god. cucurucho should keep cellbit as its personal pet in a pretty cage in its office. it should bring cellbit out of his cage and fuck him multiple times a day and plug him up after each time to keep all its cum in his cunt to make sure he gets pregnant. and the next morning it should take the plug out and let all the cum drip out until he's empty and then stuff him full again until he's got a bulge in his belly from how full he is. cellbit should cum as soon as cucurucho's cock enters him every single time and lay there limp over its desk moaning and mewling as he gets bred. anyway how are you guys doing tonight
I love the thought of being tied up, legs spread so my tdick and pussy are on full display, and a dom inspects me to make sure I’m exactly what they want as their toy, gently touching every part of me and testing my reaction to their touch
If a girl says she fantasizes about being shared she deserves to have a partner that will tie her up, blindfold her and surprise her with their friends
studying u sexual style btw. tying u up with a vibe and asking you questions and turning it up to reward you when you answer while i take notes about what you said and then turning it back down so u focus on me again and feel desperate enough to wanna answer my next question. and im fully clothed and seemingly disinterested in actual sex and i never touch you or cum i jsut learn everything i can about you. and maybe every once in a while i read u reports i write on u based on the data i gather
spending another early morning in his office. the lecture he teaches is meant to be starting in twenty minutes but he's in no rush. I'm sat in his expensive leather office chair and he's on his knees with my tcock in his mouth. he says I'm his favourite because I engage well in his class. but I know he just loves that I'm masc like him. I run my fingers through his hair, cropped short to hide the greys and the receding hairline from decades on testosterone. his beard scratches my thighs but I love when it does. I watch as he pumps his cock in his hand, squeezing his surgically crafted balls to make his length hard. it turns me on like crazy to see him do it. I bend over his desk and lift my knee, and he bites his lip to hold back a groan as his thick phallo cock stretches my hole. he grunts, pressing his weight against me. still mostly clothed. same as the many other mornings I've done this with him. I know I'm not meant to fuck my professor. but shit when he fills me up with the cock made so perfectly by the hands of expert surgeons, how am I meant to be sensible?
forcemascing your chaste and innocent princess btw. yeah, sorry, he's my prince now :/ yeah i've trained him not to cum unless he's using his dick. he's so much happier now. no i don't think i'll be giving him back actually. i mean, ransom money's nice and all but he's just so fun to play with like this. he's finally getting good with the sword, learning to fight back. even managed to pin me yesterday during practise. wouldn't admit that he got hard over it but i saw the way he was panting, all flush-cheeked and breathless. of course if he wants me to help him with that then he'll have to ask, and if he asks then he'll have to admit he likes this. i give it another tenday before he finally snaps and comes crawling back to my tent begging to fuck me. uhh but yeah good luck with your royal galas or whatever :/
wouldn't it feel so nice to be sleepy and drifty and be fucked with a thick knotted dildo? held down nice and heavy by a hand on your lower back, moaning and squirming a little as you're slowly, slowly stretched to take it. so full when it finally pops into your cunt. and then the sweet stretching pressure as the knot is slipped out of you, and fucked back in, and again and again, your legs spread and your face in the pillow and your cunt swollen and drippy and stuffed. falling asleep all full and waking up to a sore stretched pussy reminding you what you're made for
I bring forth my participation for this end-of-year-Secret-Santa organised by the lovely @axolotl-by-cosmo-sheldrake who is also the person that I got for my Secret Santa hehe :3333
I did one of her prompts of King!Pac and Concubine!Fit which neighs had shared with me plenty about it from our almost 2-month la long chat about getting Pac knocked up heheh
Anyways this is like, almost 5k words, so I hope you’ll like this Axo :33333
“Caralho…”
Pac let out a heavy sigh as he entered his chamber. The weight of today’s tasks and obligations weighed heavily on him, even as he was finally freed from judging eyes. What’s the use of being a king when he has to fight tooth and nail to get an agreement signed? An agreement that would have benefited all the parties involved?
