the drinks and the holes you fuck and embrace your new manly lifestyle. Still it helps to have your master, who still is the one man you will always lose to. He is the only one who can make you truly feel like a man, who in the late hours of the night can draw out load after load from your cock. You’ve even gotten to fuck him a few times, though tonight he has you on your back, spitting into your hole as he prepares to fuck you with his tongue.
He pushes in and gets your hole wet and sloppy. You can feel his tongue on your ass hair and it makes you shiver, makes you grind your ass up and beg for more. He opens you up and tastes the inside of your ass and it makes you moan and in your low and deep voice. Once he has you good and teased he he stands up and grasps his cock, readying to fuck deep inside of you.
“Ready for my cock?” He grunts.
“Sir yes sir,” you say, stern and obedient.
Your master’s cock is just as big as always, but by now you have been trained to take it. Your hole responds, taking his cock eagerly and hugging it just as he wants. He knows the exact way to fuck you to make your cock throb and your manly voice come out.
“Oh~ Fuck…” You grunt. “I love your thick cock, sir.”
“That’s right. Your daddy’s little man aren’t ya. My handsome boy.” He fucks you on your rooftop with the moon behind him. It illuminates his pecs and biceps perfectly as he thrusts his hips. He is a true specimen of a man, a hunk made of muscle, guts, and hard work. You are quite the man yourself but you know deep down you’ll always be his boy.
You take your master’s cock gladly and moan as you feel him pulse inside you. Once he pulls out though you are still hard and unsatisfied. You lay on top of him as he strokes your aching cock, letting you cum over his hairy legs. All you can smell is cum, sweat, and your master’s musk. Your cock shoots out load after load of cum and it’s never felt better. You cum like a man and it feels so good. Whatever you were before you met him is gone. Now you’re just a thrill-chasing faggot looking for a quick buck and a good fuck. This is what it means to be a man, and now you finally know it.
Okay I know you haven't seen the show but from what you've gathered, can I get a Scott x Derek Teen Wolf fic with trans Derek :D
Oh yeah totally! Since my teen wolf knowledge is limited just take this as two guys who are werewolves named Scott and Derek with no relation :p
Derek was hungry. He was always hungry. It was those damn T shots. They had him craving full rotisserie chickens and all sorts of other ridiculous stuff. No one told him about the cravings when he started, it was totally unexpected! He was eating his pack out of a house and home!
Of course, there was another hunger, one much deeper. That came from the wolf inside him. Derek was the leader of his pack, the alpha, he had a lovely penthouse and acres and acres of land for him and his fellow wolves. He had everything he could ever want, but still he hungered.
A mate. That's what he needed. He hadn't chosen one yet, and the time to do so was approaching. He dreamed of it. Every night he saw them running together through the woods. Hunting, howling, prowling. Mating. Fucking like rabbits, no, like wolves. That man in his dreams was his soulmate, his fated mate, and he needed to find him. Needed more than he needed to eat, to breathe, anything else.
Of course at the moment he was just hungry. That took priority. So he whipped out his phone and ordered a pizza. Actually 20. He was really hungry.
He paced and paced around the kitchen, scratching and biting at things, until finally the doorbell rang. When he opened the door his jaw dropped.
"Hey! Delivery for-" The man squinted at the receipt on the pizza box. "Derek?"
Then the man looked him in the eyes, and his eyes widened too. They were beautiful and brown, a perfect compliment to his brown skin and adorable smile. Derek felt his mouth water.
"What's your name?"
"Huh?"
"Your name, kid. Tell me."
Derek was feeling that hunger again. Oh was he feeling it.
"Uh, Scott."
Scott. Sometimes in those dreams they would talk, and the man would tell Derek his name. But it was always blurred out, imperceptible. Now it was-
"Do you want your pizza?"
Derek lunged. He ignored the pizza completely, let it fall to the ground as he pulled Scott inside and kissed at his neck, bit him, gripped him tight in his huge hands as claws extended from his fingertips. Scott moaned, arching into him, shocked but returning the kiss all the same.
Derek shoved him to his knees. He pulled down his pants and shoved Scott's face straight into his boxers, right on his tdick. Scott kissed it in just the right places. Derek could see he was hard too. Scott wasn't a werewolf, at least not yet. That would change. Derek could smell it on him.
"I've dreamed about you," Scott said as he pulled down Derek's boxers. "I knew it was you when you opened the door but I-"
"That's the wolf in you," Derek growled. Scott sucked on him and licked at his folds. "I've seen you too, but I never knew your name."
He grabbed Scott's head and came with a howl, digging claws into his hair. It wasn't enough, Derek longed to fuck him and claim him. To turn him.
Scott followed him into the bedroom and Derek got an excellent view of his abs and toned arms. Scott was young and in his prime, the perfect age to become a wolf.
"I've never fucked a guy with a pussy before," Scott breathed. "Not a problem, I mean I'm gay, and you're one hell of a man, but I just- I'm not sure how it works."
Derek laughed. "Not a problem." He pushed Scott on his back, tearing off his clothes and spreading his legs. Derek was so sweaty he was drenched. He gathered it up and spread it on Scott's ass, pushing back his claws so he could finger fuck that tight hole. "I'll take the lead. Just lie back and enjoy yourself."
