Marking your puppy!hybrid is a good way to ease their anxiety!
Leaving bites on his neck and shoulders, rubbing yourself against him or spritzing your perfume on his skin, all of it assures him that he belongs to you.
Of course, you belong to him as well.
Any other hybrid male can smell from a mile away that your panties are soaked with his cum, and he’s scented you obsessively. Your neck and shoulders are covered in hickeys and bites, so much so that it’s hard to hide.
Now if your puppy!hybrid is super possessive, he’ll piss on you or your clothes. Don’t worry, with a wash you won’t be able to tell… but every other males will. It’s the ultimate way to mark your territory, and you belong to him, don’t you?
A step further is pissing inside of you… but who knows if your pup is confident enough to ask?
The key clicks in the lock far too softly for what awaits beyond.
Sylus, your cat, with its pristine albino fur, is a feline fit for royalty, with ghost-pale lashes and eyes the colour of dried blood. The red gem dangling off Sylus's collar glints in the dim light of your hallway as he stares at you. He looks, as always, entirely too knowing.
Instantaneously, you are greeted by a brush of fur against your calves—soft, thick, expectant. He weaves through your legs gracefully, yet each pass is charged with something sharper, something that screams resentment. You can feel it in the tightness of his body, in the purposeful flick of his tail against your leg, and the low chuff of disapproval from deep in his throat.
It isn't affection. No, this is an interrogation.
"Sylus," you sigh his name before bending to remove your shoes. "Don't be dramatic."
He meows then, almost in protest. Accusatory. Even as a cat, his voice has a specific gravity, a low-pitched echo that makes your spine straighten more than you would like to admit.
"And don't start." You step over him as you try your best to ignore the weight of his gaze. "It was one evening."
Sylus follows, his tail twitching in irritation while he seems to glare at you like some disgruntled ex.
You have only been gone for a few hours; it was one evening spent with your friend… and her cats. Harmless, innocent—or so you thought.
But the moment you cross the threshold of your apartment, Sylus moves like a living question mark, silent and simmering. His nose brushes your hand, your wrist, your thigh, his scent glands marking you anew with obsessive diligence. Every pass reeks of jealousy, every brush against your skin a wordless demand: why them, not me?
"You absolute menace," you accuse with a pointed finger directed at your cat.
He chirps at that, a tiny, delighted noise that seems utterly smug.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
Sometimes, it truly feels as though Sylus understands you and communicates with you on levels that you shouldn't even try to explain to any sane mind.
The only sanctuary from your annoying cat is the bathroom, specifically the bathtub. Sylus hates water, the steam fogging up the room, and the lavender scents you sometimes use for deep relaxation a ward against your overbearing cat.
But not tonight, no, of course not tonight.
Just as you let your clothes fall to the floor, shedding them without much thought, you realise his presence. Perched on the edge of the tub like a gargoyle, Sylus stares at you. His large paws are perfectly balanced, while the red pendant still swings ever so slightly after his jump.
"Seriously?" you mutter before sliding into the water with a sigh. "What is your problem tonight? Stop staring at me, go, go play or whatever!" You practically snap at him by now with how perceived you feel.
He blinks slowly, judgementally, like you are the one being unreasonable. Like he can see straight through you.
"Are you going to stare at me the whole time? You hate water." The reminder makes you hesitate momentarily as you lift your hand dripping with bath water and contemplate throwing a few droplets in Sylus's direction.
No, no, you can't do that to him. But what you can do is turn the music up and let the soft tunes lull you into a faux state of relaxation. You fiercely attempt to ignore the heat of Sylus's gaze, the intelligence swimming in those uncanny eyes.
Eventually, he leaps down and pads out of the bathroom with another flick of his tail.
Finally, you exhale deeply and busy yourself with your routine. Sitting up, you begin scrubbing away at your arms and your shoulders. The heat is relaxing, the scented oils divine, but your shoulders won't unclench. Not fully.
