Warnings: top sub amab masc reader, dom bottom trans man Rook Hunt, stuffing, emetophilia, undernegotiated kink/scene, sir kink and mommy kink (reader calls Rook both interchangeably), reader goes into subspace, minor dacryphilia, it gets messy
Terms used for Rook: cunt, breasts
THANK YOU TO @pomefiore-visitor FOR THE COMMISSION!!!!! KISSES KISSES KISSES!!! it was so fun to write this <3 though i worry this fic may be like the ring, because you'll never guess who's not feeling well tonight 😔....can a fic be contagious?
“Mon cher!” Rook’s voice cries through your phone. You can’t help but smile at the sound of his voice, even if he can’t see you, “I’ve been exploring the beauty that can be made in the kitchen, I want you to try what I’ve made!”
You hesitate for only a moment, desperately wanting to see him, but no one else. You look to the clock on your wall; it’s late evening, past the time that anyone would be in the kitchen besides him. Then again, most students give Rook his space, whatever he may be up to. Humming softly, you agree to meet him, telling him you love him before slipping out of your dorm to Pomefiore.
The Pomefiore dorm has a small, cozy kitchen. It’s meant to be for hobbyists, storing potion ingredients, and light meals. You’re shocked by the amount of food Rook’s prepared for the two of you. It looks like a 4-course meal.
“Wow,” you breathe, watching Rook put the finishing touches on a batch of eclairs. He’s in his dorm uniform save for his robe and hat, wearing an apron over his clothes, his hair tied up, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You try not to drool at the sight of him.
“Bonsoir mon ami!,” he coos, dropping the piping bag he was holding to meet you in the doorway. He pulls you into a kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “Whoops,” he giggles softly, brushing crumbs off your cheek.
“I hope you’ve got a big appetite,” he muses, letting his hands drift from your face to your stomach, patting your belly gently.
“I do,” you look over his shoulder at the spread, “looks delicious.” Rook smiles at your praise, guiding you to a chair at the end of the table.
“I’m glad you think so, mon cher,” he moves a plate of fruit towards you, “I know this isn’t the most impressive use of my skills, as it’s just fruit I’ve arranged,” he points out each fruit then continues, “I think it’s a perfect beginning to the meal. I put a lot of thought into how these would taste together,” Rook explains.
It’s a marvelous display, there’s no doubt about that, and you eagerly dig in. Rook stands next to you, watching you with a gaze that is just the right mix of loving and overly attentive, occasionally running his fingers through your hair.
“Did,” you begin, first swallowing the food still in your mouth, “did you want some?” Your eyes flirt to the plate, where a few pieces of fruit remain. Rook shakes his head.
“Oh no, I’m full. This is all for you,” you reflexively swallow at his words, despite finishing your bite moments earlier, looking back at the spread of food before you once again. “I put a lot of work into this for you,” he continues, giving you a gentle smile, “I would hope you would try to eat it all.” You look at him, his voice sending a pleasant shiver of arousal through your body from head to toe.
Rook watches you carefully, through lidded eyes. As you continue to press fruit after fruit into your mouth, chewing and swallowing slowly, you remember what Rook told you once, that mid-meal is when creatures are the second-most vulnerable, right after sleeping.
“You’re still hungry, oui?” Rook asks as you finish the last piece on the plate. You nod your head as you swallow,
“Yeah, I wanna keep eating.” You know Rook is more than capable at reading between the lines and catching your drift. He beams at your enthusiasm,
“Sweet boy,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “you make me so happy.” You can’t help but feel flustered at his words, watching as he pushes a plate of gnocchi towards you.
“’s good” you mumble as you chew through your first bite. You go through a similar routine as you eat your way through the plate, with Rook petting and watching you shovel fork after forkful of food into your mouth.
The food you’ve eaten has started to settle within you, and you feel comfortably full. Though you probably should stop now, you can—and certainly will—continue to eat more, especially if Rook keeps looking at you the way he does.
Licking your lips after your last bite, Rook immediately goes to push another plate forward, this one with a Flatbread pizza on it.
You go to reach for it, but Rook stops you by placing his hand on yours, “hands in your lap,” he leaves no room for discussion, “s'il vous plaît.”
Doing as you’re told, you watch as Rook pulls a chair directly next to you, bringing the plate to rest on his lap. He takes a slice into his own hands and lifts it to your mouth.