He clicked his strap on and pushed it in fast. It was made of silver, imbued with the magic of the moon. The protective casing on the outside kept it from killing a werewolf, but the silver would induce total submission in whoever was fucked by it.
"Woah," Scott moaned. "Big. Really big!"
"See, I told you. No problem!"
Derek pulled out and pushed all the way back in. Scott's head fell back and he moaned louder than Derek had ever gotten out of a partner. That was his sign. This was fate. Nature was calling them.
Derek bit Scott's neck. Then his chest. His claws found Scott's hips and dragged along his thighs. The more Derek pierced him the more the essence of the wolf flowed into him.
With one fierce thrust Scott came with a cry. "Derek, Derek! Oh fuck Derek, I'm-"
Scott's eyes went glassy. The moon was rising in the window next to them. Derek kept thrusting, dragging out further moans from his new mate as he rode the waves of his orgasm. He saw fangs form in Scott's mouth. His hair grew thicker. The transformation was beginning.
With a powerful thrust Scott howled. He gripped the bedsheets and arched up into it. He closed his eyes and let out the roar of a wolf. A high-pitched whine of submission. Now the silver was taking effect.
Derek drew out a couple more orgasms from Scott before he was done. In this pliant state it was easy, his cock seemed to obey Derek's commands. Every time Derek praised him it would twitch, and every time he ordered Scott to cum he did. He was drunk on the power of it. Mad with lust for his new mate.
Finally Derek let him go. Scott wasn't satisifed yet, and sucked his tdick again, demanding his mate cum even more. He ate Derek's ass too, fucking Derek with his tongue in a way that had Derek biting his pillows and tearing them apart.
Hours later they were good and fatigued. Scott lay on his chest and breathed softly into him. His breaths were both shorter and deeper now, just like a wolf's.
"Scott?"
"Hm?"
"Are you ready to be my mate? To meet the rest of my pack?"
Scott grinned. He nuzzled into Derek's chest and licked at his scars, then bit his nipple.
"Is that a yes?"
Scott nodded eagerly. "You have no idea how long I've dreamt of this. It's been years. I, I didn't know I craved this, to be a werewolf, but now that I am I feel..."
Derek waited.
"I feel free."
Derek kissed his hair and smiled. He knew already Scott would be the perfect mate. Scott had yearned for this bond even longer than Derek had, it seemed.
"I'm glad." Derek bit him playfully.
His turning hadn't been as fun. He shuddered to think of it. He felt a deep warmth in his heart knowing he would give Scott a better life as a wolf.
"You're mine now," Derek whispered. "I'm never letting you go."
Pairing: George W. Bush x George H.W. Bush. I don't think any warnings are sufficient for this. I wouldn't even know where to begin!
The year was 1992. George H.W. Bush was ready to impress his country, and furthermore the Japanese as well. He was president, he had no other choice. It was impress or die. Well, not die, just get roasted on television. And really that was worse, in a way – having such a carefully fragile public image was a lot to deal with. Every day George found himself quaking at the responsibilities he had to carry on his shoulders.
And there he was, prime minister Kiichi Miyazawa. George was sitting next to him, a wide banquet around them. He couldn’t feel any cameras on him. He sure hoped there weren’t any.
That wasn’t something he could start thinking about. If he did he would never stop.
“Mr. President,” Kiichi said. “Are you alright?”
George’s thoughts were swimming. His stomach felt odd.
“Yes, prime minister. I’m just great! Oh boy am I just-” He lurched. “I’m great! Just really great. Don’t you worry.”
Kiichi squinted at him. Others around them did the same.
Oh dear lord, George thought. God, you up there? Ya hear me? You better! Let’s keep it in tonight, alright?
God wasn’t listening, apparently, because as soon as George had that thought, raising his head up high and keeping his posture strong, he hurled. An image of his recent diarrhea issues flashed through his mind. He wondered how it would taste. It was a bad thing to wonder.
Kiichi looked blank. On the man’s lap was now a pile of vomit. George was leaning to the side, a torrent of grossness flooding out of him faster than he could follow.
“Mr president,” Kiichi said.
There was shouting. The banquet was in an uproar. George swore he heard clicks, saw the flashing of lights. Everything was crazy. But no cameras, right?
Wait, no, he thought. CNN’s definitely getting this. Dag nabbit!
...
“Poppy, oh Poppy, it’ll be alright.”
The only person who could possibly remedy such a shameful incident was George’s own son. George W. Bush sat across from him and told him sweet nothings. He was a comforting presence, but it just wasn’t enough.
“Heh. I hope so. Damn it, son, I don’t know. Everything’s going to shit!”
“Poppy please, it’s not that bad. You’re still president. Mr. president!” Dubya flourished his arms wide. “This is nothing. Absolutely nothing! No one’s gonna remember this come a week from now. Trust me!”
George set his drink down and sighed. He had to believe it. This would be forgotten in a few days and that would be that. It was a health issue. Nothing more. It wasn’t his fault.
After a moment of silence George picked up the glass again, swaying it back and forth and listening to the ice cubes clank in the whiskey they floated in.
Dubya was giving him an odd look. He crossed his arms, studying George with a curious and probing expression.
“Whatcha looking at, Little George? Cat got your tongue?” George kept his voice playful despite his mood.