Then, something drops into your bathtub, and not just the bar of soap that slips from your hand.
No, it is a presence. Something, someone slides into the water behind you. Familiar and foreign all at once. Before your startled gasp can tear free, strong arms wrap around your waist, pinning you back to a chest that is wet... human.
His voice vibrates against your neck like a low curse: "You let them touch you."
You freeze, your blood roaring in your ears. Sylus's mouth is at your nape in an instant, the breath he exhales dragging slow goosebumps across your skin. Every inch of you is suddenly aware of him; of the fact that Sylus (your cat) is no longer simply a little monster of soft paws and sharp eyes. He is a man now.
A man with cat ears twitching atop his head, fangs catching the edge of his lower lip and a white tail lazily curling around your thigh beneath the water.
And he is holding you.
His tongue flicks out against your nape. "You reek of them," he whispers, and you can practically feel his lips shape the word against your pulse point. He isn't angry, not exactly. He is... hurt. And far more than that, hungry. A hunger that has been restrained too long, hidden behind the mask of a domestic companion.
"Did they get to sit in your lap, too?"
You try to twist, face him, shove him away, or scream—you aren't sure which. But his arms only tighten, wrapping around you like the possessive choker around Sylus's neck.
The weight of him behind you is overwhelming. Wet hair brushes your shoulders, his nose is now buried against your skin, and he nuzzles along the slope of your neck.
"What's wrong, sweetie? Cat got your tongue?" he mumbles almost smugly, with desire hidden behind those words. "You're usually so talkative…" Sylus encourages you to speak as his nose nudges against your jaw, and fluffy strands of a shapely shag fall into the frame.
"I've let you pretend I was just your pet," he murmurs while those glaring crimson eyes come into view to pin down your wide-eyed stare. "Your sweet thing that curls up and purrs and waits. But I've waited enough."
His fingers drag slowly over your stomach, splayed wide across his territory. He isn't rough. But there is no gentleness in it, either. It is a certainty. A power shift that has been building for months, unnoticed or ignored, until now.
"You're mine," he breathes. "And I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
Your skin burns beneath his touch, and your heart thunders behind your ribs like it is trying to escape. But a part of you, the deepest, darkest part that has watched those strange eyes track you for so long, that part thrills at the finality in his voice.
He isn't going to let you go. And some secret place inside you doesn't want him to.
His hand, now splayed against your side, traces the warmth of uncharted territory without a hint of hesitance. Every brush of his fingertips leaves behind a slow-burning trail, claiming more than just skin.
"S-Sylus–" You mentally curse yourself for the stutter, for the way your heart seems to flutter because of your … pet. "You're naked, you—" You start to resist with a body taut from panic and a desire you don't want to admit.
"I'm always naked under all that fur," Sylus simply purrs into your shoulder. "You never seem to mind."
He presses his face deeper into your nape, breathing you in with obscene slowness. Every inch of him, long-limbed, bare-skinned, deliciously warm, moulds to your back while his scent wraps around you possessively.
"I should punish you," he whispers. "But I think this will do."
He mouths at your shoulder, slow and lazy as if savouring the act of marking you. Your skin blooms with heat where his teeth graze, and a pulsing sting remains.
You shiver from the way his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his breath almost too warm, too close, as if he is still half-feral, restraining the full force of himself only because he delights in drawing it out.
"Do you even realise what you've done to me?" Sylus murmurs, voice low and rasped with emotion, nose pressing into your damp hairline. "All this time… watching you pet other creatures, speak sweet to them, let them on your lap…"
He trails off, the sentence disintegrating into a low growl of frustration and longing. One palm presses flat against your sternum, its fingertips brushing the swell of your breasts while the other, bolder, hand moves to your lower stomach, slowly reaching between your thighs.
Sylus pulls you back further into him, into his space, his scent, his heat, until you are caged without being held too tightly.