“Say ahh, mon chéri,” he coos, his eyes twinkling as he awaits your predictable obedience. You open your mouth, letting him hand feed you a slice of the pizza. It’s amazing, if not a bit doughy. Your mouth salivates, your appetite still strong, despite the shrinking capacity of your stomach.
Rook feeds you slowly, making sure you savor it. At some point his fingers get a bit of sauce on them.
“Clean me up,” he breathes, pressing his fingers against your mouth and watching as you take the tip into your mouth, sucking the remnants of food off and leaving him clean. “Good boy,” he purrs, and god you’re glad you’re sitting, because hearing that would normally make your knees go weak.
By the time you swallow the last bite of the pizza you feel like you’ve overeaten. Your stomach hurts and aches, pressing against your pants uncomfortably. It’s now that you notice you’re half hard. With the way that Rook’s been reacting to you eating, and just how good the food tastes, you’re not surprised by your arousal.
“Rook,” you groan softly as he sets the empty plate down and moves to grab dessert. He pauses, sparing you a glance. “My stomach hurts,” you complain softly.
He raises a brow, turning his attention away from the food, so he can place a hand upon your full belly. He’s gentle, looking at you like he’s trying to gauge just how much you can take.
“Poor bébé, does this feel any better?” he asks, bunching your shirt up to reveal your belly, then unbuckling your belt and both unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. Your cock twitches, hopeful that he’ll tug your pants down and free your cock as well. Instead, he leaves you straining against your underwear, hardly paying any mind to your hardness.
“Yes,” you breathe, answering his question. You’re still incredibly full, but at the very least some pressure has been relieved. “Thank you, sir.”
Rook kisses your cheek, and grabs the final dish he’d prepared for you. You expect him to sit back in the chair he’d pulled up next to you, but instead he swings a leg over yours and settles himself down in your lap.
“Oh,” you gasp, bringing your hands to his waist to steady him. His groin presses flush against your cock. You don’t dare try to grind up into him, even if every part of you wants that.
“You can finish this for me, oui?” you swallow at Rook’s words, feeling more than a little intimidated. You nod and Rook clicks his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, “use your words bébé.”
“Yes, I can sir,” a smile settles onto Rook’s face at your words, and he goes to take one of the eclairs into his hand.
You open your mouth for him, moaning at the first bite you take from the eclair. Rook hums, clearly pleased by your reaction. “Good,” you mumble through your chewing, and it is good, but swallowing is getting a bit difficult. It takes you a while to get through the first eclair, but Rook doesn’t seem to mind.
A bit of dread settles into your stomach, along with the more than generous amount of food, as you look to see that you’ve got four more eclairs to get through.
“I know you can do it for me, bien-aimé, you’re doing so well,” Rook praises, as if reading your mind and sensing your anxiety. You groan softly, and let him feed you the next one, slow and steady.
This one goes down harder, and you gag trying to swallow the last bite.
“Can I take a break?” you ask softly; the pastry saccharinely, sickeningly sweet against your teeth. Rook coos, setting down the plate down on the table behind him.
“Of course,” he helps you drink some water before rubbing your belly, and very gently grinding himself against your clothed cock. Despite your discomfort, you’re leaking pre into your underwear, and Rook’s belly rubs—a soft, teasing stimulation— are only adding to your building pleasure.
As you sit and digest Rook goes to undo his apron, untying the back and tossing it to the side. You whine, wanting so badly for him to continue undressing. Rook grins at you, his eyes twinkling.
“Ohh does mon petit ami want more?” you nod your head, and Rook continues, “Want mommy to fuck you? Want to be inside me?” he teases, grinding down on your dick at the end of each question. You whine, pawing at Rook’s hips. “You’ll have to finish your meal if you want any more of me, cherie,” he hums.
“More, I can take more,” Rook gives you a suspicious look, knowing that you’re rushing and pushing yourself. You lick your lips, your stomach is still very over stuffed, but you’re semi confident you can finish three little eclairs now.
“If you say so,” he says as he turns around to get the plate back. He takes one into his hand, and the smell wafting off the pastry makes you woozy.
Along with building nausea, your head feels murky and dizzy with lust, so lost in pleasure and submission that the next two eclairs go down without a problem. It’s the last one that you have trouble with.
