001 — 𝓕everish 𝓗eat
ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ 𝓜egan 𝓢kiendiel • 𝓕em r!
smut fluff bigdick!megan mommy kink cockwarming fever sex praise kink size kink 2.4k wc don’t like, don’t read
The world was a hazy, feverish blur, and you were the center of its burning, uncomfortable universe. Every muscle ached, your skin was flushed and clammy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your eyes. You were tucked into bed, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, trying to will your temperature down when Megan appeared in the doorway.
Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and she was wringing her hands in the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She looked like a kicked puppy, all wide, pleading eyes and restless energy.
"Mommy,” she whispered, her voice already carrying that needy, whiny tone that you knew so well. "Please."
You cracked one eye open. "Megan, baby, I’m sick. I feel like I’m dying.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry," she rushed out, scurrying to the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees. She rested her chin on the mattress, looking up at you with pure desperation. "But I need you so bad. It hurts, mommy. I feel so empty."
You could already see the prominent bulge straining against the soft fabric of her shorts. She wasn't lying; her body was demanding relief, and her puppy brain had fixated on the only cure it wanted.
"No, Megan. Absolutely not.” you said, your voice firm but weak. "I have a one-hundred-and-two-degree fever. I can’t.”
"Please, please, please" she begged, her voice cracking. She crawled closer, nuzzling her face against your thigh. "I’ll be so good. I’ll be gentle, I swear. I just… I need to feel you. Just for a little while. Ill make you feel good, mommy, l promise."
Her begging was relentless. A stream of "please" and "I need you” and “I’ll be your good girl" that chipped away at your fever-addled resolve. She looked so pathetic, so genuinely desperate, that a twisted sense of pity and affection bloomed in your chest.
You were too tired to fight her, and a small, selfish part of you was curious. “Fine.” you sighed, the word barely audible. "But if you make me feel worse, this is over. Got it?”
Her face lit up with such pure, unadulterated joy it was almost comical. "Thank you, mommy! Thank you!" She scrambled onto the bed practically tearing her clothes off in her haste. She settled between your legs, her movements clumsy with need.
Her cock was already rock-hard and leaking, the tip flushed a dark, needy pink. She was always meticulous about her hygiene, and you could see the evidence of it now—she was clean, smooth, and already slick with pre-cum. She lined herself up, her hand shaking slightly as she notched the head at your entrance.
Without waiting for another word, she pushed in, a ragged moan tearing from her throat as your heat enveloped her. Her hips immediately snapped forward, setting a punishing, frantic pace. Her thrusts were fast and sloppy, driven by pure instinct and desperation. The slick glide of her was almost frictionless, her dick sliding in and out of you with wet, hurried sounds that filled the quiet room. But the fever had turned every nerve ending in your body into a live wire. Each hard, quick thrust sent a jolt of sharp, overwhelming sensitivity through you. It was too much.
"Megan, stop,” you gasped, your hand flying to her hip to still her. "Slow down. Puppy, you have to slow down.”
She froze immediately, her eyes wide with panic. "What? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"No, but you're going to,” you said, your voice strained. "I’m a hundred times more sensitive right now. You can't fuck me like a jackrabbit. If you can't behave, we stop right now." Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked utterly devastated. "I'm sorry, mommy. I’m so sorry. I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good."
You softened your expression, cupping her cheek. "I know you will, baby. Just… slow. Deep and slow. Can you do that for me?"
She nodded vigorously, her bottom lip trembling. She leaned down and pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly. With a shaky breath, she began to move again.
The change was immediate. Her frantic energy melted away, replaced by a careful, controlled roll of her hips. She pulled out almost completely before pushing back in, a single, deep, deliberate thrust that stole the air from your lungs. The slow drag of her cock against your sensitive walls was intoxicating. It was still intense, but not it was a deep, simmering pleasure instead of a sharp shock.
“Oh, fuck,” she whimpered, burying her face in the crook of your neck. “Mommy… you feel so much hotter. You’re burning up.”
Her words were muffled against your skin, her breath hot and damp. She was addicted. You could feel it in the way her body trembled against yours, in the reverent way she moved. This was a new kind of high for her—your feverish heat, your heightened sensitivity. It was a drug, and she was completely hooked.
She wanted to be a soft little dom puppy, to take care of you while taking her pleasure, but she was terrified of overstepping. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you like a vice. Her grip was tight, almost desperate, as if she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go. It was a silent plea: please don’t take this away from me.
“You feel so good,” she slurred against your neck, her voice thick with emotion and lust. “So, so good, mommy. I love you.”
She continued her slow, deep thrusts, each one a worshipful act. She was lost in the feeling, lost in you, and for the first time all day, the burning fever didn’t feel quite bad.
The fever haze thickened, blurring the edges of the room into a soft, indistinct glow. All that was real was the weight of Megan on top of you, the slow, deep rhythm of her hips, and the intoxicating, searing heat where your bodies joined. Each deliberate thrust was a sense of pleasure that washed over you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch.
She was being so good, so careful. Her movements were a stark contrast to the frantic desperation from moments ago. Now, every roll of her hips was measured, every push deep and intentional. She was savoring it, savoring you.
“Mommy,” she breathed, her voice a reverent whisper against your sweat-damp skin. “You’re so hot. So tight. It’s so much better..”
Her admission sent a fresh jolt of arousal through you. The idea that your sickness, your fever, was heightening her pleasure was intoxicating. She wasn’t just fucking you, she was worshiping this altered state of your body.
She shifted her weight, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at you. Her eyes were dark, blown wide with a mix of love, lust, and something that looked suspiciously like addiction. Her hair was stuck to her forehead, and her cheeks were flushed. She was the picture of a desperate, devoted puppy.
