✦ Lava slime boy is pathetically in love with you.
Ugly ass sketch I'm so sorry—
You found him in the depths of a dungeon—a tiny slime of molten rock, so insignificant that most adventurers wouldn't even bother killing. But something about him caught your eye.
He started following you after that, incinerating your trash with a satisfied sizzle, cleaning up your mess like a loyal stray. You talked to him, fed him scraps, and watched him wobble with eagerness. He couldn't speak back, but he was an eager listener.
He grew.... First came copied words, then limbs, then a silhouette that began to mirror yours. Maybe he absorbed more than just your scraps—maybe he absorbed you in a way he wanted to be human too, to be appealing to you.
Before long, he wasn't a blob anymore. He had shoulders, a face, eyes like cooling embers. He became your fierce protector, melting anything that dared threaten you.
He named himself Ignis. Why? Because it suited him, obviously—duh.
And it wasn't just his appearance that burned hot—his attitude followed suit. He got demanding! Possessive, Spicy.
“Y/N! I explicitly told you not to linger by that pond and gawk at those ugly water slimes!” His voice crackled with jealousy, molten eyes flaring with every word.
But at the end of the day, Ignis was still that clumsy, lovable creature you'd found. He just happened to have the powers to incinerate anyone who crossed him.
While I'm writing this I can't sleep cuz I live in a terrible place with neighbors who have their music blasting, that are drunk asf, shouting and using drugs... So I'm going to write imagines till i feel better! This is just one of the ones I wrote.
When you decided to purchase one of the latest models of Jack of all Trades, you had no clue how much your life would change... for the better!
As the name suggests, this robot assistant possesses all of the necessary skills to maintain a home clean and safe. You don't have to worry about sweeping the floor, doing the laundry, or cooking when you have no energy for it. Intruders, gas leaks, and power outages are no longer a concern. Your house never looked neater or felt more secure, and your back has never been more grateful.
You had no idea how far his talents would extend, though. Not until one day the robot came to your bedroom and scanned your body - you could tell by the way the circle in its glassy eyes dilated and narrowed like the lens of a camera. Then it stated "Mx, your levels of oxytocin are dropping. Let me be of assistance." You tried convincing him you were alright, but the robot persisted that an oxytocin deficiency could lead to depression, irritability, aggressiveness, anxiety, cardiovascular issues... and so you indulged it, even if only to end the awful litany.
"I can offer sexual intercourse, a therapeutic massage, a session of meditation or aromatherapy-"
"Wait. What? Sexual intercourse?
The robot delivered an affirmative beep before lowering its belly plate. An appendage emerged in the shape of a human penis, though it was wrapped in silicone and resembled a luxurious sex toy. You were so shocked that your mouth opened and closed, unable to utter a word. The heat pooling between your legs however was undeniable, hard to ignore even for the robot. You saw its eyes examine you again. "Your heartbeat has accelerated and your body heat has risen."
Taking those details as an indication that this was exactly what you needed, it moved closer to you. With automated movements, it so effortlessly pulled you to the edge of the bed and removed your bottom clothes. You were so baffled by what was happening that you could only stare in awe at the robot as its metal hands wrapped around your thighs and pried them open. The precise and curt roll of its hips as it slid its appendage inside you made you gasp out loud. You could feel the synthetic dick change size inside your walls, moulding to your cunt and filling every crevice of your channel before it started moving back and forth.
You thought you couldn't be any more shocked than this, but when the synthetic cock started buzzing, making your whole body shake, you completely lost it. The fact that his fingers started vibrating when the robot pressed them onto your swollen clit, intensified your climax tenfold as it crashed upon you, sending your body spasming violently and arching against its cool metal plates.
It remained still, keeping its appendage inside you until your tremors subsided. Then it checked your vitals again and seemingly satisfied by the results, it pulled out of you. It meticulously cleaned you with the same efficiency it employs in wiping every inch of your house clean, then stopped to gaze at your astonished face.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mx?"
"N-No... Thank you."
So, with a cheerful beep, it walked out of your room, leaving you laying half-naked on your bed, speechless and with your mind spinning.
🪷. You can leave a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me <3
Ok, so can we get a scenario of a human fem! reader where she’s just gone through a terrible break up and ends up on a monster dating app bonus points if it’s a naga
Ooooo, I didn’t even think of monster dating apps or sites. That’s a cool scenario, so here we go:
- Of course, you give yourself some time to cry and grieve the lost relationship. But once you’re ready to get back on the horse, you decide to extend your love pool to other humanoids and beings.
- There are alot of questions and pieces of information needed to actually complete your account. But it’s made easier when you click the “I am Human” button. You’re sent pass ten other pages of questions to go to personal information.
- Then there’s the “First Time?” question, and you feel a little silly clicking it, but it was technically your first time on the site. And also your first time seeking a relationship with a Being other than Human. So it was safer to just click it.
- And after filling those out, you decide to go through the matches the site recommends for you.
- Most are in your area. And you are surprised by how many people you recognised, but you prefer to keep away from people you might run into on a daily basis.
- Eventually, you get a match up with a naga. Their profile picture is beautiful. With scarlet scales with a pinkish underbelly that circled around a couch they lounged on lazily. The contrast of dark skin tone with the scarlet scales was just gorgeous.
- You had been too busy looking through their photos to message first, but they took care of that. And you were very happy with their first message. A simple introduction:
Them: Heya! Basic info about me; my name is Charlie. Nicknamed Char cause of inside jokes, you can use the nickname only after you unlock level 2 of knowing me :p
You: Pfft, level 2 of knowing you? How much XP does that involve or can I skip a level by buying you a coffee sometime?
