Monster that gets into your house while you’re out and decides to make its home there. It will consider the entire house and every permanent item in there to be its own domain and belongings. Including you.
At first, it might move into the basement or attic. You won’t notice it’s there until it decides to enjoy its new toy for the first time. Emerging from its hiding place to pin you down. Mercilessly thrusting and cumming into you without a second thought to your pain or fear. When it’s finally satisfied, it leaves you a cum-stuffed exhausted mess as it slinks back to where it came from. And this is only the first time of many.
Whenever you’re home, you anticipate to be grabbed, fucked, and stuffed at any point no matter what you might be doing at the time, even if you’re trying to sleep. The monster eventually grows bolder, too. It moves out of the basement/attic, maybe sleeping in your living room or even the bedroom with you. Fortunately it has no interest in your belongings, just you and your house. So you get to continue with your day to day life, if only constantly sore from the monster having its fun all the time
Well, until you get pregnant, that is. Maybe you don’t think this was a possibility since you’re entirely different species, but soon enough you can’t ignore the squirming in your swollen belly. The babies quickly grow huge and heavy, and going out in public gets unreasonably hard, hauling around your belly full of inhuman creatures as people stare. Soon enough you can’t even leave the house at all. Barely able to move from the bathroom to the kitchen as the monster’s offspring thrash and fight for more room that your stretched and strained belly can’t give. Each of them are already bigger than a human fetus, and there’s so many of them.
The monster’s behavior changed too, constantly attending to its babies. Not you, just its babies. Constantly licking and caressing your overtaxed belly and feeling its offspring move. You’re too exhausted to push it away, barely able to do much other than groan and whine in bed as the monster licks your swollen belly. And soon after you give birth, it’s back to normal. Fucked and filled constantly, but now with the knowledge that it actually can impregnate you.
This could go on for years. The monster doesn’t plan to leave your house. Eventually you’re being fucked against your kitchen counter, belly stuffed with gallons of monster cum. Thinking about the next set of babies that will soon be thrashing inside you as dozens and dozens of others already fill the house
Monster that naturally takes so long to cum that finishing after several hours would be considered abnormally fast for it
When it first catches you, it’s too strong for you to fight off. Your only choice is to just endure its oversized cock until it stuffs you and lets you go. But you keep enduring, and enduring, and enduring, and the monster never shows any signs of stopping. After it’s fucked countless orgasms out of you, it hasn’t even had one. If there’s a clock nearby, you might be able to tell that you’ve been getting used as a toy for hours and hours, assuming you can still think about anything other than monster dick
You can’t endure forever, as the constant railing exhausts you till you can’t move. And with one more orgasm you finally pass out. The monster’s not satisfied, though. It doesn’t pause for even a second as it continues thrusting away into your unconscious body. You don’t get to truly rest, and eventually you’re woken up by the same rough thrusting that knocked you out. It’s been nonstop for a full day now.
When the monster finally starts to speed up, getting close to finishing at last, even that takes a long time. Even rougher than before for almost a full extra hour before with one more hard thrust and stuff your insides with its seed. One pump at a time fills you fuller and fuller. It feels infinite, but finally it’s done and you get a chance to rest. Well, until you feel its cock throb inside you again. You don’t even have the strength to complain as round 2 starts
Hmm thinking about cnc. Everything negotiated and planned out. Safe word decided.
But then a third party pretends to be me on the phone to my partner. This person tells my partner that I like the idea of a fake safe word that I can say for my partner to ignore. My partner loves the idea as well and they come up with a new real safe word. And the previous real safe word is now the fake one.
I don’t know this. All I know is my partner isn’t stopping when I say the safe word we agreed on before. All I know is my partner is hurting me and I don’t know why they won’t stop.
i love the idea of getting fucked awake. just waking up to a thick cock sliding in and out of me while i’m all drowsy and only able to focus on the pleasure of being filled,, being held face down, legs forced apart and just made to take whatever is given to me while you whisper things in my ear like “such a good little girl for me all the time” and i’m just whining, delirious with pleasure
cock warming but they press a vibrator to your clit, making you cum over and over and over again until they end up cumming from the sensation of your muscles pulsing and spasming around them alone.
I'm having "just the tip" brainrot. Just the tip because it's too big, and even though I'm dripping wet I'm just too fucking small. Too small, until you start working your hips back and forth, just a little bit at a time. Too small, too fucking tight, but it gets easier and it feels like so much that I don't even notice when you slide another inch in, but oh god do you fucking notice, you notice and think "jesus, there's no way I can actually..." and start pushing just a little bit more, switching between looking at my teary face (overwhelmed but not hurting, not really), and the tight little cunt you're working your way into, bit by bit, pulling out just enough to push back in further and really feel it as I open up. So fucking focused on how good it feels that it shocks both of us when your hips hit my ass, making eye contact for an electric second before you grind that much fucking deeper and watch my eyes roll back. Anyway. Just like. Normal thoughts
Rapid preg, but preceded by hours if not days of ominous symptoms.