Rook brings the last eclair up to your mouth and you whimper, then gag once again.
“Do you need another minute?” Rook asks softly. You shake your head, disliking the idea of stopping but knowing you have a little more left. Opening your mouth, you let him press it slowly against your tongue. Every cell in your body wants two things: to stop eating, and to please Rook. Unfortunately, you cannot have one without the other.
“You’re doing so good, you’re almost there,” Rook reassures you, looking at you through lidded eyes. The clear arousal he’s getting from watching you is the one thing powering your jaw to tear and grind apart the eclairs.
“Done,” Rook breathes as you swallow the last bite, “good boy, mon chou, mon bonheur, ma raison d'être,” he heaps the praise on heavy, peppering your face with kisses. He ends his sentence by pressing his lips onto yours.
Your tongue shoots out between your lips, perhaps on instinct, licking against Rook’s lips. He lets you in immediately, moaning when you explore his mouth.
As he kisses you, Rook returns to rubbing your belly gently as he grinds down, rewarding you by teasing your cock. It’s good, but not enough.
You pull away, just enough so you can whisper, “please,” against his lips.
“Of course,” Rook’s hands go from you belly to your pants. He moves further down your legs, holding your waistband, “lift your hips love.” As you lift yourself up a bit, Rook pulls your pants down. The relief of not having them digging into your belly is immediate.
“Thank you,” you groan, then repeat yourself when Rook pulls your sticky underwear down just enough to take your cock in his hand.
“Guh,” you moan helplessly, jerking your hips and twitching in his hold. Rook’s other hand goes to cup your cheek.
“Oh, my darling you did so well for me. Looked so beautiful eating, I can’t believe you let me watch you eat it all,” he hums, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “Can I fuck you my love? Will you let mommy ride you?” he asks softly.
“Please, please,” you beg, squeezing his hips, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can manage.
“Don’t touch,” he hums softly, then removes himself from your lap to peel off his pants and underwear. He keeps his shirt on, but pulls his sleeves back up to his elbows from where they’d shimmied down. Your cock is hard, leaking, and twitching; it takes everything to not reach down and jerk yourself off at the sight of him.
Rook reaches into a pocket on his apron, and pulls out a small vial of lube, and then he’s back in your lap. You return your hands to his now bare hips, and though your appetite is long gone, you feel yourself salivate at the sight of him.
“Here we go,” he says softly as he slicks up your cock properly. You watch as he uses that same hand to then swiftly press two slicked fingers into his cunt. “I don’t need much sweetheart,” he confesses, looking at you as he opens himself up, “watching you got me so wet.”
So much praise from him gets you flustered and soft all over, so much so you nearly forget how upset your stomach feels.
“Ready?” Rook asks.
“Yes mommy,” you breathe softly, watching as Rook lifts his hips, removes his fingers, and brings them to your mouth.
“Can you clean me off?” he’s giving you an out, but you open your mouth for him. He presses his sticky, cum and lube covered fingers into your mouth as he lowers himself onto your cock. You feel your tip press into his hole as you close your eyes and suck around his fingers.
“Good boy,” he hums, sliding down your cock slowly. He removes his fingers once you’ve cleaned them, and brings both hands to your belly.
As he begins to lift himself up and down on your cock, setting a slow and steady pace, he rubs your skin lovingly, massaging circles into your stomach. “Such a good boy,” he moans, feeling hot, sticky, and wet around your length.
“Ah, feels good,” you groan, squeezing his hips. You lean in to kiss him, moaning and whimpering against his mouth, getting drool on his lips and chin as he picks up the pace.
Rook fucks himself on your cock, and you feel good, but the fact that you overate doesn’t dissipate.
It happens suddenly: Rook presses on the wrong spot, or his tongue reaches too far into your mouth, or maybe it was just a matter of time before the food came back up again.
“Wait,” you choke, saliva pooling into your mouth, your eyes going wide, and then you’re puking on his shirt. It’s just a bit, a warning, giving you enough time to gather your wits and jerk your head to the side, vomiting again on the floor next to you.
“Oh,” Rook gasps, his hands and hips going still. He twitches and clenches around you as you hurl up the last of what he’d fed you, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh bébé,” he coos softly, rubbing your belly as drool pools from out of your mouth and onto the floor. You cough, getting it all out before turning back to look at him.
