#miha.cf

[manicsho]

Prey 4 D1ck

In which a smol bunny bullies (his way into the) big pussy.

Bunny!Lohen x Lynx!F!Reader

wordcount: ~7100

TWs: MNDI, yandere Lohen, stalking, obsessive/possessive behavior, non-con touching, graphic violence, he threatens one guy, blood, knife play, kidnapping (sort of), manipulation, predator/prey dynamic (reversed hihi).

NSFW: SMUT-heavy, dub-con, Lohen is a sadomasochist, riding (cowgirl), oral (m and f recieving), face-fucking, cum play, implied heat (reader), collaring, choking, spanking, degradation and humiliation, cum marking, a bit of edging, blood as sexual stimulus, edging, your honor, he's a freak!

(If you find some more, please let me know.)

As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!

NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes. Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Lah– Loh– Ahh~ Lohen–!”

Your broken whimper barely makes it past your drooling mouth before Lohen throws his head back and laughs. This cruel sound echoes through the burrow like he’s just heard the funniest joke in Mondstadt.

“Ohhh, poor little kitten~” he cooes, voice dripping with fake sympathy while his crimson eyes glitter with pure sadistic glee. “Look at you, barely conscious, tongue hanging out like a cheap whore in heat. Pathetic.”

You sob, trying to ride him, weak hips rolling in shallow motions. Your thoroughly abused pussy makes embarrassing squelching sounds every time you sink down on his cock, pushing out thick globs of his cum, dirtying his thighs and abdomen, soaking the blanket. His belt around your throat serves as an improvised collar, and it digs in as he tugs at it, yanking your head forward so you have to look at his pretty, smirking face.

“Aww, is the big bad lynx tired already?” he pouts, voice sweet and condescending. “How embarrassing. I thought predators were supposed to be strong~”

He suddenly bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with enough force to make you cry out. Then he does it again, laughing breathlessly, while more tears strike down your face and you try to bring your trembling thighs together with his lean hips in the way. Vice Captain smirks at the attempt, slapping your bruised bum with two of his palms.

“Too weak, huh? Fine then!”

With one vicious yank on the leash, he pulls you off his cock completely and roughly flips you onto your back. The sudden movement makes you nauseous, but Lohen pays no attention to that. He hooks your trembling legs over his shoulders, folding you in half until your knees are nearly touching your shoulders. Your fluffy lynx tail is trapped awkwardly beneath you, twitching weakly, fur matted with cum leaking out of you.

“Here ya go,” he growls, eyes wild and manic as he lines his aching cock back up with your leaking entrance. “Nice and open so I can breed you like the dumb bitch you are.”

One brutal thrust and he buries himself to the hilt inside your cum-filled pussy, moaning loudly, but it quickly dissolves into cruel laughter as he starts pounding into you with reckless force.

“Fuuuck–  still so tight even after I’ve ruined you,” he whines, voice cracking with overstimulation, yet he refuses to slow down. “My personal lynx onahole.”

.

.

.

Yep. 

That’s you. 

Probably wondering how you got here, huh? 

Well, let's rewind a bit.

Pretty little bun bun. That's what you saw. Sleepy crimson peepers half lidded like he just woke up from a nap about slaugering yet another ruin guard. Twitchy nose that wiggles when he's thinking about... what, manslaughter? And those ears… Silky, with the softest inner velvet you've ever seen. They flick and flop and flutter with every single emotion that crosses his deranged little face. 

And you, stupid little apex predator that you are, looked at this deranged little creature and thought: prey.

Bottom of the food chain, theoretically. It's written in the goddamn stars, etched into the bones of the world by evolution itself. Natural order of things: cute little bun buns get eaten by big scary kitty cats. 

And you are, obviously, from the second group. A whole ass lynx hybrid, honey. Tufted ears that swivel like furry radar dishes, picking up the faintest rustle of prey in the underbrush. Claws that could fillet a boar and use its ribs for toothpicks. Unmatched speed (oh, how he would mock you later), and strength (and he still could pin you down effortlessly). And that natural swagger that screams louder than any roar.

So you got comfortable. A bit arrogant. Fucking stupid, if you ask me.

But you probably wonder what exactly you did to end up in that burrow? 

Well, you flicked one of those silky soft mint ears in the hallway outside the library and called him a bottom of a food chain right in front of Sucrose, who choked on her own spit and practically teleported out of existence in a cloud of panicked anemo particles. 

You thought you were being funny. A little harmless fun, yeah? A playful swat from the big cat to the little bunny.

Mistake!

Because that particular bunny came off the assembly line fucking defective. They dropped him on his fluffy little head as a kit, or maybe his momma drank some bad firewater while he was in the womb, or whatever. You don't know what exactly happened, but something crucial snapped. Instead of developing a healthy ‘oh gods please don't eat me’ fear response to things with fangs, his brain rewired it into an obsession with the specific threat of being eaten. 

To put it bluntly, Lohen looked at your proud predator stride and saw a dumb, pretty recruit who he could reduce to a drooling, cunt clenching, begging mess. 

And oh, this motherfucker knows that he’s pretty and has something to seduce you with. He's got those big crimson eyes that can go from ‘uwu I'm just a soft little bunny’ to ‘I'm going to skin you alive’ in the space of a heartbeat. He's got those long legs that he loves to show off, wearing those high boots that cling to every lean line and curve. And let's not even mention his ass, presented so perfectly in those tight white trousers.  He's got this lean and flexible body that he loves to show off.

After that single incident with a flick, it starts small. A hand on your lower back, fingers splayed, pressing just a little too firmly, lingering just a little too long. Him demanding you for the training. His hip bumping yours when he falls into step beside you. 

"Vice Captain, what are you doing?" you hiss, trying to sidestep away.

"Walking with my favorite recruit," he says, beaming up at you. His hand finds your elbow, tucking himself against your side like he belongs there. His body is warm and surprisingly solid against yours. "You smell nice today. New soap?" He inhales deeply, nose practically pressed to your neck, and makes a satisfied little sound. "Mhm. That's the good stuff."

You try sparring, because you're still operating under the adorable delusion that size and species fucking matter. You're a lynx hybrid, and he's a rabbit. It should be easy; there is no way it wouldn’t work. 

So you corner him in the training yard, claws half-extended, tail lashing behind you.

"Alright, cottonball," you sneer, putting every ounce of predator into the word. "Gonna bounce away like a good little snack?"

Lohen just tilts his head and looks at you with those dead fish eyes, and a little smile plays at the corner of his lips. 

"Snack?" he echoes, voice light and airy. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a breathy little moan as his spine pops as he stretches. "Oh, kitten…" He drops his arms and rolls his shoulders. "You’re such a stupid, feral little pussycat. I guess it’s my responsibility to train you to sit, stay, and ro–"

You lunge, fed up with his nonsense.

Your claws catch his collarbone, and three perfect furrows bloom red and angry against his pale skin. Blood wells up immediately, fat and ruby-red and hot, coppery scent hitting the air between you. 

Honestly, you expect him to let out a high-pitched squeak of fear and bounce away, running like a good little prey hybrid.

Instead?

"Hahhhhnnn~" The moan vibrates straight from the depths of his chest, travels through the air like a physical touch, and lands with a throbbing ache right in the core of your suddenly traitorous cunt.

"What the fuck?" you hiss, stumbling back a step. Your claws are still wet with his blood, but you are afraid to tear your eyes away from him.

His ears go flat, plastered against that messy hair. His whole body shudders, and you watch, transfixed, as a visible tremor runs down his spine and makes that plump little tail give an excited thump-thump-thump against the small of his back.

"Oh, kitten~" His voice is dripping with something absolutely filthy. "You have no idea how good that felt." 

He rolls the wounded shoulder, watching a thick droplet of his own blood snake a hot trail down the corded muscle of his bicep. His tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip, chasing the scent of his own blood mingling with your sweat. 

Your breath hitches when Lohen steps forward, right into your space. Close enough that you can see the way his pupils have swallowed the crimson of his irises almost completely. 

His hand comes up, but your body is frozen, caught between predator instinct and something that's coiling hot and tight in your belly. His fingers find your chin. Tilt your face up. His thumb traces along your lower lip.

"Look at you," Lohen murmurs, and his voice is liquid condescension. "Big, scary lynx. All those fangs and claws. And you're standing here, terrified." He leans in, his lips brushing yours. "Want to know a secret, kitten?"

"What?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and you hate how shaky it sounds.

His free hand grabs your wrist, still wet with his blood, and presses it flat right over his heart.

"I'm not scared of you," he breathes. "You know what I am?" His hips roll forward, and you feel it – the hot, hard, throbbing line of his erection pressing against your hip. "I'm intrigued." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, that unhinged smile spreading across his pretty face. "Imagine what you'd do to me if you actually tried to eat me…"

His hips give a tiny little jerk against your thigh, and you feel it again, pressing insistently into the muscle. He's rock hard from you clawing him open, hell, from talking about you wanting him.

"But here's the thing, kitten." His voice drops to a conspiratory whisper, lips brushing yours with every word. "I'm not the prey here."

Something snaps in you – fear or fury or some unholy cocktail of both – and you jerk forward and sink your fangs into the junction of his neck and shoulder. You taste blood, hot and metallic and his, flooding over your tongue. 

His body goes rigid against yours, every muscle locking up, that plump little tail thumping frantically against his back.

And then you feel the pulse of his cock, twitching in his pants, soaking the fabric of your pants. His whole body shudders with a broken sob tearing from his throat. His hands fly up to grip your hair, holding you against his neck, keeping your teeth buried in his flesh as he humps your leg like a filthy animal.

"Ffffffuck– yes– fuck, don't stop–"

You release him, shoving him off, stumbling backward. Your mouth is smeared with his blood, but still, you are the one who is shaking like a leaf under his gaze.

Lohen just slumps back against the training post with a blissed-out smile spreading across his flushed face. His croth is visibly wet, but he doesn't seem to care. 

"You're a freak," you spit, voice trembling. "A fucking freak."

"Yeah." He pushes off the post, sauntering toward you with that bouncy walk. "But I'm your freak now." He tilts his head, showing off the bleeding bite mark. "Fair's fair, kitten." 

He pats your cheek, and the touch is so fucking condescending, especially from the guy who came in his pants when you bit him. You thank the anemo archon that at least nobody is on the training grounds to witness the whole embarrassing incident.

"See you at morning roll call, pet." Lohen winks, turns, and hops away, that fluffy tail bouncing with every step.

And suddenly, the day after, because the universe is a cruel cunt that loves to watch you squirm, Varka is slapping your shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise in the shape of his palm: "You're under Lohen's command now!"

Your brain short-circuits. " Wh– The... the rabbit?"

"The Vice Captain!" the beefy wolf hybrid corrects, beaming like he just handed you a puppy. "Sharpest mind and aggressive tactics I've ever seen. You'll learn a lot. Just... try not to let him get under your skin. He's got a talent for it."

Congrats, this herbivore is your boss now.

And then he's just... there. Everywhere. All the goddamn time. Bastard is basically shitting on the very concept of your freedom, and you can't even catch him to return the favor.

You smell the astringent bite of mint just around every corner. The air gets cold right behind you sometimes. When you spin, weapon drawn, claws out, ready to gut the stalker, there's nothing. Just the phantom thump-thump-thump of that fluffy tail and a breathy giggle that echoes down the hallway.

And the notes. Slipped under your door. Tucked into your boot. Folded into your training notes. Sometimes, to your genuine horror, appearing on your nightstand in the morning.

"Saw you stretching today. You are so… flexible…"

"You growled at that deer boy who bumped into you. Got me really worked up."

"Wore my tightest pants today. Did you notice? I saw you looking. ♡"

The dog hybrid boy who takes an interest in you doesn't know any of this. 

He's new, transferred from some border outpost, all muscle and misplaced confidence. He's been watching you for a week now, his hopeful eyes tracking you across the mess hall, the training yard, the corridors. You've noticed, because, well, it's hard not to notice. He's big, and he smells like wet dog, and his tail wags every time you so much as glance in his direction.

And tonight, in the Angel's Share, he makes his move, sliding into the seat across from you with a blush so heavy it could rival a fresh sunsettia's colour.

"H-hey there," he slurs, visibly nervous. His scent is all eager-pup arousal and cheap ale. "You look really pretty today… N-no, that's not– I mean, you're always pretty, it's just today I finally got the guts to–"

The air turns sharp with frost before you even see him. One moment, the dogboy is stuttering through his confession, the next there's a slender, scarred hand fisting into his hair, yanking his head back at a brutal angle. The cold steel of a knife presses flat against the column of his throat, resting there with the weight of a promise.

"Sniff sniff."

Lohen inhales theatrically right beside the hybrid's ear, his nose brushing the fur, his crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on you. A wide, sharp, utterly unhinged smile splits his pretty face, revealing those deceptively dainty incisors. His voice is lighter than chimes, softer than a lullaby, and it’s the most terrifying thing you have ever heard.

"Mhm. That's the smell. It's like... warm cream and soft flesh, isn't it? Makes your knot swell up just thinking about sinking into that wet heaven, huh?” Lohen's grip on the dagger tightens, and that unhinged note becomes more prominent in his voice. “But here’s a problem… You've been sniffing around what's mine, pup. That's very, very rude. Do you know what happens to rude strays who try to take what's mine?"

The knife tilts, just a fraction. A single bead of red wells against the poor bastard’s skin and rolls down the poor guy’s throat. The dogboy makes a keening whimper that cuts off when Lohen’s grip tightens.

"I'll tell ya," Lohen continues, still in that gentle tone. His eyes never leave yours. He’s putting on a show, you understand, and he wants you to witness every second. "First, I take this dagger, and I carve out your eyes. Then I pack your throat with cryo shards. Then I open your belly and watch the light leave your eyes while I pull out your insides. And when you’re finally dead, I’m going to take your fucking dick–”

He presses the knife a little harder, and the dogboy sobs.

“–and I’m going to have it in a jar, like a talisman. I’ll hang it on the wall of the burrow where I keep my mate, so every time I breed her to tears, she can look at it and remember what happens to anyone who tries to take her from me.”

Lohen pauses, tilts his head, and that smile somehow softens into something almost fond. He pats the trembling boy’s cheek with two condescending little tap-taps from his free hand.

"But I'm feeling generous tonight, because my beloved is right here watching, and I want to reward her patience. So I'll give you one chance.” He licks his lips, and you feel the twinge of something warm in your belly. Something that you shouldn't feel in that situation. “You’re going to walk out of this tavern while having your organs in the original packaging. Next, you’re going to write the transfer request. Finally, you’re going to fuck off back to that shithole that you crawled out from before sunrise. Are we clear?"

The dogboy nods eagerly. Lohen wrinkles his nose, releases him with a shove that sends him sprawling to the floor, and watches with lazy satisfaction. “Good pup.”

Poor dog hybrid scrambles to his feet and bolts for the door, slipping once in a hurry.

“Bye-bye~” he sing-songs cheerfully in the dead silent tavern. Every patron is staring. Lohen ignores them all, turning to you, twirling the dagger between his fingers with a casual elegance that makes your stomach clench and your cunt throb. That unhinged smile melts into something softer, but no less terrifying.

"Wha’?" He asks, as if he hadn't just graphically detailed a murder in a public establishment. "Can't have the strays thinking you're available."

You sit frozen, heart hammering against your ribs, every instinct screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything except sit here while Lohen saunters closer. He stops between your spread thighs and looks down at you with those black-hole eyes, pupil swallowed irises gleaming with mania and adoration in equal measure.

"I'm not yours," you manage, voice trembling. "You can't just scare away people who try to approach me!"

Lohen smirks, leans in, lips brushing the shell of your fluffy ear, breath scorching.

"I can, and I just did," he whispers and pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His hand, the one still holding the dagger, comes up and rests the flat of the blade against your cheek. The metal is ice-cold, and you flinch. He traces the edge along your jawline, feather-light, never breaking skin. 

"I'll see you soon," he breathes, patting your burning cheek with a knife. “Try not to drip too much on Master Diluc's floor.”

Lohen winks, turns, and hops away, that fluffy tail giving a sassy little flick with every bounce of his perfect ass. The tavern slowly returns to life, whispers filling the silence he left behind as you sit there, frozen.

Since then, it’s gotten worse.

You're losing yourself. That sassy predator that you were decides to rest somewhere inside of you, and no matter how hard you try, you can't bring it out.

It's humiliating, really.

Every time you catch a glimpse of those soft ears or that juciest piece of ass you’ve ever seen on a male, you have to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching. The dreams are the worst – dreams where he pins you down and whispers the most horrific words while doing even worse things. You wake up soaked and gasping, fists full of sheets that reek of him because the sick bastard has been breaking into your room and rubbing his scent all over your bedding. It's not helping that your heat is nearing rapidly, making you more sensitive and jumpy.

So one day you finally snap. All it takes is too much wine mixed with this creeping dread curling in your belly. Just enough liquid stupidity to think you're still the fucking predator in this equation. 

You corner your Vice Captain outside the city gates under a sickly yellow moon.

"Why don't you just bounce away, you little freak?!" you snarl, swaying, fur bristling along your tail, claws itching to rend. "You're a rabbit! You're supposed to be scared of me! That's the whole goddamn deal!"

Lohen turns to face you with an expression of serene delight, as if you've just offered him the most precious gift imaginable. A visible shiver that starts at his nose and travels down his spine, ending with his fluffy, cream-tipped tail giving a sharp thump-thump-thump against the stone archway that he's leaning on.

"Scared?" he repeats, and there's a laugh bubbling under the word when he steps closer. "Oh, kitten, you are really that dumb~" 

He stops right in front of you, close enough to kiss, and tilts his head, those big crimson eyes looking at you with mock innocence. 

"You're just a big, growly kitty with a wet little cunt and a brain that short-circuits every time I shake my ass."

"I am not!" The words tumble out, angry but unsure.

"You are~" He reaches up and flicks your nose, like you're the cute little pet. The audacity makes your claws twitch, but your body refuses to move. "You're so easy, kitten. I barely have to try. A little ear flick here, a little bounce there–" He demonstrates, bouncing lightly on his heels, "–and you're drooling."

Pissed off, you lunge at him – claws out, fangs bared, all that rage finally reaching its peak – but your drunk limbs are stupidly predictable. Lohen sidesteps easily, hooking one leg behind yours and catching you as you stumble. One deceptively strong arm snakes around your waist. Your legs buckle, and suddenly his face is too close, watching you with that unnerving stillness.

"There we go," he coos, holding you upright as you gasp and shudder against him.

"F-fuck you–" you spit, but it comes out as a sob.

"Soon, kitten. Just let me–" He shifts his grip, and the world tilts violently. One arm hooks under your knees, the other braces your back, and suddenly you're on his shoulder, staring at the mud and cobblestones whizzing past in a blur as he carries you into the treeline of Wolvendom.

You claw at his arms, his back, anything you can reach. Your nails leave furrows in the fabric of his coat, tear the cotton of his shirt, and draw thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades. He just moans louder and speeds up, those stringy legs eating up the ground.

“Put me down!” You whine, trying to punch him in the ribs with your knee. 

“M’kay!” Lohen suddenly agrees and drops you into some kind of hole under an ancient oak. You land on a pile of blankets so soft they must've cost your entire year's salary. 

It's a den, you understand after a second. Dug deep, shored up with gnarled roots, the air inside cold and still and smelling faintly of mint. There's a flask of fresh water. A neat little pyramid of sunsettias. A plate of fine steak, cut into delicate little ribbons. And in the center of it all – the nest. A little hollow lined with soft grasses, even more blankets, and what you now recognize as tufts of fur he's plucked from his own tail and ears, woven together to cradle two bodies.

"Lohen, this is–" you breathe, scrambling backward on the blankets until your back hits the earthen wall. "You can't just–"

"Can't what?" He's kneeling in the entrance, a dark silhouette blocking out the stars, pulling his shirt over his head with a languid roll of tight muscle. His pale torso is a fucking roadmap of battles, scars overlapping scars, some old and white, some newer, pink and puckered. And among them, fresh, still-bleeding furrows from your claws, beading crimson. You take note of the imprint of your teeth on his neck.

"Can't claim what's mine?" he finishes for you, crawling forward on hands and knees. "Can't build a proper den for my girl like any self-respecting male? Can't bring you offerings and keep you warm and safe and full? Can’t help my mate with her heat?" He leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. His face is centimeters from yours, those black-hole eyes boring into your soul. He smiles, predator-sharp. 

"Get off me, freak!" You bare your fangs and roar, trying to scare this fucked in the head herbivore.

"Make me." Lohen grinds his hips down, and you feel the hot, hard, throbbing length of him pressing against your clothed cunt. The pressure is perfect, and a moan escapes before you can stop it. 

"C’mon, make me!" His smile widens and his hips roll, slow and filthy, dragging the ridge of his cock along your slit through the fabric. "Tell me you didn’t rub this cunt raw while dreaming of me…."

You try to shove Lohen off, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand – one fucking hand, and he's a small animal hybrid and a herbivore at that, how is he so fucking strong – and leans down until his lips brush your ear.

"I've been courting you for months," he whispers, and the words drip off his tongue like honey laced with ground glass and obsession. "And you... Ohhhh, you've been waving this dumb little kitty cunt in my face the whole time. Flicking my ears. Making me bleed. Letting me stalk you..." He pulls back, looking down at you with those wild eyes. "And now... finally... I have you exactly where you belong. In my den. In my nest. Under me." 

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing past your lips and into your mouth. You taste salt and skin and him – sharp, clean, intoxicating. He pushes deeper, gagging you slightly, and his eyes flutter closed.

You bite down on his thumb, hard, to make this fucking freak recoil. Blood wells up instantly, hot and metallic, flooding your tongue. But instead of yanking his hand back, Lohen's whole body shudders with a guttural moan that seems to tear itself from somewhere deep in his chest. His hips jerk frantically, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt, and you feel a fresh gush of wetness soak through both your pants as he nearly cums right there.

"Ffffffuck– yes– do it again, bite me harder, make me bleed, make me hurt–" His free hand releases your wrists and flies to his own pants, fumbling with the buckle. 

You release his thumb, panting. Your mouth is smeared with his blood. "You're sick."

"Yeah." He's grinning, blood smeared on his lip from where he bit it himself, pupils blown so wide his eyes look like black voids. "Terminally sick for you." 

Lohen pulls his thumb from your mouth and licks the blood off, eyes never leaving yours, sitting back on his haunches, and now those nimble, scarred fingers are working his belt buckle with single-minded focus. 

When he’s done, the leather slithers free with a soft hiss, and Vice Captain holds it up, considering it, then drapes it around your neck so tight it makes you cough. 

"Pretty," he breathes. "You'd look so pretty in a proper collar. Maybe I'll have one made, engraved with my name. 'Property of Lohen' What do you think?"

You can't tell him to fuck off when the collar tightens on your neck. He unbuttons his pants, slides them down those stringy thighs, and kicks them aside. His underwear follows.

His cock is... god help you, it's pretty. That's the word that slams into your brain, unwanted and undeniable. Pretty. Pale and flushed pink at the tip, curving up slightly toward his belly, slick with pre-cum that's been leaking steadily and soaking a dark patch into the front of his discarded underwear. It's not massive, but it's thick enough that you know it'll split you open oh so sweetly. Below it, his balls are drawn up tight, heavy and full, the skin taut and slightly darker, clearly aching with the need to empty themselves inside something– someone. 

Specifically you.