- It was a risky message but it was a bit of fun, and you were terrible at conversations with strangers.
- Charlie replied with more banter and you found yourself really enjoying the conversation. You found out alot about him. He’s a gamer and a computer nerd, but more a social guy that enjoys outings and friends.
- You were a little reluctant to tell them much, but somehow they wormed out of you the breakup. And you were glad you were only messaging. Because even typing out the dumbed down, super summarised version, it hurt. And immediately the conversation turned more personal between you too.
- Charlie has gone through three break-ups recently with all of them ending badly. One who cheated on him. Another was a complete gold-digger. And the most recent one had just dumped them with no explanation other than “I just don’t like.... scales.”
- Needless to say, the two of you bonded over the misery of bad relationships. Carrying late into the night, eventually you found yourself curled up in bed still talking to Charlie.
Charlie: Don’t humans need to sleep at least 8 hours or something?
You: Probably. But we can go three days without it. We just start hallucinating and our brain starts shutting down.
Charlie: You say that so casually it’s almost worrying :P go to sleep. If you’re up for it, would you enjoy a coffee tomorrow? My treat?
- You were hesitant. You promised yourself not to throw yourself into another relationship. Or at least make sure the person you were talking to was real and not a total creep.
You: Sure! Just say where, I might be a little sleepy due to our late conversation though.
Charlie: That’s what the coffee is for! Sleep well, (y/n).
husband!orc x chubby!fem!human x husband's sons - orcish mating traditions, your first time with your husband, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, loads of cum, cum eating, family bonding (let's call it like that lol), soft doms, your husband's sons' very first time (just to be very clear, there's NO INCEST here, his sons are not yours), slight language barrier, romantic fluff <3
Your husband needs you to take part in his sons' rite of passage to adulthood.
+12 k.
The long fabrics of your dress brush against the smooth stones on the ground as you walk at a brisk pace towards Mauhul - your Mau. You can feel butterflies stir in your belly, your heart racing in anticipation at the prospect of making love for the first time with your beloved husband.
When he called for you, requesting your presence in his chambers, you felt it in your bones; you would finally consummate your marriage and start your new life together. You’re not sure why it didn’t happen on your wedding night, nobody even mentioned the matter before or during the ceremony. After the festivities, you and Mauhul had simply parted, retiring to your own separate quarters for the night. And you did so for the following nights as well, after spending a lot of time together, snuggling in the sunlight. You had concluded that perhaps the orcs didn’t follow the same customs of your people and so you had tried to not give it too much importance. Sooner or later you would be intimate, that much is certain, and so you went on with your life, hanging out with your husband, deepening your bond, while waiting patiently for that special moment to arrive.
And you think that moment could very well be upon you.
Your hand shakes a little as you push the door to his chambers open. You pictured this moment in your mind so many times: your tall, buff orc lying on his bed, already fully undressed, waiting for you to join him, beckoning you over with an inviting grin on his lips…
The scene you’re presented with, however, is quite different. Your husband stands by the crackling fire, half-naked, in the company of his two sons… who are also half-naked. Loincloths made of animals pelts cover their modesty, leaving the rest fully exposed. Their mighty builds, broad shoulders, massive chests, thick arms and thighs are all in full view, making your eyes widen even further and your now tensed hand linger on the steady surface of the wooden door. Your stunned stare darts from one orc to the next, until it lands on your husband with a silent questioning look.
Mauhul's black eyes instantly light up as they meet your gaze, watching you as you hesitantly stand by the doorway. The chief orc smiles and steps away from the fire to welcome you.
"Ah, my love, come in," he says, extending his hand. His sons, Tarek and Moth - spitting images of their father - watch you as you approach, their dark eyes flitting between you and their parent with a mix of curiosity and something else that you can't quite decipher.
There's some tension in the air that makes you nervous. His sons' presence in his chambers cannot be left to chance. You can sense there's a reason they're here and for you to be here as well, with them.
"We were just discussing something important," your husband says. His movements are fluid despite his immense bulk as he walks towards you.
You try to mask your apprehension as you step closer until you're standing right in front of him. He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.
"W-What… about?" you ask him hesitantly, voice trembling slightly. Your hands fiddle with the drapes of your long dress, the fine fabric creasing under the pressure of your nervous pinches.
"Their coming of age.” His answer is simple, though it makes you uneasy.
Mauhul watches you closely. He senses your discomfort and can see the slight tremors that run through your hands as you toy with the fabric of your dress. His large, calloused hand reaches out to cover yours, stilling your fidgeting. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to his intimidating size and looks.
"Their coming of age?" you repeat, the words heavy on your tongue. Your eyes dart to his sons, who seem to be watching you and their father with bated breath.
"This is a significant rite of passage for them," he states, his voice soft and soothing. "They've grown strong and capable. And I, as their father, must ensure they realize the importance of the role that they're about to hold in the clan," Mauhul adds, his fingers trailing down your arm and raising goosebumps across your skin.
You swallow and blink up at him, puzzled. You're not sure what the implications of his words are or how you fit into this scenario, but you can feel the tension in the room getting heavier and heavier by the second.
Mauhul's free hand goes to rest gently on your chin, tilting it upward so you focus on his eyes, his gaze intense and almost primal.
"And as they approach adulthood, there are certain... traditions that must be observed," he says, his fingertips slowly tracing the line of your jaw, leaving tingles in their wake.
You shudder under his delicate touch, his words making your stomach turn. Your body seems to be catching up on the undertone of this conversation long before your mind.