Tears are welling in your eyes, partly due to the pain that comes with your stomach cramping and straining to puke, partly due to the relief, and partly due to shame.
“Are you okay, my love?” Rook asks softly, kissing your sweaty forehead, cupping your face lovingly. You nod, glad that you’re no longer nauseous. “Good you got it all up,” he hums, pulling back to yank off his messy shirt.
“I’m sorry,” you groan, some tears seeping out of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.
“Non, non, you’ve no need to be sorry,” he assures you, smiling gently, “I’m so sorry I pushed you, darling.”
“You didn’t,” you tell him, knowing full well that you could’ve stopped him at any point and you wanted to keep going.
“Good,” he kisses your cheek, “may I?” he asks, rolling his hips gently. You nod, because while you did feel ashamed for puking all over him, you stayed erect the entire time, your body loving the relief and pleasure from emptying your overstuffed stomach.
“Thank you,” Rook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and immediately returning to a quick pace, his breasts bouncing as he rides you, “fuck, watching you like that— oh—magnifique, merveilleux, très beau,” he gasps.
Another wave of relief hits you as it becomes clear that Rook wasn’t disgusted by watching you vomit. You sink into the pleasure, head going foggy and muddled with lust, no longer ashamed nor afraid. You moan and gasp at the relentless pace that Rook rides you with.
“Gonna cum—mommy—please,” you whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes, tears once again welling up, this time for another reason entirely. Rook groans, twitching around your cock,
“Cum for me bébé, ah, cum for me, you can cum,” he gasps, bouncing on your cock and working himself closer to orgasm.
“Rook,” you moan, holding his hips tight and fucking up into him as you reach your climax. Rook follows quick after you, babbling something in French, groaning your name as your cum fills him. He clenches tight around you, humping himself on your cock, working himself through his orgasm.
“Thank you, thank you,” you chant, the words coming out as whispers. Rook hugs you close to his body,
“Of course, love, you did so well, made me feel so good, such a good boy,” he praises quietly, warming your softening cock as you come down from the scene.
“I’m exhausted,” you finally groan, once your head clears and you return to yourself, pulling away a bit so you can look at him. You’re greeted with a smiling, slightly disheveled Rook, giving you the most tender and loving look.
“Then let’s get cleaned up, oui? I need you to brush your teeth as soon as possible so I can kiss you again,” he muses softly, bringing two lips to his mouth, kissing them, then pressing them against your lips as a makeshift kiss. And maybe it’s just instinct that your tongue peaks out to lick him, or maybe you’re already hungry once again.
service top!amab!reader x power bottom!vamp!vil schoenheit | ft. monster fucking (he's a vampire), stuffing
~3.6k
If you were completely honest with yourself, you weren't sure what led you to the borders of the Land of Pyroxene, or what made you cross them. (Perhaps the better question would be how did you end up there, but the thought didn't cross your mind.)
It was an eerie location, the soil beneath your shoes firm and the air cold enough to make the tip of your nose numb. While it wasn't vacant by any means — as seen by the smoke emitting from many chimneys, there was something about the atmosphere that filled you with the building tension that something was going to happen at any given moment.
By the time you entered what actually seemed like a town — the cobble path covering the ground and lights everywhere — the sun had set, making way for the moon to beam down upon the countless buildings. The town was quiet and everything seemed to blend in together. Your blind venture came with dire consequences. You had next to nothing on your person, little to no knowledge on just what was happening, and most importantly you were lost. The lack of people roaming the very clearly lit town square filled you with frustration. Rather than scream or potentially knock on the house of a resident, you seated yourself upon a wooden bench that looked over a row of stone buildings all separated by dark and seemingly empty alleyways.
Taking the opportunity to collect your thoughts, you buried your face within your hands, becoming dull to the world around you. Making it impossible for you to take note of the figure who emerged from the shadows. Even the clicking of the mysterious figure's heels against the cobble that only grew closer fell upon deaf ears. The being stopped before you, a long, pregnant pause as they merely watched your feeble attempts to calm yourself down. Eventually they grew impatient, this was clearly about to be some waste of time. As the person cleared their throat — you became painfully aware of your situation once more. Panic consumed you, sitting upright and your hands lowering to look at the person who interrupted your little moment.