You can feel it, then. The way he inhales you, simply breathes you in like it is an addiction, and he hasn't had a hit in far too long. His tongue, warm and rough, darts briefly over your skin, tasting, claiming, marking. It sends a jolt through you, enough to make you squirm, and he chuckles low, pleased and utterly smug.
"Get out," you try to say, but it is a whisper. It is a lie.
Sylus chuckles at that—a purring, vibrating sound in his throat as he only pulls you into his chest tighter.
"Not a chance. I'll rub you raw with my scent if I have to," though he is only half-teasing. "Until there's not a trace of anyone else left. Just me. Only me."
"Sylus..." your breath catches however as you feel the sharp hint of fangs hovering over your neck, not yet piercing, just grazing, as if to remind you exactly of what he is. "Please, what is happening!?" Is basically nothing more but a whine that echoes off the bathroom tiles as you once again try to wriggle yourself free.
His cat ears twitch in response to every tiny gasp you make, every breath he draws out of you.
And when his mouth trails down your shoulder, dragging over bone and muscle with almost worshipful intent, he murmurs, "I could map you with my teeth if you'd let me. Say you'll let me," he urges with a nudge of his nose against your nape. "Hm?"
"Just, please… be gentle," you whisper before you can stop yourself.
The way he purrs at that, so loud, so deep, it feels like it is coming from inside your own ribcage. A vibration that doesn't stop at just sound but echoes through every nerve, every wet inch of skin touching his.
"You've just said my favourite thing," he groans, mouth returning to your neck like he means to write his name there. "Now, let me prove it."
You really should have known better. You don't just adopt a cat. A cat adopts you.
cw: teacher/student, age gap; reader is fem and freshly 18/19 (she could be older due to a birthday, staying back etc.. it's dealers choice) & Deku is early 30s, established toxic relationship, ooc deku, cockwarming, body marking/writing, minimal aftercare. unedited per use, lmk if I mistagged or need to re-tag!
teacher deku fucking marking you up with a red sharpie bc you were being a brat all class so he makes you wait all tied up until after he's done grading and a la marking the answers on a test that were wrong in red he draws and arrow from your cunt to your mouth. the arrow glows bright red and burns with the weight all the bratty things you said.
Your inked in red from between your tits all the way to your ankles like a branding "be still pet, you know Im trying to teach you a lesson"
then he makes you cockwarm him while he lesson plans until he wants to use your throat to cum all over your face and make even more a mess out of you & your makeup and send you back to your dorms with minimal aftercare. only caring enough to clean you up 😝
tags. (18+). read part one here (optional), fem reader (she/her), mutual pinning, childhood friends to lovers, modern au, primal play, marking (biting), unprotected sex, he cums inside, breeding kink, lowkey exhibitionism, praising, pet names (bunny, puppy, sweet girl, good girl), spit as lubricant, clit slapping, aftercare. — wc: 2.8K
In the darkness of the forest any sound in the distance is heard as Sukuna. Your mind plays tricks on you and turns the sound of your breathing into footsteps and the distant bustle of people into voices.
Out of the corner of your eye you think you see a shadow moving around. Without leaving your hiding place you cling to the trunk of the gigantic tree and peek around the sides to check that no one is really there.
You swallow saliva to eliminate the dryness that fear has caused but you find your mouth dry and your throat uncomfortably tight and, when you pay attention to your back, you realize that the world is silent for a brief moment to allow you to hear a branch breaking under the weight of a predator.
Sukuna is nearby, he was running or walking behind you and was going to catch you if it weren't for the dry leaves that give him away. You flee from your hiding place like a slippery rabbit, being careless in your steps and alerting your pursuer to where you are headed, you run in a straight line, hitting branches and small bushes that cross your path. You no longer cared about being discreet, he is close and you need to put distance between you as fast as you can.
As you move deeper into the large trees their canopies cover the sky more and more. You realize you are so far away from the city that you barely hear the festival which makes you feel uneasy and fearful.
You could give up and let him win, yet there is an insistence inside you that pinches you to keep running regardless of the discomfort of your non-running shoes.