“It’s been a long time since you called me that, Poppy,” Dubya whispered. “A very long time.”
George suddenly felt uneasy. Scared. His gut churned. Oh dear god not again-
Dubya was destined for great things. George knew it. Right now he worked in baseball, but soon he would run for governor. That was the plan, the same one they’d hashed out again and again every night. From there, the Bush name would carry him to stardom. George knew it, and he knew Dubya would pull through.
Dubya moved fast. He grabbed George by the collar and punched him in the gut, then again, and again, holding him over the dinner table until George came undone. Yes, George knew his son was destined for great things, and maybe this was a sign George was destined for nothing.
George hurled. Again. It poured out of his mouth and ruined the expensive tablecloth, then trickled down the wood onto the ground below it.
“There you go Poppy.” Dubya rubbed his back. “Let it all out.”
“George? Wha-”
Dubya didn’t let him continue. He socked him in the gut once again, prompting more vomit to join the existing stains. The dinner Dubya had made for him was now spewed out in front of him, a disgusting sign of his own weakness.
“Poppy oh Poppy, my dear old dad.” Dubya chuckled. “You embarrassed yourself. Yourself and your whole damn country! How does it feel? Can’t be good.”
“No, uh, no it ain’t,” George stuttered.
“Well I’ll make it up to ya. Don’t you worry dad!”
Dubya laughed as he dragged him to his feet. George’s face was slammed straight on the table, directly in his vomit. Dubya shoved down his pants and exposed his ass to the air. George nearly hurled again as he felt something cold and slimy touch his asshole.
“Not the best lube around,” Dubya said. “But it’ll do!”
Dubya rubbed vomit all over his cock. The room already smelled disgusting, but the more he spread around the vomit the worse it got. George sobbed in protest but his son didn’t listen.
Dubya fucked him rough and fast. The vomit did little to aid Dubya’s cock in entering him. It stung. Pain radiated through his body, and George didn’t know if he could stay awake. The smell made him woozy, and his son’s cock inside him made him burn.
“George…” he whined. “This is… improper. C’mon now… no more of–“
“Poppy!” Dubya squealed. “Shut your damn mouth! You don’t know when to shut up, do ya?” He started cackling again. “I was just about to cum, and then you had to go and ruin it! Shame on you!”
Dubya kept fucking him for hours. Because of his protest George had apparently killed Dubya’s boner, and now his son had to start all over. Or so he said. George kept himself awake. He stayed strong. Dubya fucked him slow and sloppy and pushed through the disgusting stench. The vomit began to dry and crust, and long after that Dubya finally finished.
George felt the cum fill up his deepest regions. His body quivered with it. To be defiled like this by his own son was, was-
Well it was dirty. Very dirty. George’s suit was disgusting and soiled now.
Soiled with his vomit. With the evidence of his failure.
“Ohhhhh Poppy…” Dubya whined. “I haven’t cum in weeks. The missus has been rowdy lately. Keeps telling me to pull out! So I just haven’t been jizzing. Y’know how it is.”
George groaned.
“That was my special load, dad. I saved it up just for you!”
Dubya didn’t bother to clean up the aftermath. A maid would get it, surely. Instead he dragged George to the shower and washed him off, then dragged him further into bed with him.
George lay on his own son’s chest. The son who was shorter than him. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t!
Yet his cheek fell on Dubya’s pecs all the same. Still his head felt fuzzy.
“How about another round, eh?” Dubya wisecracked.
Dubya said it like a joke, but George could feel his son’s cock growing under him.
My boyfriend looks great in a lab coat, and even better when he's tinkering with unknown substances and dangerous machines. Those glasses get fogged up when he really digs in there, which is a great compliment to his cackling and snickering.
"Did you know," he begins. "That uranium is perfectly to safe to eat? Just process it a bit, as I am doing now, and it's delicious. It's wondrous, with just one small dose you can do things adderall could only dream of!"
Suddenly the green dust on his lips and the way he's twitching are a bit more suspicious. I raise my eyebrow incredulously. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound tr-"
"No. Shut up!" He barks. "You agree."
I put my eyebrow down, then raise the other one.
Before I can speak up, he clarifies, "Because you're a very good girl!"
I scoff, but can already feel a flush on my cheeks. I guess I am a pretty good girl, huh? I do have a PhD and all. Now him, well, I'm not sure where he got his credentials. He's never mentioned it.
He grins like a madman, and holds out some uranium for me to taste. I shrug. No need to fact check, I suppose. He's usually right about most things.
i just wanted to say if you ever write anything related to poppy and dubya at one point i will be there. i also just thought of this one image i had saved from last year
https://i.postimg.cc/CxngZWNZ/IMG-0009.jpg
maybe the most beautiful image i have ever seen. i can already see a fic springing forth from this... ty anon
Pairing: Lev Landau x Trofim Lysenko. Warning for Lysenkoism.
Lev Landau attended the academy of sciences with low expectations. Even as a full member he felt he had little influence, in comparison with the juggernaut Trofim Lysenko.
Trofim rattled on stage with his ridiculous theories, his nonsensical vision of evolution he termed 'Creative Darwinism.'
Lev stood up and raised his hand. "You claim if a cow loses its ears, and in the next generation we continue to cut off the ears, sooner or later their descendants will be birthed earless."