"Pretty, right?" Lohen reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock, giving it one lazy stroke. A thick bead of pre-cum wells up at the tip and drips slowly down his shaft, catching the faint moonlight filtering through the burrow entrance. He catches it with his thumb, brings it to his mouth, and licks it clean with a soft hum. "Mmm... Want a taste?" He smears another bead onto his fingers and holds them out. "Open up, kitten. Sample the goods."

You clamp your mouth shut, turning your head away. He tsks softly, disappointed but not surprised, and crawls forward again, sitting square on your chest. His weight presses your back deeper into the blankets, pins your arms at your sides, and leaves you completely helpless. That bobbing cock taps insistently against your sealed lips as he settles, leaving a tacky smear of pre-cum across your mouth.

“Oh, kitten,” he drawls, slow and syrupy, his head tilting so his ears flop adorably to one side even as his crimson eyes blaze with absolute, clinical madness. “Still playin’ hard to get? After all the notes I left? After I bled and came in my pants with your teeth in my neck?” 

He wraps the tail of the belt around his fist once, twice, tightening the improvised leash until the leather bites into the tender skin of your throat. Your breath hitches into a strangled wheeze, vision spotting at the edges as the collar cuts off your air.

“S’alright. I like you feisty. Makes it so much sweeter when you finally break. And you will break, kitten.” He rolls his hips, grinding his soaked cockhead across your sealed lips, and laughs when your nostrils flare involuntarily.

You glare up at him, defiant, mouth clamped shut. Lohen just smiles and jerks the collar hard. The sudden constriction forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

He uses that exact moment to thrust his length into your mouth in one merciless thrust, not stopping until his swollen balls are pressed flush against your chin and the fat, leaking head bullies its way past your gag reflex. 

Your throat convulses violently around the intrusion, muscles spasming and squeezing him desperately. He throws his head back with a loud moan that echoes through the burrow, his silky mint-green ears pinning flat against his messy hair while his fluffy cream-tipped tail thumps wildly against his own ass in ecstatic beats.

“Ahhh– fuuuuck yes, there it is~” he sobs out, voice cracking with pure bliss as his hips grind forward until your nose is smashed into the soft mint-colored hairs, his musky scent flooding your lungs until you can’t smell anything else. “This is exactly where you belong, kitten. On your back in my nest, throat stuffed full of bunny cock like the stupid whore you are.”

Lohen drops the leash, and his fingers twist viciously into your tufted lynx ears and the hair at the back of your scalp, yanking your head back at a brutal angle to straighten your throat into a helpless fuck-sleeve. 

There is no time to adjust as he starts fucking your face with fast and punishing thrusts – each one dragging his thick cock almost all the way out before slamming back in until his balls slap wetly against your chin. Obscene, wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds fill the burrow as stringy ropes of throat slime, precum and drool bubble out from the stretched corners of your mouth, pouring down your chin and tits in messy rivers. 

“F-fuck– squeeze me just like that, kitten–. You’re doing s-so good for me, makin’ me feel so loved,” he groans, eyes half-lidded and soft with obsessive adoration. His hips snap faster, turning the slow face-fucking into something meaner. Thick globs of your spit fly everywhere with every brutal plunge, splattering across your lips and cheeks.

Your vision is blurring from the lack of air and the constant battering of his cock against the back of your throat. Tears stream down your face, mixing with the thick strings of spit and pre-cum, and despite everything, your cunt is clenching desperately around nothing. Your hips twitch and roll uselessly in the air, searching for friction that isn’t there. Lohen’s nose twitches, catching the scent immediately, and he lets out a delighted little giggle.

“Ohhh? How embarrassing. You’re supposed to be the predator, but one taste of bunny cock and you’re already gushing like a broken faucet. Don’t worry… I’ll take care of that sloppy hole soon enough. But first–”

He suddenly pulls out with a wet schlorp, leaving your throat gaping and empty. You cough and gasp desperately, thick ropes of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the glistening tip of his cock. Before you can even suck in a proper breath, he shifts his weight, sitting heavily on your chest with his knees pinning your shoulders down. His hand wraps tight around his throbbing shaft right above your ruined face, stroking himself with loud squelching sounds while you heave.

“Gonna paint this pretty face,” he growls, voice low and trembling with the edge of orgasm, “Gonna cover every bit of you in my cum so no one ever forgets who this stupid slut belongs to.”

You’re too wrecked to respond. So Lohen does it for you – two fingers hook roughly into the corners of your mouth, prying your jaw open wide while his other hand pumps his cock faster, the wet shlick-shlick-shlick growing louder and more desperate.

“Stick your tongue out.” And you fucking do, like a mindless dumb kitty, too fucked out to think. “Yeah, jus’ like that– good girl~”

His hips jerk into his fist, ears flicking madly, fluffy tail going rigid behind him as the pleasure spikes. His voice starts breaking, words turning meaner and nastier the closer he gets.

“You think that fucking stray could ever make you feel like this? Huh? You think anyone else gets to see you like this? I’d gut them. You’re mine. Mine to– aah~”

The first thick rope of cum erupts violently across your forehead, splattering hot and sticky all the way up into your hair and across one eye. The second heavy spurt lands directly into your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat and overflowing down your chin in creamy rivers.

“Take it– take every fucking drop, you greedy bitch–”

The third and fourth jets stripe across your cheeks and nose, the excess dripping down into the hollow of your throat, where the collar bites painfully into your skin. More cum splatters across your twitching lynx ears, matting the soft fur, while another thick glob lands on your closed eyelid, sealing it shut with sticky warmth. 

When the last watery dribble finally leaks out, Lohen slaps his softening but still twitching cock against your ruined face a few times – pat-pat-pat – spreading the mess even more. His breathing is ragged, but his eyes are zeroed in on you.

“Lookin’ so cute,” He pats your cum-smeared cheek with genuine affection, then slides off your chest, leaving you gasping and soaked and utterly debased. 

But if you thought this was it… oh, poor baby… poor-poor baby… 

His hands find the waistband of your pants. You try to buckle, coughing, one eye closed because of his spunk that threatens your eye. That does nothing to stop Lohen. He yanks, and your pants and underwear come down in one rough movement, the fabric tearing slightly at the seams, baring your traitorously weeping cunt to the cool air of his burrow.

As if bewitched, Lohen drops to his belly between your legs, arms hooking under your thighs to yank you closer, and presses his nose directly against your slick folds. His ears flatten, his tail thumps against the floor, and a guttural growl rumbles from his chest – a sound no rabbit should ever make. 

“This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” he breathes, the words muffled against your pussy. “Gonna fuck this kitty cunt so thoroughly it’ll reject anyone else. You’ll be a one-rabbit woman.”

Lohen drags his soft, deceptively innocent pink tongue in one long stripe from your clenching entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit, collecting your slick like it’s nectar. Then the real hunger takes over. He buries his whole face in your cunt – nose grinding hard against your clit sweetly, tongue stabbing deep inside you, lapping and thrusting wildly.

You arch off the blankets with a broken moan, lava flooding your veins. “F-fuck– Lohen–!”

“Mhm…” he hums loudly against your folds and pulls back just long enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your swollen clit, then slaps his tongue against it, massaging the swollen bud lovingly.

“So fucking tight and wet,” Lohen slurs, mouth still half-buried in your cunt. “Could eat this pussy for days, until you’re just a stupid pet who cums every time her owner comes home. Would you like that? Huh?”

“Lohen– please–”

“Please what?” He pulls back suddenly, lips shiny, chin dripping with your arousal, that unhinged grin splitting his face. He folds your thighs up and apart, nearly bending you in half so you’re forced to watch him work. A long strand of your slick stretches from his bottom lip to your cunt before Lohen laps it up with a happy little moan. 

“Gotta be specific, kitten. I’m just a dumb bunny, remember? Tell me exactly what this sloppy cunt needs.”

A sob rips from your throat as the temperature of your body spikes up, your heat slowly claiming you. “I need– cum–”

“Whaa~? Say it properly!” He dips down again, dragging his tongue agonizingly slow through your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit. “Need me to make this pathetic pussy cum?”

“Yes, please! Need ta cum!” You whine with a voice so thin it almost sounds alien.

“Good little bitch~”

Lohen dives back in, tongue fucking into you, nose grinding against your clit. Two fingers suddenly stretch you, and you cry out. Lohen curls them upward to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyes. His hand leaves your thigh and snakes down between his own legs, and you hear the frantic sound of his fist stroking his shaft while he eats you out. 

And when you’re so close, right there, right on the edge, your claws shredding the blankets, your back arching–

Lohen stops.

The orgasm dies instantly, leaving you a convulsing wreck. Your denied cunt spasms violently around nothing, and more hot tears spill down your cum-streaked face as you choke on a broken wail.

“C’mon, move that fat lynx ass,” he giggles, voice bright and cruel as he gives your trembling thigh a patronizing little tap.”Need you to cum on my cock. Gonna show you what ‘fucking like rabbits’ means~”

You can only shudder, edged out of your mind, drooling and crying into the nest that reeks of mint and cum. Your hips twitch uselessly, seeking friction that isn’t there.

Lohen clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. Then, with terrifying ease, he manhandles you like you weigh nothing. Those deceptively stringy arms and compact muscles flip you onto your hands and knees in one smooth motion. Your face smashes into the soft blankets, ass forced high in the air, cunt and tight little hole completely exposed to his hungry gaze. Your fluffy lynx tail lashes wildly in humiliated protest, but he just grabs the base and yanks it upward, pinning it out of the way.

“Archons, fuck yes,” he breathes, as he kneads your ass cheeks roughly, spreading fat globes wide apart until you feel the cool air kiss your dripping folds and puckered hole. “And to think that you were so stubborn to admit that we are meant to be! Bad kitty…”

The first sharp slap cracks across your ass, hard enough to make the fat jiggle and bloom bright red. You yelp, claws digging deeper into the blankets. Vice Capitan watches the mark form with manic glee, ears flicking excitedly, that fluffy cream-tipped tail thumping wildly against his own back.

His palm rains down again and again. Each impact sends shockwaves through your body, turning your ass into a burning canvas of handprints. Every slap pushes you closer to the edge without letting you fall. You’re drooling messily onto the blankets, thick strings of slick, cum, and tears soaking the fabric as you whimper and sob into the nest.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Lohen stops, palms smoothing almost tenderly over the bruised flesh. But the gentleness is a lie – he spreads your ascheeks again, spitting a thick glob of saliva right onto your puckered hole before his leaking cock slides hot and heavy through your drenched folds. He coats himself in your slick, letting you feel every throb, the fat head nudging your entrance just enough to part your puffy lips before pulling back before you can envelop him.

“Ah-ah-ah~” he tuts, voice dripping fake sympathy as he slaps the heavy head of his cock lightly against your labia. “You really thought I was gonna let you cum that easily? No, no, kitten. Say you are mine first.” 

You can’t answer – your voice is gone, replaced by ragged pants and whimpers.

“Say it,” Lohen repeats, a dark edge sharpening his words. He leans over you, chest pressing flush to your back, one hand snaking up to fist the belt still around your throat. He yanks the end of it, forcing your head up and your back into a painful arch. His other hand reaches toward his discarded coat, and you feel the flat of his knife press against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches in arousal when the metal tip scrapes against your mound.

“Tell me your soul belongs to Lohen,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your tufted ear, voice low and venomous. “Say it, or I’ll keep you right on the brink until you’re nothing but a babbling mess begging for bunny cum. I can do this for a very long time…”

The knife traces a threatening line up your thigh, never breaking skin but promising it could. And what little remains of your pride shatters completely.

“It’s yours,” you choke out, voice wrecked and trembling, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Lohen! Please– Please–”

“Good mate,” he praises, planting a chaste kiss atop your head, right between your ears. The words sound genuine and reverent that they make you blush deeper, face turning crimson. “See? Wasn’t so hard.”

Lohen releases the leash slightly but keeps you arched, then sits back on his haunches. His hand tightens in the fur at the base of your tail, yanking your ass closer. The other grips your bruised hip hard enough to leave fresh marks.

His throbbing cock lines up again, the leaking head kissing your quivering hole. Your whole body tenses, every nerve screaming in anticipation.

"Welcome to the bottom of the food chain, kitten," he whispers, voice dripping with undiluted triumph. 

His hips roll forward.

.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist: Creatures Features

I saw this crazy battle maniac 2.0 (hi Childe) in Varka's story quest and just couldn't... I had to add him. Yeah, I'm sorry for neglecting this series so much. Hope that you like this part at least haha!

My darlings (taglist): @nazifa613, @spookydragonsong, @noentalrae, @melimelisworld, @itslovelyangel, @cum-fvk, @forbidden-permission, @luv-isolde, @rinki-tinki, @alwaysseventypercent, @koseyisntcozy, @rochunsfw @lizurich, @constellationsyslibrary, @lavielavigne @hungryhornet @fuuyi-acrimosa, @itslayka, @anothergojostan, @blanksbedroom, @violetisreadinghush, @cccccccccccleo, @valentine-mybeloved, @bedrottingdoll, @horny--jail, @avenixs, @mildmasochist, @caramel-chai @elianasmoon, @eminenceplant, @tree-ag, @neuvilletteclearwater, @msmumufufu, @solarrandom @strawberrybunnyjolie @helloweebsofgenshin @katzline, @kellyyn02, @aymands @whatasillyguy @akutgawascoughdrop @im-under-yourbed @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl @muttwithnoname @tearinka @metallover123 @tkitb, @queerlordsimon @fuckingfaraway @madamedesalaunier @nightmarenyxx, @mayodenotche ...

(I hope I tagged everyone! If you want to be tagged too, please comment about it under the CF Masterlist).

[manicsho]

Little Red Riding Hood & The Big Bad Creampie

In which Red Riding Hood gets the creamiest of the pies!

werewolf!Varka x fem!reader

wordcount: ~4100

TWs: MNDI, PWP, fairy tale vibes, predator/prey, size difference, age gap (he calls reader lil' Red, but reader IS NOT a minor) possessive behavior, manhandling, implied kidnapping.  NSFW: non-con to dub-con to con, virginity loss, knotting, breeding kink, dacryphilia, creampie, Varka is in heat, oral sex (f receiving), a tiny bit of rimming and anal play marking/claiming, serving pussy so good he sees Celestia.

(If you find some more, please let me know.)

As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!

NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes. Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Just one bite…”

You clutched the wicker basket tighter, while Momma’s warning echoed in your ears: “Be careful, my darling girl. The Big Bad Wolf haunts the woods of Wolvendom. Walk as fast as you can and don’t you dare to stop, or he’ll get you.” 

But the pie, nestled in your basket under a red-checkered cloth, sang a siren song of cinnamon and sugar, of buttery crust and tender fruit. You, all dolled up in your favorite little red dress, red woolen stockings, and the scarlet cloak, had walked for nearly one hour before the gluttony won.

“A small taste,” you whispered to the silent trees, your voice swallowed by the thick moss and shadow. “A crumb. Just to see.”

You found a stump, set your basket upon it, and lifted the cloth. The aroma that burst forth was obscenely delicious, making your mouth water. You broke a piece of flaky golden crust with your fingers, moaning softly as the flavor melted on your tongue.

Then another. 

And another.

Lost in it, you were feasting in the forbidden wood, your cheeks dusted with sugar, fingers sticky, and belly warm from your momma’s fine pastry.

That’s when The Big Bad Wolf himself stepped into your sight. One moment, the clearing was empty, the next he was there, parting from the shadows between two great oaks. 

The piece of pie dropped from your fingers at the sight.

The figure before you was gigantic, and the scandalous state of undress did nothing to hide his monumental form. Sun-kissed skin, stretched taut over a terrain of thick muscle, was marred by a map of silvery scars that spoke of countless battles. A light dusting of golden hair, catching the dappled forest light, traced the hard lines of his torso, leading down past the stark V of his hips.

His face held a wild charm, a rough stubble dusting a jaw that looked capable of crushing bone. And his eyes… they were a blue so piercing and knowing it felt uncanny. They saw the tremor in your hands, the traitorous hitch in your breath, the coil of heat tightening low in your belly despite your terror. Two large wolf ears, a shade darker than his tousled blonde hair, twitched and pivoted at your every whimper, attuned to the frantic rabbit-beat of your heart. Behind him, a magnificent golden tail lashed once through the air with a soft swish, betraying his interest.

But your gaze, horrified and helplessly fascinated, was dragged downward. Between his tree-trunk thighs, utterly unabashed, it stood – a thick, ruddy, obscene length of flesh, heavy with prominent veins. It wasn't fully upright but jutted forward with a weighty promise, the tapered tip already beading with a single pearl of moisture that caught the dappled forest light. It gave a slight bob as you stared, making your own breath stutter in response. The air grew thick, charged with the scent of pine, musk, and something feral.

You stumbled back with a shriek, clutching the basket and holding it in front of you like a shield. “S-stay back!”

The sound that rumbled from his chest was deep and grating, startling you for a second. 

“Whoa there, lil’ Red! Easy! I don’t bite… much.” He took a casual step forward, his nostrils flaring. “Gods. That smell...” He inhaled deeply, and a smile spread across his face, revealing sharp canines. “The sweetest pie.”

“Take it then!” you squealed, thrusting the basket toward him, squeezing your eyes shut. “Just take the pie and don’t hurt me!”

“Hmm?” He plucked the basket from your trembling hands, sniffed it once, and threw it aside without a glance. “No, no, silly thing. Not that pie.”

A large hand closed around your wrist. You gasped, eyes opening wide to meet his blazing blues. They were glazed, half-lidded with a hunger you barely understood. 

“Name’s Varka, lil’ Red,” he growled, “and I’ve just caught the ripest scent in whole damn Wolvendom.”

“No!” You tried to pull back, but his grip was iron. “Let me go! I have to go to my grandmother!”

“Grandma can wait,” he purred, his other hand coming up to push the hood of your cloak back. His fingers tangled in your hair, appreciating your beautiful locks before yanking you against the unyielding wall of his body. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you were acutely aware of every sculpted ridge of his abdomen and chest pressed against you. The hard line of his erection, throbbing with a slow pulse, pressed against your belly, searing hot even through the layers of your dress. You whimpered in pure terror, and your high-pitched sound ignited something feral in his eyes.

A terrified “Please!” was all you managed before his fingers, tipped with claws that lightly scored the fabric, closed on the front of your dress. With a brutal tear, the pretty red fabric turned into a shredded remnant in his massive fist. You stumbled backwards, and your ass hit the soft moss of the forest floor. 

Varka kneeled and loomed over you, a mountain of scarred muscle and primal intent, blotting out the sky. His blue eyes, the pupils dilated into dark pools, glinted with a heat that had nothing to do with violence. His gaze lingered on your exposed belly and the tender swell of your breasts rising and falling with panicked breaths. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest, a futile shield.

“Still tryin' to be modest, sweet Red?” Varka rumbled fondly, a low growl lacing the words. His knee, rough with hair and corded muscle, pressed insistently between your thighs, using his overwhelming weight to force your shaking legs apart. The cool forest air kissed your skin, making you shudder. “No need for that. Let’s have a proper look at what’s makin' all that sweet smell.”

You thrashed like the sweetest prey, your red stockings snagging and tearing against something in the moss. “Please, no – the pie, take the pie!”

“Hah! I’ve told you,” he snarled, leaning down so his hot breath, carrying the wild scent of his arousal, fanned your face. His rough stubble scratched your cheek as he nipped at your earlobe. “I’m not interested in the one in the basket.”

You felt his hands, rough like weathered bark, completely engulf your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as he spread you open wider. With another rip, this one accompanied by the sickening sound of torn lace, the remaining skirts and your delicate panties were rendered into useless shreds. You screamed, kicking back wildly. Your heel connected with the solid rock of his thigh, which only made his cock, now fully erect and angrily red, jump and leak a thick strand of precum onto your inner thigh.

“Feisty! I like the fight in ya!” Varka laughed wholeheartedly, and his wolf ears flattened against his skull in concentration. His lips find the shell of your ear, whispering intimately, “Gon’ lick ya stupid, lil’ Red. Gotta taste what I'm goin’ to destroy...”

Before you could plead again, his mouth descended. His lips and tongue were a brand of fire, trailing down, sucking violent hickeys into the tender skin of your neck, your collarbone, the trembling swell of your breast. Varka stopped over your pert nipple, sucking the innocent flesh deep into the scorching cavern of his mouth, teasing the poor bud mercilessly with the rasp of his rough tongue, then bit slightly around it, his sharp canines leaving a perfect red circle of indents around your tortured peak. 

The mix of pain and shocking pleasure made you grab fistfuls of unruly hair near his ears and tug. This only elicited a low growl of approval from him as he released your poor flesh with an obscene pop. 

“Tha’s it… Ya startin’ to look like mine, Red.” He admired the darkening mark with a possessive gleam in his eye before continuing his relentless journey south, licking a broad stripe down your belly, his nose inhaling deeply, savoring the salt of your sweat and the sweet feminine scent beneath. As his handsome face came level with your loins, hidden in shy curls and glistening with your own betraying arousal, Varka stared at your slit, appreciating the delicacy of his next meal. 

"Here's the pie I crave," he murmured, and buried his nose in your curls, sniffing like a starved bloodhound at a feast. A rumbling groan of appreciation rattled in his chest, and, drunk on your scent, he finally licked a burning path from your dripping entrance all the way up to your swollen clit.

You jerked as if struck by lightning, a broken cry torn from your throat at the white-hot bolt of pleasure that seared through the numbness of your terror. Your toes coiled against the damp moss, and your hips gave an involuntary jerk towards his greedy mouth. Varka growled, the sound shaking his entire frame and vibrating deliciously against your labia.

“Oh, fuck,” his voice was muffled against your slick folds. He lapped at you again, broader, slower, more proprietary, his broad nose nudging insistently against your clit as his tongue parted your inner lips, prodding at your leaking hole, savouring the taste. “Hit a jackpot. Cunt sweet as honey and ripe as a fucking peach. You knew what you did, coming into my woods ovulating, didn’t ya?”

With that, Varka hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, the red wool of your torn stocking being a stark contrast against his sun-tanned skin. Dipping back, he pressed his face to your cunt so tight that his nose flattened your poor clit, and his tongue became relentless when you whimpered at the sensation. It speared inside you, fucking you with shallow thrusts that made you sob and gush more of your honey into his thirsty mouth. Then it flattened, dragging over your clit in tight, dizzying circles that had your back arching off the ground against your will, your hands flying to his head once again. 

This time, though, you didn't try push him away. Instead, your fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture caught between a plea to stop and a desperate pull for more. Varka held you down easily, one huge hand splaying possessively over your lower belly, pinning you, urging you to gush out more sweetness against his face. 

With his tongue on you, in you, you were becoming boneless, melting slowly, the forest canopy spinning above you. Tears of shame and pleasure streaked your temples.

“Va– Vah–!” you tried to plead, but found yourself unable to speak when he sucked at your clit again.

“Sho– shooo fuckin’ shweet,” he snarled between licks, his hands coming up to cruelly pinch and roll your neglected nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, kneading the soft swell afterwards. He shifted, nuzzling lower, his wet nose tracing a path further down. His tongue, eager and curious, darted to tease the tight pucker of your other hole, kissing and licking it with blunt pressure.

“Ah! N-not there!” you shrieked, jolting as if struck.

“Everywhere,” Varka corrected hungrily, his voice muffled between your thighs. “But for now…” His tongue returned to your weeping slit with renewed fervor, drinking from you, licking up like a starved mutt, then sucking your raw clit into his mouth with obscene gusto, smearing more of your juices all over his stubbled cheeks and chin, biting at the tender nub ever so gently with his teeth. 