It’s as if his title meant nothing to these people, as if he’s only good at buttering people up or making back-handed deals that’ll bite him in the ass one day. His own court had started whispering words of doubts—even his trusted advisor, someone whom he literally shared a soul with, had asked him to take a step back during their heated meeting that just finished this late in the evening.
It’s no use mulling over whatever happened in that courtroom. He’ll look into what he could do tomorrow.
Now it’s time to decompress.
He sluggishly took off his crown that weighed heavy against his head— it never quite fit him right and he was too preoccupied with other pressing matters than to have his crown resized or remade. His heavy cloak was haphazardly thrown across the arm of his chair, along with his sword and knives. He took off his jewellery, the ones that clashed with his complexion, dropping them into an ornamental tray, ready to be used the next day as usual.
He took out his braids, brushing out the sweaty curls with his hands. A bowl of warm water and a gentle washcloth was prepared for him, and he used them to wash off the tiredness that was evident on his face. He needed a nice hot bath and a good long sleep. The servants have probably readied his bath as he was finishing dinner, but one look at his cold and too-large bed made him dread sleeping.
He didn’t want to sleep alone again. But he wasn’t in the mood to bother Mike, not when he’s feeling a little sour with him right now, and Etoiles had just returned from a week’s long journey and he wishes not to disturb his royal guard. Nor was he really interested in visiting any of his concubines; Cellbit is still thoroughly engaged with the recent spy incident they had the month before, and Quackity was bound to start grilling him about his recent disaster of a meeting and that meant he wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep tonight.
No, he doesn’t need to be ignored for enigmas or stressed out over his failings of the day. What he needs right now is control. Or some form of it. He needs to feel like he’s worth being a king and that he still has the authority of one. An authority over someone, at the very least.
He hummed, making up his mind as he discarded the last few items of clothing before stepping into his bathing suite. He plucked up a couple of fragrant soaps and sweet-scented oils and creams from his shower vanity. He’d tell a servant to notify his favourite concubine that he’ll be visiting tonight, but if said concubine had been working out his frustrations today, Pac would prefer to catch him off-guard.
He needs this victory. Or at least get his rocks off.
——————————————-
“God-fuckin-dammit.”
Fit grumbled as he listened to the familiar annoying humming coming from down the hall to his room. He had just gotten back from his (heavily monitored) work out session from the training grounds, and was just starting to feel slightly better. He was planning on skipping dinner to go straight to washing up and hopping into bed.
Knowing the king though, he’d forbid him from even stepping foot in the bath. And he already hates sleeping with dried up sweat sticking against his skin and the expensive sheets, now with the king coming by, he’s gonna be sleeping in more than just sweat. He just knows it.
The door to his room opened, revealing the man he had grown to loath so much. The king smiled brightly and borderline skipped into his room after shutting and locking the door tight, not that it mattered, his guards would be stationed outside regardless, and no amount of locking or barricading would be enough to keep them out if they had to be in to respond the king’s commands, Fit should know. He’s experienced it first hand.
“Fitchie~” the king greeted him in his sickly sweet voice that sent shivers down his spine. “I’ve had a long day today, those dignitaries or whatever were sooo annoying,” he huffed, plopping himself into Fit’s bed.
“Not as annoying as you are right now,” Fit grumbled internally.
The king was wearing nothing but a sheer robe tied loosely with a silken ribbon. He smells and looks fresh, hair still damp from his bath, his scented lotion contrasted heavily with Fit’s musk of sweat and grime from his strenuous activities.
His royal highness doesn’t seem to mind though, if anything, his eyes seem to dilate as he catches a whiff of Fit’s smell. He made himself well comfortable, climbing into Fit’s lap and nuzzling into his pulse point, breathing in the musk and relishing in it.
“Just what I needed, obrigado cachorrinho,” he mumbled against his concubine’s skin, turning boneless and melding himself into every nook and cranny of the larger body. Fit remained impassive, silently praying that the king only needed some deep whiffs of his musk before he sauntered back to his royal chambers.
Unfortunately, the gods Fit worshipped had long since abandoned him, as the king snuck his calloused hand underneath Fit’s cotton shirt, mapping the sharp ridges of his abs and cupping one of his pecs. Fit let out a frustrated huff, low enough for it to be almost unnoticeable, but the king’s ears perked nonetheless.