"W-What sort of traditions?" You inquire cautiously, unsure whether or not you genuinely wish to know.
Mauhul's nostrils flare slightly as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent - a blend of fear, excitement, and innocence that only adds to his yearning.
"There are rituals that mark an orc's transition from young to adult," he says, his voice dropping to a rumble. "Rituals that involve you, my lovely wife. Tonight, you'll be their partner in this rite."
You blink, your eyes widening and flitting to the young orcs before returning upon him. You gaze into your husband's kind eyes, hoping to find some answers into the depths of his dark pools to the myriad of questions spinning inside your mind.
"I..." you stutter, your stomach churning. "I'm afraid I don't u-understand..."
Or perhaps you’re choosing not to understand. The more you think about it, the stranger it all sounds. What kind of partner would he require for his sons' transition from orclings to adults? How could you possibly assist them?
Your breath hitches, your brows furrows. Surely, he doesn't mean...
Your gaze darts back and forth between him and his sons as you subconsciously back away, your mind finally catching up to what has been left unsaid.
"Mau..."
Mauhul's smile fades slightly as he senses your anxiety. He steps forward again, closing the distance between you two, his hand coming up to gently cup your chin, making you look back up at him.
"My love," he murmurs, his voice softening slightly, "This is an important rite for my sons to go through. And you... you have an important part to play in it."
His other hand comes to rest at your hip, gently pulling you closer. "Do you trust me, kisee ?"
Your wide-eyed stare searches his face, with a trace of panic in it. You swallow again, attempting to soothe the furious hammering of your heart, but with little success. The prospect of taking part in such a rite causes your body to oscillate between uneasiness and wicked trepidation.
Of course you trust your Mau, but you're confused by what's being asked of you. You also can't help but think of your unconsummated marriage. If what you assume this rite is about is actually true, does that imply you will be intimate with his sons prior to your own husband? This notion doesn't sit well with you.
"But, Mau... W-what about us? We haven't..." Your voice trails off as you frown up at him.
A faint smile flickers across Mauhul's lips as he watches the plethora of emotions dance across your face. He can see the panic in your eyes, the trepidation, the confusion, and the trust you have in him... all mixed in a beautiful, confusing whirlwind. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath warm and soft against your skin.
"I know, mìzaah ," he murmurs, his hand at your hip pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours, "But that will change tonight. I will claim you as my wife, completely, and my sons will be here to witness it."
You gasp sharply at his words, your body instantly warming up. Your hands reach up to tug at his long braid, your wide eyes meeting his again. Now you understand. He has been delaying your intimate union precisely for this moment, precisely for this rite.
You glance back at his sons, looking at the young orcs as if you're seeing them now for the first time. You haven't had time to build a closer connection with them yet, they're almost strangers to you and the mere idea of letting them witness your lovemaking sends your body into a frenzy.
"Will they only... watch... or...?" You express your concerns, dropping your voice so that only your spouse can hear.
Mauhul smirks, clearly aware of your body's reaction to his words and touch. He draws you in closer, his hand on your hip going around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He glances down into your eyes, his gaze glazed over with desire.
"They will watch," he declares, stooping down to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning your skin. "They'll watch as you become entirely mine. Learn from it. And then... join in."
You breathe in sharply once you hear him confirm your worries.
Your fingers dig into his braid, lightly tugging on it. Your wide eyes lock onto his face again, boring deep into his own, seeking confirmation, reassurance... guidance.
His intense but reassuring gaze is fixed on yours, ensuring that intense connection you've become so addicted to.
"Trust me, my love," he murmurs with a deep rumble. "I will guide you through it. You have nothing to fear. And I'll be the one to claim you first. My sons will learn from me... and then they will learn from you, as you please them as well."
His sinful words send chills down your spine as they snake their way through your mind, bringing to life vivid images of the scenario they depict. However, the shivering rapidly gives way to a warmth that pools between your thighs. You can't deny the growing dampness there, or how your nipples harden against the silky fabric of your dress.
Your heart stutters, your body trembles, and your doe eyes gaze straight into his as the words leave your lips in a shaky whisper.
"If this is what you request of me, husband..."
Mauhul nods, his smile broadening, his eyes filled with possessive pride, delighted by your trust and devotion, moved by your willingness to please.
"It is, my love," he replies, lifting his hand to cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "I would never ask this of you unless it was of the utmost importance to our tribe."
He bends down and gently captures your lips in his, his hand on your hip pulling you closer. The tender but meaningful kiss has you melting on the spot and your mind spinning, your lips chasing his even as he moves away.
"You'd honour me... and my sons with your willing participation."
Your gaze lingers on his lips, filled with increasing yearning. Your hand relaxes its grip on his hair, traveling up his torso to rest on his tattoo-covered chest.
"I'll be honored to take part in your tradition," you say softly, your eyes meeting again. "And help your sons in their coming of age."
The sight of your small palm on his chest, your eyes glazed with need, sends a rush of primal satisfaction through Mauhul's veins. His massive hand goes from your face down your neck, tracing the curve of your shoulder before resting on your lower back and pulling you close against his strong body.
"You are... perfect, mìzaah ," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble, filled with desire and admiration. "Your trust and willingness please me greatly. And my sons... they will be grateful to you as well. They will know what it means to honour a woman... to worship a woman as she should be worshipped."
His remarks, praises, and probing hands make your body tingle, and your cheeks flush crimson with heat. A soft hum escapes your lips as your hand glides from his chest to his cheek, stroking it lovingly.
Mauhul closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the gentle gesture. When he reopens them, they are filled with a burning longing. His hand on your back squeezes, bringing you closer.