The culmination was too vast to fight, and, with another teasing nip, you came, body convulsing violently under the prison of his mouth and hands, your vision whiting out as waves of shameful pleasure wracked you. Varka tugged at your nipples again and drank every spasm, every drop, his growls of satisfaction vibrating through your very core.

“Fuck yeah,” he panted, lifting his head, his face glistening with your release. “Jus’ a small appetizer before the main feast.” As you lay there trembling, utterly wrecked and puddled on your own red cloak, he moved up your body. His immense weight settled over you, supported only by his forearms, deliciously crushing the air from your lungs. The intimidating length of his fully erect cock, its ruddy skin flushed dark and slick with his pre-cum, pressed insistently against your quivering entrance. He nudged impatiently, and you felt the tapered tip catch and begin to part your swollen hole.

“W-wait!”

Varka did not. 

With a single, powerful, and utterly devastating thrust, he fully sheathed himself inside you, and white-hot pain obliterated everything. You didn’t hear yourself scream, and didn’t feel how your nails dug into his scarred shoulders, scoring thin red lines over old silvered wounds, as more tears escaped your eyes. There was a tearing in your abdomen, a stretching beyond comprehension, a burning invasion that split you open around a thickness you could not fathom, and a hot trickle of blood joining the mess of fluids between your legs.

Varka halted, his entire body going rigid above you. His nostrils flared, sniffing audibly at the coppery new scent mingling with your arousal in the air. His pupils dilated into vast pools, the blazing blue nearly swallowed whole by dawning realization.

“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he breathed, his voice a thick rumble of lust and sudden wonder. He pulled back just enough to look down between your joined bodies. A smear of vivid crimson painted the thick root of his cock, a stark, virgin red glistening around the veined flesh and the swollen knot at its base. A profound change came over him. The rowdy predator was still there, thrumming in the tense cord of his muscles, but it was now layered with something else – an almost reverent gentleness. The low growl in his chest softened into a deep purr, and his tail began to thump a joyful rhythm against the moss behind him. 

“Ah, sweetheart...” he murmured, the words gravelly with awe. Varka lowered his head, his stubbled jaw scraping gently against your cheek as he nuzzled you, his large wolf ears swiveling forward to catch every hitched breath. He licked the tears from your skin with surprisingly soft licks, the action slow and soothing, like a dog trying to calm his owner.

“Shhh, lil’ Red, you’re good… Givin’ your first to a Big Bad Wolf…” He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth, his actions bizarrely tender even as his monstrous erection stayed lodged deep inside your pussy, the heat of him a brand on your very core, stretching you with a fullness that bordered on torture.

“Gonna make it so good for you, you’ll beg for more, yeah? For now, be a good girl and relax, ‘key?”

Varka stayed like that for long minutes, kissing and cooing, letting his weight envelop you, letting your body adjust to his monstrous invasion. The burning pain slowly began to transmute into an unbearable fullness. You felt stuffed, speared, owned. And as he began to move – a shallow rock of his hips – withdrawing almost all the way before sliding back in with aching slowness, the pain melted into a pleasure so intense it felt like dying.

“M–more!” you sobbed, back arching into him needily.

He cradled your head in his calloused palms, kissing your face as he thrusted. Each gradually deepening move punched a soft whimper from your lips. Needing to anchor yourself, your hands found his bulging forearms, clinging weakly. Varka made a pleased sound deep in his chest and gathered you closer, the hot, musky scent of his sweat and skin enveloping you.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his composure beginning to fracture as the rut reclaimed him, his gentle rhythm growing more insistent, the slap-slap-slap of his flesh against yours growing louder in the quiet glade. “Submit, lil’ Red. It’ll feel even better...”

Slowly, but surely, the world broke apart. Each piston-like drive of his hips punched the breath from your lungs and smashed the tapered tip of his cockhead against the mouth of your womb, making you see stars. The wet, filthy sound of him pounding your sloppy cunny filled the air, louder than your cries.

“That’s it, baby,” Varka roared, his own composure shattering, his claws extending just enough to prick the skin of your hips, “So tight, so hot around me– fuck! Gon’ knot you so full!”

One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers. The other wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat for his biting, sucking, kissing. His teeth grazed your pulse point, not breaking skin, but promising the mark. Your breasts, freed from your dress, bounced and jiggled wildly with every brutal thrust.

You were beyond thought at this point. Cock-drunk, mindless, pounded into the wet moss by a Big Bad Wolf himself. Your legs, which had been pushing weakly at his sides, now locked around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back, just above the base of his thrashing tail, trying to pull him deeper, to feel the burgeoning pressure of his knot against your ravaged hole.

“Va– Varka! P-please… mo– ore!” you heard yourself beg, the words slurred and shattered by each devastating plunge.

He laughed, a joyous sound echoing in his chest. “Such a greedy little virgin I caught! Wants it all, doesn’t she?” His eyes, glowing with feral adoration, devoured your mindless form. “Ride it then, baby! Take what you need from me!”

In a dizzying display of strength, he rolled onto his back, keeping you seamlessly impaled. Your world spun as you found yourself straddling him, your hands on his hairy chest, his shaft buried to the hilt inside your clutching pussy. Varka folded his powerful arms behind his head, muscles bulging, and grinned up at you with wolfish delight, his golden tail thumping against the moss. “Earn your cream, lil’ Red. Show this ol’ wolf what yer made of.”

You tried to move, but managed only a shallow rise before sinking back down, a needy sob catching in your throat. Seeing your struggle, the vestige of the predator vanished, replaced by a guiding lust. 

“Aww, poor Red... Let the Big Bad Wolf help ya,” Varka murmured, and his large hands settled on your hips. He began to guide you, lifting you with ease until just the swollen tip of him remained inside, then pulling you down slowly, sheathing you back onto his girth like a toy.

“Like that, yeah?” he encouraged, his blue eyes holding yours. “Use me, darlin’. Take a ride.” 

With his help, you found a rhythm – a slow, deep, rolling grind that dragged every inch of his veined shaft against places that made you see Celestia behind your eyelids. You rose and fell with a wet plap-plap-plap, aided by the upward thrusts of his own hips, meeting him in a syncopated dance of mounting frenzy, your head thrown back in abandon.

“Look at ya,” he panted, his hands leaving your hips to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with rough reverence. “First timer, and already ridin’ that cock like a pro, yeah? Bouncing on it like you were born for it. Want my cream tha’ bad?”

“Please! Varka! Give it to me– I need it– I need you!” You nodded frantically, slamming yourself down onto him despite the tang of pain in your cunny, meeting his upward thrusts desperately. The base of his shaft, that threatening swell of his knot, began to stretch you even wider with every bounce.

“Come on my cock then!” he ordered, his voice a guttural snarl. “Squeeze it out of my balls! Let me put a litter in you!”

“I’m gonna– Please–!” You shattered. Your orgasm was a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming. Your cunt clamped down on him like a vise, rippling and convulsing around the intrusive thickness, milking his length in rhythmic, desperate pulses. 

“That’s my good girl!” Varka howled, his heart banging against his ribs, eyes rolling back.

“Gon’ cum!” was his final warning. His face contorted in ecstatic release as he sat up halfway, wrapping his arms around your waist in a crushing embrace. With one final, powerful upward surge of his hips, his knot slid past your resisting entrance with a wet pop, locking him inside you. At the same moment, you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, delivering hot his spent right into your fertile little womb.

For a blinding second, his vision whited out entirely, and in the void, Varka swore he saw you – not the trembling girl on top of him, but a maker wearing your face, baring teeth in a sharp smile of absolute approval.

Ah, fuck.

The realization was a different kind of punch, landing in the gut as his body was still wracked by the last waves of release. 

Letting you go? Ha! Absolute bullshit!

Not now. Not ever. Not after he’d just nutted his very fucking soul and brain into your shy cunny. Not when you’d taken him – all of him, the fear and the fury and the frantic need – and met his frenzy with an eager rhythm of your own. Not when your shattered moans of his name had sounded less like pleas and more like a prayer.

“Mine,” Varka finally decided, hands flying to the meat of your bruised thighs, making sure that he marked them with his fingertips properly, “My pretty Red…”

You collapsed forward onto his chest, sending you two to fall on the soft moss, sobbing through the endless pulses that filled you, feeling your belly grow warm and heavy.

Varka held you through it all, one rough hand splayed over your lower back, the other groping and spreading your ass, his middle finger teasingly pressing an insistent circle against your butt in a promise for later. Even when you went limp, his hips never stopped their shallow jerks, pumping his cum against your cervix in spurts until he was utterly spent and sure it would take. When he could speak, Varka looked down on you, draped so fucking adorably over his massive body. His blue eyes were sated, possessive. 

“So, my lil’ Red,” he murmured, his thumb stroking over your hip. He shifted slightly, making you both aware of the warm seep of his spend already beginning to leak out around the knot still plugging you. “Grandma’s not getting her pie. Not now, not later, not ever.” 

You lifted your face to stare at him, and his tail began a happy wag against the moss at the sight of your dazed, fucked-out, questioning expression. Varka leaned in, licking a broad stripe from the corner of your swollen lips up to your temple, and you blushed adorably, hiding your beautiful face in his hairy chest and nuzzling into it like a needy pup. “But her granddaughter… she’s getting all the pies she deserves.”

As the knot began to soften, he pulled from your tarnished cunt with an obscene sound, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness and the flood of gush that followed.

In one swift motion, Varka stood, tossing you over his broad shoulder like a prize. Your head hung down his back, your sore cunt openly dripping its creamy load in a thick trail down the inside of your leg and onto the forest floor. He turned his head, his blue eyes darkening with renewed hunger as he watched the evidence of his claim leak from your raw cunny. Smirking, he ran a hot tongue up your outer thigh. 

“Breedin’ season’s on us, my lil’ mate,” Varka growled, the words a hot rumble against your skin as his fingers dug possessively into the soft flesh of your ass. He began to move, walking deeper into his territory, his thick tail lashing with primal satisfaction. “My den’s where you belong. Gon’ take you home and keep that pie full of my cream ‘til you’re properly fat with my pups.”

He leaned down, his breath scalding against your skin before his teeth sank in, making you tremble and marking the curve of your ass, a promise of bruises and bite marks to come. A low, predatory chuckle vibrated through him as he laved the stinging spot with a broad, rough stroke of his tongue. 

“And Big Bad Wolf has lots of cream to share.”

.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist: Creatures Features

Next part: Pride Rock (Hard) (LionHybrid!JingYuan x fem!reader)

Honestly, I liked it so much when I'd finished the first draft. But after I edited it... I don't know, it feels kinda drier than I intended it to be. I need to know if I'm the only one who thinks so, so please, don't hesitate to leave a comment! c:

My darlings (taglist): @nazifa613, @spookydragonsong, @noentalrae, @fayebyte, @melimelisworld, @itslovelyangel, @cum-fvk, @forbidden-permission, @luv-isolde, @rinki-tinki, @alwaysseventypercent, @koseyisntcozy, @rochunsfw ...

[manicsho]

Pride Rock (Hard)

In which photographer's focus shifts from wildlife to wild life!

LionHybrid!JingYuan x fem!reader

wordcount: ~8600

TWs: MNDI, implied stalking, abduction, predator/prey dynamics, claiming, forced bonding, power imbalance, size difference, manhandling, blood (from biting), and an itty-bitty plot twist (?) at the end. NSFW: non-con to dub-con, spanking (x2 cause i'm freaky), fingering, squirting, oral (m receiving), face fucking, headlock, mating bite, creampie, breeding, cervix bullying, body betrayal (forced orgasm).

(If you find some more, please let me know.)

As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!

NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes. Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Fuck… Just move to the left already...”

Your elbows were raw, ground into the cracked earth, and the viewfinder of your camera had dug a perfect crescent-shaped indent into your brow bone. You had been lying on your stomach for three hours. It was your fifth day in the reserve, and the initial awe of being here had settled into something that felt almost like belonging. You had passed ten medical examinations to get here. Ten. You had signed waivers in triplicate, sat through briefings about spitting cobras and tsetse flies, and memorized how to behave in the presence of rare species. All of that, just to lie in the dirt and wait.

You breathed through your mouth, slow and shallow, your finger hovering over the shutter release. In the lens of your camera, you saw a small group of gazelles at the waterhole. The light was perfect. The golden hour was bleeding into something richer, amber and ochre, the kind of light that made their fur look like it was burning. You were two shots away from completing your portfolio. Gazelles and the rare breed of white lion. That was it.

You lay there, tired and sweaty, waiting for a perfect moment, when something touched your ankle. It was light at first, only a whisper of pressure against the bare skin just above your hiking sock. You froze. Your entire body went rigid, muscles locked in that primal panic that overrides all rational thought. 

Don't move. Don't fucking move. Don’t you dare…

The thing touched your calf, then your knee. It was warm and dry. 

The camera grip became slick with your sweat. 

It will go away. It will lose interest. It will–

It moved to your side.

From your peripheral vision, low to the ground, you saw it: a white tail. The tuft at the end was darker, almost black, and it swayed with the hypnotic rhythm of a pendulum.

Lion.

The word detonated in your skull. You were going to be eaten by a lion in the last hour of golden light, and they would find your camera memory card and put your photographs in a gallery and call it a fucking posthumous work.

The animal circled you. You could hear its breathing now, deep and even, completely unconcerned. You waited for teeth, for claws, for that first bright spike of pain that would signal the end.

Instead, it sat on you. The weight was immense. Dense muscle and heat settled across the backs of your thighs, pinning you to the earth like a butterfly under the glass. You made a sound – something small and strangled, pushed out of your chest by sheer pressure. And then you felt it.

Hands! Since when lions have fucking hands? 

Fingers slid up your sides, crawling their way beneath the hem of your camouflage shirt. The touch was dry and warm, calloused, tracing the dip of your waist with an intimacy that made your stomach clench. You heard the rustle of fabric. The shift of a large body leaning forward.

Then, directly into your ear, a voice.

"May I ask how much longer you intend to pretend you haven't noticed me, sweetheart?"

The sound of it was devastating. Low, velvet-warm, each word shaped with the deliberate patience of a man who had never been interrupted in his life. It vibrated through your skull, down your spine, pooling somewhere low in your belly. Your mind was a static storm.

Lion. Tail. Hands. Voice. None of it fit together.

"Wh–" Your voice cracked. You swallowed and tried again. "What the fuck!?"

An exhale of amusement, rang warm against the shell of your ear. His thumb pressed into the soft flesh just beneath your ribcage, stroking slow circles.

"I have been watching you," he said, as if this were a perfectly normal conversation to be having while sitting on a stranger in the middle of an African plain. "For two days. You are very dedicated. I find this… admirable."

"Y-You– You're–" You couldn't finish. 

"Jing Yuan," he supplied. His fingers had found the waistband of your shorts. "And you must be my future mate?"

The absurdity of the statement hit you like a physical blow. You jerked beneath him, tried to scramble forward, but his weight was immovable. He didn't even brace himself, letting you struggle, patient as stone.

"Let me go!" Your voice came out higher than you intended. "I'm not– I don't even know what you are."

His thumb hooked beneath the waistband of your shorts. One sharp tug, and сool air hit the small of your back.

"I am the king of this place," he murmured. "And I am lonely."

Jing Yuan tugged again. Your shorts slid down your hips, bunching around your knees. The weight of him shifted, so his chest was against your back now, and you could feel it – bare skin, hot as the savanna floor. Something brushed your neck. His nose. His lips.

"I considered eating you," he said, "But then I smeeled you and," his lips brushed your temple, “now I want to just have you.”

A sound escaped you, half protest and half something else entirely. Your hands were fisted in the dry grass, white-knuckled, gripping for dear life, camera forgotten.

"You can't just–" you gasped. "I didn't agree to–"

"Agree?" He pulled back. His voice was mildly curious, genuinely perplexed, as if the concept had never occurred to him. "You are already mine. Agreement is a formality."

You opened your mouth to argue, but his hips rolled forward, and you felt him against you – the heavy length of him, trapped behind his own clothing, pressing into the cleft of your ass with a hunger that made your thighs tremble.

"I–" Your voice broke on a moan. "Wait!"

"What is the problem?" You couldn't see his face. But you could hear the smug smile in his voice. His body went still, though his weight remained. You could feel his patience like a physical thing, vast and inexhaustible.

"The problem is that you're uh,” you gulped, sweat glistening along your hairline “a lion!"

Silence. Then, unexpectedly, a warm laugh, as if you had said something genuinely delightful. You facepalmed mentally because what the fuck was this reason?

"Ah," he stopped your thoughts. "That."

One moment you were pinned beneath him, face-down in the grass, your shorts tangled around your knees. The next, you were on your back, the hot earth pressing against your spine, and he was above you. The sunset sky shone bright, turning his silhouette to gold, and you saw him for the first time.

He was a man, but not only a man.

His hair was white. Not the white of age, but the white of fresh snow, of lion's mane, thick and wild and falling past his shoulders in waves. From within that mane, two ears rose, furred and tufted, swiveling independently as he regarded you. His eyes were amber. Gold, shot through with veins of deeper brown, the pupils vertical and narrow, locked onto yours with predatory focus. Below his left eye, a single dark mole.

His face was beautiful in the way a storm front is beautiful. High cheekbones. A strong jaw. Lips that curved into a smile both gentle and utterly assured of its own authority.

Next thing that you’ve noticed is that his body was almost bare. His shoulders were broad enough to block out the sky. His arms, braced on either side of your head, were corded with muscle, veins visible beneath the skin, his hands large enough to span your entire ribcage. A necklace of bone and fang hung between the hard planes of his chest, which was dusted with fine white hair. The hard muscules of his abs glistened, and from his navel, the thick happy trail thickened as it travelled down his stomach, disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his red pants. 

And the fabric of them was so strained that you could see the shape of his cock. The thick, curved length, the heavy weight of the balls beneath. His smile deepened as he watched you, eyes half-lidding with pleasure.

Your mouth went dry. It was quite obvious what this smoking hot Lion Man wanted from you. 

"You see," he murmured. "I am not so different from you, honey. Not where it matters."

One of his hands left the ground beside your head. He brought it to your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek with impossible tenderness. The touch was a contradiction: the hand of a killer, gentle against your skin.

"You are so soft," he said. "Like a little mouse. I could close my fist and break every bone in your body. And yet you look at me like you want to bite me." His thumb traced your lower lip. 

You did want to bite him. You wanted to bite him and run. You wanted– you didn't know what you wanted. Your body was a traitor, liquid heat pooling in your belly, your nipples tightening to aching points against the fabric of your bra.

"Jing Yuan," he said again, reminding you of his name. "Your future mate. Say it."

"No."

His eyebrow arched. 

"No?"

"No." Your voice was steadier than you expected. "I didn't agree to this. I didn't– you can't just take someone–"

His head tilted, ears swiveling forward, and something shifted in his expression. Something close to curiosity, as if you had presented him with an interesting puzzle.

"But I am the king," he said. "I’m strong and thus, I can have what I want." The words hung in the air between you. His gaze sharpened, vertical pupils dilating slightly. For a long moment, he stared at you, and you felt the full weight of his attention.

"Interesting," he said, "You are afraid of me, but," he inhaled deeply and smiled, “judging by the smell coming from down there,” he murmured sultry, hand brushing your thigh, “not of what I want.”

You whimpered, and Jing Yuan lowered his head. His forehead pressed against yours, his mane falling around you like a curtain, shutting out the sun. His breath was warm against your lips.

"I will not hurt you," he said. "I will never hurt you. You are too precious. Too rare."

His nose brushed yours. His tail, heavy and warm, curled around your calf.

"But I will have you," he said. "Here, or in my den. That is not a question. That is simply… what will happen." He gripped your hip, his fingers denting the soft flesh, and pulled you against the rigid heat of him.

"You will fight," he murmured. "You will say no. You will scratch and bite and call me terrible names."

His hips rolled. Once. The thick length of him dragged against your center, separated by mere millimeters of fabric, and your core clenched in response.

"And then you will come for me," he said, "again and again, until i decide that im finished."

Your heart was a war drum. Your body, that traitor, was arching into his touch, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of him.

He sat back and the loss of his warmth was immediate, almost painful.

"The grass is too exposed," he said. "And the ground is hard. You deserve better than dirt."

Jing Yuan stood and before you could scramble away, before you could even fully process what was happening. One arm hooked beneath your knees, the other behind your back. Then you were in the air, cradled against his chest.

"Put me down," you gasped. "Put me down right now!"

"Hmpf."

Jing Yuan shifted your weight. Suddenly you were upside down, draped over his left shoulder like a sack of grain, your head hanging down his back. His heavy hand settled over the bare curve of your ass.

"What the hell!? Let me go!"

"No."

His tail swished lazily behind him as he began to walk away from the spot, leaving your camera in the grass.

"I like you like this." His thumb traced the crease where your thigh met your ass. "Soft. Open. Ready."

"You are insane," you snarled. "You are a predator and I am a human being and you cannot just abduct me–"

"And yet, here I am. Abducting you."

His pace was unhurried. The grass whispered against his calves. In the distance, the gazelles had finally lifted their heads, watchful but not alarmed – they recognized him, you realized. They knew their king. There was noone here to help you, and you panicked, hands beating against his broad back, legs swinging in a desperate attempt to escape his grasp. 

The Lion Man didn't even flinch and the only thing your shuffling did was send your shorts falling down into the dry grass.

"I will scream!" you said.

"You free to do so."

"I will– I will bite you!"

His tail curled around your anckle, the tuft brushing the sensitive skin.  

"Oho~ I look forward to it."

“I will run!”

Jing Yuan stopped mid-stride, the savanna quiet except for the distant cry of a hornbill and the desperate sound of your breathing. His hand was still spread across your ass, fingers denting the flushed skin.

"Ah," he said, and you felt the word vibrate through his shoulder blade into your sternum. "Then I must make running… difficult~"

Before you could process the shift in his tone, his grip tightened. His left arm locked around your thighs like a vice, pinning you immobile against his body, and his right hand rose.

Slap!

The first hit cracked through the golden air like a rifle shot. Pain bloomed across your left ass cheek, sharp and immediate, radiating outward in waves of heat. You screamed,  sound punched out of you by the force of the impact. Your body jerked against his shoulder, but he held you fast.

"Will you run?" His voice was conversational, almost pleasant.

"Yes!"

Slap!

The second hit landed on the same cheek, harder. Your vision whited at the edges. The sound was wetter now, skin meeting abused skin, and you could feel the imprint of his fingers burning across your flesh like a brand.

"Yes, you fucking–!"

Slap!

The third landed on the other cheek. Then the tender curve where your ass met your thigh. Then the backs of your thighs themselves, each blow measured, deliberate, the patience of a creature who had never once been rushed. His hand was so large that each slap covered half your ass at once. The heat was building, spreading, transforming into something that burned all the way down to your cunt.

"Will you run?" 

"YES–" Your voice cracked on a sob. "YES, I'LL RUN, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, I'LL–"

Jing Yuan spanked you again, and this time his fingers dragged forward, slipping between your legs from behind, and the calloused pad of his middle finger dragged directly across your soaked pantines.

You both froze.

Your entire body locked up, muscles spasming, a sound escaping your throat that was equal parts humiliation and raw need. His finger was still pressed against you, not penetrating, just there, resting against the outline your swollen lips.

"Ah," he breathed. "You say you’ll run, but your body says something else entirely."

"Fuck you," you whispered. "Fuckyoufuckyoufuck–"

Slap!

"–FUCKING–"

Slap!

"–MONSTER–"

Slap!