Leaning back slightly to take in the stormy expression of his favourite courtesan, Pac grinned, now shoving both of his palms underneath the thin material to grope both muscles. “Did you miss me? I know I have been very busy with all these diplomats and foreign merchants coming and going, but you understand, right Fitchie? Fall is coming to an end and I need to deal with all this business stuff before the first frost comes.” He explained, almost apologetic, as his thumbs rolled the buds on his chest with different tempos.
“And you helped too, you know? When you pointed out that merchant that crashed onto our shores might not have crashed here accidentally, Mike and Bagi found a stack of documents about our kingdom, something only a spy could have found out. I think Cellbit is close to cracking the codes and we wouldn’t have thought about looking at wreckage more carefully had it not been for your insight, so thank you, my wonderfully intelligent puppy,” Fit decided to not look at the king in his eyes, purposefully looking away as if to hide the prideful blush that bloomed across his face.
Pac always found it amusing though, how this concubine of his seemed to be starving of praises and compliments, yet is also so reluctant to receive them. Still, the king had him for such a long time that he knew it took very little for his favourite dog to come lapping up the love that he’s willing to give.
He gave one last squeeze of the muscular chest, relishing in its firmness and obvious strength, before getting up briefly to fetch his favourite item to use on his beloved companion.
Fit’s ears perked up at the familiar sound of metal jingling together, and he loathed how instantly his body reacted to the sound. It didn’t help that the king made quick work of putting on his collar, swiftly clipping its matching leash and giving it a few experimental tugs that had Fit growing harder than before.
“Let’s help each other out, hmm?” The king said, repositioning himself back onto Fit’s lap, one hand gripping his leash and the other undoing the silken ribbon of his robe, “I need to let off some steam, and to also show my appreciation to your brilliant suggestion, it also seems like you need to relax after such a long day of um, working out,” he breathed out heavily.
“Your highness, I don’t—“ Fit barely got to finish his sentence before the younger man ripped off his already thin shirt. He stared unimpressed as the king shook off his robes to the floor, grubby little hands making quick work of his pants. He’s ashamed to see how the king riles him up so easily, just buckles on his collar and clips on a leash and he’s raring to go.
The king takes note of this, of course. Fit could see the glimmer in his eyes and the drool forming at the corner of his mouth. He is amused to see that no matter how many times they’ve done this, the king still acts like his dick is a gift to all of humanity. Supposed it kinda is, the way it saved his ass from being sent to the mines or worse, getting publicly executed for being the war general of an opposing faction.
The king switched their positions easily, with Fit kneeling on the floor, at the foot of his own bed, and Pac making himself comfortable before tugging at Fit’s leash, pulling him closer to his already drenched cunt. “You know what to do, puppy,” he purred, twisting the excess length of leash against his wrist and giving it two quick tugs, a signal that Fit wasted no seconds to comply with.
Months ago, he would have resisted heavily. Snarling and cursing his way out of this situation, no matter how hard the royal guards would beat him up or how long they would have kept him in the dark dungeons for, Fit took all in stride and with pride.
Now, his tongue traitorously licked broad strokes against the king’s cunt, doing it with a tempo he knows the king loves, evidenced by his gentle mewls and canting hips. His arms held closely to his back, until the king gives his signal of wanting more, Fit’s only allowed to service with his tongue.
He was close to nibbling the king’s clit before he felt three sharp tugs that told him his hands were in need of use. So he did just that. One finger pistoning in and out turned into two that scissored him open, with a third and fourth added in quick succession, just how the king loved it. And Fit knows he does, as proven by the torrential stream of fluid splashing his face and soaking his chest and torso when Fit assaulted the spongy nerve with vicious intensity.
He didn't stop his actions immediately, he kept pumping his hands in and out of the king's soaked pussy, relishing in the little whimpers and shaking legs as he slowed down his pacing. He was soothing the king’s cunt with a series of broad licks before the king sat up and pulled fit up to face him.