"Do you want to keep running, little bunny?" you suddenly hear from behind a tree, you look in all directions in the gloom and your eyesight tires as you try to search for a body in the dim presence of light.
Sukuna could be anywhere.
"I can smell you, you know?" his deep voice is an echo in the abyss of darkness. So you cling to the tree, your nails digging into the wood trying to hold on to something tangible to help you stay in the present, to pay attention to your senses and focus. Though you didn't understand what he meant by what he had said. "I can smell you..." he repeats, closer this time and it's as if you feel his presence above you like a suffocating thick aura, you're frozen in that moment. "Your fear, your excitement. I'm going to find you and it's okay, you can admit you want me to catch you, I know you're anxious to know what will happen when I do..."
It was only a matter of time before he caught up with you, you knew it, you hear his voice closer and closer so your survival instincts lead you to the last logical reason for that moment: you have to climb the tree.
"Why don't you be a good girl and come out? You're making it so easy for me."
You hear his words before you can feel him, blowing hot air on the back of your neck as his claws drag you away from the tree pulling at your waist. You scream trying to struggle against him but any tantrum you can muster becomes insignificant in his presence, his stronger arms cover yours and your kicking feet are suspended in the air and in one sudden movement you both fall to the ground.
Your body kisses the earth with little delicacy in a rumble, you don't feel the sting of the stones from the amount of adrenaline coursing through your blood as Sukuna continues to sink his weight on you. There are branches and leaves in your hair and caught in your clothes (now dirty with mud), after a while of struggling in vain you convince yourself that he really has you. Just like when you were children, just like when you struggled until you had no strength and Sukuna only teased you... he re-enacts the scene.
Your hands are trapped painfully on your lower back as he pulls his body closer to you, his face lowered to your neck, his voice hoarse and broken from the chase mixed with adrenaline.
"Gotcha," he teases.
You swallow your pride and drop your face to the ground to rest, your cheek sinking thanks to the tiny stones and at the same time you are grateful for the coolness they bring which manages to soothe your burning a little.
"What do you want?" You were referring to his prize.
Sukuna's throat makes a sound you can only categorize as a growl. He almost sounds like an animal, while you close your eyes and enjoy the sting of his grip on your wrists.
Sukuna struggles to be sincere or hold back, alternately squeezing and releasing your hands to release pressure, he swallows before responding.
"I want to mark you. That's my prize."
"Mark me?" You repeat the words, confused. Choosing to ignore what his words really denote.
You are aware that this is not what you would do with any of your friends. By this point you would have stood up, you would have shaken the leaves out of your pants and laughed at the scream you gave when he caught you however this was not what you wanted, you needed to know what his limit was, what yours was.
"I want to bite you. Mark my teeth into your skin, I want people to ask you about it and tell them what a sore loser you are."
Sukuna snorts hotly at your neck, a puff of air exhaling self-control (which hangs by a thread). You force yourself not to thrust your hips into him and instead you give him your throat like the good loser you are. You tilt your neck sideways, showing him the soft skin to mark.
"Tell me if I'm being too rough," Sukuna manages to mumble, before closing his eyes and sinking his teeth into the area in the middle of your shoulder and neck without wasting any time.
You groan involuntarily at the sensation, he pushes his hips hard against you dragging your body a little under his weight. It's the first time you realize he is enjoying this as much as you are.
It's at that point you wish you had your hands free to pull on his pink strands and push him into you.
"Harder," you ask as you realize he wasn't biting you, his mouth was hovering above your skin, showing you only the feel of his teeth.
You swear you can hear him curse with the next growl that vibrates his vocal cords and without wasting any time he digs his teeth into you until it hurts, you gasp, being absolutely certain that it would leave a mark that would remain on your skin for about two, three more days.
The area that has been bitten burns, you feel it throbbing under the tender kisses he gives your injured skin and it is as if he is trying to make it feel better.