A feeling of unease, a little bloating, restlessness, simmering arousal.
Then a few stabs of pain, sudden loss of appetite, a sickening need.
And just when it feels like the worst has passed, a foreboding rumbling inside.
It comes from deep inside, but can be felt through the skin. Heard and seen even, when right up close.
The attention, the touch, feels good, but before that feeling can be acted on, the growth starts.
Within minutes, there's an obvious bulge just below the navel. Not much later, it's grown into an undeniably pregnant belly. Three months of gestation pas in thirty minutes. Something is quickening inside, but it's hard to focus with the intensifying waves of pleasure.
It soon becomes clear that there is nothing to be done but sit down and strap in for the ride, hands cupping the swell, head thrown back in ecstasy. In an hour, a perfect curve runs from below the chest to just above the groin, punctuated by a navel so shallow it's in danger of popping out. The movement is obvious now, wild and almost constant.
Soon, exhaustion sets in as the belly reaches its full size and subtly changes shape. Whatever's inside isn't natural, isn't right, and tumbles around like a boulder. Muscles flexing in orgasm are cramping up now, spasming, contracting.
It stops. Finally.
What was a flat abdomen a mere hour and a half ago, has grown into an overripe, bulging gut. Whatever's inside jerks arhythmically, threathingly, every few minutes, but is otherwise creepily still.
Then, with a sudden shift, it sits low, low in the pelvis.
And the whole belly seizes up in a contraction that lasts minutes.
Another follows, then another, but nothing happens for excruciating hours.
By the time labour has outlasted the pregnancy four to one, something finally crowns. It emerges between the legs, slippery and purple-black, and doesn't stop emerging. Several feet of smooth, scaly creature coil up on the floor before its tail slips out.
The emptiness it leaves behind feels wrong, like something corrupted.
The wyrm slithers away.
Hours turn into days turn into years, and the memory becomes a lingering nightmare, a horror story.
Until a bloated belly and a strange need trigger a familiar sense of unease.
werewolf fucking you and holding your hips super tight and flush to their body as they knot you and fill you and when they finally let go, you slide down maybe an inch or so, but of course you're still stuck on the knot; but you can feel the weight of your belly trying to pull you off of it, driving you both nuts with the pull and the ache until they start to roll their hips again...
Okay but what if you held me down while someone else fucked me? What if I screamed and cried and begged you to let me go while you murmured words of praise? What if you told me how good I was taking it, how good I must feel for the other person? What if you stroked my hair and kissed my tearstained cheeks while you kept me pinned and helpless?
Not letting you look away or close your eyes while I rape you because I want to haunt your dreams forever. I don’t want you to imagine it’s some other guy fucking you so that you can pretend it’s him you came for, or so you can pretend it’s not happening. I am here. I am violating you. You came around my cock as you begged me to stop. And you will never be the same afterward.
BRB, starting discourse about how, since one of the basic structural premises of most tabletop RPGs is that other participants can make bad things happen to your character without your explicit buy-in by invoking the correct "rule", and typically the only acceptable way to decline these outcomes is to call a time-out on active play and negotiate with the table (i.e., effectively safewording out), playing Dungeons & Dragons is technically a form of CNC.
Something so deliriously intoxicating about the thought that whoever's fucking your cunt holds all the power in deciding whether they finish inside or not. You can make them promise and swear to pull out and beg and beg and beg them to pull out, but at the end of the day you're the one with your pussy impaled on their cock, they hold all the power on deciding whether to pump your pussy full of cum. You're nothing but a warm, helpless hole to them.
The forest was a beautiful place, backlit by the setting sun, a picturesque peace broken only by the frantic, gasping sobs of a woman running for her life.
Her feet pounded against the mossy ground, her simple linen dress, once the color of cream, was now torn and smudged with dirt and sap. Her chest burned, each breath a ragged, desperate prayer. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away.
“Run, little rabbit! Run!” The voice echoed from behind her, carrying with a chilling, conversational ease. It slithered between the trees, finding her no matter how she twisted and turned. “I can hear you panting. I can smell your sweet fear, pretty girl.”
She could hear the casual crunch of his boots on the undergrowth, a steady, unhurried pace. He was toying with her.
“When I catch you,” he called, his tone conversational, “I’m going to pin you to this forest floor. I’m going to see if you scream as prettily as you run.”
A sob tore from her throat. She stumbled, her hand scraping against rough bark as she righted herself. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic beat in her body. The fear was a physical thing, a cold sludge in her veins, tightening her throat and blurring her vision with tears.