The debauched look on Pac’s face made his own dick twitch in interest. The king was still breathing heavily as he kissed Fit, not caring of tasting his own juices apparently. He manoeuvred the two of them to sit upright again, with Pac settling on his lap, wet crotch rubbing against Fit’s dick.
“Senti tanto sua falta,” he murmured, kissing against Fit’s neck, in between his collar and the underside of his jaw, “meu lindo cachorrinho.” He gave a quick nip, marking his territory, before positioning himself to take in Fit in all of his entirety.
They both shared twin groans as the king seated himself fully on top of Fit, digging his blunt nails into the thick muscles of his concubine’s back. He stayed seated for a while longer, taking in the thick girth of Fit’s cock like it’s the first time he’s ever had it. It may as well be for Fit, with his royal highness’ cunt clenching viciously against him.
After a beat or two of getting used to each other, Pac initiated their coupling, gyrating his hips and moaning into Fit’s ears. Fit couldn’t even react to it fast enough, with the king tugging at his leash, pulling him back and choking him out briefly. “Such—such a good puppy for me,” he slurred, riding his concubine with increasing intensity.
“Meu cachorrinho bom e—e obediente,” he gasped at a particularly harsh thrust, biting and licking at the expanse of Fit’s neck uncovered by his collar. “So good to me, always ready to— fuck, to service me, whenever I want, however I want,” he groaned as Fit met up with his thrust with his own resounding growl, almost like a warning.
“You’re so perfect like this, my beautiful puppy. Always at my beck and call, always making me feel good, and always so, so good at following orders,” the king kissed him deeply, moaning as he did so. When he pulled back, his eyes held a dark look, a look Fit is familiar enough to know that it spelt trouble.
“And you love this too, don’t you? Being my good, obedient puppy. You get fed, you sleep in a nice bed, you-ah, caralho, get to fuck me whenever I tell you to.” He groaned louder as he neared his peak, “This life— this life I gave you, cachorrinho, it’s better than the life you were living before, right? Fuck- you were, fighting for your life, almost dying in the battlefield, but lucky I— ah, lucky I took you away and made you mine.”
This was par for the course of the king riding his high, proud to have conquered a brutish war criminal and “taming” him into an obedient pup. Fit has lived with this form of degradation for almost a year at this point, and yet it still stings regardless. The king lording himself over Fit, demeaning him, talking down on his achievements, treating him as nothing more than just a plaything he could discard without a second’s hesitation; Fit should be used to it all.
And yet his pride roared at him for laying down, for surrendering against this tyrant. To have his life’s work belittled into something so insignificant hurt to his core. The rage in his heart fed on its embers of shame as Pac kept calling him by that stupid stupid nickname.
“Meu cachorro, I’m so close—ah! Be, be a good boy and—“
Pac didn’t get to finish his order before he was thrown harshly onto the bed, letting go of the leash for a moment as Fit clambered over him, glowering and growling at the trapped king. Said king was still in shock over his own ruined orgasm and rough handling, he couldn’t even let out an alarmed noise to notify his guards who were still stationed outside, as Fit ruthlessly pushed his head deeper into the plush mattress.
“‘m sick and tired of you acting like you’ve domesticated me, like you’ve owned me,” he snarled, his own larger hand pressing the back of the king’s neck, encircling it to almost cut off his royal highness’s circulation. His other hand grabbed hold of the king’s wrists and held them firmly against the base of his back, leaving his face buried into the mattress and ass positioned up as Fit’s legs caged his.
The king choked, muffled as it was, before Fit let up slightly to let him face sideways to catch his breath. His breath was ragged, eyes glazed and unfocused before he blinked and looked at Fit from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just gazed at Fit in silence before smirking at him, like he was mocking him somehow.
That ignited the smoldering rage in the pit of his stomach, as he repositioned himself against the king’s entrance. The feeling of Fit’s hard cock rubbing against the king’s still sensitive cunt was enough to break Pac’s gaze, his moan coming out in a gurgle that Fit could feel from under his firm palm.
“You had fun tryin’ to break me— to house train me like some stray mutt, but what does that make you? A king who fucks his dog at every hour of the day? A king who slobbers on this dirty curs’ cock like some common whore? A king who clenches his royal cunt for the same mongrel that tried to kill him before? A king who’s bent over right now like some common breeding bitch?”