Your pants become uncomfortable, as does the posture of your hands which begin to feel ants scurrying around them and uncomfortable as your sticky panties sink annoyingly into your slit with every involuntary movement of your thighs or hips.
His lips are soft with each new kiss, carrying butterflies in your stomach and a little lower each time you feel the piercing in his lip tingle on your skin. Sukuna occasionally uses his tongue in swirls until the burning sensation is less intense than the flares that seem to burn your skin.
Sukuna pushes against you again, his erection restrained against the tight jeans feels annoying. I'd like to rip them into a thousand pieces, I'd like to rip your shirt into a thousand pieces, is all he thinks about— marking your collarbones and following the stroke across your breasts and tender nipples.
Your bodies begin to rock against each other, at first it could be interpreted as him fixing the grip of your wrists on your back but soon the friction doesn't feel so innocent. Sukuna is increasingly rubbing harder and harder, a little more needy while you on the other hand find yourself playing along by raising your hips in search of feeling something more.
However the pleasure is static, Sukuna realizes this will go nowhere when his cock starts to ache and frustration makes him moan.
"I need to take you," Sukuna speaks, finally breaking the silence.
"Do it." You reply almost immediately in a raspy voice, choking on another inhale.
He seems to regain that confident, assured personality you seemed to have forgotten, very caught up in the moment. Sukuna chuckles.
"Here? In the forest? Are you sure?"
No, you weren't. You were in the middle of nowhere, darkness surrounding you from every corner not knowing who might be lurking from afar but if he didn't touch you you were sure you were going to explode and his heat, the hardness of his body pressing against yours, his defined abdomen sweaty, sticking to your back and the hardness of his cock in your ass were all that mattered now.
"Yes," you say dryly, catching a moan between your teeth and lower lip.
"Ask me."
"Take me. Fuck me, I— I couldn't be more sure."
Sukuna doesn't make you beg anymore. He just needed to hear you be sure you wanted this as much as he did.
Then he lets go of your hands finally which take a moment to realize they are free and that there is blood running in them again to bring them to each side of your trembling body. His languid fingers are on the button of your pants pulling it halfway down along with your panties and almost immediately you feel his fingers plunge into the wetness of your pussy.
You both moan in unison. Three of his fingers explore the expanse of your folds up and down as you raise your hips to give him more access to your core and your face gets a little more lost inside the stones that now feel almost non-existent, any pain is overtaken by pleasure.
His rough fingers stumble over your clit and play with it for a while, back and forth and up and down with a flat hand until your arousal spills down your thighs and makes a mess that manages to be heard like a wet echo in the abyss of silence.
"Can you hear that?" Sukuna asks lewdly, more to himself really. With his free hand he spreads your ass cheek apart to get a better view of the poor sight the moon was giving him of your pussy. "Hm?" He again insists and not content with the amount of lubrication naturally produced by your body, he spits directly into your pussy taking you by surprise. "I'm going to put them inside..." he warns you, almost without giving you time to process his words, two fingers find themselves forcing their way inside you, scissoring inside your tight hole until you feel it relax enough to take a third. "Fuck. You're so tight."
You wanted to reproach him that it was because his fingers were too thick and maybe it was because he was fucking you with three of them but the words were cut into little pieces as you felt your orgasm hit you without warning.
Your body jerks under his expert touch as his fingers continue to massage you through the waves of pleasure and his free hand pampers your back up and down.
You moan as you feel his fingers leave you, your painfully empty and sensitive pussy waits patiently as Sukuna undoes his belt and jeans down to his thighs. You hear him unzip and fix his posture behind your back. You were ready, waiting with your heart beating fast for him when he takes your hand and pulls it behind you in his direction, you stutter his name.
"Put it in." Sukuna commands. You say his name again, each syllable melting in your parched throat. Each time you call his name it seems as if a stream of pleasure hits your clit. Your fingers curl around the shaft and immediately you feel it throbbing. At that moment you hate being in the dark because you want to see him, to see his expression, to see his cock slowly slide into you and stretch you. "Put my cock in, sweet girl. There you go," he praises you sweetly, a contrast to the person he was a couple of minutes ago.