"–LET ME–"

Slap!

"–GO–"

His hand stopped. For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. Then his thumb began to move, slow circles across your burning skin, tracing the outline of each handprint he'd left behind.

"Your ass is so red," he murmured. "Like the sky at sunset."

His finger slid lower. Found your entrance. Pressed.

"And your pussy," he continued, his voice dreamy, adoring, "is soaked. If you hate me so much, why does your body love me?"

You couldn't answer. Your throat was too tight, your face buried against the hot plane of his back, your fingers twisted in his mane. He was petting you now, soothing the burning flesh he'd abused, and the tenderness after the violence was somehow worse, somehow more devastating. You let out a pathetic sob that wrecked your whole body.

"Shh," he murmured. "There. There."

His fingers found the waistband of your underwear – that flimsy scrap of cotton, utterly inadequate protection against what was going to happen. He hooked his thumb beneath the elastic, unseathing the claw and pulled.

The fabric tore, the sound sharp and final, the elastic snapping, the cotton ripping. Jing Yuan tugged the ruined scrap free from between your legs – it dragged across your soaked cunt, collecting your slick, your arousal, the evidence of your body's betrayal – and then he held it before his eyes. His pupils dilate, his nostrils flare, his lips part around a sharp exhale.

"I’ll take these," he smirked and folded the scrap of fabric neatly, tucking it into the pocket of his trousers. “Will need that for the times when you're too sore…”

His fingers found you immediately after. Slipping through your slick folds, parting you, exposing you to the cooling evening air. Two fingers sweeped through your wetness, gathering your arousal on his skin, and then he brought his hand to his face. You listened carefully, paralyzed, as he slid his fingers into his mouth.

His eyes fluttered closed. His throat worked. His ears swiveled forward, catching every microscopic sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, the desperate sobs.

"Mmm," Jing Yuan hummed around his own fingers. "Delicious. You taste even better than you smell, love. And you smell incredible."

"Please," you whispered. You didn't know what you were begging for. "Please, I–"

"Please what?" His voice was soft, almost tender. "Please stop? Please continue? Please put you down? Please keep you?"

"I don't know," you whined, face red and wet with tears and snot. You were ashamed. Truly ashamed by the feeling in you belly, by how messed up your thoughts were, by how your poor hole clenched, spitting out more slick.

His hand slid between your legs again, and this time his fingers didn't tease. Two thick digits pushed into you without warning, without resistance, sliding home to the knuckles in one slick thrust.

Your vision went white.

The sound you made – you didn't recognize it. High and keening, desperate, your entire body convulsing around the sudden fullness, your toes curling from pleasure. His fingers were so much longer than yours, so much thicker, reaching places that you hadn't even known existed. Your cunt clenched around him instinctively, greedily, trying to pull him deeper.

"There," Yuan breathed. "There it is. Just let your man take care of you, yes? I'll prepare you well, sweet one. I'll make you ready for me."

He started moving with slow and deep thrusts, the ball of his palm pressing against your clit with every stroke, his fingers curling to find that sweet spot inside your tender cunny that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The sound of it – wet and filthy, your body accepting him, welcoming him, gripping him – filled the quiet savanna air.

"You like this, dear?" he murmured, and  when you whimpered, there was genuine surprise in his voice, genuine wonder. "Oh, you do… You like when someone takes care of you. You like when someone makes you feel good."

His fingers crooked sharply, pressing directly into that sweet spot, and you moaned, gripping his asscheeks for the dear life.

"Yes, like that." he breathed. "I promise I will always take care of you, honey. You will never be unsatisfied. You will never want for touch, for pleasure, for the feeling of being loved. I will give you everything your body craves, and I will give it until you beg me to stop, and then I will give you more."

His thumb found your clit. Circled it. Pressed.

Your fingers found his tail. Grabbed it. Pulled.

"Yes," he groaned, his composure cracking for the first time. "Yes, hold onto me. And if you need to bite, bite–" He lowered his head and sank his teeth into the meat of your thigh, not breaking skin but close, so close, the pressure of his fangs a brand. "–more marks are better. I want to wear you on my skin."

His fingers were pistoning into you now, relentless, each thrust aimed directly at that spot inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur. His palm slapped against your clit with every stroke. His teeth released your thigh and he licked the indentation he'd left, soothing, worshipful.

"Come for me," he murmured against your skin. "Come on my fingers, sweet one. Let me taste you again."

Your orgasm hit you like a falling tree, like a wave, like the entire weight of the sky collapsing. Your body arched against his shoulder, your cunt clamping down on his fingers in rhythmic waves, and you felt the gush of fluid soaking his hand, dripping down your thighs, splattering the dry earth beneath his feet.

Jing Yuan made a sound of pure satisfaction. His fingers slowed, gentled, coaxing you through the aftershocks, slipping out of your spasming pussy. He brought his wet hand to his mouth again and licked it clean, his pupils blown wide.

"Sweet," he said softly. "Has it been long since someone touched you? Human men must be blind." And he continued walking towards what looked like a cave, carved into the heart of a kopje, the entrance screened by flowering acacia and the trailing vines of wild jasmine. Inside, the walls rose smooth and curved, lit by clusters of phosphorescent fungi that cast everything in soft gold. The floor was layered thick with furs – zebra, impala, something large and spotted that you didn't manage to identify – and piled high with silk cushions in jewel tones. A low table held fruits and a clay jug. A brazier glowed in one corner.

"My home," Jing Yuan said. He was already climbing onto the furs with you still thrown over his shoulder, his weight depressing the soft pelts. "Do you like it?"

"You live in a cave…"

"I am a lion."

He was gently lowering you now, your back meeting the fur and your body sinking into the impossible softness beneath. "You have furniture. You have cushions. You have–"

Jing Yuan knelt over you. His thighs bracketed your hips. His hands found the hem of your ruined shirt and pulled, the fabric tearing like tissue, like paper, like it was nothing. Cool air hit your bare breasts. You were naked, your cunt still wet and dripping, your ass still burning red, your nipples tightening to sharp peaks in the dim light.

Jing Yuan bit his lip, golden eyes feasting on the sight of you. His gaze traveled down your body like a physical touch, slow and thorough, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, the softness of your belly. His tail had gone rigid, the tuft twitching. His pupils had blown so wide that his amber irises were reduced to thin gold rings. 

"Mmm," he hummed. "Pretty."

His hands began to move. Palms sliding up your shoulders, over the delicate architecture of your collarbones. Fingers tracing down your sternum, circling your areolas, thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked harder and you gasped. Down, down, over the soft give of your belly, the jut of your hip bones, the trembling muscles of your thighs. 

"Mhm," he hummed again, and the sound was deeper now, rougher, edged with hunger. "Perfect. Everywhere I touch is perfect."

His hands left your body. You felt the loss like a physical ache.

He reached for the fastenings of his trousers. The fabric fell away in an instant. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, curving up toward his stomach, and you forgot how to breathe.

The shaft was long, the head a flushed helmet that flared wider than the base, weeping a constant stream of translucent fluid. Below the head, circling the shaft, were ridges. Not sharp, not the barbs of a true lion, but pronounced, textured, designed to catch and hold and stimulate. The shaft itself was veined, thick cords of blue and purple visible beneath the taut skin, pulsing visibly with every beat of his heart. At the base, nestled in a nest of soft white curls, hung his balls – heavy, full, so swollen with need that they looked almost painful.

The entire organ twitched. Drooled. Yearned toward you like a living thing.

Jing Yuan watched you assessing him. His chest was heaving, his mane of hair disheveled, a flush spreading across his cheekbones and down his throat. His ears were flat against his skull. His tail lashed the furs behind him.

And then he dropped to all fours. The movement was fluid, animalistic, his broad shoulders rolling as he braced his weight on his palms, while crawling toward you. His cock swung beneath him, heavy and wet, leaving a trail of pre-come on the dark fur. 

While you scrambled backward, his eyes never left yours. Your heels dug into the pelts. Your hands pushed uselessly at the furs behind you. Your back hit the cool stone of the cave wall.

“Wait, j-just give me a second!” you sobbed pathetically.

Jing Yuan kept coming. His face was level with yours now. His breath was hot and rapid, his lips parted, his fangs visible. His pupils were black, his iridium swallowed entirely by want. His tail whipped back and forth, back and forth, a metronome counting down to something.

"Nowhere to run," he breathed. "Nowhere to hide. You're on my territory, little mate. And I am very hungry."

His hands landed on your shoulders. His weight pressed forward until your back was plastered against the hard stone. And his mouth crashed into yours. His tongue was thick and heavy, muscled like the rest of him. He pushed past your lips, past your teeth, and kept going, delving deep into the wet heat of you, stroking along the inside of your cheeks, swallowing your sounds, your protests, your whimpers, and answering each one with a deeper thrust of that relentless tongue. 

It was obscene, the way he ravaged your mouth, the wet sounds of his claiming filling the space between you, slick and rhythmic, thick tongue licking the insides of your mouth. His hand found your jaw and gripped, forcing your face up, forcing you to accept him. His thumb pressed into the soft hollow beneath your chin, tilting your head back against the stone. Your drool pooled at the corners of your lips, escaped down your chin, and Jing Yuan groaned into you, scraping your lip with his fangs, swallowing your helpless sounds as if they were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

You should fight. You should bite. You should–

Your hands rose. Your fingers threaded into his mane, and your tongue, traitor that it was, began to move with his, meeting each thrust with a stroke of your own. 

He felt it immediately. His entire body shuddered, a deep purr starting in his chest and vibrating through the kiss, and when you suckled gently at his tongue, he pulled back just far enough to look at your face. A string of saliva connected your lips to his, stretching, glistening, and he watched it break with hooded eyes. A single drop fell onto your breast.

"There you are," he said. His voice was wrecked, scraped raw. "Now be a good mate and tend to your male." He shifted his weight, rising, and his feet settled on either side of your thighs. His cock rose between you, the head level with your lips.

Your breath stopped.

It was so close. The weight of it, the heat, radiating against your face like a furnace. Pre-come beaded at the tip, gathered into a trembling droplet, and fell onto your lower lip.

Jing Yuan's hand found your hair. His fingers carded through it, adoring, gathering the strands and drawing them back from your face. He tucked a lock behind your ear. 

"Open," he murmured, "for me."

Your mouth opened before your mind had processed the thoughts.

The tip passed your lips, and the world collapsed to just this: the taste of him, salt and musk and the flavor of wild places. His cock was a living thing against your tongue, pulsing with its own heartbeat, the broad flat of it heavy and insistent as it pressed past the threshold of your mouth. Your lips stretched around the sheer girth, and you heard him exhale above you.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's it, sweetheart..."

His hand cradled the back of your skull, fingers threading through your hair with deceptive gentleness. You could feel the claws there, retracted but present, blunt pressure points against your scalp. His thumb traced the hinge of your jaw, pressing slightly, and your mouth fell wider. He pushed deeper.

The head of his cock was broad and hot, shaped wrong and right all at once, the ridge beneath it catching on your lower lip as it slid inward. Those ridges. You felt them with the flat of your tongue. They pulsed against you, slick with the endless flood of pre-come that wept from his tip, and you tried to imagine what those ridges would feel like inside you. Your poor sopping cunt clenched on nothing at the thought.

Jing Yuan pushed deeper still. The tip met the back of your throat, teasing that soft wall of muscle, and he paused. His thumb stroked your cheekbone, wiping away a tear you hadn't noticed falling.

"Breathe through your nose, love. Relax this muscle here." He pressed gently at the hollow of your throat. "Let me in. I know you can."

Your throat spasmed, rebelled, and Jing Yuan waited, patient as stone, immovable as the savanna itself, his cock a hot brand against your tongue. And when the tight channel finally relaxed enough, his cock slid into your throat like it belonged there, like your body had been shaped specifically for this purpose. 

The stretch was immense. You felt your throat bulge around his girth, felt the pulse of him against your esophagus, and more tears spilled hot down your cheeks. Saliva and pre-cum flooded your mouth, overflowed, dripped down your chin, and onto your breasts. You couldn’t speak. You couldn't swallow. You couldn't do anything but whine and gag and whimper around the pulsing fatness of him.

"Oh, love," Yuan’s voice was hushed. His other hand came up to brace against the wall, knuckles white with restraint, claws scraping against the stone. "Look at me, I beg…"

You looked up. The position was obscene – your face pressed into the white curls at the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair, his shaft disappearing past your stretched lips, buried to the root. Drool and pre-come painted your chin in strings of glossy fluid as you tried to breathe around him. Your eyes were red-rimmed, your face a mess of tears, spit, and his slick. 

His gaze traced every detail. The single mole beneath his eye seemed darker against the flush spreading across his cheekbones. His eyes were hooded sensually, pupils blown wide, black swallowing gold, and his lips parted on each shallow breath. 

"Beautiful," he panted. "The most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Jing Yuan pulled back. The slide was slow, his ridges dragging against your throat, tongue and the inside of your cheeks. The sensation was overwhelming – too much and not enough. You whimpered around him. His cock jumped against your palate.

"More?" His smile was soft, too patronising for your liking. Still, it sent the pulsing wave of heat from your core to your neglected cunny. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, feeling where his flesh stretched you wide. "You want more, sweetheart? You want to be good for me?"

You nodded as much as you could. Jing Yuan patted your hair and pulled back, leaving your poor mouth empty before feeding you with his cock again. He found his pace, slow at first, patient, letting you adjust to the rhythm of him – the thick push forward, the drag back, the way his ridges caught and pulled at your soft tissue.

Each thrust seated him deeper. Your throat opened and accepted his throbbing cock. Your hands had found his ass for support, fingers digging into the plump muscle, gripping his cheeks as he used your face. His skin was hot and damp beneath your palms, flexing with each controlled movement. With another lash, his tail wrapped around one of your hands.

"That's my good girl," he crooned. "Taking all of me. Such a tight little throat– ah! Made for me!"

His pace increased. The slap of his balls against your chin became rhythmic, each impact spreading his pre-come across your skin in glossy smears, thin strings connecting your chin to his balls every time he left your mouth. Your vision blurred with tears, and you could smell nothing but him. Arousal had already soaked your thighs, dripped down to wet the furs beneath you, and you knew he could smell that too. His nostrils flared with each breath. His pupils dilated further.

"You're dripping, love," he said, and his voice had roughened, lost its velvet polish. "Your pussy is weeping for me. Can you feel it? Every time I push into this sweet throat, your little hole clenches…"

His thrusts were deeper now, less controlled. His hips had developed an animal rhythm, and his chest was sheened with sweat that ran in rivulets down the hard planes of his stomach. The muscles there jumped and flexed with each movement. His mane had fallen around his face, white strands clinging to his damp temples. His ears were flattened back against his skull in feline concentration.

"Your mouth is so hot," he gasped. "So wet. Like your cunt, I know it is, I felt it, I need–"

His hands flew to your head, and he stopped. His cock was buried to the root in your throat, your nose crushed against his pelvis yet again. His entire body was trembling. His tail lashed around your arm, pulling you closer, and his claws extended, just slightly, pricking the delicate skin of your scalp.

"Look at me."

You forced your eyes up, trying to find his face through the veil of tears. His gaze was incandescent, burning, the look of a king who has found something worth worshipping.

"I’m going to come down your throat," he stated. "I’m going to fill you so full that you taste me for days. Every time you swallow, you will taste your man. Every time you breathe, you will smell me on you."

With that, Jing Yuan started moving again. His pace was brutal now, desperate, the controlled patience stripped away to reveal the hunger beneath. His cock pistoned into your throat, each thrust seating him deeper, his ridges catching and releasing with wet, obscene sounds. Saliva and pre-come had formed a frothy white ring around the base of his shaft, and your lips were swollen, bruised-looking, stretched beyond their limits. You gagged, and he moaned, the vibration of your throat around his cock clearly sending him higher. Your hands clawed at his ass, nails leaving red trails, and he growled deeply.

"Take it," he rasped. "Take all of it. Swallow for me, sweetheart, swallow around my cock–"

His hips slammed forward one final time, seating himself impossibly deep, and you felt it. The first pulse was a flood. Hot and thick, impossibly copious, his come filled your throat in a rush that had you choking instantly. But he held you there, his grip gentle but immovable, and you had no choice but to take it. 

The second pulse. The third. Each wave was heavier than the last, his release seeming endless, and you felt it escape, come spilling from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin to join the mess on your chest. It came from your nose, thin streams of white, and you coughed, gagged, your throat convulsing around his pulsing cock.

Jing Yuan watched you with his eyes half-closed, lips parted, his entire expression one of gentle adoration. His thumb traced your cheekbone, smearing come across your skin.

"I've waited for so long," he whispered. "I thought I would never– hell, sweetheart, you're still swallowing– find s-someone like you."

When he pulled back, it left you gasping and choking, a trail of saliva and pre-come stretching from your lips to his fat girth. You collapsed forward, your face pressing into his muscular thigh, your tears, snot, and cum smearing across his hot skin.

"Ah, darling," Jing Yuan murmured. His hand stroked your hair, your cheek, the curve of your shoulder. "You did so well. Took me so deep. But now," he kneeled, and his hand slid down your back, gripped your hip, yanked you close, and finally, rolled you onto your tummy, "now we must reproduce~"

His weight was a universe collapsing onto your spine, his chest a furnace against your shoulder blades, his mane spilling around your face in a curtain of white silk that smelled of sun-scorched grass and the deep musk of his skin. 

You scrabbled at the furs beneath you, fingers clawing through the dense animal pelts, heels digging for purchase as his cock slid in the cleft of your ass, the thick weight of him dragging through the sodden mess of your folds. Your entire body seized.

"Still trying to run?" His voice was honey over gravel, amused and breathless, his hips continuing that torturous rock."Still think there's somewhere else you'd rather be than pinned beneath your mate?"

"P-please." Your voice was a ruin, scraped raw by his cock, by your moans. "You already– you already got what you wanted–"

"Oh, dear," Jing Yuan settled his weight more firmly onto your back, one massive palm planting between your shoulder blades and pressing you flat against the zebra pelt. The fur was coarse against your cheek, smelling of earth and him."I've barely started."

His free hand rose and fell.

The slap cracked through the cave like thunder, his palm connecting with the crest of your burning ass cheek, and the forgotten pain rose again, radiating outward in waves of heat that traveled straight to your clit. You screamed into the furs, your body arching involuntarily, but his hand on your spine held you immobile.

“No! Stop!” Your throat was raw, and some drool seepedinto the furs under your chin.

"I won’t stop. Not until you learn your rightful place, which," his fingers traced the blooming handprint, pressing into the heat of it, "Is under me, well fed and well bred."

His hand landed on your ass again. Each blow was measured with the patience of a creature who had all of eternity to reduce you to this – a sobbing, writhing thing beneath his palm, your ass a canvas of his ownership. 

He spanked the tender curve where your ass met your thigh, and you howled. He spanked the backs of your thighs, and your cunt gushed slick onto the fur. He spanked the same cheek three times in succession, each impact landing on the same abused spot, and by the third you were babbling nonsense and his name and please, please, please.

"Please what?" His hand smoothed over the tortured flesh, soothing, almost tender. "Please stop? Please continue? You have to use your words, love. Your man can't read your mind."

Your answer was a wet sob into the fur and the small arch of your back that presented your neglected cunt to him.

"Ah, well." His hand squeezed your ass, kneading the welted flesh, his fingers digging deep into the burning heat. "I suppose your body knows better."

His words detonated in your chest. Jing Yuan felt your reaction – the sharp inhale, the way your cunt clenched miserably – and his chuckle was dark honey, pouring directly into your ear.

"There she is. There's my good girl. You just needed someone capable enough to handle you, didn't you, love? Someone who won't let you run from your own pleasure."

His cock found your entrance. Not pushing, just resting there, the weeping tip pressing against your dripping hole like a key testing a lock. You could feel every pulse against your most intimate flesh. 

"No." You tried to scramble forward. His hand on your spine pinned you. "No, wait, please, I can't– you're–"

His mouth opened. His fangs, those lethal curves of ivory, settled against the junction of your nape, resting there, a promise of pain to come.

"I need you to be very still now, honey." His voice was barely a whisper, reverent and desperate. "Can you do that for your man? Can you be still and take what I give you?"

You couldn't speak. You nodded into the furs, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Good girl. My perfect mate."

He pushed.

The head of his cock stretched you wide, wider than his fingers had, wider than anything had ever stretched you, and the sensation was beyond pain – it was invasion, his flesh forcing your flesh to accommodate, your poor hole fluttering and catching on each ridge as he seated himself inch by inch. You heard yourself make a sound, high and keening, an animal noise of submission and terror.

And then Jing Yuan bit down.

His fangs sank into the meat of your nape, not deep enough to seriously injure but deep enough to claim, and the spike of agony was the key that unlocked your body. Your cunt, which had been resisting his invasion, suddenly relaxed. Your inner muscles softened, surrendered, and he bottomed out in one deep thrust.

The sound Jing Yuan made was not human. It was something between roar and moan, muffled against your flesh, vibrating through your bones. His entire body shuddered against yours, his hips pressing flush to your burning ass, his balls heavy against your clit. 

After a second that felt like infinity, his fangs retracted, and his tongue immediately began to soothe the wound, in loving strokes that made the pain transmute into something else entirely. 

"Hell! You feel– you're so– ah~" He couldn't finish. His hips moved involuntarily, and you both gasped.

“H-heavens, dear, just let me hold you,” Jing Yuan breathed against your hair while his forearm slid across the front. Your spine arched back against his chest, when he trapped your neck and head between the massive curve of his forearm and the solid wall of his shoulder. The muscle there was obscene, corded and veined, flexing against your throat with every breath he took. You could feel the sheer strength of him, and the knowledge that he could crush your windpipe without any effort, made something unhinged and totally wrong flutter in your heart. 

"Shh." His lips pressed against your temple, and you could hear the impossible strain in his voice. "I have you..."

It felt like he was everywhere. Inside you, above you, around you, his scent flooding your lungs, his weight pressing you into the pelts, his cock buried in your aching cunt. His arm kept your head tilted back against his shoulder, and the position meant you couldn't look away from the cave ceiling, couldn't hide from the overwhelming sensation of him. You could only lie there, impaled and filled, while he breathed hot against your cheek.

Your belly seemed to bulge slightly with his intrusion, and when his free hand slid down and under your body to press against the slight swell over your pelvis, he made a sound of pure worship.

"There," he whispered against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it. "There it is. Feel that, love? Feel how deep I am?”

Jing Yuan withdrew slowly, his ridges dragging against your clutching walls in reverse, and the sensation was too much – the textured pull, the way your body tried to grip him and couldn't, the sucking sound of his cock leaving your greedy hole. His head reached your entrance, hovered there, and you whimpered at the loss.

He hummed at that and thrusted forward, making his balls slap against your abused clit. The sound of his pelvis meeting your ass was a wet crack that echoed off the cave walls. His hand slid from your belly to your mouth, two thick fingers pushing past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, and you gagged around them, saliva flooding your chin.

"That's it." His voice was strained now, the polished veneer cracking to reveal the desperate animal beneath. "That's my good girl..."

His thrusts found a rhythm. Slow withdrawal, agonizing drag, then the brutal plap when he drilled into your poor cunny. Each impact drove his fingers deeper into your throat, his cock deeper into your cunt, his balls slapping wetly against your clit in a rhythm that made your toes curl. The sounds – the wet plap plap plap of your bodies meeting, your garbled moans around his fingers, his deepening growls – ricocheted off the stone walls, multiplied, became a symphony of your surrender.