Trofim raised his eyebrow. "Well Comrade Landau, it is crystal clear, is it not? This is the truth of the animal kingdom."
"Yet women are capable of losing their virginity," Lev retorted. "And their offspring are born virgins once again. The Jews have circumcised our young for 4000 years, yet still each generation we retain our foreskin."
Trofim frowned. Lev glared deep into the crackpot biologist's eyes. Surely Trofim was not a virgin. He'd married one of his interns after all. Lev himself was a believer in free love, he would take and kiss whoever he wished. Trofim the stuck-up nitwit was no doubt quite repressed. Lev stared into the fool's hardened gaze and licked his lips at the thought of breaking him, at ruining that practiced confidence. Trofim was surely a virgin in his most coveted place, that tantalizing hole that Lev salivated at the thought of penetrating.
The two gazed deeply, Lev growing hornier and hornier and Trofim decidedly flustered, until Trofim ended the session of the academy.
Trofim Lysenko was an imbecile, a dolt, a childish moron with no real scientific credentials to speak of. Yet Lev wanted him still. It was exactly that pompousness that made Lav stroke his cock madly at the thought of ruining him and the theories of Lysenkoism both.
Years later, Lev signed a letter to comrade Khrushchev demanding Trofim's dominance of biology in the USSR come to an end. Lev was one of three hundred other scientists to sign what would come to be known as the 'Letter of the Three Hundred.' When Trofim witnessed him penning his name on the page he was devastated.
"Lev," he gasped. "I respected you. Admired you. We were comrades! How could you?"
His pleading turned to sobs, and Lev once again felt his cock grow hard. He covered his lap and ignored it, too focused on his duties to consider exposing himself to the object of his desire. He shooed Trofim off and submitted the letter.
Of course the benevolent comrade Khrushchev dismissed the letter, and Trofim was allowed to keep his position. Lev was outraged. If he could not discredit Trofim through traditional channels then he had no choice but to visit him in the night.
Lev found him reading in his chambers, alone and lost in thought. He frowned upon seeing Lev. "What do you want?"
Trofim's bratty pout. His tired eyes. The awkward twitch in his hips. Lev could not help himself. He was already hard.
"Trosha..." Lev moaned. Trofim balked at his familiarity, and was caught wholly off guard when Lev pounced.
"Lev!" He pawed and tried to push the other scientist off, but Lev was hungry. He pinned Trofim to his bed tore off his shirt. He scratched at Trofim's chest and made him whimper in fear. He tasted the sweat on Trofim's neck and the tears on his face with his tongue. He groaned as Trofim quivered under him and grinded his cock into the defenseless scientist.
Lev was so hard he could hardly think. He certainly couldn't think all that methodically. He shoved his tongue in Trofim's mouth and the two scientists kissed recklessly. Lev delighted in the deep moans and pathetic whimpers the other scientist made under him.
"Trosha my Trosha," he groaned. "I want to ruin you!"
"Lev!" Trofim cried pathetically.
"Your theories are ridiculous!" Lev said as he tied up Trofim's wrist above him. "Your mind is incoherent! I will take my Nobel prize and you will have nothing! End your career and become my plaything!"
Trofim protested with sneering swear words. Lev tired of his miserable pseudo-intellectualism and gagged his mouth, turning those pretentious protests into pained whimpers. Lev was leaking his boxers, but held back. He wouldn't be truly satisfied until Trofim had completely unraveled.
Lev shoved off his underwear, spat on his hand and stroked Trofim roughly. The scientist's eyes lolled back into his head and he bit down on his gag. Lev shoved a finger inside him, then another, thrusting up into the man's prostate as he pumped his cock. Trofim came pathetically fast, but Lev didn't slow down for a second.
"Look at that," Lev cooed. "Your anal virginity, gone! Now all your descendants shall have gaping holes as you do!"
Trofim whined some ridiculous refutation, but Lev ignored him. The gag squashed it down regardless. Once Lev milked his cock a few more times it was red and pained, twitching with tortured pleasure. Lev opened his own asshole with his fingers, watching Trofim's eyes follow him with lust. The scientist's eyes widened in fear as Lev lowered himself onto his cock. He whimpered into the gag, no doubt claiming he had cum too much already and wouldn't be able to take it, but to Lev's ears it was nothing but temptation.
Lev moved his hips up and down, taking in Trofim's larger cock and using the scientist like his personal dildo. He moaned loud, no doubt loud enough others in the house would hear. But it was of no matter. Free love, free cum, right?
Trofim continued to cum inside him, gasping for breath each time. Lev ran his hands along Trofim's chest, hips, and shoulders, gripping him firmly and digging into his skin. He marked him up as he milked his cock, extracting orgasm after orgasm until he felt the pressure on his prostate build. When he came it was hands-free, powerful, made him shake and quiver on top of Trofim with a shriek.
In the aftermath he kept Trofim tied up, but removed the gag.
"Oh, Trosha. My lovely Trosha..." He pet the scientist's cheek and kissed his neck. "Did you feel good? You are mine now. No more silly theories, understand?"
Trofim spat at him. "You are disgusting. I never wish to be inside you ever again, nor do I wish to collaborate with you scientifically!"