Pac let out a whine as Fit angled his cock back into its rightful place, properly mounting the king as he offered little to no resistance. “You wanna fuck a dog so bad, your majesty? I’ll fuck you like one.” He leaned closer, fully resting himself on top of the king, the metal links of his collar and abandoned leash pressed coolly against both of their skins.
He mounted the king, barely repressing his own pleasured groan as the king whined around his grip. They’ve never fucked like this before, most of the time the king rode him till he was satisfied or demanded Fit carry and lift him around while they were still connected, relishing in the obvious show of strength. Usually he had Fit hunched under his desk, eating him out while he worked through letters from ambassadors and legislation that needed his approval.
But mounting the king like this, with his head immobilised by a single grip, wrists and upper body held flush to the soft mattress as well, with only his hips in the air, supported by his shaking legs and Fit’s own cock buried deep with him— gave Fit his own sense of power he’s so desperately missed from his days of being a warlord. The pride. The triumph. The conquering.
Pac had a glassy look in his eyes.
The sense of taking what’s rightfully his.
A vicious laugh bubbled from his chest, as he continued to piston his hips against his breeding mate he so rightfully claimed. He let his weight fully blanket the king. “I know a bitch in heat when I see one, your royal highness,” he voiced dripped with venom, angling his hips for a better thrust, “Is this what you’ve been craving? To be bred like some common whore? To be mounted like those mindless dogs in heat?”
He let go of Pac’s wrists, finding his limbs no longer struggling or fighting back anymore, letting them drop to his sides, weak and unresponsive. His own hand travelled beneath the fucked out king, groping his squished perky tits as the king did with his chest just before this. Pac squeaked, eyes blinking rapidly before rolling back.
Fit let his hand travel lower, down to where he could feel himself thrusting from beneath the muscle and fat of the king’s pelvis, right where his royal uterus would lay in wait. He pressed harshly against it, relishing in the pained yelp he got in response.
“Seems like you’re empty here, sir. Would you like me to help you with that?” He asked patronisingly, letting his thrust dig deeper and harder, but his own hand instead gently petted the king’s womb from the outside, almost coaxing it to descend down and meet his loyal dog’s cock as it prepared itself to breed its owner.
“Don’t worry, your highness,” Fit panted, coming close to his end, “I’ll give my pups, just how you’ve always wanted it. I’ll fuck you with a litter of ‘em, then maybe—maybe then you’ll be satisfied.” Pac remained unresponsive.
Fit removed his other hand from the king’s neck, instead letting it join his other hand to help with holding the king’s hips in place. He took in the view below him; the king with his spit and tears staining his face, arms and legs weak and lifeless, only held up by Fit, and his only signs of consciousness were little cut off groans and mewls as his royal concubine continued to claim him.
The image of the king fucked out like this, absolutely debauched and broken, it gave Fit the sense of accomplishment he’s been chasing after. If he can’t escape his fate of being the king’s plaything, then the least he could do for himself is to make sure the king was thoroughly sullied by him. To have his entire being dirtied by this common mutt he so dearly loved. To have him carry his lowly commoner seed in him until it truly takes.
He thought of his fiercely loathed king carrying his child, round and full and incapable of doing anything about it. Having his body changing irrevocably because of Fit, a living proof that Fit had ruined him for everyone else, that Fit had successfully claimed him before any noble suitors could.
These thoughts enthralled him.
More so with the king never fighting back once, as if letting himself be mounted and bred like a true bitch in heat, custom made for Fit, his sweet, loyal, obedient cachorrinho.
Maybe the king had actually wanted this for so long. To throw away his royal crown to be at Fit’s disposal, not the other way around. Maybe it was his plan all along to rile up his captive and make him mount and claim him, in some sort of convoluted way of keeping him tied to his royal highness.
“No, it can’t be that.” Fit reasoned with himself, as taking one look at the king’s mindbroken state was enough to affirm to himself that he had not been played into the king’s hand. This was his decision, his action, his right. He’s doing this to humiliate the king, make him feel worthless, lowly, even beneath his subservient concubine.