"Yes," Jing Yuan hissed. "This is how my queen should sound. Clenshing on my cock, choking on my fingers, crying because she feels too good. You were– ah, fuck– made for this, honey."

His angle shifted. His hips rolled differently, the head of his cock suddenly pressing against something new – a ring of inner muscle, tight and resistant, the final gate to your deepest self. You felt him find it because his entire body went rigid, and when Jing Yuan spoke again, his voice was raw with desperate need.

"Oh~ Oh, my love~” He grumbled, massaging your tongue with his fingers. “Pray tell, are you still a virgin here?"

You couldn't answer. His fingers were in your mouth, your throat in the crook of his arm, his cock pressing against that final barrier with a needy twitch. You shook your head weakly, tears flying, and his pleased groan vibrated through you.

"My perfect mate. Saving this for your king." His hips pressed forward, just slightly, testing, and the sensation was overwhelming – not pain, not pleasure, but something beyond both. His voice deepened to the obscene grumble, deep and sensual, when he resumed his pounding. "Don't worry, honey. I’ll make it feel so good~"

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The orgasm that crashed over you was immense, your cunt clenching around his pistoning cock in waves of desperate spasms. You screamed around his fingers, with your vision whiting out completely, your entire body convulsing beneath him.

And then you heard the roar.

His hips lost all rhythm, slamming into you with animal desperation, each thrust driving his tip against your womb with bruising force. His balls drew up tight against his body, and the sounds he made were no longer words – they were growls, snarls, the vocalizations of a creature who had forgotten his human shape.

"Take it," he snarled. "Take it, dear, take all of it, take– take–!"

His tip breached your cervix.

The pain was blinding, a spike of white-hot agony that immediately transmuted into the most exquisite pleasure you had ever experienced. Yuan was inside you, truly inside, his cock seated in the deepest chamber of your body, and you felt the first pulse of his release. 

Hot. Copious. Endless. 

His cum flooded your womb in creamy waves, each pulse of his cock milking more of his essence into your empty chamber. Warmth spread through the inside of your belly, making your abdomen swell as he filled you beyond capacity.

Yuan was still coming when his hips began to move again. Slow, shallow thrusts that kept his cock seated deep, his release spilling around his cock, dripping down his balls to pool on the furs beneath you. His arms relaxed, letting your head fall face-first into the furs. His mouth found your sweaty nape again, kissing, laving the mark he'd left with gentle sweeps of his tongue.

"There," he murmured. "There, sweetheart. All better. I got you."

When he finally pulled out and kneeled behind you, the sensation was almost worse than the penetration. His cock slid free of your clutching flesh, and immediately, his release gushed out of the gaping emptiness, dripping down your thighs in thick white rivulets. You felt too empty and obscenely open, your cunt unable to close around the absence of him, your inner lips swollen and parted, your hole a perfect circle that slowly began to contract back in shape.

Jing Yuan’s gaze dropped to the junction of your thighs, and his pupils blew wide at the sight.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh, my love. Look at what I've done to you."

His fingers, gentle now, traceyour labia. His release continued to seep out, viscous and pearlescent, and he gathered it on his fingertips and pushed it back inside. You whimpered at the intrusion, pussy desperately clutching at his digits.

"Good girl," he whispered. "My perfect mate, so full of me."

Jing Yuan lowered himself onto his side, gathering you against his chest, pulling the furs up over your trembling body. His heartbeat was strong and steady against your back, slowly decelerating from its desperate race. His hand found your belly, splaying across the slight swell, and he held you there, warm and possessive.

"Sleep now, love." His lips pressed against your hair. "Your mate will watch over you. Always."

The purr began slowly, a deep vibration that started in his chest and traveled through his entire body, then yours, until you were both humming with the same frequency. His softening cock, gave weak pulses against your hip, releasing the last few drops of his seed onto your skin.

"Thank you for the gift," The Lion Man murmured. You weren't sure if he was speaking to you or to whatever gods had delivered you to his territory.

The golden light of the phosphorescent fungi seemed to dim, settling into something intimate. The furs beneath you absorbed the mess of your bodies. 

And in the grasp of the obsessive Lion Man, you closed your tired eyes.

Night settled over the savanna like indigo silk. The waterhole reflected the first stars, and the gazelles had long since departed, leaving only the trampled grass and your abandoned camera as evidence of the afternoon's vigil.

Two figures stood at the edge of the clearing. The man was tall, blond, his long hair catching the dying light as he bent to retrieve the fallen equipment. His green eyes swept the viewfinder, the cracked lens, the deep impressions of a heavy body settling into the dust.

"Well." His voice was light and satisfied. "I told you it would work."

The woman beside him adjusted her black sunglasses, though the sun had fully set. Her baby blue hair stirred in the light breeze.

"He was obsessed with her from the very beginning." Her tone was assessing. "His scent markers are all over this area. We shouldn’t interfere, unless we want our heads bitten off."

"Exactly. Given that they have already begun mating, he will most likely not let us near her for the next week." The blond turned the camera over in his hands, examining the crack. "Though that's fine. The white lion hybrids have been struggling with genetic diversity for centuries. A human mate will introduce fresh variation."

"Assuming the pregnancy takes."

"It will." His smile was certain. "Jing Yuan is nothing if not thorough."

He tucked the camera into his jacket, and two figures turned, melting into the tall grass.

.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist: Creatures Features

(if you want me to tag you, comment on the series masterlist please)

Prev. Part: Red Riding Hood & The Big Bad Pie (werewolf!Varka x reader)

Next part: My Kitchen, My Rules, Your Face (RaccoonHybrid!Caelus x reader)

Jing Yuan is unironically very hard to write. He is also one of my favourite characters, so yeah… 8000+ words c:

Also, a fun thing about writing smut and like sensual scenes in general. I noticed that it's kind of hard when you try to write a lot of action and poses because like... where the hell did I make him put his hand? Her hip or belly? How should I make him move it to her neck? Is that kind of move even possible?

Anyway, I hope you forgive me for the headlock scene. I just feel that it's written a bit awkwardly, but I don't have the mental capacity to rewrite it rn :c

My darlings (taglist): @nazifa613, @spookydragonsong, @noentalrae, @fayebyte, @melimelisworld, @itslovelyangel, @cum-fvk, @forbidden-permission, @luv-isolde, @rinki-tinki, @alwaysseventypercent, @koseyisntcozy, @rochunsfw @lizurich, @constellationsyslibrary, @lavielavigne @hungryhornet @fuuyi-acrimosa, @damarezen, @itslayka, @anothergojostan, @blanksbedroom, @violetisreadinghush, @cccccccccccleo, @valentine-mybeloved, @bedrottingdoll, @horny--jail, @avenixs, @mildmasochist, @caramel-chai, @elianasmoon, @eminenceplant, @tree-ag, ...

(hope i've tagged everyone!)

[manicsho]

FFS! Fox, Feast… Spouse?

In which a certain lonely fox spirit ties the knot... or knots!

Kitsune!Jiaoqiu x f!reader

wordcount: ~7200

TWs: Lost in the woods trope, manipulation, drugging, forced marriage, heavily implied murder and cannibalism, graphic descriptions of violence and wounds, eye trauma mentioned, drugging, transformation (u lose ur sight but earn uh... some other body parts...), he also turned out a bit yander-ish and ooc lol, erotic horror basically, reader is not okay… this one is pretty dark.

NSFW: Non-con, shibari, gag, period sex, blood kink, body betrayal, breeding, creampie, forced orgasm, biting, dacryphilia, sadomasocistic Jiaoqiu, stockhom syndrome (kinda?...).

As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!

NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes. Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.

“For fuck’s sake! I should’ve turned back like an hour ago…”

However, the trouble was that you no longer knew where that "back" was.

The playful chase after a fox kit with eyes gleaming like chips of amber had led you off the mossy path. By the time you noticed the absence of your friends' laughter, the path had vanished without a trace. The pressure in your belly turned into vicious cramps, and you cursed yourself one more time for not staying in the hotel today. 

Time stretched and blurred. Was it minutes or hours spent pushing through ferns that clung like pleading hands? Panic rose in your throat, thick and sour, but you kept going forward through moss and fear, clinging to the desperate logic that if you walked in one direction all the time, you would eventually find something. The air grew heavy, sweet with decay and fog, wrapping around your mind like a muffling cloak. 

Then the trees parted. 

A clearing, choked with waist-high silver grass, cradled a sight that stole your breath. A temple stood there, its wood weathered to the grey of old bones, its curling eaves sagging under the weight of centuries. Flanking the stone path that led to its gaping maw were towering statues of nine-tailed foxes, their snarling muzzles worn smooth by endless rain, moss clinging to their empty eyes.

“Welcome, human.”

The greeting rang out like a melody, smooth and warm, coming from the farthest statue. Your heart hammered against your ribs when you spotted a figure behind it.

There he stood, a vision of vibrant colours against the thick fog. Red kimono, faded to the color of dried blood at the sleeves and hem, gracefully draped his slender frame. His hair was a cascade of rose-gold silk, framing a face of androgynous beauty, pale as moonlight. Over his eyes was a blindfold of the same deep crimson. From his head, two luxurious fox ears rose, and from behind, nine magnificent tails swayed with a hypnotic rhythm. He held a slender pipe close to his lips, its bowl still warm with tobacco. 

"W–wh..." Your tongue betrayed you, refusing to form the question clawing up your throat. Were you just slowly dying in the forest, this beautiful man merely the feverish delusion of a failing mind trying to ease the agony of death?

The man in question lowered his pipe.

“What have you forgotten here?” he asked, his head tilting as if listening to the beat of your heart.

“I-I got lost,” you stammered, voice small in the immense quiet. “I was following a fox... k-kit, and… came here?” 

“Oh, I see…” A charming smile graced his lips, and his nose twitched, sniffing the air. His ears perked up under the edge of his blindfold. You noticed the slightest blush creeping up his cheeks and stepped back, immediately creeped out for some reason. 

“Do not fear me. I am Jiaoqiu, the… keeper of this place.” He took a careful step closer, his free hand lightly brushing the mossy statue for support. “You must be weary, little one. Come, share a meal with me, and I shall help you find your path home.”

You should’ve refused immediately. Every instinct whispered that this was wrong. I mean, how often do you come across a blind fox man in a creepy old shrine in the middle of the woods? 

But you were so tired. And he seemed so... fragile and lonely. Like a relic left behind, forgotten by the world. What harm could he possibly do?

“I don't want to intrude,” you heard yourself say, half sound, half breath.

“Nonsense.” The word was soft, almost affectionate. “Intrusion implies you are unwelcome, dear.”

Inside, the air was thick with the ghost of old incense. Jiaoqiu moved with a careful grace, his foot subtly finding a small unevenness in the flooring, his sleeve knocking gently against a low brazier as he gestured for you to sit. When he went to the other room, he almost walked into a paper-panel door, and the pity rose again, swallowing the feeling of unease. 

After a minute or two, the fox spirit? god? monk? man came back with pots and plates and a black-lacquered box filled with cooked meat. The lunch (or, perhaps, diner) was hearty: slices of tender meat in a fragrant, spicy broth served with rice, some fried vegetables, and a cup of tea that steamed with the scent of herbs.

"The forest provides," he murmured, settling across from you with the same careful grace. "Birds. Rabbits. Deer. It remembers its keeper, even if nothing else does." His ears twitched toward you as you lifted your chopsticks. "Please, do not stand on ceremony. A meal shared is a bond forged, however fleeting." He tilted his head, his blindfolded gaze seeming to rest on your face when you took the first stripe.

The meat was rich and gamey on your tongue, the broth complex with spices that burned pleasantly. You dined together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, but when you asked about this place, his smile turned downward.

"You know," he said, his blindfolded face tilting toward the ceiling, "this place was not always so empty. Once, the village below worshipped here..." He paused, as if savouring the memory.

"There was a battle, long ago. The mountain wolf spirits grew bold. They had swept through the village like a tide, killing my people. So I went to meet them." His tails swayed gently, hugging his hips and waist. "I was... overconfident. They trapped me. Bound me with spirit chains that burned. For three full moons, they kept me, feeding on my power."

His voice remained calm, almost amused.

"On the fourth full moon, I broke free and avenged my people. But..." He touched the blindfold lightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. "I stumbled back to the village in darkness, blind and bleeding, asking them for help. Instead..." That smile again. "They looked at me and saw weakness. A blind god is no god at all, they decided and cursed my name as I stood there, still dripping wolf blood, still half-dead from saving them."

The meat in your mouth suddenly felt strange. You chewed anyway.

"One by one, they left. Packed their belongings and moved to the cities, to the coast, anywhere but here. Even my bride…" His voice softened, almost lovingly. "A human girl with eyes of deep blue like the moonlit sky. She swore she would never leave, and I believed her. Foolish of me, wasn't it?"

You made a sympathetic sound.

"She fled before the ceremony," he continued. "Didn't even make it to the vows." He laughed softly. 

"That's… terrible," you said, and meant it, heart softened with the heavy feelings that made your throat tighten.

“Is it?” He smiled again, and this time, you caught a flicker of amusement that had no place in a sad story. “They built this shrine. Worshipped here for generations. And then they left, as mortals do.”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered with all the sincerity in it.

“Don't be.” His tails swayed, and you realized you'd been staring at them, wanting to touch the lush fluff. “Four hundred years is a long time to be alone. But loneliness,” his voice dropped to a confidential tone, “teaches patience. And patience, little one, is always rewarded.” 

This sincerity from a lonely keeper almost made you tear up. Something twisted in your chest, and words spilling out like water from a cracked vessel. You talked about your boring job, your lonely apartment, this spontaneous trip, and the friends you'd made. Jiaoqiu listened with his head tilted, his ears tracking your voice, and something in his expression deepened as you spoke.

"One suffered from solitude as well?" he murmured. "How curious, the way the world balances its scales. Two empty vessels, brought together by a stray fox and a fading path." His smile widened, just a fraction. "Perhaps the forest did not misguide you after all."

You opened your mouth to respond and realized that something thickened in your throat, blocking words that wanted to come out. The room seemed to sway, gently, like a ship at anchor. You tried to stand, but your legs failed you as the paralysis spread from your core and outward. You toppled sideways, landing on the tatami with a soft thump, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. You could still see. You could still hear. 

You could do nothing else.

Across the room, Jiaoqiu rose. His hesitant grace was gone, and in its place was something predatorily fluid, the movement of a creature that had never been hindered by blindness. 

He crossed to you in three silent steps and knelt at your side. His cool hands found your face. His thumbs traced the arches of your brows, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. He pressed one thumb gently against the seam of your mouth, parting your lips just enough to feel the wet heat within, and a soft exhale escaped him, as though he had touched something sacred. 

“By touch alone–” Jiaoqiu breathed, and his voice had shed its sorrowful veneer entirely, leaving only husky appreciation, “–you are exquisite. A true beauty.” His thumbs lingered at the corners of your mouth, wiping a small smear of sauce. He brought the thumb to his own lips, pink tongue darting out to taste the residue with a delicate slowness. His expression softened into something dreamy, distant, as though the flavor had unlocked a memory he had been nursing for centuries. “It seems the forest has outdone itself this time.”

Jiaoqiu reached up and slowly untied his crimson blindfold. The sockets beneath were closed, lids resting carefully. But you felt his attention on you like a weight – intense, absolute, undimmed by the lack of sight.

“Let me make us equal, my dear.”

.

.

.

Looking back with the clarity of hindsight, you realize it would’ve been better not to wake up at all.

First was the scent – cloying layers of old cedar smoke, damp mossy earth, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood mingling with the heavy musk of arousal and sweat. 

Next came the sounds – wet squelching, rhythmic and relentless, accompanied by animalistic huffs and the occasional guttural moans that vibrated straight through your spine. 

Then the sensations hit – the rough weave of tatami digging into your bare cheek, the silken drag of heavy fabric under your naked skin, and a burning ache where your pussy was stretched.

You tried to open your eyes, but darkness pressed in from all sides. The blindfold was tight, silk knotted securely at the back of your head. You tried to scream, but a rigid bamboo gag stretched your jaw open, drool already spilling from the corners of your mouth in humiliating strings. You tried to jerk away, to clench, to do anything. Still, your body refused, limbs heavy and syrupy, every muscle locked in helpless paralysis while your nerves screamed with overstimulation.

A melodic hum vibrated against your back, where a feverishly warm chest pressed flush to your bound form. The man's breath ghosted hot over your skin as he spoke.

“Ah… the veil lifts at last,” Jiaoqiu murmured, his voice a velvet caress laced with raw hunger. His soft tongue traced the outer shell of your ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth, rolling the delicate flesh between sharp canines, tugging gently, then releasing it with a wet pop. 

“I’ve been acquainting myself with you for quite some time now,” he whispered, the words dripping with twisted affection. “Forgive my eagerness. After four centuries… one grows rather impatient.”

With his words, you suddenly become too aware of your own body. You were lying on your side, trapped. Intricate ropes bound your arms cruelly behind your back. Elbows cinched together, forcing your shoulders back and your chest forward, wrists lashed securely, fingers already numb and tingling as blood pooled in your palms. More ropes crisscrossed your torso in an elaborate pattern, biting deep into the soft flesh of your breasts and ribs, creating diamond-shaped indents that would bruise. Your upper leg had been hitched high and back, draped over his hip, knee bent sharply, the rope looping around your thigh and ankle to splay you open. 

And Jiaoqiu was buried inside you.

Not his cock, yet, but three of his elegant fingers, slick with a generous coating of warm oil, blood, and your own slick pumped into your cunt, stirring the thick mixture. The filthy squelch echoed with every thrust as more blood and arousal gushed out, soaking your thighs and pooling beneath you in a sticky mess.

Hot and heavy against your ass rested his rigid cock, throbbing with pent-up need. The swollen head kept nudging insistently at your asshole, smearing thick beads of precum against the tight entrance with every slow grind of his hips, marking you like some kind of territory.

Jiaoqiu inhaled deeply, nose dragging along your skin until his face ended up in the hairs on your temple. A low, feral growl rumbled in his chest.

“You followed a fox,” he crooned, lips brushing the shell of your ear before his tongue dragged open-mouthed along the delicate cartilage, leaving a thick trail of saliva that cooled rapidly on your skin. Then, without warning, he plunged the wet muscle deep into your ear canal, which made your whole body jerk involuntarily against the ropes. He moaned openly at your reaction.

“Poor little lamb… wandering so deep into my forest, chasing my little servant...” His tongue retreated only to lap a broad stripe up your cheek, savoring the salt of your sweat with a guttural groan. 

“And all this blood,” he murmured, almost worshipful, “I smelled it the moment you set foot on my soil. That sweet metallic perfume…” His fingers plunged deeper into your bloody pussy, curling cruelly against your walls and stirring the viscous mess until fresh blood trickled out around his hand. “Oh, how I wanted to drag you down and bury my face in your loins, drinking it straight from the source.” Jiaoqiu pulled his fingers free for a moment, the wet sound sickeningly loud. 

“So warm… How thoughtful of your body to prepare such a feast on the very night you become mine.” You heard him inhale slowly, then release an ecstatic groan as he suckled your blood and the slick from his digits with audible slurps.

For a second, every sound stilled. Then, without any warning, his sharp fangs sank viciously into the meat of your shoulder. Pain exploded through you like fire. You screamed against the gag as his fangs tore deeper. Warm blood gushed instantly, flowing down your skin in hot rivulets.

Jiaoqiu lapped at the wound greedily, tongue swirling through the coppery flow, then bit again, worrying the torn flesh between his teeth. The sickening give of muscle under his jaws made bile rise in your throat. He gnawed like a starving animal, grinding his teeth deeper, swallowing mouthfuls of your blood with satisfied gulps before finally letting go.

“The way you enjoyed the meal… You praised the rich flavor of the meat, the way it melted on your tongue.” A soft giggle escaped him, charming on the surface, utterly chilling beneath. “It made me so absurdly aroused watching you swallow every bit of them… Did it taste of laughter? The friendly warmth, perhaps?” 

The horrific implication crashed over you like ice water. You retched violently against the gag, stomach heaving, but nothing came up, only more drool and muffled sobs. Jiaoqiu laughed softly, his free hand left your hip to grope greedily at your front, pinching and massaging your clit with cruel expertise. 

He alternated brutal pressure with feather-light strokes, never letting the sensation settle. Then he pinched hard, twisting the sensitive flesh, grinding it viciously between clawed fingertips. Your body convulsed violently against the ropes, a ragged shriek strangled into a muffled wail.

“She wept too... The one who was mine before you,” Jiaoqiu breathed and pulled your clit away from your body, “but you weep so much prettier.” He released the cruel pinch only to rub the oversensitive nub in rapid circles with his calloused thumb. 

“She fed me for one month… the rest of her belongs to the garden behind the shrine. Her kimono, though–” His voice dropped to a joyful whisper as he nuzzled your temple. “It suits you far better...”

His body pressed tighter against yours, molding to every bit of you like a parasite that had finally found its perfect host. You could only sob, trying to dissociate enough to live through this nightmare, but his voice cut through any feeble attempt.

“I need to tell you something, my love, as I may have… embellished certain details about myself,” he confessed breathlessly, words tumbling faster as his control frayed. 

“And there shan’t be any secrets between those deeply in love, right? So let me tell you everything, my darling.” Jiaoqiu sealed the promise with a lingering, almost chaste kiss just beneath your ear, as if he were a gentle husband whispering sweet nothings on a wedding night.

“Once, the village lay near this shrine. The people there worshipped me as their guardian,” he continued softly, elegant words flowing like poetry while three of his fingers continued their slow violation of your bleeding cunt. “They prayed for rain, for bountiful hunts, for healthy children…”

His fingers suddenly plunged deeper, twisting viciously, stretching your walls wider. 

“But then the drought came. Then the fires. Then the plague. I couldn't stop these calamities, and their gratitude turned to rot.” 

He lapped at the bite on your neck, whispering breathlessly. 

“They dragged me into this very shrine, held me down on these same tatami mats, and pressed hot irons into my eyes.”

Another shallow bite sank into your already torn shoulder, drawing fresh blood that trickled down your skin. He moaned softly against the wound.

“They burned me blind, then threw my broken body to the mountain wolves as an offering. They watched from the treeline as the pack tore into me.” 

Jiaoqiu’s movements grew frantic. The elegant facade cracked further as raw hunger took over. Kisses and bites rained down across your shoulder, neck, jaw, and the sensitive lobe of your ear. His hot tongue lapped greedily at every fresh bead of blood.

“But the wolves were just stupid beasts,” he hissed, voice still deceptively melodic. “And I… I am s-so much more.”

He buried his face into your hair again, inhaling in desperate drags, drunk on the thick metallic scent of your blood mixed with sweat and unwilling arousal.

“I grew my orbs back, though unsseing. I crawled back to the village, blind and bleeding, and I feasted,” he whispered lovingly. “After that… Four hundred years of nothing but wind through empty halls.”

With a shuddering sigh that sounded torn from the depths of his starving soul, Jiaoqiu finally withdrew his blood-coated fingers from your cunt. A thick gush of your blood and slick spilled out onto the tatami with a wet sound.

“But today, everything changed…”

With careful movements that contrasted horribly with his insanity, he untied the rope holding your leg aloft, then loosened the bindings on your arms just enough to flip your paralyzed body onto your back. 

The heavy fabric spread beneath you like a funeral shroud, already wet. The ropes tightened again immediately, securing you in this new, even more exposed position with your legs wrenched wide apart, chest heaving, every centimeter of your marked, bleeding, dripping body on full display for him.