Lev ran his thumb along Trofim's lips, then shoved a couple fingers in his mouth. "Oh quiet you." This disobedience would be gone, shortly. Lev would make sure of it.
Uhh yeah exactly what it says on the tin. Wrote this on my phone.
Donald felt it deep in his bones. America was old news. He needed a change of scenery, something grander and more exciting.
Moscow would do. That war with Ukraine was still going on. Vladimir was a tough old coot! He wasn't gonna let Volodymyr get away with any funny business. Donald admired that, and wished he could do the same to these damn Democrats back home, but he knew this war had to end. He was ready to make the trip across the ocean and help the two Slavic hunks mend things.
Most of all he wanted to see Vladimir again. That hunk of an oligarch filled his thoughts at all times. Donald wanted him bad. There was no way it would ever happen, but that wasn't gonna keep Donald away. His body ached even just to see Vladimir again, to get a glimpse of his cocky smile.
And he was lucky, because Vladimir instead wanted to see him on his private boat. They would meet formally in Moscow soon, but for now Vladimir wanted him away from the prying eyes of the press.
The sea rocked back and forth behind them, and Donald watched Vladimir size him up. His heart beat fast at the intense gaze.
"You are pretty sexy, Donald, you know that?"
Donald gasped. There was no way Vladimir felt the same as him. He would never believe it.
"Well, I, I am quite the catch, aren't I?" Donald adjusted his collar. "But you, president Putin! You're just too damn hot. You're tough, you know, and you got a smoking hot bod."
Vladimir stood up and his robe fell to the floor. Donald licked his lips at Vladimir's hairy chest.
"You want to see more?" Vladimir said. Donald nodded. "You want to see my cock, don't you? I can tell by the way you lick those adorable lips, Donald."
Donald batted his lashes. "Oh, Vladdy..."
The way Donald said that made the Russian's member throb. Vladimir revealed his cock and stroked it carefully. He was thick, and his cock curved a hint upwards. Donald loved watching Vladimir pleasure himself. He got on his knees and kept his hands to himself, watching with wide eyes as Vladimir jerked off over his face. Vladimir gripped his shaft rough and growled.
"Show me how much you want it." Vladimir beckoned him forward. "Worship me."
Donald inched closer and breathed in deep through his nose, taking in the intense musk of Vladimir's cock. He held it in his hands and kissed the glans. He rubbed it on his nose, lips, and cheeks. Vladimir was pleased.
"I've been bad, Vladdy," Donald moaned.
"Vladdy must punish you!" Vladimir bit. "You want Vladdy's punishment. That's my American slut. You love it!"
Donald got on his knees, ass in the air for Vladimir to ravish. His cock tented his designer jeans. Vladimir tore off Donald's belt and ripped off those jeans, ruining both of them without caring about the price tag. He penetrated Donald's tight hole, the first man to ever do so. Vladimir's cock was huge for Donald's first time. He pushed straight in, relishing in the tightness and warmth, and Donald screamed, taking all of his Vladdy so well.
"Fuck, gimme that cum Vladdy! Fill me up deep!" Donald cried.
"It is coming soon. Get ready! Ah, fuck, yes! It is coming soon. Here I cum!" Vladimir pounded him deep and his words turned to babbling in Russian as he got closer. "Da, da, da!" he said as his cock pulsed and he sprayed his cum into Donald Trump's most coveted and intimate zone. Unfortunately, after Donald accepted the cum Vladimir rememberd he'd accidentally taken the evil viagra that makes your cum into poison. "Oh blyat!" he said, but Donald was already dead.
Some WW2 porn, loosely inspired by the movie Stalingrad (1993). I believe it has a character named Hans but this isn't the same guy he's my invention.
I do not endorse the views present in this story! This is from the POV of a Wehrmacht soldier and I do not whitewash that. I am an anti-fascist and this is meant to be like Nazi humiliation, not glorification in any way. The only good Nazi is a dead Nazi!
Anyway, if you understand all of this, and still wish to proceed...
Hans was pounded from behind by a thick Russian cock. He didn't know who it belonged to. The man was bigger than him, muscular, but obscured by his uniform and the scarf around his face. The cold winds outside Stalingrad bit at them both but it only spurred the Russian on. Hans' uniform had been torn off and tossed away and now he was dressed in rags like a common whore.
"Scheiße!" He swore. Thick gloved fingers entered his mouth and he groaned. They jammed past his tongue and stopped him from making noise.
The man's cock was huge. It burned his insides as it fucked him.
Hans had been ready to serve his fatherland. He loved Hitler, he was a German patriot through and through! He knew the Russians, like all Slavs, were subhuman, and yet, and yet...!
He moaned as the gigantic cock never ceased. A whole platoon of Red Army soldiers laughed and guffawed at him, waiting for their turn on his hole.
The Wehrmacht had been humiliated in that ruined city. He was captured, forced to surrender, then accused of desertion by his own comrades after he tried to escape. Now he was back here, forced to endure a fate worse than death.
"Тебе это нравится."
Hans wished he could understand the man's words. Instead it sounded like the whispers of a viper.
"Успокойся! Ты выставляешь себя в дурном свете."
The Russian speech was stoic and shook him to the bone. Hans screamed through the hand jabbed in his mouth and spit all over it. He cried and cried for help but none came.