Great Seven did you look. Was this even real? The person before you — the man was absolutely flawless. His blonde and purple ombré hair slicked back, black painted lips and and those fierce lavender eyes backed up with eyeshadow. his face was structured perfectly, like he'd been a greek statue turned to flesh and blood. Objectively handsome despite the icy gaze that bore into your soul.
"Are you going to continue gawking, or will I have the opportunity to introduce myself?" Even his voice was a gift from the divine. Though now you knew to close your mouth that had remained agape as you had stared at the man before you.
"You may continue." Clearing your throat, you spoke barely above a whisper as you felt your ears burn hot from embarrassment.
"Good." The blonde man seemed somewhat satisfied with your compliance, stepping closer to your seated form. "You're new, I can tell by looking at you. My name is Vil Schoenheit." This was the opposite of welcoming, yet you paid little mind. Someone so handsome took the time to come from — somewhere — to talk to you about something.
"Oh, yes.." You began after introducing yourself. You squirmed beneath his gaze, adjusting your posture and staring back into those eyes. "I'd just arrived not too long ago."
"A foolish time to arrive, no?" Vil was quick to scold you, but you remained confused.
"I'm sorry?" You didn't have much to say, in fact you were dumbfounded by this entire ordeal.
"Don't you know how dangerous Pyroxene is at night?" With the click of his tongue his eyes rolled, he was upset about something. "Yet here you are, roaming all alone. You should be grateful I stopped to help you at all." Help? Just what in the world was he on about?
"I see — Thank you..?" Your eyes wandered to your surroundings. Dangerous? You've really put yourself in a pickle now.
"Do not thank me yet. Come." His tone was demanding of you, your unyielding devotion — to blindly follow. So you did, you didn't have much of a choice, did you? Vil had turned his back to you, cape flowing as he began to walk, heels clicking against the floor with each step. You followed obediently, under the impression he was going to take you someplace to get directions, or a tavern — yet you ventured off the cobbled path with him. You could see little other than the glimmer of the gold accented his luxurious attire. Inevitably you stood before a large home. Of course it was a manor. This man was flawlessly handsome and stupid rich. You've scored — to some degree — but what brought him to take you out to his own home? Said thought plagued your mind as you were guided within the large home, and to a room you quickly realized was a dining room.
It was a strange one at that, a freakishly long table and enough chairs to seat a small army. At each end was a large, throne-like chair, velvet, red with a polished dark oak. Even the interior was breathtaking. You felt no bigger than a mouse as you turned to the man who'd so generously decided to host you. Despite how insignificant and pathetic you felt, Vil pulled one of the end chairs out, gesturing an open palm to the vacant seat. "Sit." And so you did, looking at him as you eased into the comfortable cushion.
"So what's going on?" You finally gathered the brains to question your situation which was most definitely too late. It was obvious in the way those eyes seemed to watch you with an intent you hadn't noticed before. Your mouth felt dry as he approached you at a slow pace, as if you were a cornered prey stuck beneath the looming shadow of a predator mere moments away from striking.
"The reward owed to me for helping you.. You will give it to me, yes?" He questioned, gloved fingers traced your jawline, moving slowly around your chair — circling you. As if to remind you of how helpless you were. Vil wasn't lying about the dangers at night, for the dangers were him.
Your breath hitched as your body tensed, a blush rising to your cheeks. "What type of reward do you seek?" The words slipped out softly, fearful as to what he would respond with.
"You." Oh, Great Seven. You were in for it now. All colors rose to not only your face, but immediately shot to your dick. He wanted you. This rich, handsome man wanted you.
You'd consider yourself nothing more than average, yet here you were — being circled by probably the sexist guy you've ever seen in your life and he wants you as a reward for housing you. "Okay." You spoke in such an awkward way, yet he only seemed to take such a confirmation with glee.
Vil circled one last time, standing before your chair in the gap between it and the table. His cold and almost expressionless face twisted into a tiny smile as the glint of his eyes only grew more dangerous. Was this the right choice? Panic consumed hijacked your brainwaves as your hands gripped the armrests til your knuckles turned pale. Vil only advanced upon you, his smile growing enough to make his fangs visible. Wait — fangs? This just only pieced together some parts of this messed up story, but now he was a monster in all of this, leaving you with more questions than ever.