His cool fingers moved to the back of your head, and with the ceremonial slowness, he untied the blindfold. The dim, flickering light of the decaying shrine flooded back in. You were in the main hall of the shrine, surrounded by the heavy scent of old incense, rot, and sex. A big fox statue glared at you from the forgotten altar, its eyes angry, painted with the decaying red.

And above you, straddling your waist, was Jiaoqiu. And oh, how beautiful he was in his complete unhinged glory.

His face was a masterpiece of delicate perfection – that kind of ethereal beauty that belonged in ancient scrolls and love poems. Rose-gold hair spilled in wild strands across his shoulders, framing features so delicately perfect they looked stolen from forgotten temple murals. Those fox ears twitched at every wet gasp you forced through the gag, swiveling with predatory focus. High cheekbones flushed pink with excitement, a refined nose flaring as he drank in the thick reek of your cold sweat and blood. Long lashes shadowed his ruined moonstone eyes. His lips glistened, thickly smeared with your fresh blood like cheap pomade, the crimson dripping in slow strings down his chin to splatter onto your heaving breasts. When his mouth stretched into that elegant smile, the sharp fangs gleamed wet and hungry.

His crimson kimono hung wide open like discarded wrapping paper, barely hanging onto his slim shoulders. Pale skin stretched tight over lean muscle, old silvery scars crisscrossing his chest and stomach in brutal patterns that told every story of what was done to him. Blue veins pulsed visibly under the thin skin of his throat and collarbones, throbbing with how excited he was.

But the most noticeable thing about him was the crimson rope that adorned his own body in an intricate pattern that mirrored yours. And between his slightly parted thighs, something hot and heavy nudged insistently against your belly.

Unfortunately, you dared to look down.

His cock lay thick and fully erect across your upper stomach, flushed a deep red at the head, the shaft glistening with a shiny mixture of oil and precum. It was beautifully shaped, gracefully curved upward with a prominent vein running along the side, but the sheer amount of slick leaking from the slit made it look obscene. When the glans twitched, a pearly bead of precum slowly dripped from the tip onto your skin. 

Jiaoqiu noticed exactly where your eyes went. That bloody mouth curved into a shy little smile that did not belong on someone who had just been gnawing on your shoulder. A deeper crimson spread across his cheeks as if he were some blushing virgin instead of the monster straddling you.

“Well… is the groom to your liking?” he asked softly, voice lilting with playful elegance. “I’m terribly sorry I greeted you so unprepared earlier. How shameful of me.” He gave a self-deprecating little laugh, as if this were all perfectly normal. “As for now… do I please the eyes of my beloved one?”

He knew you couldn’t answer. The gag made sure of that. And that knowledge only seemed to delight him more.

Jiaoqiu leaned down, elegant even in his depravity, and dragged his hot tongue across your chin, collecting drool and tears. His milky, unseeing eyes suddenly focused on you. The color of tarnished moonstone, yet they stared straight down at you with terrifying intensity, as if they could still drink in every detail of your terror.

Eyes that should not see… and yet you felt stripped bare. 

Jiaoqiu tilted his head, letting the dim light catch the ruined orbs, proudly displaying his mutilation like a trophy.

“Look at them,” the fox man breathed, voice dripping with dark arousal. He reached up and traced the edge of one eyelid with a delicate fingertip, almost lovingly. “See what they did to me. I survived the iron, the wolves, the centuries of nothing… so that I could be here with you…”

You tried to turn away from the horrifying sight, only for your gaze to land on what he had dressed you in. The heavy, ancient wedding kimono was spread beneath you, its rich fabric now stained with your blood and slick and god knows what else. The memory of his words made you gag once more, throat convulsing as yet another fresh bile tried to rise.

His hands slid upward, palms hot and reverent as they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He squeezed the plump flesh until it bulged between his fingers, then found your nipples. 

Without warning, he pinched them viciously, yanking the sensitive buds outward and twisting them until pain exploded through your chest. Muffled screams tore from your throat around the gag, spraying fresh drool across your chin and his waiting face. Jiaoqiu threw his head back in ecstasy, throat working as he swallowed your pained wails like the finest wine. 

Mad with four hundred years of starvation, he raised one hand. The sharp tip of his claw pressed just below your sternum, biting into your skin, slicing a thin line down from the valley between your breasts, all the way down your stomach, stopping just above your mound. The cut was shallow enough not to kill, but deep enough for blood to well up instantly in glistening beads. Jiaoqiu watched your essence rise with rapt fascination, his blind eyes somehow still tracking the movement.

“Oh…” he breathed, the sound almost worshipful. “Oh, yes. Yes. This is exactly what I craved.”

His tongue traced the entire length of the cut obsessively, pressing into the split skin to coax more blood to the surface. He latched his lips around sections of the wound and sucked hard, drinking from you in greedy gulps, throat working visibly as he swallowed. 

His hips ground mindlessly against your stomach, his leaking cock sliding through the mess of oil and precum he was creating, fucking the space between your bodies in shallow thrusts. His free hand kept kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples with cruel force while his mouth remained latched onto your bleeding wound like a leech. His fox ears twitched wildly with every muffled sob you made, nine tails lashing and curling in pure animalistic pleasure.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was dazed and blissful, like a man who had finally found salvation after centuries in hell.

With practiced movements, Jiaoqiu reached for more crimson rope. He worked it around your hips and upper thighs, yanking the cords brutally tight. The rough fibers dug deep into your soft flesh, creating angry red indents that would bruise for days. He forced your legs wider and wider until your hips ached and your cunt gaped open to the cold shrine air.

Jiaoqiu shifted between your spread thighs, so his leaking cock pressed against your exposed slit, the fat swollen head nudging your puffy folds apart. He rubbed it in teasing circles, coating the entire shaft in the sticky mess, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, bumping your swollen clit on every pass before sliding back down to prod at your twitching entrance. Your inner walls fluttered helplessly around nothing, clenching and releasing as fresh blood gushed out around his teasing cockhead. 

He leaned over you again, bloody mouth hovering above yours as drool and blood fell from his lips onto your gagged face. His tails curled around your bound legs, soft fur stroking your skin while the ropes bit deeper. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints while the other guided his throbbing cock, pressing the fat tip harder against your resisting hole. 

“I know, I know, my love,” he murmured reverently, pressing forward with more pressure. “But we must consummate our marriage.”

The head of his cock breached your resisting entrance, stretching your swollen cunt around his girth.

You screamed violently against the thick bamboo gag, the sound coming out as a gurgling choke while your body arched sharply off the wedding kimono. The rough tatami scraped your bare shoulders raw as every muscle you could still control strained uselessly against the cruel ropes. Your cunt burned as Jiaoqiu forced the fat of his cock inside.

The searing pain radiated up your spine and down your thighs. Your period blood squelched obscenely around his shaft, coating his cock in a sticky crimson mess that dripped down to his balls and smeared across your ass. 

He paused there, enjoying the snug heaven of your pussy, letting you feel every bit of him pulse against your walls. The pressure was unbearable. Your poor cunt fluttered and clenched desperately around the invasion, trying to push him out, but it only made the stretch hurt worse.

“Shh, shh, my sweet bride,” he soothed, leaning down to lap greedily at the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. “The first breach always burns so beautifully… but soon everything will melt together. Pain and pleasure. Fear and devotion. You and I.”

Jiaoqiu stayed buried to the hilt inside your fluttering cunt for a torturous moment, trembling with barely-contained madness while his hot breath ghosted over your forehead. His tails lashed behind him, brushing your bound legs with soft fur as his cock flexed against something soft and needy inside, drooling fresh precum straight against your tender cervix.

“By the time I’m done, you won’t know where I end, and you begin,” he whispered lovingly, “I will stuff this womb so full that you’ll carry my claim for the rest of eternity.”

The first thrust dragged almost all the way out, your puffy cunt lips clinging desperately to his glistening shaft before he slammed back in with a meaty plap. Each following thrust grew harder, faster, more savage, turning into a relentless pounding that made your entire body jolt with unwilling pleasure. The filthy sounds of him destroying your hole filled the shrine. Loud, sloppy squelching, wet flesh slapping against flesh, and the constant drip of your mixed fluids onto the tatami made you whine in embarrassment, while your body betrayed you completely.

A hot pressure exploded deep inside your core. Your cunt spasmed wildly around his cock as you thumbed over the edge, and a powerful gush of clear fluid sprayed out around his shaft. The hot squirt soaked his abdomen, matting his pubic fur. 

“Oh, my precious love!” he sobbed, never slowing his brutal pace. “Let it all out, my love! Soak your husband!”

He was completely lost in it, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open as he panted and groaned with delirious bliss at how perfectly your tiny pussy gripped him. 

No one had ever felt like this. No one ever could. You were made for him. Your tight heat was the only thing that could soothe the endless hunger gnawing at his soul for four hundred years.

But it wasn't his mad expression that made you arch and scream at the top of your lungs, no.

It was a violent, grinding pressure that exploded at the base of your skull. Yyou felt skin tear open as two fox ears burst through in a spray of hot blood and searing pain. They were hypersensitive, so every wet squelch of his cock pounding your cunt, every growl he made, every brutal slap of skin suddenly became deafening. The overwhelming sensory input made your mind spin and fracture.

Jiaoqiu threw his head back and howled like an animal, the celebrating sound cracking into something feral as your pussy clenched and gushed around him like a vice made of molten silk.

“Finally!” he gasped, voice cracking with overwhelming joy. “My perfect bride! No longer will I be alone! Never again–”

He suddenly pulled back, sitting up on his knees. With terrifying strength, he grabbed your ass and hips, yanking your lower body up toward him until only your upper back and shoulders remained sprawled helplessly on the tatami. Your ass was raised high, cunt skewered on his cock like a breeding toy. In this position, he had the perfect view of your ruined pussy stretched around his shaft. 

His nine tails shivered violently behind him before reaching forward, brushing and coiling possessively around your thighs and waist, stroking and gripping your sweaty skin. 

Just like that, Jiaoqiu became feral.

His poetically beautiful face flushed and twisted with raw lust as he watched his cock disappear into your ruined cunny over and over. The nasty sounds of your mating grew louder and filthier with every savage thrust. He relished every single one, ears pinned forward as he drank in the sensation of your body yielding to him so perfectly.

“Ah… So warm, so perfectly ripe,” he groaned, still trying to sound suave even as his hips snapped forward like a rutting animal. “I’m kit you full, my lo–”

The sounds grew muffled as the change grew even more violent.

Hot and thick crimson tears began pouring heavily from your eyes, running down your cheeks and temples in sticky rivulets, staining the tatami beneath your head. Your vision started tunneling, blurring at the edges, shrinking rapidly until everything went completely black.

At that exact moment, Jiaoqiu gasped sharply.

He could see.

Not perfectly, but enough. Enough to see your delightful face. Enough to see your new gorgeous ears. Enough to see your magnificent body taking his cock so obediently.

“I see you…” He whispered, voice cracking completely as tears spilled from his own milky eyes. “Oh heavens above… I see you! I see you! I see you!”

The elegant fox man broke down into sobbing joy while still brutally pounding away at your guts. His thrusts never stopped, but they became deeper, slower, more possessive, almost reverent now.

“You’re truly real… you’re here with me… you’re finally mine,” he cried softly, voice trembling with centuries of loneliness finally shattering. “I’m not alone anymore! We’ll never be alone again–”

Your body was becoming something divine and feral under him, and it was shattering what remained of his sanity. He had been holding back for what felt like centuries, muscles locked tight, refusing to spill until you were remade in his image, a creature who could understand the exquisite torment of having a sense carved out of you. He wanted you to lose something precious, just as he had. Only then would you be his true equal, his mirror, his wife. 

But your cunt was too perfect – scorching hot, impossibly tight, rippling and sucking along every bit like a living paradise just for him. It clenched harder with every spasm, milking him so greedily he had to snarl through gritted teeth to stop himself from flooding you prematurely. 

Then the tails came.

One by one, they tore violently out of the base of your spine in waves of agony. Your walls clamped down like a vice, milking him so perfectly that Jiaoqiu had to bite his own tongue into blood to keep from cumming right then. 

One. A savage thrust that punched your cervix and made your fresh blood squirt around his girth. 

Two. His bloody smile widened manically as he felt your body accepting your true form.

Three. He dipped his head and licked a stripe up the column of your throat, tasting salt and copper.

Four. One of his tails curled around the base of a newly emerging tail of yours, stroking the nub, coaxing it to lengthen faster.

Five. He kissed your bloody eyes with frightening gentleness, tongue lapping at the crimson tears leaking from them.

Six. The walls of your channel rippled in a series of milking undulations, and he stilled deep, letting your cunny suckle on his cock  so deliciously.

Seven. His sobs were a declaration of love, torn out of his throat, mad and true. 

Eight. Another sound of his became a marriage vow, moaned against your twitching ear.

Nine. The emergence of the last tale was a promise of forever, sealed with a grinding roll of his hips. 

The moment your last tail fully formed, power exploded through you like lightning in your veins. 

Your body went rigid, then, with a feral snarl that tore from your throat, you ripped through the crimson ropes like they were paper. The thick bamboo gag splintered between your fangs as you bit clean through it, spitting fragments across the tatami. Clawed hands shot up, shredding the last restraints as overwhelming need flooded your core.

You lunged upward and wrapped your arms around Jiaoqiu’s shoulders, yanking him down as your sharp fangs sank hungrily into the side of his throat. Blood bloomed hot and sweet across your tongue as you fed on him. 

The holy feeling of your fangs in his flesh was enough to make his cock jerk and leak precum directly against your cervix. You pushed your hips up frantically, impaling yourself deeper, grinding your pussy down until every centimeter of him was buried inside your needy pussy and your clit rubbed raw against his pubic fur. Your claws raked down his back, shredding through the kimono fabric and leaving bleeding furrows in his porcelain skin. He moaned like a whore at the pain, hips stuttering as fresh blood trickled down his spine. 

“Gut me,” he begged, voice cracking through its velvet veneer. “Carve your name into my ribs. I want to feel your signature on my bones every time I breathe.”

You bit into his neck hard enough to draw more blood, sucking it while your bloody tails thrashed and wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. Your legs locked around his hips, ankles crossing at the small of his back as you hung on him like a bitch in heat. 

His eyes widened in delirious rapture. One arm banded around your waist like iron, the other hand fisting into your hair at the back of your head, claws scraping your scalp as he pressed your face deeper into his neck. He lifted your lower body completely off the tatami with terrifying strength, only your shoulders and upper back still braced against the mats. Your entire weight hung on his cock and his embrace, your legs wrapped tight around him as he held you suspended in the air. The new angle let him drive deeper, the head of his cock battering directly into your womb with every savage thrust. 

“Yes… yes, my love,” he groaned against your bloody hair, voice still velvet but trembling. “Mark me. Claim your husband. Rip me open if it pleases you. I am yours as much as you are mine. We are two halves of the same slaughtered beast, finally stitched together–”

Jiaoqiu crushed you against his chest, slamming forth into your dripping cunt with brutal strokes. Your claws raked deeper down his back, tearing more of his kimono and skin alike. 

He loved it. Every sting, every drop of his own blood, every desperate bite you gave him only made his cock throb harder inside you. A creature of pure sensation, you could feel him so acutely – the drag of his claws down your spine, the open-mouthed kisses he pressed to your sealed eyelids, the way his tail fur teased the undersides of your sensitive tails. 

The pleasure crested violently.

Your cunt clamped down like a fist. At the same moment, Jiaoqiu snarled and buried himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch ignited a fresh wave of agonized bliss, your walls forced to accommodate his cock as it sealed his seed deep inside. Unable to withdraw, he ground against your cervix in desperate circles, rutting into you like an animal determined to breed. He flooded your womb with thick ropes of hot cum, each jet punctuated by a guttural groan. He kept forcing every pulse of semen through your slightly open cervix until your lower belly felt like it's on fire. His hand pressed flat over the slight bulge, feeling the heat of his own essence through your skin, and a sob of pure devotion tore from his throat.

You both trembled, mouths fused in a bloody kiss, bodies locked together in mid-air. Only when the last violent spasm faded did your strength leave you. You went limp in his arms, ears drooping, body twitching with aftershocks as reality crashed back in. 

Jiaoqiu gently lowered you down, his own body collapsing over yours with cock still buried deep, nestled inside your filthy cunt. Sweat, blood, and sex coated both of you in a sticky sheen. He nuzzled into your neck, licking softly at the bite wounds, sucking gently to draw fresh beads of blood that he smeared across his lips. Then he moved to your new ears, purring praises between gentle kisses and long, soothing laps of his tongue.

“My perfect wife,” he murmured, voice suave and honeyed once more, though laced with something possessive. “I have never felt anything as divine as your sweetest loins milking my seed while you clawed my back raw…”

His hand stroked over your cum-bloated tummy with obsessive tenderness, pressing lightly to feel the warmth of his load inside you. He traced some symbols over the stretched skin, muttering ancient incantations, while you heaved, the primal hunger still thrumming through your bones. 

But as the fog of orgasm lifted, horror and clarity returned. You were blind, the world dark around you. Your new body felt foreign and overwhelming. Panic clawed up your raw throat.

“I want to go home,” you whispered brokenly, voice hoarse and trembling. “P-please… take me home…”

Jiaoqiu’s arms tightened around you instantly, almost crushing. His body went rigid, his tails coiling possessively around your limbs and waist like living chains. A chuckle vibrated against your shoulder. Beneath the tenderness lurked something sharp and furious, something that had marinated in solitude until it had become a poison no antidote could touch.

“Home?” he repeated softly, voice still melodic but edged with anger. His fingers traced your ears with deceptive gentleness, then slid down to trace the seam of your lips, prodding two digits past them to stroke your tongue, as if tasting you through your own mouth by proxy. “My sweet, precious wife… You are already home. I am your home. This full womb is your home. Your blindness is the roof that shields you. My voice is the fire in the hearth. There is nowhere else.”

He nuzzled deeper into your neck, fangs grazing the fresh bites as if savoring the memory. His shaft gave another lazy throb, reminding you that escape was impossible.

“L-let me go,” it was the last attempt, a desperate plea to the gods. Jiaoqiu giggled, and his hold became almost bruising, one hand possessively cupping the back of your head while the other still stroked your belly.  

“Why should I?” he whispered, tone turning sickly-sweet. “I would rather gouge out my new eyes again than watch you walk away from me.”

Jiaoqiu then dipped his head to lap at the dried blood around your sealed eyelids, cleaning you with the fastidiousness of a cat grooming its mate. His tails squeezed tighter, soft fur warm but inescapable.

“I will be the perfect husband,” he promised. “I will cook for you every dish you can imagine. I will heal every ache with my own hands, and then give you new, sweetest aches that only my presence can heal. I will play any role… Doting lover, stern master, whimpering supplicant beneath your feet. I will give you pleasure until you forget the outside world exists...”

His mouth found yours again, tongue sliding in, swallowing any further protests. The kiss quickly turned messy, his teeth catching your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. His body pressed you down into the soaked tatami as he lavished you with obsessive aftercare — kissing your lips until they were swollen, licking your wounds until they closed, stroking your new tails soothingly, murmuring endless endearments to lull you to sleep. 

And as the black eternity stretched before you like an endless banquet of madness and devotion, you found that you were, against all mortal reason…

hungry.

.

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Series Masterlist: Creatures Features

This time its not a misclick hehehe... It turned out darker than I wanted it to be but oh... sketchy healer(s) my beloved(s).

...

*glares at Baizhu*

Also, I already have some plans of Creatures Features pt. 2 lol. Still need to finish this one though...

My darlings (taglist): @nazifa613, @spookydragonsong, @noentalrae, @melimelisworld, @itslovelyangel, @cum-fvk, @forbidden-permission, @luv-isolde, @rinki-tinki, @alwaysseventypercent, @koseyisntcozy, @rochunsfw @lizurich, @constellationsyslibrary, @lavielavigne @hungryhornet @fuuyi-acrimosa, @itslayka, @anothergojostan, @blanksbedroom, @violetisreadinghush, @cccccccccccleo, @valentine-mybeloved, @bedrottingdoll, @horny--jail, @avenixs, @mildmasochist, @caramel-chai @elianasmoon, @eminenceplant, @tree-ag, @neuvilletteclearwater, @msmumufufu, @solarrandom @strawberrybunnyjolie @helloweebsofgenshin @katzline, @kellyyn02, @aymands @whatasillyguy @akutgawascoughdrop @im-under-yourbed @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl @muttwithnoname @tearinka @metallover123 @tkitb, @queerlordsimon @fuckingfaraway @madamedesalaunier @nightmarenyxx, @mayodenotche (reblog) ...

(I hope I tagged everyone! If you want to be tagged too, please comment about it under the CF Masterlist).

[manicsho]

My Kitchen, My Rules, Your Face

In which an overworked office girl suddenly adopts a feral himbo!

(RaccoonHybrid!Caelus x fem!reader)

wordcount: ~10500

TWs: MDNI, Slice of life-ish, breaking and entering, yearning, tsunder-ish reader, hurt/comfort, stalking, possessiveness, jealousy, reader is an overworked office girlie so ummm grumpy x (kinda dumb) sunshine dynamics.

NSFW: porn with some plot, oral sex (f receiving, face sitting), dirty talk, praise kink, begging, coming untouched, lingerie kink (man in lingerie yall), PiV, protected to unprotected sex (which is really irresponsible dont do that pls), marathon sex, messy sex, exhibionism (kinda? you talk to your boss thru the phone while Cae be pounding), overstimulation, marking, pussy drunk raccoon bum.

(If you find some more, please let me know.)

As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!

NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes. Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Ugh… What time is it?”

The summer heat had you sleeping in nothing but an old tank top and a pair of panties most nights, and tonight was no different. The window was cracked open because the ancient AC unit wheezed like it was on its deathbed, and you’d rather take your chances with mosquitoes than wake up drenched in your own sweat.

So when you stumbled half-asleep toward the bathroom at 1:58 AM, you weren’t prepared for the sounds coming from your kitchen.

Shfft. 

Crunch. 

Slurp.

Your sleepy brain took a solid five seconds to process that something apparently was in your kitchen, making all those sounds.

The pink bat was in the corner by the bathroom door. You’d bought it in your first week in this ground-floor apartment, after your neighbor two doors down got her place broken into. 

Why pink? 

Well, because you’d felt particularly bimbo that day.

Wasting no time, you gripped it with both hands, back pressed flat against the wall beside the kitchen doorway. The light spilling from the open fridge cut a bright rectangle across the linoleum, and you could see a tail, thick and gray and ringed with darker stripes, twitching lazily back and forth. There was a fucking raccoon in your kitchen! 

But then your eyes slid further.

Attached to the tail was a person, or at least something shaped like one, crouched on your floor with their head inside your fridge, shuffling in your crisper drawer. 

You watched, paralyzed, as a hand emerged holding one of your apples. Three sharp, efficient chk chk chk sounds, and then the core was tossed carelessly onto the pile of shredded lettuce that used to be your vegetable situation.

That was it.

You swung around the doorframe, bat raised. 

“HEY!”

The creature whipped around, one hand flying up to protect his head. His cheeks were still puffed out like a chipmunk’s, apple chunks visible in the shape. The ears atop his head flattened against the messy ash-brown hair. Wide golden eyes, pupils blown huge in the low light, were fixed on you with the deer-in-headlights intensity.

“Um,” he said. “Hi.”

“Don’t ‘um hi’ me!” You tightened your grip on the bat. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!”

“E-eating?” He glanced down at the half-demolished tomato in his hand. “Your vegetables. They’re good.”