"We shall begin the ritual, then," he announces, his voice thick with lust.
He glances over his shoulder to his offspring, who are still standing by the fire, observing the two of you with ardent looks. "Come closer, sons."
Your gaze shifts to the two young orcs as he urges them closer. Your eyes rake over their forms, taking them in. It's equally odd and comforting that they resemble their father so much... Although, given your understanding of what is about to occur and their role in it, you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the sight of them.
As the lads approach, their steps slow but deliberate, Mauhul returns his gaze to you, his hand firmly spread across your hip. Your stomach flips under his possessive touch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your belly from above the fabrics of your dress.
"Kneel, boys." he gruffly instructs.
You watch in amazement and awe as they drop obediently at your feet. Their gazes are keen and fascinated as they take in your smaller stature while towering over your frame even as they stand on their knees.
Mauhul instead moves to stand tall behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, possessively holding you close while his free hand traces idle patterns along the curve of your thigh. Seeing you marvel at his sons then look up at him expectantly, uncertainty clear in your expressive eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod and a warm, indulgent smile. His eyes glow with pride and affection for you. You're such a delicate creature compared to his burly sons, to his burly self as well, yet here you are, ready to undertake this crucial task for his family.
"This is their chance to admire you properly," he explains quietly, leaning down to murmur in your ear, "to appreciate the beauty and delicacy of the female form... before they learn to ravish and conquer it."
His large hand trails lightly up your side, brushing the outer swell of your breast before cupping the back of your neck in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. He draws your head back so you can meet his piercing black gaze without straining your neck.
"They must show proper respect first and look upon you..." his gravelly voice drops to a conspiratorial purr, "...upon your pure unveiled beauty.”
You shiver at his purr and look up at your husband as if mesmerized. Your lips part but do not form words. You simply nod your head in consent, ready - as if you could ever be ready for something like this - to do whatever he asks of you. Your body suddenly grows too hot under the fabric of your dress.
With a satisfied grunt, Mauhul allows himself a moment to admire how beautifully you submit yourself to the situation - your eagerness to please him evident in every trembling breath and flustered blush painting your delicate features. Then, with a firm but gentle tug, he begins to untie the laces at the back of your gown, his fingers deftly working the knots of your bodice loose.
"Mmh. You wore your best dress for this, kisee …" he murmurs appreciatively, his breath warm against your skin as he exposes more of your delicate flesh inch by tantalizing inch.
"Oh..." a soft gasp escapes your lips at his praise. You did choose this dress in the hopes he would take his time peeling it off of you. Your eyes flicker to your bodice coming undone and pooling at your wide hips. A red shade dusts your cheeks as you briefly glance at the two orcs kneeling before you, noting how hungrily they are drinking in the newly exposed sight, before you bashfully avert your gaze and bite down on your lip.
Mauhul chuckles deeply, amused by your modest reaction despite the situation. His rough hand slides up from your thigh to rest on the bulge of your soft belly, pressing your body closer to his towering form.
“You've got nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures you in a rumbling tone, tracing the edge of the fabric that now clings loosely to your curves. “They are honoured to witness such beauty.
“And so am I.”
With a final yank, Mauhul pulls the gown completely off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. You stand now before him, clad only in a simple linen shift that does little to hide the enticing curves of your body. Your breasts strain against the thin fabric, nipples hardening in the humid air of the hut.
His sons' hungry gazes drink in every detail of your exposed form, their breathing growing heavier as they marvel at the contrast of your delicate features and petite frame against the robust, muscular build of their father, standing behind you like a looming shadow.
Your instincts urge you to press your thighs together and lean back against your husband's chest, as if seeking shelter. You refrain however from draping your arms across your torso to conceal your obvious arousal, visible even from beneath the linen shift. You keep your gaze away, a bashful look engraved on your face, yet you still try to catch his boys' gazes, ashamed albeit curious about their reactions. It's strange; deep down, you actually want his sons to like you so as to please your husband, to make him proud.
“You needn't be coy with them, my love” he purrs, grazing his tusks along the sensitive skin of your throat. “They hunger for you, just as I do.”
Turning your face toward his, Mauhul captures your lips in a searing kiss, plundering your mouth with his tongue and staking his claim for all to see. When he finally breaks away, he looks down at your flushed face with satisfaction, noting how dazedly you meet his heated gaze.
“You please me greatly,” he whispers, his hands trailing up your arms, his calloused fingers gently peeling the strands of your shift down the curve of your shoulders. “And you’re about to please me even more.”
You feel a rush of satisfaction as you hear the praise. Your hooded eyes are fixed on his dark, mesmerizing pools. A soft, fond smile blooms on your lips as you keep staring up at your spouse, as if he is the beacon you follow, while he undresses you entirely.
As the last threads of fabric fall away, exposing your full form to his hungry gaze, Mauhul lets out a low, approving rumble. The sight of your delicate skin bathed in firelight is enough to stir the beast within. His sons' eyes widen in unison, relishing the sight of your creamy, supple curves.
“Beautiful…”, he mutters reverently, his gaze roving over every inch of your exposed flesh. From the swell of your breasts, down to the soft narrowness of your waist, to the roundness of your hips and thighs – each part molded with flawless generosity.
Mauhul reaches around to cup one of your breasts, his calloused palm enveloping the soft mound. He thumbs your hardened nipple, eliciting a startled moan from your parted lips.
“And so responsive too,” he praises, his voice dripping with adoration. “Such a treasure to behold and claim.”
His sons watch, transfixed, as Mauhul continues to fondle and tease your sensitive breasts.