You could barely breathe as the blonde brought himself to sit on your lap, straddling you. You were certain he could feel the bulge in your pants pressing against his crotch, yet not a single word was spoken of it. "Show me your neck." Vil was commanding, the captain of the ship in your mind. You had no right to deny him anything. Shakily, you pulled your collar down at your shoulder. The space was quickly taken over by Vil's head near the nape of your neck, the cool air of his breath blowing against the skin.
"Calm down, if you survive you won't have anything to fear any longer." How reassuring, he was great at this — wasn't he? You exhaled and closed your eyes, a verbal response would only drag this nightmare on longer. The tension that filled the air was pierced, literally in this sense, his fangs sunk into your flesh as you immediately felt blood being sucked from your body.
There was an overgrown, sexy leech feeding off of you. No fear or panic remained any longer despite the pain that burned throughout your body. Infact, you moaned softly as your hands moved to grasp his ass. Plush beneath your fingers as you gave them a squeeze — eliciting a groan from the vampire against your neck. The experience was near euphoric, your grip upon his form even tighter as you rubbed your clothed cock against him, lust clouding your mind like you were nothing more than an animal in heat. As the warmth slowly left your body you felt the urge to be inside him grow.
Vil fed and fed. You'd heard stories about how vampires sucked their victims til the point of appearing like a raisin — which you were certain was an exaggeration, not to mention Vil confirming you had a chance of survival. At least you won't look like that if you were going to live. Yet this was strange to you, wouldn't he be full by now? It had been some time, you mindlessly grinding against him as you held his ass. Surely your slowly drifting consciousness would say a thing or two — indicate he'd had enough of your blood. Was this yet another lie? Then you noticed it.
His attire was fashioned to fit perfectly to his form despite the many layers covering it, so the growing strain in his midsection spoke a million words. Vil was taking his fill alright. You weren't even mad or worried anymore, only watching as each minute that passed only seemed to bring more of a bulge to his middle. You were growing more aroused by the second by just watching this. What you were sure was a perfect form was rounding out right before you. Your mind took greatly to this information, hands quickly making work to undo the sash wrapped around his waist.
There was no doubt about it now, your half lidded eyes bearing witness to the very noticeable bump buried beneath the clothes, freed from the sash and pressing further strain to his vest. His coat having shifted to either side of his form, unable to remain closed due to the lack of sash and with just how stuffed he'd become.
You'd wished to feel greatly, to roam his body with your hands — but you felt so tired and likely your life fading as Vil had finally moved away from your neck, observing your weakened state. He didn't seem happy about how easily you'd accepted your fate. A scowl plastered on his face as he brought a gloved hand to your cheek, pinching it as some senses returned to you. "H—Huh..?" Your word choice was poor, but at least you were conscious.
"Come now, did you think I would let you off the hook that easily, human?" Vil chastised you, the hand shifting from your cheek to beneath your chin — tilting your head up to look into his eyes. "Not only am I still hungry because of you, but you've done something not one human has done before." He seemed almost amused to admit that last part, his free hand gripping one of your own and placing it against his midsection. What little blood was in your body rushed to your cheeks as they felt hot. Even through his clothes you could feel how soft the flesh was to the touch, his stomach tight from the amount of blood stored within.
"I take utmost care in my beauty, yet here you are, filling me far past the limit..." Vil's tone sounded almost like honey, only fueling your arousal further. "Unfortunately for you, I am still hungry. Your punishment will be to fill me." He spoke as if it were fact, your eyes widening slightly as you understood what he meant.
It seems a lack of fear after his feed was more so the mutual desire for you to fill him up further with your cum. Vil had removed himself from your lap, he began to remove his clothes before you before sitting on the dining table. He looked better than you imagined, toned form from head to toe, now sporting a bloated stomach. The way his hard cock pressed against the underside of his belly made you dizzy from how hard you were at the sight.
Some part of you wished you had far more blood in your body, enough to watch him push himself more and more. The fact your blood did this to him made you proud. So proud that your mind didn't register the vial filled with a liquid being held right in front of your face. "Hurry now, or I may reconsider your punishment." Your mind was lagging behind terribly.
"Right— sorry." You grasped the vial slowly, examining it for a moment. Thankfully, you knew this was lube without him needing him to scold you further despite your state being his fault. Popping the lid off, you poured some out onto your fingers, watching as Vil spread his legs before you and leaned back to expose his pretty hole.