“Can I… can I go a little deeper?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Please, mommy? I just want to feel all of you.”
You nodded, unable to form words, and she let out a shaky sigh of relief. She adjusted her angle, and the next thrust was impossibly deeper, the head of her cock pressing against a spot inside you that made you see stars. A loud, broken moan escaped your lips.
“Yeah? Right there?” she asked, a hint of her old confidence returning. She did it again, grinding into you, and your back arched off the bed. “You like that, mommy? You like when I fill you up?”
Her praise was a balm to your feverish soul. “Ngh.. yes, puppy.. right there. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” she promised, her voice thick with emotion. She began a steady, deep grinding motion, keeping that perfect pressure against your most sensitive spot. Her free hand came up to cup your breast, her thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. The touch was electric, another spark on the already burning fire of your sensitivity.
“Look at you,” she murmured, her gaze soft and possessive. “So beautiful. All flushed and sweaty for me. My mommy…”
Her words were your undoing. The combination of her deep, steady rhythm, the targeted pressure, and her loving, filthy praise sent you tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm crushed through you with the force of a tidal wave, your body clamping down around her as you cried out her name.
“oh baby! fuckngh..yes..”
Your release was all it took to push her over. With a loud, guttural moan, she buried herself as deep as she could go, her whole body tensing as she spilled into you. You could feel the hot, thick pulses of her cum as she filled you, her hips jerking with the force of her orgasm.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your combined, ragged breathing. She collapsed on top of you, her full weight a comforting, heavy blanket. She didn’t pull out, instead choosing to stay nestled inside you, her softening cock still twitching with the aftershocks.
Her arms tightened around you, holding you in that desperate vice-like grip. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel the dampness of her tears against your skin.
“Shh, it’s okay baby. I’ve got you,” you soothed, your hand stroking her sweat-sticked back.
“I love you,” she whimpered, her voice muffled and think with unshed tears. “I love you so much, mommy. I’m sorry you’re sick.”
“It’s okay, puppy. You made me feel better,” you whispered, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. The bone-deep ache was still there, but it was overshadowed by a pleasant, sated languor.
She finally lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed but shining with adoration. She leaned in and kissed you, a soft, slow, and deeply loving kiss that tasted of salt and shared breath.
“Can I stay?” she asked, her voice small. “Just like this for a little while?”
“Of course, baby..” you murmured, pulling her closer. “Stay as long as you want.”
She sighed contentedly, nuzzling back into your neck. Her body was still humming with the lingering pressure, and she was already addicted to the memory of your feverish heat. She knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that she would be begging for this again the very next time you get sick.
You lay tangled together in the sticky, humid heat under the blankets, the aftermath of your orgasms leaving you both boneless and quiet. Megan was a heavy, comforting weight on top of you, her face still buried in the crook of your neck, her softening cock still nestled inside you. The fever still raged, but now it was coupled with a deep, sated exhaustion that felt almost pleasant.
You carded your fingers through her damp hair, scratching lightly at her scalp. “You were so good for me, puppy..” you murmured, your voice husky. “Such a good girl for mommy. You listened perfectly.”
Megan let out a soft hum against your skin, a sound of pure contentment. She wiggled closer, trying to eliminate any last inch of space between your bodies, her arms still wrapped around you in that possessive, desperate hold. She nuzzled her nose into the hollow of your throat, inhaling deeply as if trying to breathe in your scent, your heat, your very essence.
“I love being your good girl,” she whispered, her voice muffled by your skin.
“You are,” you praised, your hand continuing it’s soothing path through her hair. “You took care of me so well. Made mommy feel so good, even when she’s sick.”
That’s when you felt it. A subtle twitch deep inside you. Her cock, which had been soft and pliant, gave a little throb of interest. You paused your stroking, a small smile playing on your lips.
“Megan?” you asked softly.
“Hmm?” she hummed, still nuzzling into you, her lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your feverish skin.
Another twitch. this one more pronounced. You could feel her slowly, steadily hardening again, the slick length of her thickening as it filled you once more. She seemed to realize it at the same time you did, her body stilling for a moment before she let out a soft, breathy whine.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her hips giving an involuntary little grind. “I can’t… mommy, you feel so good. And you’re saying such nice things.”
You chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a soft groan as she hardened completely, once again stretching you full. “Is my praise going straight to your dick, baby?”
“Yes,” she admitted shamelessly, her voice thick with renewed need. She lifted her head, her eyes glassy and dark again. She looked down at you, her gaze hungry. “You’re so hot, mommy. Your whole body is burning up. And you smell so good. And you’re being so sweet to me.” She punctuated her words with another slow, deep roll of her hips, drawing a choked gasp from you. “I can’t help it.”
She was like a cat that had found a patch of sunlight, unable to stay away. She lowered her head again, but this time her mouth found your breast. She latched onto your nipple, her tongue swirling around the peaked bud before she began to suckle gently. The sensation was overwhelming. The heat of her mouth combined with the feverish heat of your skin was almost too much, a sharp, exquisite pleasure-pain that made your head spin. Her hips began to move again, finding that same slow, deep rhythm from before. Each thrust was deliberate, a slow drag in and out that allowed her to feel every inch of your hot, sensitive walls. She was addicted, completely and utterly hooked on the feeling of you like this.
“Mommy,” she whined around your nipple, her voice vibrating through your chest. “Can I… can I stay like this for a while? Please? Just slow. I just wanna feel you more.”
“Yeah, baby..” you breathed, your hands tangling in her hair, holding her close to you. “Stay. Just like that.”
She let out a happy, relieved sigh and settled into a lazy, sensual rhythm. There was no urgency this time, no frantic need for release. This was about pure sensation, about worship. She was addicted to your fever, to your praise, to the way your body responded to her. And as she moved inside you, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.