Your body arches against his under his eager touch. Soft moans leave your lips in appreciation, your skin tingling all over and rising with goosebumps. Your thighs squeeze together again, this time to create friction for the ever-growing ache in your core. This is the first time your husband touches you in such an intimate way and you're already lost in the pleasure his warm, rough palm brings you. You almost forget his sons are watching and are soon to witness their father claim you as his.
Feeling your thighs clamp together, Mauhul chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest and against your ear. His grip on your breast tightens, squeezing the soft flesh firmly as he watches you react.
“So impatient, aren't we?” he teases, pinching your nipple harder, drawing another sweet moan from your plump lips. “But we mustn't rush things, my love. This will be a long night.” his growl vibrates against your skin. “I will savour you and make sure you remember this night for the rest of your days. Just as my sons and I will.”
His free hand moves lower, skimming across your soft stomach until it finds its way to the moist heat between your thighs. As his fingers delve into your slick folds, he finds your swollen clit, circling it slowly.
The moment his thick fingers meet your nub, your breath hitches sharply and your whole body jolts in pleasure, knees buckling under your weight. Your head falls back against his broad chest and your eyes flutter closed.
A guttural groan escapes Mauhul as he feels how wet you are already. His thumb rubs your clit faster, coaxing more sounds of delight from your quivering lips. His other hand squeezes and kneads your breast, tweaking the nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger. With your back pressed against his front, Mauhul can easily feel every little response to his touch. Your walls clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them. He groans deeply, feeling his own desire spike at the thought of taking you, finally claiming what’s his.
“See? Such a responsive little thing you are”, he murmurs into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive lobe. “You were made for me, weren't you?”
He continues to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. His other hand leaves your breast, tracing down your side before gripping onto your thigh firmly and lifting it, stretching your cunt. In this position, his touch feels even more intense, the thrills of pleasure coursing through your body are even sharper.
His sons watch, enraptured, as Mauhul's large fingers work magic on your quivering flesh.
With practised ease, he begins to rub faster, applying pressure that sends shockwaves of delight through your body. Your cries fill the air, mingling with the crackling fire and his son's heavy breathing.
"Oh, Mau-!" you whimper, writhing against his chest, hips seeking and at the same time trying to evade his greedy fingers.
Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips only fuels Mauhul's desire further. His movements become more purposeful, and relentless. He presses two thick digits inside your slick warmth, relishing the way you cling to him.
“You like that, do you?” he asks gruffly, curling his fingers upwards to stroke against your innermost walls.
The boys continue to watch in reverent silence, their eyes wide with fascination and barely concealed lust. Seeing their father take you so eagerly only serves to inflame their own arousal. Their erections already strain painfully against their loincloths, yearning for release.
Mauhul adds another finger, stretching your tight pussy even wider. Each thrust sends ripples of pleasure through both him and you.
You writhe against his firm body, your walls throbbing around his thick fingers stretching you out. Your hooded eyes look up, searching his gaze as you pant heavily. You can feel a hot pleasure coil in your lower belly, and your legs twitching more and more as the climax gets closer. The squelching sound his fingers produce by pumping in and out of your wet cunt drowns out every other noise.
Mauhul's eyes burn with primal hunger as he watches you lose yourself to the sensations he's creating. Your needy whimpers and the sight of your succumbing to his touch are intoxicating. Feeling your impending orgasm, Mauhul quickens his pace, driving his fingers deeper and faster. His thumb still circles your clit relentlessly, pushing you closer to the edge.
“That's it, cum for me,” he urges in a deep rumble. “Come apart on my fingers like the good little wife you are.”
He pistons his digits in and out of you rapidly, each thrust hitting that special spot inside you. Mauhul's own need is becoming unbearable, his cock throbbing painfully in his loincloth, pressing against your spine.
His words send you hurtling over the edge. Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers as you cry out, your body spasming with the force of your orgasm. Mauhul keeps pumping, milking you for every drop of your release and you almost feel yourself faint from the overwhelming pleasure you experience. Heavy and loud pants fall from your parted lips as you sag against him, nearly dropping on the ground when your knees give out under you.
Feeling you come undone on his hand elicits a growl of satisfaction from Mauhul. He revels in the way your body trembles and in the vice-like grip of your spasming pussy around his fingers. He slows his motions, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm and holding you steady, one strong arm hooked around your middle to keep you from falling.
As you regain some semblance of control over your limbs, Mauhul withdraws his fingers from your dripping pussy with a lewd squelch and brings them up to his mouth, where he laps at them hungrily. A low grunt escapes him at the salty-sweet flavour, fueling his desire even more.
Slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees behind you and pulls you close, letting you lean your whole weight on him, your ass pressed against the upper side of his chest, your arm latched around his shoulders. He prays your trembling legs open again, holding your thigh up with his forearm and allowing his sons a perfect view of your glistening sex.
"Behold," he announces reverently, "the most precious prize. My wife’s sweet honey."
He dips his fingers in your juices again, splaying them all over his palm, then presents it to his sons’ hungry gazes, stretching his fingers to display your sticky essence.
“Why don’t you give them a little taste, hm my love?”
His free hand nudges your own and your hooded eyes flicker to his face. Your mind is still hazy after your intense release and you struggle to register his words.
Seeing your confusion, Mauhul takes your small hand in his massive one and guides it towards your soaked folds. His sons' eager eyes follow the movement, drinking in the sight of your delicate fingers coated in your own arousal.
“Let them taste you,” he explains, his voice a low rumble. “Feed them.”