You shuffled closer to him as you plunged two wet fingers into him. A soft moan escaped Vil as he shifted himself closer. Your fingers roamed his hole as you stretched and prepared him. The sight of Vil alone was enough to drive you mad, but the urge to fuck him made it hard to focus on anything else. He was already bothered from your fingers alone, you couldn't wait any longer to see what your cock would do to him.
After another strained moment or two of soft, barely audible noises as you scissored him had passed before you decided enough was enough. You withdrew your fingers, Vil gasping at the sudden movement as his eyebrows furrowed — watching you. You quickly removed your pants, letting them fall to your ankles, boxers following shortly after. Your dick was hard as a rock, pre leaking down your shaft as you placed your hands on either side of Vil on the table. Snaking your hands to his thighs and looking into his eyes. "Please, Vil. Please let me fuck you." Your desperate tone to be inside of him made the vampire raise an eyebrow slightly, his icy demeanor faltering.
"You may, but only enter me for now." You didn't need to be told twice. You poured the rest of the vial onto your hand and rubbed your cock until it was nice and wet. Not wasting a second you lined yourself up with his hole and pushed yourself in entirely. Vil let out the loudest noise yet, tightening around you as his hands held onto the table. You watched him with intent, waiting for permission for anything else. Every urge in your mind screaming at you to rail him until the sun rose the following day. You admired the sight before you, a handsome vampire filled with your blood. There was no doubt he was sexy without the roundness in his middle, but something about it drove you insane.
Your hands moved to his swollen belly, feeling it far better now with him nude. Vil seemed more undone than you anticipated for someone of his mannerisms. Strands of his hair had fallen on his face, his eyes half lidded as his gaze met your own. His lust was as heavy as your own. Out of curiosity you squeezed his middle. "aah—" The blonde was taken aback by the action, a hand placed above yours now. "You are a terribly greedy human.." He observed you before averting his eyes. "Move. Now."
Finally, it took him long enough, your hips jerked forward before you began to pound in and out of him. Your moans were harmonious with his own as they echoed through the large hall you've both decided was the place to fuck him. And fuck him you did.
"Vil— Vil—" His name came out of your mouth over and over as you plowed into him. Your name escaped his own, albeit he almost sounded shy. This only drove you closer to him. Having pulled him closer, practically placing yourself on the table with him as well. You grasped his waist with both hands, planting a kiss on his lips — not caring over smearing his painted lips. As his mouth opened you ravaged it with your tongue. His cold, vampiric form was in contrast to your human warmth, a perfect match was the two of you as your bodies collided with one another over and over again. You pulled your face back to admire your work after you finished attacking his face.
It wasn't long before how close you were was evident, as was his own. His broken moans ringing out as you groaned softly, nails digging into his soft waist. "Vil, I-I'm close– I'm close—!" Your voice cracked with a gasp. Despite all of the work you've done on him, he seemed so tight beneath you.
"Cum." Vil managed to muster through it all. "Fill me—" You came quickly, seeing white as you released your cum into his body, knees almost buckling beneath you as you orgasmed with him. He came only seconds after, seed covering his stuffed stomach and your own.
Your mind was blank as you slowly pulled yourself out of him, panting softly. It was basically the fact one round wouldn't do much in the idea of filling him further. But the two of you were already done for the night by the look on his face and how much the world was spinning around you. "Clean, will you?" The vampire's words were more of a demand than anything, he watched you expectantly. You leaned down and used your tongue to clean his form, not breaking eye contact with him for a single second. You wished to please him and witness the pleasure he felt, greed was only natural after all.
As you finished working your tongue you planted a kiss upon his middle before standing back up and smiling at him. Vil couldn't help but be charmed by you, though a confession of that would be akin to an execution. A soft smile appeared on his face as he shook his head. "You take punishment well, do you? Try not to misbehave or it will get worse." You were no fool, you knew well enough that this was an invite to stay with him at his manor. For how long? Who knows. You were going to take this opportunity though.
"No promises." You joked with him. The cold facade he carried had melted for the time being. It was reassuring to see, knowing you won't be dying any time soon at least. "Let's get you to bed." Confidence filled your tone, though there was no chance in hell you would be making it three feet without falling or running into something in your state.