He didn’t even realise how close he was to finishing until his hips started to protest. His balls felt tight and heavy, and his pelvis and Pac’s were soaked with fluids. He grunted as he gave a few more punishing thrusts for good measure before finally, finally, burying himself down to hilt, pressing them flush together as he felt himself depositing his cum directly into the king’s womb.
The king had his mouth open in a silent plea, but Fit paid him no mind, too lost in his own pleasure. He could feel his highness’s womb filling and rounding up nicely from the outside, his palms pressing against it still. And with the angle they were in, he felt certain that not a single drop would escape and stray.
In an instant, Fit felt drained, in the physical and mental sense. His bones felt heavy and his muscles started to ache similar to after a good, strenuous work out. He stayed positioned to where he was for a moment, taking in deep breaths and really feeling the exhaustion set in, before finally collapsing to the side with Pac still in his hold.
He usually hated sleeping in dried sweat. Hated sleeping in dried sweat and various other dried fluids as well. But he was tired and the king fitted nicely against him and was still connected to him. He managed to pull out the stained, tucked in blanket that bore the worst of their activities, and covered them both just enough to fend off the night chills.
Fit fell asleep in a similar yet slightly altered way as he usually did; naked, draped by a heavy blanket, with Pac’s weight a comforting weight against him, except this time he slept feeling satisfied. He knows he will have to deal with the repercussions tomorrow, maybe he’ll be returned to the dungeon, maybe he’ll be executed, whatever punishment they decide would fit the crime of assaulting their king in such a manner .
He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He had won.
And that’s all that mattered.
——————————
Mike was less furious, more exasperated with what he had to deal with.
They had a long day ahead of them, with the last meetings with the dignitaries to wrap up their weeks long heated discussion, with Cellbit having a break through with the spy case, with Quackity getting caught prying around the guest rooms but coming out of it with valuable information in his hand, and with Etoiles bringing important news from his return.
And yet to relay all of this important information, the king was nowhere to be found. Not in his chambers, not in his study, not in the dining room, not even in his lab. Though Mike kicked himself for not checking up on the king’s favourite addition to the castle first thing in the morning.
And sure enough, there he was.
The room stank of sex, which Mike recoiled from after unlocking the door with his own set of master key, and had to take a fresher breath of air from the outside before entering. The concubine stirred first, grumbling and pulling the curled up king closer to him. As Mike got closer, he was more unfazed with the sight before him. Seemed like he had to notify Pac’s bedchamber servants to prepare his usual bruise covering makeup and bottles of painkillers to be served before breakfast.
Sighing loudly, the royal advisor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease away his upcoming migraine. “Your highness,” he spoke, tone louder than necessary as his voice echoed loud enough for both of them to stir awake.
Fit at least had the audacity to look ashamed of himself, but Pac merely yawned and grinned at his unimpressed brother, “Bom dia, Mikey,” he said, voice concerningly hoarse.
Great, now soothing honey lemon tea was added to his list of things to notify the staff.
“You have an important meeting today, your highness. Quackity has requested breakfast together as he found “something useful”, he says, some that could give you leverage to closing up these dealings. Also Cellbit has made a breakthrough in his enigmas and is seeking for your audience after the meeting. Etoiles would also like to report to you regarding his recent journey as you know, and—“
He was rudely cut off by a whining groan as the king turned away to bury himself in between his concubine’s chest. Fit gingerly wrapped his arms around the king and looked at Mike like how a guilty dog would look.
“Pequi,” he warned, “I was running around this castle looking for you like a mad man since the crack of dawn. Now get up, or I’ll have Bagi drag you out instead, because I’m not handling you until you are scrubbed clean from whatever it is you were doing last night.”
His threat of getting reinforcements rang true, as he left the room swiftly after, leaving the door open for anyone to pass by and get a glance. Pac sighed, giving one last nuzzle against Fit’s pecs before actually getting up.