“My vegetables,” you stressed. “In my kitchen. At night.”

He blinked slowly, clearly processing. Then his ears perked forward. “Oh. Do you want me to pay you back?”

“That’s not– no, I want you to tell me why you’re here!”

His tail drooped. The tip curled under, tucking between his thighs like a dog that’d been scolded. 

“I saw your window was open,” he said, and his voice went small. “I was just gonna take a little bit, just enough to not be hungry, but then the apples smelled really good and I just–” he gestured helplessly at the devastation behind him, “–kept going.”

You stared at him, but his then his gaze dropped, and his ears went from droopy to bolt upright, the fur along the edges puffing out. His face, already pink, became redder.

“Um,” he said again. “You, uh– You might want to, like– put clothes on? Before you beat me up with that p-pink bat?”

You looked down.

Your tank top was thin and white. Practically see-through in the best of circumstances, and these were not the best of circumstances. The refrigerator light was in front of you, lighting every single curve, and the cold air from the open fridge had done exactly what cold air always does. Your nipples were visibly, emphatically, aggressively pert.

 “You pervert!” You yowled, dropping the bat to cross both arms over your chest.

“I said you should get dressed!” He raised both hands, palms out. “I was being polite!”

“Looking at my tits isn’t polite!” 

“I wasn’t– okay, I looked, but only because they were right there and you were waving a bat at me, and I got distracted– and also,” he added in a comically high voice, opening one eye, “you’re really pretty, so. Like. Hard not to look.”

Your indignation stuttered and crashed into embarrassment, which was not the emotion you should be feeling right now.

“S-shut up,” you said weakly, exhaustion slowly seeping in.

The refrigerator beeped, complaining about being left open too long. You took a breath. Then you dropped your arms, because fuck it, they were just titties, a lot of people had them, and he’d already seen them anyway. 

“Okay,” you said. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to tell me your name, and then you’re going to explain why I shouldn’t call the cops.”

“Ca-Caelus!” The word came out rushed. “My name’s Caelus! And please don’t call the cops, I don’t think they’d know what to do with me, last time I got picked up they put me in a shelter, and I climbed out a window, and they put out like a whole thing about a chupacabra in the local paper, and it was really embarrassing–”

He was rambling. His ears were doing this thing where they rotated independently, one swiveling toward you and the other tracking something outside. His tail had started thumping against the cabinet behind him, a soft thump thump thump like he couldn’t help it.

“Caelus,” you interrupted. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in November. I think. I’m not totally sure about the exact day, though…”

And there it was. That look. The one that made you think of stray cats with matted fur and ribcages you could count through their skin. The one that made you want to feed them and give them a warm place to sleep.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’m not gonna make you go back to the woods at three in the morning. You can take a shower, I’ll find you something to sleep in, and tomorrow we'll figure out what to do with you.”

“You’re serious?” His voice cracked on the second word.

“I mean, yeah? Just for tonight–”

Caelus moved so fast you didn’t have time to react. One second, he was on the floor surrounded by vegetable carcasses, the next he was on his knees in front of you, hands gripping your bare thighs, face pressed firmly against your lower stomach. 

“Hey!” you yelped, “what are you doing!?” His nose was pressed way too low, nestled against the waistband of your underwear.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your skin. His arms tightened around your hips, pulling you closer. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You’re so nice. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met! I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be so–”

“Okay, okay!” Your face was on fire. His nose was definitely pressed against your pubic bone, and he was still rambling, still thanking you, his voice all muffled and worshipful. “Caelus, let go!”

He let go immediately, scrambling backward on his knees like he’d been burned. His face was absolutely scarlet. 

“Sorry. Sorry, I just got excited. Nobody’s ever been nice to me like that. I mean, people have been nice, and you’re pretty and smell good and I just–”

“Shower,” you managed. “You can stay for one night, and that's it.”

One night turned into two. Two turned into three. Three bled into a week, and a week folded itself into two, and somewhere in that stretch of time, you stopped counting.

The thing about Caelus was that he seemed simple.

That was his whole deal. Simple creature. Simple needs. Food, warmth, proximity to you. He didn't ask for much, just whatever you were willing to give, and even then, he took it like a man receiving communion.

Example:

You gave him your old phone. He held it with both hands and pressed it to his chest. His eyes got wet.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you. I'll– I'll take such good care of it, I promise!"

"It's a phone, Caelus. Not a puppy." You sighed, rubbing your eyes sleepily, but when you opened them–

God, the way he looked at you.

Like you'd hung the moon. Like you'd personally reached into the sky and threaded it there on a string just for him. 

You gulped, cheeks suddenly feeling too hot.

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You thought he was asleep.

He was so still at night, so quiet, curled on the couch in your tiny living room like a contented animal. His breathing evened out within minutes of lying down. His tail stopped twitching. His ears went soft and relaxed.

You'd checked. Multiple times. Just to be sure.

So when you slipped into your bedroom on Saturday night and closed the door behind you, you didn't think twice. That day, you were wound tight. Work had been hell all week – deadlines and passive-aggressive emails and colleagues who seemed to exist solely to make your life difficult. So it’s only natural you needed some kind of ✨release✨ .

You'd bought the toy online three months ago, in a moment of lonely frustration after you broke up with that last dick of a boyfriend. It was silicone, curved just right, a deep purple that made you think of bruises and pleasure in equal measure. You stripped quickly and lay back on your bed with the toy in one hand and your phone in the other. 

The dildo slid in easily because you were already wet, had been wet since you started thinking about it on the walk home. You gasped at the stretch, the fullness, the way it pressed against that spot inside you that made your vision go blurry.

You thought about nothing and everything. You thought about golden eyes and warm hands and a voice that said please like a prayer.

An orgasm came fast, making your theeth sunk into your pillow, muffling a cry that wanted to be a name…

…not noticing the wet shlick shlick shlick sound behind your bedroom door.

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The cafe job was an accident. You'd mentioned it offhand, and Caelus'd latched onto it like a lifeline.

"I can work?" He scrambled closer, nearly tripping over his own tail. "And earn money?"

"It's not that exciting, trust me." You lowered your cup of coffee on the table.

The owners were a woman with hair the color of fire and a man with silver streaks at his temples and eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Himeko and Welt. They ran the place together, and they took one look at a newsboy cap that you gave him to hide his ears. Then exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Can you carry heavy things?" Himeko asked smoothly.

"Yes," Caelus answered immediately.

"Can you carry them without breaking them?"

A pause. "...Probably."

He got hired.

You promised yourself that the thing you felt when he beamed at the customers wasn't jealousy. 

Nononono! 

Why would you even feel something like that?

It was a concern. 

Caelus was naive and gullible, not used to human ways. You just wanted to make sure he was adjusting well to workplace dynamics, and that was why you came to pick him up.

The cafe was busy when you arrived. Students, remote workers, and couples were hunched over tables. You spotted Caelus immediately, weaving between chairs with a tray balanced precariously on one hand.

You found a spot near the counter and waited.

Caelus chose that moment to round the corner, tray empty, face flushed with exertion. He spotted you and his whole body changed – shoulders relaxing, smile widening, his whole frame tilting forward with an eagerness that made your chest do something complicated.

"You came," he said. "You came to see me."

"I came to–" You stopped and sighed, tired as usual. "Yeah. Okay. I came to see you."

You could see the movement of his tail wagging in one of his pants legs. The couple at the table glanced over, puzzled.

"You can sit," he said. "I have ten more minutes. Then we can walk home together."

He was gone before you could respond, weaving back into the crowd with that strange grace he had.

You watched him go.

"He's quite something." A man had appeared beside you. He was tall, silver-haired, sharp-boned, with eyes that seemed to see straight through skin. He was wearing a barista apron over an immaculate shirt, and his smile was polite, in fact, too polite for your liking.

"Sunday," he introduced himself. "I work here part-time. I don't think we've met."

"Nope, we haven't."

Sunday's smile didn't waver. He leaned close enough that you could smell his cologne, something too heavy and nothing like Caelus's warm musk.

"He's very attached to you," Sunday observed. "I've never seen anyone so... focused."

"He's just friendly."

"Is that what we're calling it?" A pause. His eyes dropped to your mouth, just for a second. "I understand. Hybrids can be... intense. We feel things deeply. Especially when we find someone worth feeling deeply about."

You blinked. "You're a hybrid?"

He inclined his head. A pair of wings unfurled at his nape, not fully though, just enough to catch the light. Feathers in shades of pearly white were beautiful and strange.

"Doves," he said. "My sister and I. We're rare in these parts."

"I–" You stared at the wings. They were stunning, honestly, delicate and charming.

"Want to touch them?" His smile deepened. "Go ahead. Most people want to."

You reached out. The feathers were impossibly soft, warm from his body, shifting slightly under your fingers. Sunday made a small sound and leaned into the touch just slightly. 

You pulled your hand back as if his wings burned you. Sunday's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. 

"I should, um…" You gestured vaguely toward the door.

"Of course." He straightened. "It was nice meeting you. I hope I'll see you again."

You nodded. Turned. Walked toward the door.

And suddenly, found Caelus blocking your path.

He was standing rigid, tray clutched in both hands, his face drained of color. His ears were flat, pressed against his skull like he was bracing for a blow. His pupils had thinned into oinpricks, making his eyes ominously gold.

His gaze was fixed on Sunday.

"Caelus–"

"We can go home now." His voice was unnaturally rough. "My shift is over."

His fingers wrapped around your pulse point and held on like you were the only thing keeping him upright. 

"Caelus, what?"

"Home." He tugged you toward the door. "Please. I need to– please."

Then you were outside, and he was walking so fast you had to half-run to keep up.

That evening, he didn't wish you a usual goodnight.

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You came home exhausted. Not normal exhausted, but fucking soul-deep level of exhausted. Your manager had screamed at you for an hour over a report that wasn't even yours. Your coworker had "accidentally" deleted your files. Someone had spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, and you'd spent the last three hours of your shift smelling like a burnt Starbucks.

You opened the door, wanting to just dive into your bed.

Dozens of candlelights were jammed onto plates, saucers, and a cereal bowl. Rose petals– wait… actually… Torn-up paper napkins dyed red with something were scattered across the floor. Something sultry, breathless, saxophone-heavy, and completely inappropriate for 7pm on a Tuesday was playing from your Bluetooth speaker.

And in the center of it all stood Caelus.

"Welcome home," he practically moaned, “honey~” 

You stared.

He was wearing… what the fuck was he wearing? 

Red lace. So much red lace. A see-through bra that did absolutely nothing to contain his chest, the underwire digging into his pectorals, the cups gaping where they were supposed to hold the fat. A garter belt attached to thigh-high stockings that had absolutely no business looking that scrumptious on his muscled legs. Panties that were catastrophically failing to contain the very obvious bulge straining against the red lace. On his neck, a collar of a slightly different red undertone glimmered. The leash attached to it swayed when he put his hand on his hip like a posing runway model. 

"Would you like dinner?" 

Caelus took a step closer. 

“A bath?” 

Another step. 

“Or–” 

“What in the Bad TikTok thirst traps is that?” You stopped him, thinning your lips into a narrow line.

“I dressed for you…” his voice wavered slightly, "like in those movies. Where the wife wears something pretty for her husband, and they are very happy to see each other." Caelus stepped forward again, and your traitorous gaze flew to the apex of his thighs. His cock slipped out from the side of those flimsy lace panties and bobbed against his thigh, flushed and leaking, the tip shiny with a bead of precum. He didn’t notice that. Or maybe he did, but was too far gone to care because his breathing had already gone shallow and needy, like even standing there in front of you was winding him up beyond reason.

"I could be your wife," he whispered, and his small fangs flashed when his lower lip caught between his teeth, "If you wanted. I could cook for you. I mean, badly at first, but with devotion. I could fold your laundry. I could sit in your lap while you complained about work..."

Your brain short-circuited.

"I could be good," his thighs flexed, red stockings catching the candlelight, making your mouth water. "I could be so good for you. I'd do anything–"

He was standing in front of you, wearing lingerie that was actively failing to contain him, trembling like a leaf, begging you with every fiber of his being.

And God help you, you wanted to fold immediately and take everything he was offering, gift-wrapped and presented like the tastiest dish. But sadly, at birth, you had been afflicted with the debilitating disease known as rational thinking, so...

"Caelus," you managed instead, "s-stop." 

His face crumpled. "Why? You hate it?"

"I– no, I don't– that's not– why are you wearing–" You pressed both hands to your face and counted to ten while breathing deeply. When you looked up, he hadn't moved, still standing there, still half-hard, still trembling, his tail wrapped tight around his ankle.

"Caelus."

"Yes?" Instantly. Like he'd been waiting for his name in your mouth all evening.

"Why are you wearing… this?"

“It’s lingerie,” he muttered, with the confidence of a man presenting Exhibit One in a court case he thought he was absolutely winning. “I looked it up. Humans wear it to attract mates. To show they want to be taken.”

"You're not trying to– you don't need to attract anything!"

"But I want you to want me!" His voice broke on the last word, leaving something raw and bleeding underneath. "I want you to look at me the way you look at– at your laptop, when you think I'm not watching. I want you to touch me. I want you to–"

His cock twitched, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the shaft, and you watched it like you were hypnotised.

"I want you to want me," he finished. "The way I want you."

The silence stretched. Somewhere behind him, your Bluetooth speaker crackled and changed tracks with all the gravitas of a cheap porno trying to become a religious experience.

"Caelus," you said, "I don't know what you saw on my laptop, but–"

"It was the story about the girl in red and a werewolf..."

You choked. 

Oh nonononono– 

“And the one about the photographer and the lion guy…” 

Shit–

"And the one about the fisher girl and the merman…”

Fuck, he’d found that as well?!

“And the one with two bulls and–"

"Okay!" you yelled, face burning. "Okay, I get it, you went through my Mumblr notes!"

"I just wanted to understand." His voice was earnest. "I wanted to know what you liked. What made you breathe like that..." His expression turned painfully needy. "What made you touch yourself when you thought I was asleep." His cheeks were red enough to light the room, but he kept going with suicidal courage. "You always think I'm asleep," he said quietly. "But I'm not. I'm always listening. I always know when you cum on that silicone fucking thing–"

"C-caelus–"

"What did I do wrong?" he whispered. "I looked up everything. I wanted it to be perfect for you. I wanted you to come home and see me and feel happy!" 

You looked at him. At this ridiculous, pathetic, endearing creature standing in front of you, wearing lingerie too small, his cock hanging out, his eyes full of tears and desperate hope. Caelus stared back like you'd reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in your fist. His hands lifted, then stopped in midair, hovering a few inches from your waist as if even touching you without permission would be too much. That hesitation hurt more than anything else had.

You dropped your gaze to the floor because guilt rose so fast it made you nauseous.

“You don’t have to pay me with your body, Caelus,” you said quietly. The words came out wrong from the moment they left your mouth, but you couldn’t stop them. They kept coming, clumsy and awful and born from every ugly fear you had. “I’m not that kind of human.” You tried to gulp down the bile in your throat, while he froze, awestruck.

“...What?...”

“You don’t need to repay me for staying here,” you went on, hating yourself more with every syllable. “Not with money, not with your body, not with any of this. You don’t owe me anything. So please, just go change, and we can forget–”

“Forget?”

He said it so faintly you almost didn’t hear him. When you looked up, his face had changed.

“How,” Caelus said, and his voice shook so hard he had to stop and try again, “how are you managing to be that stupid while being that smart?” His brows were pulled tight, his mouth trembling in a hard line he couldn’t hold. “I’m not doing this because I think I have to! I’m not doing this because you fed me, or let me stay, or because I think I owe you some kind of price for your kindness.” His chest rose sharply. “Is that really what you think of me? That I would come to you like this because I thought that was what you were owed?”

The embarrassment in his voice was gone. So was the breathless hope. In their place was hurt so profound it had curdled into anger just to survive being felt.

“I did this because I want you,” he said, and now there was no performance left in him at all. “I want you so badly it makes me feel sick sometimes. I want you when you’re half-asleep on the couch, and your head keeps falling to one side. I want you when you come home tired. I want you when you’re making coffee. I want you when you’re reading. I want you when you are grumpy in the morning. I want you when you don’t even know I’m looking.”

His throat moved around a swallow that didn’t seem to help.

“So I thought maybe if I made it easy for you,” he said, softer now, ashamed of the softness but unable to hide it, “if I made it obvious, if I made myself into something you could want without having to think too hard about it. Then maybe...”

Your hands came up before you could think better of it.

His cheeks were warm under your touch, and the second you cuppedthem, something in his expression gave way. The anger vanished. The hurt remained, but now it was joined by something frightened and fragile and disbelieving, as though he had been preparing himself to be pushed away and did not know what to do with gentleness instead.

In a second, your lips crashed into his. It was desperate, but it was the only possible answer to all that pain in his voice.  

Caeius made a sound against your mouth that you felt more than heard, something high and broken and disbelieving. For one heartbeat, he didn’t move at all, like he genuinely couldn’t believe this was happening, like if he did anything too quickly you might disappear. But when you parted your lips against his, letting him kiss you back fully, he broke. One hand slid up your back as if to reassure himself you were still there. His fangs scraped your lower lip. His breath shuddered hot into your mouth. His tail wound around your thigh so tightly it was possessive. He kissed like someone who had spent too long being careful, too long being patient, too long trying to survive on scraps of affection and accidental touches. 

"I don't want to mess this up," he gasped against your mouth. "I don't want to– if you don't actually want– I can stop, I can always stop, just tell me and I'll–"

"I don't want you to stop."

He went very still.

"Say it again," he whispered. "Please. Say it again." His forehead knocked against yours, dazed. “Please...”

"I don't want you to stop, Caelus."

His lips found yours again, this time softer. His thumb traced your cheekbone. His tail tightened around your thigh. His hips rocked forward once before he caught himself, flushing violently when he realized what he'd done.

"The bed." You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Or the floor. I don't– I can't think straight when you're looking at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm the only thing in the world worth looking at."

"That's because you are," he whispered. "The only thing. The only thing worth anything. The only thing I want to look at for the rest of my life."

Scooping you into his arms with startling ease, he carried you toward the bedroom, all restless urgency and careful hands. The moment he tossed you onto the mattress, the soft sheets dipped beneath your weight, warm lamplight catching on the buttons of your shirt. Your fingers went to them automatically. Even with your pulse sprinting and every reckless instinct in you begging to just rip the thing apart, you worked each button loose with care.

Because desire was one thing, and buying new clothes in this economy was another.

Caelus, meanwhile, landed near you with a breathless oof, rolling to his back immediately, making himself comfortable on your sheets. You swung a leg over his thighs and settled there, pinning him in place with a look that made him go still.

"If you want sex," you said, saddling his thighs, "we do it my pace."

He nodded so hard that those stupidly soft raccoon ears flopped as if they might fly right off his head. "Yes. Yes. Anything!"

You slid one hand down his chest, over the fucking ridiculous muscles he'd somehow packed onto that lanky frame, to wrap around the base of his cock.

Caelus shuddered and made a sound like you'd punched the air out of him. His whole body went rigid, then desperate shakes traveled from his ears all the way down to the tip of his twitching tail.

The thing was heavy in your palm. Thick and veined and already leaking like a broken faucet, the head flushed an angry red. His slit was gaping slightly, practically drooling precome onto your fingers, sticky and warm. The musky, salt-tinged scent of him intensified, flooding your senses and making your mouth water. You could see it pulse against your fingers, and something hungry curled in your stomach at the sight of him so undone by just your touch.

"Good boy."

The words barely left your mouth before his cock jerked violently in your grip. The first spurt landed on your wrist, thick and warm. The second painted your fingers, and the third shot clean over your hand to land on his own stomach. It kept coming, wave after wave of pearly white come. You felt the veins beneath your fingers throbbing in time with each spasm. 

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck–" His hips bucked helplessly into your grip, riding it out, more come splashing against your fingers, dripping down your wrist, absolutely coating your hand in thick strands. It was so much, and still his cock pulsed, still he spilled, like his body had been saving up for this moment for weeks. It pooled in the dips of his muscles, slid down the ridges of his abs, absolutely ruining the sheets beneath him. A final pulse pushed out a last drop that clung to his slit like a pearl, and you watched it tremble there, connected by the thinnest thread to the mess on his stomach.

"I think, uh…" he gasped, voice cracking, "I think I saw God."

You lifted your hand to your mouthslowly, mesmerised by the pretty shimmer, and licked a stripe up the side of your palm. The taste exploded on your tongue – bitter salt with an undertone of something musky and uniquely him. Not good exactly, but intoxicating because it was his. You deliberately dragged your tongue between your fingers, cleaning the mess, watching his eyes track every movement with glassy fascination. 

"You came."

His ears flattened. His cheeks flushed darker, red spreading down his neck, across his chest, almost matching the red bra he wore. His tail was trapped between his legs, the tip curling inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. Lacy bra had shifted during his scramble, one nipple peeking out from beneath the fabric, hard and begging for attention.

"I– yes."

"From me grabbing your ears and saying 'Good boy'?"

His cock, still half-hard despite everything, gave a pathetic little twitch against his thigh, leaking a fresh bead of precome onto the ruined lace.

"‘M sorry.."

He looked up at you with those big golden eyes, ears perked forward, tail giving an uncertain little wag against the sheets. Like a dog hoping for a treat. 

"You're just so pretty," he breathed, "r-really pretty. Like unfairly pretty. Like if ‘pretty’ was a person, it would be embarrassed because you're prettier than it."

Your panties came out in a second with a desperate rkkkk that signaled them turning into a useless piece of fabric. The crotch was absolutely soaked through – a dark patch in the center that had spread to the seams, and when you tossed them aside, they landed on the floor with a wet slap. 

You crawled up him, and his eyes tracked your every movement with hopeful hunger. When you positioned yourself over his face, he whimpered eagerly, his hands coming up immediately to grip your thighs.

"Three taps on my thigh when you need to breeaa–," you didn't manage to finish because Caelus pulled you down onto his mouth with no hesitation. His nose pressed flush against your clit, pushing up the hood to reveal the throbbing bundle of nerves as he licked and sucked and devoured, his breath coming in desperate pants against your wetness. 

You were so wet you could hear the obscene wet sounds of his tongue sliding through your folds. His nose bumped your clit with every movement, and you rocked against him, grinding down, using his face like the best fucktoy there was while he moaned in approval, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

"You taste like–" he gasped against you, pulling back just long enough to speak, his face absolutely drenched, your wetness dripping from his chin, "–like if heaven had a flavor it would be your cunt. Like–"

"Less talking, more licking."

"Yes, ma'am." Caelus dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue curling, dipping inside you, and you felt your thighs start to shake. He speared his tongue into your entrance as deep as it would go, curling up to stroke your front wall, and you saw stars. 

"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back, the ceiling swimming above you.

His hands traveled up and wrapped around your waist, urging you to press more weight on his face, fingers digging into flesh like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go– 

Then you glanced back.

His cock was pulsing against his stomach, untouched, but spilling again. Thick ropes of come painted his abs, his chest, the stupid lace bra still stretched over his peaked nipples. This time it was slower. Almost lazy pulses that oozed rather than shot, spreading in thick puddles across his skin. His hips bucked mindlessly, fucking the air, and he didn't even seem to notice, too focused on eating you out, too desperate to make you feel good, too lost in your taste to realize he was coming.

"Jesus Christ," you breathed, the orgasm receding slightly as shock took its place.

"Mmfff–" he moaned against your cunt, not stopping, not even pausing, his tongue still working you like his life depended on it.