“I’m going to ruin that pretty dress,” he sang out. “I’m going to tear it from your trembling body and use the scraps to gag your pathetic cries. You’ll be my little forest whore, won’t you? My dirty, trembling bitch.”
The vulgarity, the sheer hatred in the words, lanced through her with terror and a fresh wave of helplessness. She pushed harder, her muscles screaming in protest, branches whipping at her face and arms. But his voice was always there, a predator’s purr in her ear.
“You’re getting tired. I can see you slowing down. Your legs are shaking. It’s okay. Just stop. Accept it. You were born for this, to be taken, to be used. A brainless little slut, too pretty for your own good, too desperate to be left alone.”
No, no, no, her mind chanted, a useless mantra against the onslaught. The ground began to slope upwards towards a rocky outcrop she knew had a small crevice. A hiding place. Hope, frail and desperate, flared in her chest. She scrambled up the incline, her fingers digging into the cold stone.
She was almost there. The dark mouth of the crevice was just three feet away.
A hand, strong as an iron band, closed around her ankle.
A scream, raw and shattered, erupted from her as she was yanked backwards. Her body slid down the rock, the rough surface scraping the skin along her knees and palms. She landed in a heap at the base of the outcrop, the wind knocked from her lungs.
He stood over her, a silhouette against the fading light. He wasn’t even breathing hard. A cruel, beautiful smile played on his lips. His eyes held no mercy, only a dark, avid hunger.
“Got you,” he said softly.
She scrambled backwards, a wounded animal, but there was nowhere to go. The rock was at her back. He took a single, deliberate step forward, and then he was on her.
His weight was immense, crushing the air from her lungs. He pinned her wrists above her head with one large hand, his grip bruising. The other hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. She writhed, bucked, kicked, but it was like fighting a mountain.
“Please,” she whimpered, the word barely audible. “Please, no, don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “Don’t claim what’s mine? You’ve been mine since I first saw you. A stupid whore playing pretend. I’m going to see what a terrified, worthless bitch feels like from the inside.”
With a brutal rip, he tore her dress open from neck to waist. The cool forest air hit her exposed skin, and a new kind of terror, deeper and more intimate, seized her. He laughed, a low, cruel sound, as he looked his fill. “Pretty,” he mused, his free hand roughly groping her breast, pinching the nipple until she cried out. “So pretty and so worthless.”
A rough tear and her panties were in tatters, torn of her body unceremoniously. He didn’t bother undressing himself fully. He merely loosened his pants, freeing his erection, already thick and angry-looking. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away, trying to disappear into the moss and stone.
“Look at me,” he snarled, shaking her by the hair. “Look at me while I fuck you, you brainless cunt.”
When she refused, he slapped her, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting, to humiliate. Her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze. He smiled. “Good girl.”
There was no preparation, no gentleness. He positioned himself and drove into her in one brutal, tearing thrust.
Her world dissolved into white-hot pain. A shattered scream was trapped in her chest, coming out as a choked gasp. Her body went rigid, every muscle locked in agonized protest. He was too big, he was destroying her.
He groaned above her, a sound of pure, dark pleasure. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Tighter than I imagined. Clenching around me like a little virgin whore. Is this what you wanted? Hmm? All that running, just to get fucked like this?”
He began to move, setting a punishing, rhythmic pace. Each thrust was a violation, a hammer blow that shook her entire frame. The pain was a living thing, but beneath it, a traitorous heat began to bloom. Her body, submitting to him, started to help his violent invasion, her pussy becoming wet. The obscene sound of it filled the small space between them, mingling with her sobs and his grunts.
He felt it. Of course he felt it.
A monstrous laugh burst from him. “You feel that?” he taunted, driving into her with renewed vigor. “Your worthless cunt is weeping for it. Milking my cock like you were made for it. You are a slut. A desperate, dripping little slut.”
The shame was worse than the pain. Her body was cooperating, betraying her terror, creating a slick, hot sheath for his cruelty. With every deep plunge, her inner muscles fluttered involuntarily, gripping him, pulling him deeper.
“You like it,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “You can’t help it. This is all you’re good for. This is your purpose.”
He shifted then, keeping his brutal pace with one hand still pinning her wrists, the other snaking down between their sweat-slicked bodies. His thumb found the swollen, sensitive nub of her clit.
She jerked as if burned. “No!” she cried, a weak, futile protest.
But he was relentless. He circled her clit, not with any hint of pleasure, but with a precise, torturous pressure. It was agony and stimulation fused into one unbearable sensation. Her hips, against her will, gave a tiny, involuntary buck.
“There it is,” he crooned, his thumb working her cruelly. “There’s the little whore, begging for it. Clench for me. Come on. Milk my cock like the good, brainless bitch you are.”
She shrieked, her body bowing. The dual assault was too much. The hard, deep fucking and the vicious stimulation on her clit short-circuited her terror, overwriting it with a brutal, overwhelming wave of sensation. Her pussy convulsed around him, clamping down in a series of violent, involuntary spasms.