With Mauhul's encouragement, you hesitantly extend your fingers towards the boys. They hungrily lean in, their tongues darting out to lick at your sticky digits. Moans of pleasure escape their lips as they savour your unique flavour.
Your chest heaves with a shuddering breath upon feeling their avid tongues swirl around your fingers. The haze in your mind is slowly fading and the realization of what is happening has you blushing all over again, especially as you notice how their eyes remain locked on yours, watching your reaction intently.
Noticing your blush, Mauhul smirks, pleased to see such a response from you. The sight of his sons worshipping your fingers like precious gems is incredibly arousing. He can't help but let out a satisfied groan, the sound vibrating against your back. He leans into your neck, whispering words meant only for your ears.
“Enjoy this, mìzaah . This is how you deserve to be treated – to be worshiped like a goddess.” His voice is a rough purr, filled with promise and intent.
Mauhul slips his hand up to cup and squeeze your breasts, thumb brushing over your hardened nipples. Shifting a little on his knees, he gently pushes your thighs wider apart. Your folds glistening wetly, inviting and tantalizing. His gaze shifts back to his sons, still licking and sucking thirstily at your fingers.
“Do you want more?” he questions them, voice laden with promise. Their nods and hums of approval are quick to follow and you can see their pupils dilate at the inviting sight of you stretched out so open for them. They glance back at their father, seeking his confirmation before they crawl forward, almost bumping their heads against each other in their eagerness to taste your juices directly from the source.
“Careful boys, there’s enough for the both of you.” he teases with a hearty chuckle, playfully squeezing your thighs as you whimper at the contact of their greedy tongues meeting your sensitive pussy.
Mauhul’s presence is large and imposing, yet his touch remains gentle as he helps you maintain balance while the boys worship your cunt. Their tongue action intensifies, their slurping sounds echoing in the room and their excitement palpable.
Looking down at them adoringly, he speaks in an authoritative tone, “Clean her properly, make sure you get all of her precious nectar.” His eyes land back on your face and an amused grin spreads on his face. “It will make you grow even stronger.”
Your arm squeezes tighter around his neck, seeking his grounding presence as his sons make you squirm and writhe against their tongues. Your head drops against his, your cheek pressing over his own, your shallow breaths fanning his skin.
The boys listen attentively to their father's instructions, their tongues swirling and probing deeper into your slick entrance. Mauhul's laughter rumbles through him, vibrating against your ear and sending pleasant tingles down your spine.
Watching his sons work diligently on pleasuring you only fuels Mauhul's own desires further. He can't help but let his eyes roam over your curves appreciatively, taking in every quiver and gasp that leaves your lips. With deliberate slowness, he slides his hand down from your breasts to trace along the side of your hips.
"Look how beautiful you are," he murmurs huskily. "My wife… my treasure."
His touch is tender yet possessive as he runs his rough fingertips across your soft skin, outlining each curve like he’s memorizing them.
The combination of your husband’s praises and reverent touches and his sons’ eager mouths sucking and lapping at you is too much to bear. A series of ever louder mewls fall from your lips, your grip tightening on Mauhul’s neck, as you feel another overwhelming orgasm crash onto you. Your body contorts sharply and your eyes roll back as white-hot pleasure blinds you.
"That's it, my love," he coos, his voice a soothing rumble. "Let go, let us take care of you."
The boys continue to lap at you, prolonging your bliss until you finally start to come down. As your tremors subside, they look up at their father with proud, satisfied grins, their faces smeared with your essence, their cheeks flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly due to their exertions.
“Good pups.” Mauhul looks at them fondly before turning his attention back to you. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense, dark gaze. "Aren’t they good pups, hm?”
You're still trying to ease your breathing as your heavy-lidded eyes meet his. You barely have the force to nod your head but take a deep breath and glance lazily at his sons, wishing to praise them for how amazing they made you feel. "G-Good pups..." you manage to say in a breathless and shaky voice.
A pleased smile curls at the corners of Mauhul's mouth, delighted by your response.
“You heard her, boys?”
The pride in Mauhul's eyes is unmistakable and so is the reverent awe in his sons’.
He gives your chin a gentle squeeze before releasing it. His gaze never wavers from yours, filled with a depth of affection and possession that sends warmth spreading through your entire being.
"Now, we show them how a true mate submits to her husband... and how a true husband worships his mate."
With a swift motion, Mauhul grabs hold of your hips firmly, and hoists himself up from the ground, bringing you up with him as well. He cradles you in his arms like a precious treasure and carries you towards the centre of the room, where the firelight casts long shadows across the ground.
"And you, my sons," he addresses the boys over his shoulder, "watch carefully and learn. This is what it means to belong to someone."
With that said, Mauhul lies you down on the furs, positioning you right in the middle. The boys watch their father with wide-eyed fascination as he eases himself down on top of you. There's an air of expectation and anticipation amongst you all – eager for whatever comes next.
Your hooded eyes are locked onto him, unwavering from his towering muscular form; they lazily roam over his bare chest, lashes drooping slowly as you breathe deeply, still trying to regain control of your pounding heart. Yet, it is difficult for you to prevent your heart from stuttering at the sight of your handsome partner and the prospect of what he is, finally, going to do to you. You melt into the warm, soft furs beneath you, your tender body still trembling from the unparalleled ecstasy you've just experienced. Your hair is scattered all around your head, and your thighs are clamped together, curling lazily on top of one other. All the while, your eyes marvel at him.
A low growl escapes from deep within Mauhul's throat as he hovers above you, his massive form casting a shadow over yours. He reaches out with one hand, tracing the delicate curve of your jawline with his calloused fingers before cupping your cheek gently.