The fat head stretches your hole tentatively as Sukuna spits a second time. With another thrust from you and with the help of your hips moving back he slides easily and slowly into you, allowing you to appreciate every inch until Sukuna bottoms out and you let him go to fix your posture on the bed of rocks and leave him while he begins to pound you.
His hips are heavy every time he thrusts inside you, pounding your ass intensely as his fingers aimlessly snake up your thighs until he reaches your plump and sensitive clit, Sukuna nips it between his knuckles then slaps it a couple of times laughing when he hears you moan and finally stimulating it in circles.
Sukuna crawls along the length of your back to press his body to yours, his mouth is on top of his bite where he leaves a kiss before murmuring in your ear, "Can I cum inside?" your body responds physically, your swollen nipples inside your t-shirt ache, your pussy squeezes around his heavy dick. "Are you going to let me mark this pussy too? As part of my prize, hm?" You stammer an intelligible reply to what he grumpily responds by patting your tender clit to get your attention. "Focus. You want my cum in your pussy? You want me to breed you? But you have to be a good girl and take every last drop... It's a yes or no question, puppy. Use your words."
"Yes, please! Yes."
How could you tell him that was all you could think about? That it was all you could think about since you realized you were in love with him? Even though you didn't have to say it now, Sukuna knew. So your few words were enough to make him understand that you needed this as much as he did. So within a few more thrusts you feel him jerking inside you, choking his grunts into your neck as he massages your clit helping you climax soon after.
Breathless and gasping for air, his cum sliding out of you, he lets himself fall beside you though he regrets it when the stones hurt his back and he whimpers, you laugh and he helps you closer to him, squeezing you to his body as if he never wants to let go.
As you breathe in silence his heart stops being a violent drum to return to a quiet melody, similar to yours which unlike him is still somewhat unrestrained thanks to his gentle touch on your forearm and back and sudden kisses on your hairline that carry tickles all over your back.
With the sky above your heads showing you a million stars that look like polka dots, with the cool breeze biting your skin, making you shiver every now and then against his body— your eyelids start to give way from his constant pampering.
"I like you," Sukuna admits, interrupting the silence, his confession laden with raw sincerity, and though his words come with his trademark calmness and assurance, his heartbeat says something different. "This... it wasn't just about fucking you," he adds.
"I like you too. I thought it was obvious," you confess a little sheepishly. Ironic, after the events that recently transpired. Although it was always harder to bare your soul than to bare your body.
"I mean, it was but I was also afraid I was imagining things," with a low chuckle, sukuna pulls you closer to his body.
You lean in to look at him, for a moment he purposely ignores you until he decides to return your gaze and silently cup your cheeks. His fingers push your skin until your lips stand out in an exaggerated pout and he moves in to leave a quick kiss which you catch and deepen, tasting his lips for the first time, melting at the sensations of having him suck and bite your bottom lip.
"Do you want to go back to the festival?" Sukuna asks, in a somewhat sleepy voice.
Pairing: Loid Forger (he's a werewolf) x Fem! Reader (she's a vampire)
CW: Selfship-coded. Blood mention, soft smut (p in v, kissing), knotting, marking
WC: 1K
Notes: Thank you, @blackfire2013, for always indulging me in my au's. This one is always going to be a favourite. I also blame Ali Hazelwood for putting this brainworm in my head.
MDNI - 18+
You're the sole vampire; presumably, you should be dead, as your maker is nowhere to be found. You don't have any family or anyone that you can even call family. When you met the Were on that foggy evening, you didn't know they would become family. Not in the traditional sense of mothers, fathers, or siblings, but someone that you kept close to your heart.
Loid Forger, codename: Twilight. He had seen his share of horrors, but ultimately proved to be a skilled leader. He was a trusted member of the WISE pack; he was efficient in scouting and able to sniff out suspicious characters in an instant. When you crossed paths with him, you were not ready to open yourself up to him.