The man came, and the next in the platoon replaced him. His cock was even bigger. By the fifth he stopped caring. He stopped feeling. The third was smaller, average-sized to the point it didn't have him in splitting pain. But that soldier had taken the longest and had left him aching. Each one after had been quick and relentless, abusing him and cumming like it was nothing, just another evening chore before bed.
Hans had a moment of rest, a moment where his mouth was free to whine and cry for help. "Gott, hilf mir!" he screamed. "Rette mich aus dieser Hölle!"
After five Hans hoped it would be over. But that was when he appeared. The last man smiled at his pleas. He caressed Hans, running strong hands along his hips and shushing him with a calming voice.
"Who are you, little German?" He was speaking... English? How did he know that Hans could-
"Will you be good for me?"
Hans felt his blood boil. He snarled, "Filth! Untermensch! The reich will last a thousand years and soon your kind will-"
Hans wanted to shout how he'd enjoyed mowing down the wretched man's "comrades," telling the Einzatzgruppen which houses to search, leveling the city to ash, all of it. He regretted not a single thing, but the soldier gave him no chance to speak.
The soldier grabbed him, flipped him over, all to backhand him across the cheek with the barrel of a gun. He stuffed the barrel in Hans' mouth and smiled coldly at the fear in his eyes.
"Oh dear, still so rowdy..." He shook his head. "I was going to fuck you, nice and simple like the others. I was going to be gentle."
He grabbed Hans by the hair and threw him in the dirt. He fired a warning shot at the ground then kicked Hans in the stomach with a boot that felt like iron.
He jammed that same boot straight on Hans' cock, painfully hard despite the German's shame.
"You need a stronger punishment, don't you? Very well."
Hans screamed.
"As for me, you do not need to know my name. Call me Ivan. You Germans always say that, yes? Ivan is coming. We will show Ivan what we're made of!"
He ground his heel in deeper and Hans cried out to God once again.
"Now Ivan is here," Ivan said. "And Ivan will not let you live. First you will pleasure each and every one of my comrades who desire it. Then I will kill you. And it will be me. Remember this face. It is Ivan's face."
Ivan peered down at him.
"You understand?"
"Fuck you," Hans spat. "Scum. Scum. Scum! I am German. I am strong. You are weak. Your kind is..."
Ivan made Hans cum with a drag of that iron boot and he trailed off. He sighed in relief. Not in pleasure. Any orgasmic niceness was drowned out by overpowering shame.
"Hah!" Ivan chuckled. "So strong. Oh yes, quite."
He picked Hans up by the hair again, dragging him further away from the campfire and into the howling storm. He dropped Hans on the ground and the German gasped.
His uniform. He would recognize it anywhere.
It was stained with dirt, torn, buried by snow. Defiled.
"Once when I was young I was happy to learn your language," Ivan said. "Now it is like acid on my lips. I hear every word out of your mouth. I am not like my comrades. But I refuse. I will not sully myself with your monstrous speech."
Ivan shook his head solemnly, then shrugged. Hans shivered. Contorted in the cold. Any longer and he would freeze to death.
"So we will talk like Yanks. Works for me."
He kicked Hans again, then again, and again. Hans tried to curl up and die but Ivan wouldn't let him. The Russian forced him to piss on his own uniform, to stand tall and soil it himself. He would have done it, Ivan told him, but that would have meant drinking more. Hans and his pathetic piss stream would have to do instead, he said.
Of course Ivan wouldn't let it end there. He kicked the dirty uniform away then threw Hans to the ground, fully naked. Hans was fucked with the hilt of a hunting knife. Not for pleasure, only pain. Ivan delighted as blood trailed out of him and painted the snow red.
"Very good," Ivan shushed as he dragged Hans back to camp. "I will kill you soon, but for now, rest. It will all be over soon."
He tied a gag around Hans' mouth and laughed as he struggled.
Hans would have his revenge soon. Germany would have her revenge soon. Ivan would not prevail. Such vile Judeo-Bolshevik degeneracy would not go unpunished.
Hans repeated these words to himself as he drifted out of consciousness as his asshole bled below him. He was left behind to starve, unable to muster the strength to stand or do anything other than lie down and repeat a mantra of denial.
Formally requesting my beautiful and pure poseycest 😍
Of course oomf ^^ I've never seen Teen Wolf but I love these two and I've been wanting to write them for a while. Omegaverse again because I'm obsessed lol
Jesse always knew a heat when it was coming on. The chills giving way to burning, the sweat and stench and overpowering need. It was even stronger for his alpha brother Tyler. Jesse could never smell his own scent that strong but Tyler, oh Tyler...
"Fuck, bro," he whined. Jesse's neck was exposed with him in a tank top and Tyler sniffed him in hungrily. "You smell so good. You always smell so fucking good."
And Jesse could feel it. Tyler was rock hard against him, in the throes of his rut and ready to breed.
Jesse's heats were intense. They left him shaking for days unless Tyler was there to help him. With Tyler though it was alright. It was fun even. Tyler had been taking care of him since they were little kids and of course that would include this too, it was only natural.