"You came again," you cooed, lifting up to look down at him, "before me."

Caelus froze. Pulled back just enough to look up at you with panicked eyes. His face was flushed red, soaked with your wetness and his own drool, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes. His lips were swollen, shiny with you, and there was a strand of your wetness connecting his lower lip to your swollen clit, stretching thin before breaking.

"I– I'm sorry– I couldn't control it when you– and you're just so you and my body doesn't know how to handle it–"

"Pervert."

His face crumpled. His ears flattened so hard they almost disappeared into his hair.

"I thought you wanted to make me feel good," you continued. "But you're just using me to get off, aren't you? Coming untouched while I'm aching– "

"No!" He sat up so fast you nearly fell off. His hands grabbed your hips, steadying you on his hips, his eyes frantic and wet. "No, I want to make you feel good! I want it more than anything! I've been thinking about it for days since I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself,” your eyes opened wide at that last sentence because what the fuck? But Caelus continued.

“I watched you use this false cock– watched you bite your lip to stay quiet, watched your back arch, watched your thighs shake, and I wanted to be the one making you do that so bad it hurt– "

Maybe there was something wrong with you, but upon hearing this creepy confession, more wetness gushed out of you. A fresh wave of slick coated your inner thighs, warm and abundant, and you felt it dripping onto his lap where he held you. His cock, still half-hard and messy, twitched against your skin, smearing his come against your thigh. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, chasing your taste.

"You stalked me?" you asked slowly.

"I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. You're so beautiful when you come… The way your back arches, the way your mouth opens, the way you bite your lip to stay quiet. The way your thighs clamp together. I've jerked off to you so many times I lost count. I know the exact sound you make when you're close. I know how long it takes you. I know you like to use that pink vibrating toy first and then switch to the purple cock…"

"Stop," you breathed, but it came out wanting, your cunt clenching rhythmically around nothing at his words.

"But you're literally dripping onto my lap right now. You like that I watched you. You like that I'm obsessed with you."

"You broke into my kitchen."

"I broke into your kitchen because that night you cried and curled into a small ball after you came. You were lonely, and my heart hurt so bad for you. I watched you sob into your pillow, watched you hug yourself, watched you fall asleep still sniffling, and I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand that you were sad and alone, and I wasn't there to hold you.”

You stared at him.

Caelus stared back, that stupid smug smile still on his face, come drying on his stomach, lace stretched over his muscles, ears perked forward like he'd won something.

"Y-you're insane," you said.

"Maybe…" He leaned in, nosed at your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "If you want me to leave, I'll leave. I'll crawl back out that window and go back to the woods and jerk off thinking about you for the rest of my life. But you don't want me to leave, aren’t you?" His tongue darted out, licking a stripe up your neck, lips close to your  "You want me to stay."

"I want you to–"

"To what?" Another lick. His hands slid down your back, stroking your waist. "Tell me. Say it. I need to hear you say it."

"I want you to fuck me, okay?" Your voice broke. "I want you inside me. I've been thinking about it since you showed up in my kitchen with those big pathetic eyes and that stupid tail and– and those ears, and that face– "

His lips slammed into yours, tongue immediately forcing its way in. He tasted like your cunt, like desperation and need and everything you'd been craving. And when Caelus finally pulled back, the only thing you managed was…

"Fuck me."

You could see how his eyes went blank, his mouth dropped open, his ears perked forward so hard they quivered.

"...What?"

"You heard me." You rolled off his lap onto your back, and spread your legs, fingers finding your own clit, spreading your lips to show him exactly what he was getting, glistening and ready. 

Caelus moved so fast you barely saw it happen. One second he was staring at your face, looking confused. The next he was leaning over you with his cock pressing against your entrance, the tip nudging through your wet folds, already sliding in the slickness there.

"Wait," you warned, suddenly remembering one important thing.

He froze. "What? Why?"

"Condom. Nighstand, top drawer."

"Oh!" He scrambled for the nightstand, yanked open the drawer, grabbed a condom, and then paused, looking at you awkwardly. "Um…"

"What?"

"I, uh." He held up the wrapper like some kind of complex puzzle. "I don't... know how to put these on. I've never– I mean, I've watched videos, but.."

You stared at him. "You don't know how to put on a condom?"

"In my defense," he said, his cheeks flushing, "the videos I watched skipped that part. And I fucked but without–"

"Give it here!"

You yoinked the wrapper from his hand, tore it open with your teeth, and reached for his cock. He was thick and heavy in your hand, hot and pulsing, the skin velvety soft over the rigid hardness. Precum beaded at the tip, and you swiped your thumb through it, spreading the slickness, making him whimper.

"Hold still," you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Caelus barely did. His whole body was shaking with the effort of not moving, muscles trembling, thighs quivering, as you rolled the condom down his length, smoothing it over every ridge, every vein. By the time you finished, there were tears in his eyes.

You rolled onto your stomach and grabbed the pillow, hugging it while perching your ass up, presenting your wet pussy to his hungry gaze. You could feel yourself gaping slightly, your folds spread, your entrance clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

"If you come as soon as you get inside me," you said, turning your head to look at him "I will never let you live it down."

"I won't," he promised, already hovering over you, his tip grazing your wet slit, "I'll be good."

He pushed in.

And god.

Caelus was thick, so much thicker than your toys, than your fingers, than anything you'd ever taken. The initial penetration made your eyes water from the sheer intensity of being so completely filled. Your inner walls clamped down on him instinctively, trying to accommodate the intrusion, and you felt every vein, every pulse, every twitch of his cock as he seated himself fully inside you. 

When his pelvis finally pressed against your ass, he was buried to the hilt, and you could feel him in your throat, in your chest, in the very core of your being. The stretch burned, but it was the good kind of burn, the kind that made your eyes roll back, and your toes curl. 

Caelus stared at you. At your tears. At the way your body was clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper. At the way your cunt was weeping around his cock, soaked and welcoming, creaming around his base.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Fuckfuckfuck– You're s-so tight. So wet. So perfect. Like your cunt was made for me." 

"S-shit," you gasped, your fingers gripping the pillow so hard your knuckles went white. "Caelus–"

He froze immediately. "Did I hurt you? Should I stop? I can stop, I'll stop, just tell me– "

"If you stop, I will fucking kill you."

A change came over his face. Something feral. Something hungry. Something that made the animal in him take over. That made your stomach flip with want.

"...You like it," he breathed.

"L-love it…"

Caelus moved a little, regaining that little dominance he had. Just a rock of his hips, grinding deeper, and you screamed into the pillow. Your toes curled. Your back arched. You could feel him in your throat, in your teeth, in your bones, like every nerve ending in your body was focused on the place where he filled you.

"There it is," he moaned. "That's– that's the sound you make when you're close. I know that sound. I've been dreaming of that sound."

His hips fell into the rhythm, pounding into you with single-minded focus, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. 

The bed creaked beneath you. The headboard banged against the wall. You didn't care, not when he was filling you like this, owning you like this, fucking you like you were made for him.

"You feel so good," he gasped. "A-ah fuckfuckfuck I can’t–"

"Yes you can!" You reached back, grabbing his hip, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his skin. "You will! You're going to fuck me until I come, and then you're going to keep fucking me until I come again and again!"

Something in him snapped completely.

Gone was the shy version of him that fumbled with the condom wrapper. All pretense of control, all gentleness, all restraint – gone. His hips pounded into you, relentless and desperate, driving into you like a man possessed, and you screamed into the pillow, your voice raw and wrecked. Your cunt clamped down on him like a vice, rippling and spasming around his cock. Colors bloomed behind your eyelids, bright and overwhelming. Your toes curled so hard they cramped, your feet locking up. Your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm, tremors wracking you from head to toe.

And Caelus kept going.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, yes, fuck– you're coming on my cock, you're– I can feel you clenching, it's so good, you're so good– you're perfect, you're everything, you're– "

He fucked you through it, pounding into your oversensitive cunt with animalistic need. You sobbed as he destroyed you, tears and drool soaking the pillow, your body no longer your own.

"I love you," he gasped. "I love you so much. I've loved you since the moment i saw you singing in the kitchen! Since you swung that pink bat at me. Since you told me I could stay– "

Caelus pounded into you harder, faster, deeper. His cock hit that spot with every thrust, and you felt yourself climbing again, felt that pressure building, felt your cunt clenching around him in desperate anticipation.

"I'm gonna come again," you gasped.

"Come," he growled. "Come on my cock. Come for me. Let me feel it. Let me–"

You came with a scream that ripped your throat raw, that probably woke the neighbors, that you'd be embarrassed about tomorrow, but tonight was pure abandon. 

You felt him pulsing inside you, felt the condom fill with his release, felt him spill in hot pulses, felt him collapsing on top of you. You could see his face in your peripheral vision – eyes rolled back, mouth opened, and tongue lolled out in ecstasy, drool sliding down his chin. Some of it landed on your shoulder, and you smiled, broken and perfect, as he kept rutting mindlessly into your cunt, chasing the last spasms of his own pleasure.

For a moment, there was only breathing. Only the sound of two hearts racing, two bodies trembling, two souls connecting in a way you hadn't expected.

Then Caelus moved.

"Okay," he mumbled against your neck. "Round two."

"W-what?!” You lifted your head, glaring back at Caelus. “You just came!"

"And?" He pulled out, already reaching for the nightstand. "I’m part raccoon, so I have animal stamina." He grabbed another condom. Tore it open with his teeth while you watched, his eyes never leaving your face, golden and hungry. Rolled it down his length clumsily, fumbling in his haste. Then he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back. His hands found your legs, and positioned them around his ribcage, folding you in half. You leglocked him immediately, heels digging into his back.

There was no resistance this time. Caelus slid in easily, too easily, and the feeling of being filled again so soon made your eyes roll back. He was still wearing that stupid, beautiful lingerie, lace stretched taut over his muscles, and you reached up to grab his pecs, fingers finding his nipples over the bralette.

Caelus yowled, and his hips slammed into you so hard you stopped breathing for a second. 

"Yes! M-more! I like everything you do. I like the way you breathe. I like the way you move. I like the way you frown–"

To that, you decided that he talked too much. Also, in your defence, the leash was right there, in your face, tickling your cheek like an invitation, practically begging to be used. So you grabbed it and pulled.

Caelus followed instantly, collapsing onto you, his chest pressing against yours. The lace of his bra rubbed against your nipples, making your back arch in a chase of that roughness. You could feel his heart pounding against your ribs, feel his breath hot on your neck, feel his cock driving into you deeper now, reaching places you didn't know existed. He was everywhere, in you, on you, around you, owning you. His hands found the back of your head, tangled in your hair. His eyes devoured you, memorizing the pattern of pure bliss on your face. His mouth found your neck, sucking hard, marking you, and you felt yourself cumming already, spasming around him helplessly.

"Mine," he growled against your skin. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm–" Your voice broke on a moan, "yours!"

"And I'm yours," he breathed, his voice softening even as his hips kept moving. "Forever. Always. Completely. You're stuck with me. You can't get rid of me now. I'll never leave. I'll never stop wanting you. I'll never–" Caelus came with a broken shout, groaning right into your ears, his whole body shuddering, spilling into the condom, and you thought that might be it.

Ha, well…

The moment he finished, he was hard again, ready again, needing again. He pulled out, disposed of the condom, and was holding a new silver square. 

"No," you whimpered, pussy gaping needily.

"Yes," he murmured, already tearing it open with his teeth.

When you woke up what felt like minutes later, Caelus was already hard again, already pressing against your thigh, already nosing between your legs with sleepy need, kissing on your well-used pussy. Your sore hole was twitching painfully whenever he pressed a kiss.

"Mmm," he mumbled against your clit. "Need you."

"D-did you even sleep?" You didn’t recognise your voice.

"Slept a little. Dreamed of you. Woke up hard. Standard operating procedure at this point."

"You're insatiable," you muttered.

"Raccoons," he said, like that explained everything, and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was gentler now. He licked through your folds like he was savouring you, memorizing you, learning every inch of you by heart. His nose pressed against your clit, and you whimpered, oversensitive and desperate.

"Shh," he murmured against you. "I've got you. I'll take care of you. I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you. "

"Caelus, I need–" You grabbed his hair, made him look at you. His eyes were soft, worshipful, full of so much love it made your chest ache. "I need sleep and water. I need to be able to walk to the bathroom without crying."

"Oh." His ears drooped. "Okay, I'm sorry." He gestured vaguely at you, at himself, at the absolute disaster of the bed. "You're just–”

The melody of your phone rang, cutting him off in the middle of his endless banter.

You groaned and rolled onto your belly, reaching for it blindly. The movement made more fluids leak out of you, dripping down your thigh, and you heard Caelus moan behind you. To your own mental anguish, you saw your boss's name on the screen.

"Oh god," you whispered.

Caelus, crawling up your body and pressing his weight into you, raised an eyebrow, looking at the screen. "Who is Mr. Dumbfuck?"

"My boss."

His eyes narrowed, and he pressed his face to the side of yours, staring hatefully at the screen. "The one who emails you late? The one who 'needs to see you in his office' for 'private discussion'?" He made air quotes with one hand, his voice dripping with jealousy. "That boss? The one who definitely has a thing for you?"

"Caelus–"

"Answer it." His voice turned sharp. 

"That's– that's so fucked up–"

"But your pussy’s twitching." His voice was smug as he rubbed his cock between your ass cheeks, the head catching on your slick folds, sliding through the mess there. "I can feel it. You're literally dripping."

You hit accept.

“Ah, good morning, dear!” The voice of your boss was uncharacteristically sad, and Caelus growled at the pet name.

"H-hello!" you managed, your voice wrecked.

"Um… I was calling you to ask why you are late, but now I hear that you sound–"

"Sick!" you yelped quickly. "Real sick! Fever! Can't– can't make it in!"

While you tried to form coherent sentences about being too sick to come in, Caelus pushed forward just an inch, just the tip, and you felt your walls flutter around him, trying to pull him deeper. You shook your head frantically, but he seemed to ignore it, keeping pushing inside you slowly, stretching you open while you tried to keep your voice steady on the phone. Your cunt gripped him like it never wanted to let go, clenching down on every ridge, every thick inch, trying to milk him deeper. You could feel every vein, every ridge, every inch of him as he filled you, could feel your inner walls parting to accommodate his girth, could feel the slight burn of the stretch that made tears prick at your eyes. You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. He paused, waiting, his breath hot against your neck.

"Yeah, I think I caught something," you said into the phone, pussy full of fat cock. "Probably gonna be down for–"

Caelus chose that exact moment to thrust deep enough to make you gasp. The wet plap resonated through the bedroom, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan.

"You okay?" your boss asked.

"F-fine!" Your voice cracked. "Just– cough. Bad cough. It's– it's really aggressive. The cough. Very aggressive. Keeps– keeps coming back."

Caelus's tail was wagging against your leg. With your peripheral vision, you could see that the bastard was grinning, his pupils blown wide, his face flushed with pleasure and possession. One of his hands slid down your stomach, between your legs, fingers finding your clit and circling with vicious precision. The other hand gripped your breast, nipple trapped between his pointer and middle finger, holding you in place as he pulled out almost fully before sinking back in, each thrust deep, designed to make you fall apart.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.

"So um… are you gonna need tomorrow to rest or…" The speaker went silent, and you breathed in some air to form an answer.

"Yeah, tomorrow as well," you whimpered, voice comically high. "Definitely tomorrow. Just need to rest! Lots of rest. Fluids. You know. Bed rest. Strict bed rest. Can't even–ah–can't even sit up."

Caelus mouthed at your neck, sucking sloppily, adding to the canvas of marks that adorned your body. His fingers kept circling your clit, keeping you right on the edge while he rocked his hips into your poor cunt. Each thrust pushed a broken little sound past your lips that you desperately tried to morph into coughs.

"Actually," your boss said, "if you're that sick, I could stop by. Bring you some soup. Check on you. Make sure you're… comfortable and taken care of."

The moment those words left the speaker, Caelus froze on top of you. You glanced at his face and felt your stomach drop. His eyes had gone completely golden, pupils narrowing into pinpricks. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a scowl. A low, rumbling growl started in his chest, vibrating through his body into yours, and his grip on your breast tightened hard enough to bruise.

"No!" you said, too quickly. "No, that's– that's not necessary. Really. I'm fine. I mean, I'm not fine, I'm sick, but I'm– I'm taken care of! M-my roommate is here!"

"Your roommate?" Your boss's voice sharpened. "I didn't know you had a roommate."

"Recent development! I'm in good hands!"

Caelus chose that moment to whisper right into the fucking speaker, "In the best hands." His hips snapped forward harder, punctuating the words, driving his cock so deep you saw pearly gates.

Your boss went silent, while you wanted to die.

"Was that–" your boss started.

"That was– uhh… that was–" You scrambled. "The TV! I’m watching a nature documentary. About– about raccoons. They're very territorial. Very possessive–"

Caelus pulled out slowly, then slammed back in, the head of his cock hitting your cervix, and your fingers spasmed, forcing you to drop the phone onto the sheets.

"You still there?" your boss asked, while you were drooling into the mattress, absolutely not there at all. Your eyes were rolled back. Your tongue was hanging out. You were pretty sure you'd stopped breathing. Caelus leaned over you, pressing flush against your backside, and reached for your phone.

"Hello?" he said, his voice bright and cheerful, even as his hips kept moving, hungrily pressing his cock closer to your cervix. You wheezled, praying to all gods, trying to take the phone from his hands weakly. Caelus just shoved your hands away. "Yeah, she's really sick. Can't talk right now. She's, uh– she's throwing up..."

You could hear your boss sputtering on the other end.

"Anyway!" Caelus continued cheerfully, grinning down at your nape as you were very busy holding onto the sheets for dear life. "I've got her. She's in good hands." He pounded deep, making the bed slam against the wall. "So if you could just– not come over? Thanks! Bye!"

He ended the call and dropped the phone, and the moment it hit the mattress, he lost it.

"Nature documentary?" He was laughing too, even as he kept thrusting into you, his bare cock sliding against your bare walls with no barrier, no protection, just raw, devastating friction.

"And you told my boss I was throwing up!"

"But you were making sounds! Also, my brain is not exactly functioning at full capacity– "

"I was making sex sounds!"

"Well, Mr. Dumbfuck doesn't know that!" Another thrust, deeper this time. His balls slapped against your clit again, and you screamed into the pillow.

"Oh god," you gasped into the pillow as your pussy spasmed painfully. You could feel your orgasm building, coiling in your gut like a spring about to snap. Your toes curled. Your fingers gripped the sheets so hard your knuckles went white.

"Not god," he murmured against your ear, his chest pressing against your back, his tail thrashing. "Just Caelus."

"You’re insatiable!"

"Yeah." He kissed your shoulder. "But you like it. I can feel how much you like it. Your pussy's gripping me so tight, like it never wants me to leave."

"M-maybe it doesn't."

You felt him go completely still inside you with his cock buried to the hilt, his breath caught in his throat, his entire body rigid with tension.

"...What?" he whispered.

You turned your head and looked back at him over your shoulder. His eyes were huge, golden, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before. His ears were perked forward, desperate and hopeful. His tail had stopped moving entirely, frozen mid-wag.

"I said," you repeated slowly, "maybe it doesn't want you to leave. Maybe I don't want you to leave. Maybe I want you here, in my bed, every night."

"But I'm a stalker," he said, his voice small. "I broke into your kitchen! I’m half raccoon! I’m a freak!"

"You're just mine." You reached back, grabbed his hip, pulled him closer, and Caelus snuggled his front to your back, hands flying to put his palms over yours. "And I'm yours, if you can handle the anger and the sarcasm and the way I'll probably threaten you with that pink bat at least once a week." Your hips pressed back into his, and he nuzzled into your hair blissfully.

"Once a week?" His smile came back, slow and beautiful. "I was hoping for daily."

"Don't push it."

"Never." He kissed you again, soft and reverent, even as his hips started moving once more, now gently, rubbing against your sweet spot so good your body went liquid.

"I love you. I love you so much it scares me."

"I love you too." And with that, you thumbed over the edge, weakly clenching and relaxing under him. Your orgasm rolled through you like a wave, starting in your core and spreading outward until your whole body was shaking with it. Your cunt clamped down on his cock weakly, milking him, pulling him deeper, and you felt him swell inside you, felt his hips stutter, felt his control snap. Your heavy lids closed, and you just let him chase his own orgasm, completely blissed out.

Caelus laughed, bright and joyful, his tail wagging against your leg as he spilled inside, painting your walls with white. It was a smaller amount than before, but you felt the first hot pulse of his release flooding your insides–

Wait, what? 

"Condom," you gasped. "Caelus, the condom-!"

"...Ran out," he mumbled, his voice dazed, drunk on you. "We used them all, but I couldn't stop. Please don't be mad… "

You couldn't even respond. Your brain was absolutely fried, reduced to nothing. Your eyes were half-lidded, unfocused. Every thought you'd ever had had been fucked out of you hours ago. 

And then, finally, beautifully, you felt yourself slipping with the last thought, which was:

I am so fucked.

Heh, literally and figuratively, babe~

.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist: Creatures Features

Prev. part: Pride Rock (Hard) (LionHybrid!JingYuan x fem!reader)

Next part: WIP

Fun fact: I had to delete a lot from the part before the smut because it was getting too long. So yeah, sorry if the plot feels a little dry :c

Also, I know I haven’t been posting much lately, but I have a lot of deadlines, including my diploma... Yeah, I’m fucked cuz I haven’t even started yet, and I’m writing this instead. Eehhh, pray for me, yall

My darlings (taglist): @nazifa613, @spookydragonsong, @noentalrae, @fayebyte, @melimelisworld, @itslovelyangel, @cum-fvk, @forbidden-permission, @luv-isolde, @rinki-tinki, @alwaysseventypercent, @koseyisntcozy, @rochunsfw @lizurich, @constellationsyslibrary, @lavielavigne @hungryhornet @fuuyi-acrimosa, @damarezen, @itslayka, @anothergojostan, @blanksbedroom, @violetisreadinghush, @cccccccccccleo, @valentine-mybeloved, @bedrottingdoll, @horny--jail, @avenixs, @mildmasochist, @caramel-chai, @elianasmoon, @eminenceplant, @tree-ag, @neuvilletteclearwater, @msmumufufu, @solarrandom, @strawberrybunnyjolie @helloweebsofgenshin @katzline, @kellyyn02 @aymands @whatasillyguy ...

(comment under the master post to be tagged!)

[manicsho]

Do you think you might add Scaramouche/Wanderer as a cat hybrid in Creature Features?? 👀👀 Also I'm loving this series!! Patiently waiting for FFS

Hey, Love!

Tbh, I'm not sure about Scara, but I'm considering writing a second part of Creature Features (bc most of u, my dears, loved it… or I hope so lol). I have some ideas, but no specific plans or a final list of characters to include. If I can come up with something for him, I might add him c:

So, no promises.

Also, I hope u liked FFS heheh

[manicsho]

Not a request but have you ever thought of writing about Alhaitham, it's just I rlly love your work and was calculating (gambling addiction peaks out) the possibility of a future fic

Hello, sweetheart!

To be honest, Alhaitham is one of my favourite characters and that's why it's very hard to write for him (basically because I'm never pleased with a final product :c ). Same with Ratio, Anaxa and Dottore btw.

Actually, I wanted to include Alhaitham/Reader chapter in the Creatures Features series, but decided against it. The idea was raw and I just scrapped it haha.

Sooooo, the final answer is: I don't know... I have some ideas, sure, but I'm not sure if I can turn them into something bigger.