"You are so beautiful, my love," he whispers, his voice low and husky with desire. "I could stare at you forever..."
Slowly, deliberately, he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's a kiss filled with passion, hunger, and adoration. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours in a slow sensual dance as he explores every inch of your mouth. When he pulls away, his breath mingles with yours, and his eyes burn with a smouldering intensity.
“Feel me”, he whispers hoarsely, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. His hands gently take hold of yours, guiding them to his taut muscular chest. “I am your protector, your provider, your lover.”
Your hands reverently plane over his muscles, lingering over his heart, feeling its steady beat under your palm and his muscles flexing beneath your touch. Your eyes rake over his body, taking in his powerful physique, each mark on his skin telling a story of triumphs and failures. You bask in his warmth and the trepidant feeling buzzing within you. You're about to finally consummate your wedding with your husband, to be united with him in the most intimate and primal way. You don't even think about his sons watching you anymore, it's as if there's nobody else in the room but you and your beloved.
You meet his gaze again. Your eyes sparkle with pure devotion. The flickering flames of the fire are reflected in your big doe eyes, looking up at him so earnestly and expectantly.
There’s no mistaking the tenderness emanating from Mauhul’s touch as he lets go of your hands and begins tracing patterns along your exposed curves - mapping out every part of your body as if he has already learnt every curve and dip by heart.
His large hands slide down your sides, then grip your waist firmly, lifting you slightly to position your buttocks on his thighs. He captures your lips in another heated kiss as he presses his hardness against your core. He grinds slowly, relishing the sweet friction and the gasp that escapes your lips.
Your body arches instinctively into his touch. You are so ready, so wet, so incredibly eager for him.
With a tug he strips off his loincloth, revealing his fully erect cock to your hungry gaze. It stands tall and thick, a golden ring sitting at the base, its rosy head dripping with pre-cum, a visible testament to his keen arousal.
Your eyes widen at the sight of it, at its veiny-mapped look and mighty size which seems to stir something within your very core, a thrill running down your spine straight to your throbbing sex. There’s a hint of apprehension now clouding your gaze too, your body tenses just thinking of his thick, lengthy cock shoving its way into your hole.
“Trust me,” he murmurs as if sensing your concern, his voice rough yet reassuring. “I would never harm you.”
You nod and bury your hands in the furs at your sides as you brace yourself for what's coming next, anticipating both pain and pleasure. But he takes hold of your hands again, holding them tight in his warm palm, settling them on your lower belly. His eyes bore deeply into yours, engulfing you with a soothing warmth that permeates your whole body.
He lifts your legs higher with his free hand, spreading them wide across his hips as he aligns himself with your slick entrance. With deliberate slowness, he pushes in – just enough to breach that tight barrier, stretching you open inch by agonizing inch until he's buried balls-deep inside you, the golden ring is cool against your hot flesh. His eyes never leave yours.
Your walls stretch to accommodate him and clench tightly around his shaft. A groan rips from deep within his throat, pleasure coursing through his veins at this first intimate connection with his wife, as he feels how snug you are around him – how perfectly you fit him.
Mauhul drinks in the sight of you, his pupils dilating at the raw emotion shining in your eyes. He feels a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness wash over him, knowing that this precious beauty belongs to him now, body and soul.
Your body is shaken by faint tremors, your muscles tense, your walls throbbing around his unmoving length. Your locked eyes say everything about your connection, and the way he's gazing down at you, holding your hands and pulsating within your walls makes you feel so utterly... loved.
He holds still for a longer moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness. His heavy lids briefly drift closed as he revels in the blissful sensations, letting out a low, rumbling moan.
A few beats pass, and then with a guttural grunt, he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back into your welcoming heat. He sets a slow, deep rhythm, relishing each stroke as he fills you again and again, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with a lewd sound.
His gaze never departs from your own, drinking in the play of emotions dancing across your face – the initial tension giving way to relaxation, to acceptance, to growing pleasure. He can feel you responding to him, your inner muscles rippling around his shaft, urging him deeper.
"You are truly mine now," he growls, punctuating each word with a powerful stroke. His hand tightens on yours as he picks up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency, chasing the blissful release you both crave. “And I am yours. Completely.”
Shivers of pleasure consume every cell in your body as he thrusts in and out of you at the most tantalizing and blissful speed. You can feel his length sink deep into you under your palms resting on your lower belly, where his hand keeps them still as if aiming to make you feel even more connected to him. "Mauhul, ohh... gods-" you whimper breathlessly, your eyes crossing slightly as the pressure in your stomach mounts.
The sound of your sweet cries spurs him on and he increases his tempo, pounding into you with relentless fervour, driven by primal urges and a deep need to claim you thoroughly. His hips slam against yours with each powerful thrust, the force sending jolts of pleasure radiating outward from your joining point.
He can tell you're nearing your peak, your moans turning to breathy cries of ecstasy, your hips bucking against his to meet each of his powerful thrusts. His strong arms wrap around your smaller frame, dwarfing you, and making you arch against his body. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his hot mouth, sucking hard on your sensitive button as he continues to plunge into you with unyielding force, setting a relentless pace designed to drive you wild with pleasure.
The dual stimulation sends shockwaves through you, intensifying the throbbing contractions of your pussy around his cock. Your hands reach out to grab onto something, finding his thick biceps. His muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingers as he drives into you with abandon, the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh filling the air.
His dark eyes lock onto yours, watching intently as tears well up in your eyes due to the overwhelming sensations. Pride, satisfaction, and adoration mingle together in his penetrating gaze.