Naturally Derek didn't approve, but Jesse didn't give a shit about him. He was as lame of an alpha as could be. Tyler was a true hunk. Brought to stardom thanks to playing a wolf on screen and now ready to be his wolf in the bedroom.
Tyler kept massaging him, sniffing and licking and nibbling all over him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He gripped Jesse possessively. "You know you don't have to if you don't-"
"No." Jesse sounded way more confident than he felt. In truth, he'd been deathly anxious about this, and the first time Tyler had proposed the idea he'd been shocked, appalled even, but the second time?
"I want to do this," Jesse continued. "I really really wanna do this. Please fuck me Tyler, please god fuck me! I need it!"
Tyler smirked that sexy smirk of his, and ignored his throbbing hard knot for just a second to reach over and click on the camera.
The light of it was harsh, and Jesse nearly winced. His heart beat fast. Then Tyler pounced.
Jesse gasped as his brother pinned him to the bed, ripped off his shirt, and bit him hard on the neck. Then on the back, ass, thighs. Jesse arched his back and moaned. Each puncture of his brother's teeth felt like an orgasm. His skin was so sensitive and so needy for some rough treatment from his favorite person in the world.
Tyler forced him on his knees, ass in the air. He shoved his cock in fast and hissed in pleasure, wasting no time before starting to breed.
"How do you like it Jesse?" He panted. "They're all watching you."
It was true. Jesse's eye flicked to the far off computer monitor, and he could scarcely make out their view count. He nearly came as he saw it.
"Hundreds. No, it's going up...!"
"That's right babe," Tyler cooed as he pounded his little brother. "You don't need to be ashamed anymore. They love you."
Jesse whined. Drool coated the sheets below him. Thousands were watching him get bred and they were to going to save the video after. Thousands more would pay to watch his heat. This wasn't the first time they'd done OnlyFans together, but it was quickly proving to be the most lucrative.
To watch him get impregnated. By his own brother.
Tyler's knot popped fast, but he barely slowed down at all. He kept pounding Jesse until all his little brother knew was his cock.
"Fuck you're so good," Tyler said through gritted teeth. "Bro, bro, I'm gonna-!"
"Do it!" How many times had it been? Jesse had long since lost count. "Pump another load in me! Fuck, bro, please!"
Tyler kept going through it, and didn't slow down an inch. Jesse knew he was going to get pregnant. He was going to pump out so many pups for Tyler and he wouldn't have it any other way. Neither would the countless dirty perverts stroking their cocks watching him, blowing their loads to the knowledge that Tyler was knocking him up.
In the aftermath, after who knows how many loads, Tyler switched off the camera and grinned with like a madman at how many tips they'd just gotten, and how many more were coming in every second begging to see the video.
Tyler wrapped Jesse up in blankets and made his brother a nest full of his scent. He held Jesse close and kissed his neck, moving up along his quivering post-heat skin and up to his forehead.
"What are we gonna do next?" Tyler said. "Y'know they're gonna want more now. Something even dirtier."
"Oh yeah?" Jesse grinned, trying to hide the apprehension. He knew deep down that whatever Tyler proposed he would go with it. He was one hell of a pushover when it came to his brother.
"How about a dog?" Tyler whispered in his ear.
"No fucking way!" Jesse pushed him off playfully.
"Maybe a few?" Tyler laughed, playing it off like a dumb joke, and it quickly turned into sullying their nest with wrestling and play-fighting.
Jesse said no for now, but he already felt his hole clench at the thought. A little more pressure and he'd probably break. That's how it always was with Tyler.
This is pure unfiltered tgirl hetslop. Featuring: omegaverse, road trips, and a bit of furry subtext.
Jenna's an omega so everyone expects her to be weak and demure. She's supposed to be a princess in a castle without dreams or wants of her own. She doesn't want that. She wants to see the world and she's sick of being cooped up all the time in the pack's cottage and tormented by the cruel alpha matriarch of her pack. Jenna hates her more than hell and never wanted to mate her in the first place. That's why she ran away. It's not her pack anymore. She's done!
Of course she'd only made it to the highway before the hunters and the matron herself were after her. But right there out of her dreams comes the prince in shining armor she's always wanted. Cedric was an alpha from the big city and not on a magic horse with a legendary sword, just in his Subaru with a shotgun. He'd been out hunting and when he sees the panicked girl running from the hunters he doesn't register they're all in the same pack, he smells her sweet flower scent and acts.
He stops his car as he yells at them to get back.
She stops scared thinking he means her too until he barks, "You gonna get in? Are they after you?"
And all she has to do is nod.
Then they're off driving, and nothing the matron has in her hillbilly hut can keep up with how he hits the gas. The first thing he notices is how good she smells. Her pack bond broken, she's starting anew, and without the potions the matron used to brew that made her heats managed, scheduled, and controlled they're so strong.
Cedric can smell how young she is. She's so fertile and would pump out so many pups for him and he can sniff it out rolling off her neck, the scent of honeysuckle and lime that has him panting and spurs on his ruts. That smell sends his mating instincts into overdrive. It has his ruts coming more frequent. Cedric can take care of them himself, he's getting to be middle-aged but still has plenty of knots ready to pop. No matter the gray hairs creeping on his brown beard his prime time as an alpha isn't over yet.