A shuddering release tore through her, wringing broken moans from her lips. It was not pleasure, it was a seizure of shame, a physical surrender so absolute it felt like dying.
He threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound echoing off the stones. “Yes! That’s it! Cum on my cock, you pathetic slut!”
The torture of her clit continued, and the shameful, overwhelming sensitivity after the first climax made the second one come faster, even more intense. She sobbed uncontrollably, her body no longer her own, convulsing around him in helpless, degrading waves of pleasure-pain.
“Aw,” he cooed, his tone viciously mocking. “What a sensitive little clit attached to a stupid whore’s body.”
The overstimulation was catastrophic. She screamed, her body bowing, trying to escape the dual assault, but he held her fast. Every nerve felt flayed raw. Her vision spotted with white and black.
He laughed again, a genuine sound of delight. “Too bad,” he grunted, driving into her with renewed vigor, spurred on by her convulsions. “Your pleasure doesn’t matter right now. Come on, clench that stupid fucking cunt around me, make me feel good.”
Her body, trapped in a delirious cycle of overstimulation, clenched around him uncontrollably with each cruel rub of his thumb, each deep, possessive thrust. She was lost in a haze of pain, shame, and unbearable sensation, her mind finally, completely blank.
His movements became erratic, animalistic. He was close. He leaned down, his lips against her ear. “You’re going to take my seed now, you worthless slut. I’m going to breed this pretty, empty cunt. And you’re going to thank me for it.”
The sight of her, broken and weeping, coming apart beneath him, was the final trigger. With a final, deep, possessive snarl, he buried himself to the hilt and held there. She felt the hot, sudden flood of his release filling her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
For a several long moments, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Then, he slowly pulled out of her, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked onto the moss beneath her.
“A pretty, bred whore,” he said, his voice mean. He leaned down, pressing against her and keeping her still, and for a second, she flinched, expecting another blow. He merely tucked a strand of her sweat-dampened hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her skin softly.
His voice was different when he spoke this time. “Don’t forget who owns you.” The mean, taunting edge was gone, replaced by the familiar, beloved baritone that she fell asleep to every night. The words held a different meaning this time.
She blinked up at him, her eyes wide. The frantic energy of the chase and the brutal coupling was fading, leaving her boneless and buzzing.
“Color?” he asked, his thumb stroking her cheek, wiping away a smudge of dirt.
A slow, wobbly smile spread across her face. “Green,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “So, so green.”
A boyish grin broke across his face, erasing any semblance of the monster from just moments ago. He leaned down and kissed her, properly this time, a soft, lingering press of lips that spoke of reverence, not conquest. “You were incredible,” he murmured against her mouth. “My brave, beautiful girl.”
She nuzzled into his touch, body relaxing into his.
He maneuvered the two of them, situating her more comfortably against his own body, away from the hardness of the rock and the ground. “Did I hurt you? For real?”
“Only in the best ways,” she sighed, stretching languidly, feeling the pleasant aches settle in. “You were… very convincing. I almost believed you didn’t like me.”
He shook his head, a fond, exasperated look on his face. “I could never not like you.”
He shrugged out of shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders, enveloping her in his residual warmth. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into a hot bath.”
He stood, lifting her effortlessly into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She looped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder, feeling every bit the pampered, cherished princess she was.
“You were really mean,” she mumbled into his skin as he began the careful walk back through the woods.
“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You liked it.”
She nodded against him, “But my hair is ruined. I think there’s a small tree’s worth of leaves in it.”
“Your hair is perfect. And I’ll wash it for you. With the fancy conditioner you like.”
“Okay. And can you rub my feet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Also I want a burger.”
He laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quieting forest. “Your every wish is my command, my pretty girl.” He adjusted his grip on her, holding her tighter. “I love you, you know. More than anything.”
“I know. I love you too.”
Note: Sometimes I feel like all of my stories are basically the same thing just with slightly tweaks but then I'm like... yes the world needs more deliciously dark smut with yummy aftercare... and so here I am, providing it 😘
When they finally do it. Is the knight taking the lead or the nursemaid?
I have this image of our nurse telling him that she shouldn't-- they aren't married, it isnt right-- but she keeps touching him, kissing him....
"It's a sin," you whisper.
"Should I force myself on you then?" he whispers back. "Let the sin be all mine?"
With the softest hands, he guides your back to the wall, then guides you around, so your face is pressed against the stone. You could easily move away at any point, but you stay, breathless, letting him gather your skirts up
"No one can blame you-" he whispers. "It'll be all my fault-"
He mumbles with his belt.
"-my weakness for you-"
You press into his touch, moan ask his cock sinks in. when you whimper. he stops, patting your hair until you confirm you're alright.