Vil covered his mouth and laughed softly, shaking his head. "Oh hush." In a true display of his magical capabilities he snapped his fingers, as he stood, a purple silk robe masking his formerly nude body. "You will not be doing anything, schatz." Waving his hand idly, he picked you up as if you were light as a feather. "You are fortunate to have met me of all people. There are others in the night who may not be so kind to you."
Even in your state you wouldn't consider it kindness, he was demanding and he spoke to you like he were royalty — you couldn't exactly say no to someone like that. Rather than speak you rested your head on him, painfully aware of his belly pressing against you. Praying that he wouldn't notice the fact you were growing aroused again.
The vampire took you to what you could only assume was his personal room, laying you in probably the softest bed you've ever felt in your life. Vil joined you after setting you down, allowing you to wrap your arms around him and spoon him.
"One day, could I fill you further than this?" Your thoughtless question made Vil sit up and crane his head to look at you. A scowl was plastered on his face as he shot you a glare. You didn't care though, the moon light against his face made it worth it.
Evidently, the smile you gave him made him back down, scoffing as he laid down again. "Ignoring your current arousal at this moment... I will consider it. Rest. I must have my beauty sleep."
You didn't need to be told twice, you buried your face into the back of his neck and held his middle as you savored the moment, hoping to do it again.
As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but thank fate for giving you such an experience.
Ah! That art of Leona's teeth ... my word. A delectable set of chompers. I would love to play with them 🥰. Then again, I'd just like my fingers in his mouth in general, haha. Whether it's to feel each beautiful tooth beneath my fingers or if I'm going to use my fingers to abuse his mouth until he vomits.
Hehe, I could deal with just watching him eat too...
His mouth is a divine sight!
ughhh yessss!! yesyesyes yes. I wanna run my fingers along the sharp bits of his molars and premolars. drools. I wanna put the pad of my fingers against his canineeeessss n watch him drool hrhabrgh. Or the smooth texture on the back of his incisors brbrbrbrbbr.
And of course I think it would be fun to press into his soft palette and watch him gag <3. one of my favorite things about emeto is salivating before you actually puke, but i think it would be fun to watch leo vomit n see him get all uncomfy and squirm because the acid from his stomach is wearing down the enamel in his teefs.
AND HIM EATING???? OUGHGHNN SCREAMS INTO MY PALMS. I wanna watch his bicuspids pierce the skin of some fruit. oughhugh or his incisors in a really soft piece of BREAD!! dont even get me started on how this guy would eat meat i wanna watch him pull the fibers apart and chew and dskjfksfsdjlfjkkfd i am so abnormal about this guy and teeth and eating you have no idea
Still thinking about the notes about Din being stuffed so... maybe they make it a competition? Fennec with Paz, Boba with Din, trying to see who can take the most of these jelly eggs that they made just for this. Boba and Fennec are not nice coaches. There’s punishment for the loosing team and a reward for the winning one, just can’t think of what. Either way, Boba and Fennec get to enjoy their pets being so, so full, their stomachs pushed out, unable to move by the end.
Ooooh, Paz being stuffed full as well, just now and then, as a treat, let him enjoy that vulnerability and being good for his fellow alphas 😍🤤✨ Boba and Fennec pick the loveliest competitions....
[ @southxparkxafterxdark || Continued From Here || Vern ]
[ Leslie ]
Trust Vernon to use his ultimate powers of schmoozing in order to do something simultaneously sweet and manipulative.
For a second, he wanted to sigh, but he grinned instead. No, as much as he knew Vernon was trying to either mellow him out or get him so full he couldn’t move for a while... Vernon still was doing something nice for him.
“So... The plan is to feed me until either we run out or I beg you to stop, and then we take a nap or something? Darlin’, I don’t really know what you want from me, here.” There it was, the one time that Southern twang came out in his voice, “Just spend time with you?”
Maybe he had been working too much, lately. Finally pushing off of the bathroom door, he sauntered up behind his twin, kissing along the expanse of his shoulders, hands falling to his hips. Pressing in tight, he hugged the other carefully, giving him a soft squeeze. Leslie Cowens was not a gentle man, and he had never truly been one.
But with Vernon, he measured every movement, he calculated every physical press perfectly. It was a chore that never exhausted him, the work he loved and never worked a day in his life.
“You know this is going to throw my exercise routine off for a good day or two.” He whispered against his neck and ear, breath fanning over it, “Are you prepared to deal with me being pathetic?” A pause, “Where are the kids?”