He takes care of them at night and sometimes he thinks she's asleep when she can still hear him and she bites her lip with want. Jenna swears since being around him she never gets hard anymore, just wet on her hole as even without a heat it pours out slick in want of his knot.
Her heat could come at any time and Cedric knows it would be wrong to take advantage of her, he's so much older, she's naive and new to the outside world. She's just with him for a ride, a little hitchhike until they reach the city. That's all. But still, he doesn't know what they're going to do when that heat does come, because he feels it's gonna hit soon, any day now, and it doesn't seem like they're gonna reach the city in time to avoid having to deal with it on the road.
And Jenna wants. She wants and wants and wants and it's consuming her. She needs Cedric to mate her, she craves it like air. The heat starts slow. Her thoughts just keep swiveling around like that as she stares out the window and she starts to feel dizzy on it, everything gets hot.
It's not the sun, in fact she can see it's raining out. The heat is solely within and she can feel it crawling up her. She looks at Cedric's shoulder, his hairy arms and his hands on the steering wheel and she bites her nails and moans.
Cedric looks over at her, sees her clenching her legs, shivering, and moaning. It's clear what's going on.
He stops the car and tries to make her a nest but he doesn’t have any toys she can use for relief, and the heat seems too strong for that anyway.
She writhes and sweats under her blanket and keeps calling out “alpha, alpha, alpha!” Then it just turns into shrieks, almost feline and primal. She’s in heat, she can’t think or feel or sense anything except for the need to mate.
And she smells so strong, an omega scent pulsing through the air stronger than the rain or anything else he's ever smelled. He hears her tossing and turning like mad, then the screams stop. She goes still and it turns into soft whimpers. Yet the smell gets even stronger. His knot throbs and leaks through his khakis and he claws into his knees, he rumbles with the beginnings of a growl. The arousal clouds his brain and he feels a rut coming on.
If they're happening in tandem it must be nature egging them on. There’s no stopping it now.
He shoves open the car door and she’s lying on the seat totally naked, clothes and blankets shoved away as the heat grew too unbearable. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling, nipples perked up and inviting. Her dick is fully hard and leaking, tiny and pathetic compared to his huge throbbing knot.
And the slick. So much slick. She's so wet it coats the seat and he can smell it so strong his mouth waters. She opens her eyes, parts her lips, and says nothing, just rolls her head to the side bearing her neck for him.
He wastes no time. Just acts.
He flips her over and plants her on all fours and she whines and relishes in his dominance. He pins her arms down, clawing into the cushion, and sinks his fangs into the spot on her neck where the scent gland rests.
He pushes his knot in just the same and he’s thick, even with the slick she’s so unbearably tight. Still she leaks out more and more slick with every inch he fucks in deeper. Her hole seems to suck in his knot, inviting it.
Her legs quiver and she drools in bliss as he finally pushes in to the hilt. Now she’s stretched out and reshaped for him. He pulls nearly out and pounds back inside and builds a rhythm with his hips.
He pounds her fast and rough like he craves, lets cum build at the base of his knot so he can pop a load inside her quickly. It’s gonna take way more than one knot to quench a heat this strong. Cedric's gonna fuck her every which way and pop so many knots full of cum inside her until she’s built to be his perfect mate and wife. Hes gonna keep plapping her ass and emptying his balls inside her omega hole until she's drunk on his seed and pregnant with his pups.
In the aftermath he makes her a nest, wraps her up warm and tight in the back of his car to guide against the rain. When it stops she blinks and finds him there leaning over her.
“Alpha!” she coos and nuzzles into him.
Cedric groans gruff and still mostly asleep. She curls into his arms and stares at the morning sun rays through the window.
When he wakes he gives her a pointed look. “Ready to be my mate now, are you?”
“Mhm!”
“You understand what that means?”
Jenna tilts her head.
“My ruts have been coming on all the time nowadays.” She feels his breath on her lips. “You’re gonna have to take care of all of them now. Heat or not.”
She breathes in with sigh. “Yes alpha.”
He runs his thumb along her lips. “With that much slick, it’ll be easy. It’s like you’re ready for me all the time. But these lips… so pink and pretty. They’d look even better stretched around my knot.”
“F–“ she gasps. “F-Fuck,”
Cedric hugs her tight and she feels the prick of claws on her back. “Is it starting?” she breathes.
When her fingertips reach the bulge in his boxers she has her answer.
Cedric shoves the seat in front of him forward, giving her room to rest her head between his legs. She sucks in his knot carefully, stretching her mouth and gagging as she tries to make as much of it as she can. But it’s not enough for him. He plants a hand on her hair and shoves her down deeper, in time with thrusts of his hips into her throat.
Her ears are full of tears but he needs to pop his knot. All she can do is breath deep and take it.
“Good bitch,” he barks. “It’s coming soon!”
Jenna whines.
When it pops it instantly fills her throat and the cum doesn’t stop coming. It dribbles out her cheeks and his powerful alpha scent fills her nostrils.
“Swallow it. All of it.”
Gulp.
“Good omega. Very good omega.”
With Jenna mated and in her nest the omega within her craves to please its alpha. A warm buzz settles in her head from fulfilling this need, from his rough, gravelly, and aroused praise. She could get used to this feeling. She's already looking forward to the next heat, and hopes he'll be even rougher when it comes.