He had never met a vampire; he didn't know if he could trust you. He was told as Were that vampires are mortal enemies. However, you were alone. You tried to pull him into a thrall, but you were too weak. In his Were form, he pulled you by your ankle, dragging you through the forest floor. Your hair was covered in leaves and dirt, but it didn't matter. He brought you to a shed, leaving you for dead- or so you thought.
Unable to feed for days, you passed out from exhaustion. When you awakened, there was a bag of blood on your side, but there was no Were in front of you. You were met with a man with the most beautiful, cerulean eyes. They were disarming, and the threads of fate were slowly forming. You were alone for centuries, and for the first time in your life, you felt that someone was waiting for you.
He was suspicious of your motives at first; how could a vampire just randomly wander into his territory? You were wandering through the Earth on your own, just biding your time through this eternal existence. He interrogated you nightly, asking where you came from and who you were affiliated with. You met him with disdain, causing your own heartache.
"I don't have to answer anything to you."
"You do." He growled. "I need to know what business you have here."
"None. Thank you for the food, but I can go on my way."
"No, it's too dangerous."
"How do you know?"
He didn't understand the hesitation about why he couldn't let you go, but he wanted to keep you here. He should've taken you to his house, where he could keep you safe from the dangers of the world. He knew all about them; he was an outcast, but he became useful. He was trusted; he could look after you.
You attempted to leave him once, and it put you in mortal danger with an enemy pack. Through the bloodshed, he kept you safe. He shifted back, walking away with a scratch that ached to be tasted. When you fought your instincts, he softly said, "Go ahead." This act of tasting his blood became addicting, but you tried to control yourself. A moment of savouring each other became much more; your bodies urged you to go further.
He took you right there on the ground. He ripped your clothing apart, licking and biting every part of you. When your bodies connected, you knew you couldn't be apart from him ever again. He realized then that he was searching for you as well; he chased his release as he caressed the hills of your body, craving to mark you as his. When his peak climbed, he asked you in the most gentle way possible if you were ready. You nodded.
"You have to say it." His voice was raspy, aching with need.
You felt his knot swell right there. It burned at first, but it became comfortable; welcoming. He stayed in there, unable to move. He pressed his lips to yours, consuming your cries and whines. Your nails scratched his back as he slowly began to thrust inside of you. He began to bleed, but he assured you that it was alright. He kissed your throat, finding a nestle in between your breasts.
"Right there, please..."
"You sound cute when you beg."
"I hate you."
"No, darling. I think far from it."
He kissed you again, hungrier for you. His tongue traced your lower lip as it explored further into your mouth. You cried again, but no one would hear you. You hungered for more, but you didn't want to be greedy. Although he knew exactly what you were looking for.
"Do it."
"Do what?"
"Take a bite. It's alright."
Without a qualm, you went ahead and bit on the right side of his neck. The metal tang was delicious, with a tinge of spice. He was delicious in every aspect of the word.
"Now are you ready?"
"For what?" Breathless, overjoyed with the one you've been looking for.
"I'm going to mark you. You'll be mine."
"I've always been yours."
His canines sank into your cold flesh. If you had a heartbeat, it'd be racing, but the thrill of him making you his is more than enough. With a slight tilt, you were both cuddling into each other as he remained inside you. Loid Twilight loved how you felt against his warm touch; it was refreshing.
It began to rain, but neither of you moved. Instead, you continued to savour each other, your palates becoming familiar with one another. You knew that you'd always be able to find him, and he'd always be able to find you.
You and Loid spent hours making love before the sun rose. By the time the rain stopped, it was nearly sunrise. As you both rose from the ground, you were covered in marks, but ever the gentleman, he carried you back to his home.
There was a room exclusively without windows, a perfect resting place. He would always sleep outside your room, keeping you safe from whatever and whoever.
For the first time in his life, he was able to sleep soundly. His purpose was to lead, but now it's to protect someone close to his heart.