They shared a hiss as Pac pulled away from his attachment with Fit’s cock, the sensation of dried cum left much to be desired. Still, he scooted to the edge of the bed before standing on shaky legs. Groaning as he does so, hands on his lower belly, cradling something and processing it before turning to look at Fit again.
“I will see later in the evening, Fit,” he said simply, leaning down to grab at the abandoned leash that was still clipped to Fit, pulling the still groggy man closer to him, “I’m so proud of you, I always knew you were special, but you proved it to me so well, Fit.”
He pulled him to a kiss, not full of lust and dripping with want like the ones they usually share, but something sweet, almost promising. Gentle enough that it had Fit chasing after his king’s lips after they broke away. Pac giggled, amused with his reaction. He gave Fit one last scritch at the back of his ears, just like he always liked, and clipped his leash and unbuckled his collar as swiftly as he put it on before.
Fit sat dazedly as Pac gave him one last peck on his temple before grabbing his discarded robe and leaving his room, limping slightly before he closed the door.
Left with only silence and slivers of dawn beginning to filter into his room, Fit collapsed back onto his bed, cringing at the disgusting feeling of last night’s remnants. He wondered what would be next for him. Surely he wouldn’t be let off scot-free, right? And what did Pac meant, when he said that he’d always known that Fit was special? In what way?
His questions remained unanswered as his gut churned in anxiety. Feeling like it was probably his last day on this mortal realm, he sighed again before getting up, strip the the dirty sheets and finally taking that shower he’s been craving since yesterday.
fuga pac should make fun of fits stamina and get fucked until he cant cum anymore. fit can finger him and eat him out and fill his holes with toys until pac says sorry and begs fit to stop c: pac has more stamina but fit has more experience
full body shiver. yehah.
pac asks him for the worst he can do. and fit asks if hes serious and pac fully is. because he thinks (rather, knows) fit cant go for longer then maybe one or two rounds. (probably calls him some equivalent of old timer, elderly, etc—)
so actually he should save fucking him for as long as he can. fit should just exhaust pac entirely, watching him bounce on toys and his fingers and rub his sore wet cunt over fits thigh and knee as he sobs and sniffles and squirts over his leg….
maybe he eats him out until pacs clit is numb and hes so gaped that fit can get almost his whole hand inside pac just to rub at his gspot
and only after pacs weakly trembling in his arms, eyes hazy and drooling, does fit slide into his messy puffy hole and cum so deep inside him that pac sees stars behind his eyes and just breaks into tears again and apologizes over and over . maybe fit slaps his ass as he cums right up against his cervix because damn right. pac was being a brat
once fits done like . DONE done- pac practically slumps over in his arms, still shaking with aftershock
(it takes a lottt of aftercare afterwards fjsjfjf.. i feel like fpac never takes any of fits warnings about who he was and how brutal he can be because hes met fit After qpac and his son softened him sooo much. and well fpac thinks hes the worst of thr worst. so. leads to a lot of revelations about ohhhh fit can be reaaaally mean when he wants to be)
Not really horny, I just think it would be entertaining to watch a boy squirm and cry while an automatic dildo fucks into him for an hour or maybe even two
i think all women deserve the right to dress however they want, whether it be modestly, topless, fully nude, obscene, or anything else or in between.
i just ALSO think that after they leave the house trans girls should be allowed to alter cuntgirls outfits however they want. and they aren't allowed to "fix" it until they get home.
if a tgirl says "give me all your clothes" to a cuntgirl then she's walking home naked! doesn't matter who she is or what she was wearing.
if a tgirl hands a cuntgirl a pair of cum-soaked panties and says "wear these" she has to until she gets home.
and, of course, if a tgirl says "you should wear a cum facial, a creampie, and a vaginal plug to keep it in, and nothing else"
Making my roommate constantly cockwarm me because I don't want to deal with the clean up.
I'm scrolling on my phone and just let out a mild "mmph" as I shoot another load of thick cum into their hole as the pup tries to keep from moving too much or else they'll cum for the 6th time this hour.
Whenever they move too much to ignore I sigh and bend them over to roughly slam fuck them until they cum and stop twitching from overstimulation. Then I keep my thick gock buried in them while I go back to watching tv <3