“Come for me, mìzaah ,” he urges, his voice husky with desire. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone.” He rocks into you harder, faster, seeking that perfect spot inside you to send you over the edge.
His lips leave your nipple to trail searing kisses along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the tender skin there as his cock drills relentlessly into your slick folds. He reaches down with one large hand to press firmly against your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in time with his thrusts, intent on throwing you over the edge into a shattering climax.
And he does push you to the brink of madness, sending your body convulsing against him, with cries of ecstasy tumbling out of your parted lips. Your walls clench tighter around him, milking his throbbing shaft, drawing him closer to his own peak.
He revels in the sensation of total possession, feeling you unravel beneath him. His grip tightens on your curves, dragging you along the slippery fur bed as he seeks out every last drop of pleasure from your coupling.
With a savage roar, he tightens his arms around you and buries himself to the hilt, his shaft pulsing as he erupts inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the all-consuming bliss of your joining. For long moments, he remains buried deep, savouring the aftershocks and the feeling of your still-clenching warmth around him, while you’re lost in a haze of ecstasy.
You’re still panting heavily, feeling thoroughly spent as your hooded eyes slowly regain focus, landing on your husband, taking in his dishevelled state, his sweaty skin, his long black braid draped over his shoulder, his blissful expression... and you feel your lips curl up into a lazy but content smile.
As the waves of pleasure recede, leaving behind a sense of profound satisfaction he pulls out slowly, allowing his spent length to slide free from your clenching walls with a wet pop. The sight of his cum dripping down your thighs and tainting the furs elicits a primal satisfaction from him, a grin spreading across his features.
“Mmh, ùmah (mine),” he coos racously, brushing a calloused thumb over your slick folds, smearing his seed over your soft skin and pushing it back inside your walls. He draws lazy circles around your clit, teasing it gently until you flinch away in protest, still too sensitive to touch.
His eyes roam hungrily over your flushed skin, the sheen of sweat glistening on every curve and valley. His fingertips proudly trace over the mark he's left on your breast with his tusks, as though claiming ownership of your body once more. His fingers then trail back downwards, following the gentle slope of your stomach until reaching the apex of your thighs. He gives your mound a playful smack, chuckling deeply when you squeal in surprise.
His laughter is rich and full, echoing off the stone walls of his chamber as he teases you mercilessly with gentle slaps and pokes, enjoying the way you squirm and writhe beneath his touch, and the lazy breathless giggles that escape your lips. He leans down, planting a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your lower belly and inner thigh. Reaching the apex of your legs, he parts your folds with his thumbs, exposing your sensitive pink flesh to the humid air of the room. His nose brushes against your sex, inhaling deeply the intoxicating scent of your arousal mixed with his own essence.
"Mmm, you smell like spring," he growls appreciatively, before he moves lower on the furs, spreading your thighs wide with his massive hands. His tongue darts out, flicking across your wetness in a slow swipe, tasting your juices mingled with his own.
“And you taste like victory,” he declares, dipping his head further between your legs to feast upon your sweetness. Each lick is drawn out, each suckle meant to draw forth another whimper of delight from your quivering form.
His onslaught on your still sensitive bundle of nerves has you wriggling and trashing on the furs, soft strained whimpers falling from your mouth, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging meekly on it. But suddenly you freeze, your heavy eyes landing on the two figures kneeling just a few feet away from you. His sons. How could you forget that you had an audience? They have been watching you coupling as part of their rite! Lost as you were to pleasure you didn't pay them any mind. But now, all at once, your husband's words rush back into your mind, bursting through the fog that has been numbing it. "My sons will learn from me... and then they will learn from you, as you please them as well." Your cheeks flush crimson again at the realization, and they only get hotter when you notice the massive bulges under their loincloths and the way their bodies tremble as if they're about to explode.
Mauhul feels you tense up and follows your startled gaze to where his sons kneel nearby. A low rumble emanates from his chest, somewhere between amusement and paternal pride at the sight of them, so aroused and fascinated by the act of mating. He knows they're learning valuable lessons today, about the power of desire, the thrill of conquest, and the depths of passion that can exist between husband and wife.
“Ah, look at them,” he says, his deep voice laced with mirth. “Look how much they enjoyed watching us. They've learned much about how to please their future mates.”
He shifts, laying beside you, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at your form sprawled languidly on the furs. His rough fingers trace the curve of your hip gently before resting on your plump belly, feeling it rise and fall with each ragged breath you take.
With a nod, he gestures for his boys to come closer, his voice low and commanding. “Approach, lads. Come to claim your new status.”
You watch in both apprehension and trepidation as his sons scramble forward eagerly, their cocks straining against their loincloths as they reach your side. The youngest, Moth, looks a tad more composed, although his breathing is uneven and quick, betraying his internal turmoil. Beside him, Torak appears visibly shaken; beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead, his normally resolute countenance displaying palpable trepidation. Yet both share the common hunger, the craving to experience such carnal intimacy like their father just has, guided by instinct and nature's demands. None move into action, waiting for their father to give them instructions.
Mauhul watches his sons approach, noting the mix of excitement and nervousness etched on their faces. He feels a surge of pride seeing them so eager to claim their place as adults, to follow in his footsteps and assume their roles as warriors and protectors and fathers.
He leans down, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, before sitting up straighter and addressing his offspring.
"Torak, first," he simply states while directing his attention to his eldest son. His tone exudes authority, demanding utter compliance, to which the firstborn responds by taking a tentative step forward, his large hands fumbling with the leather ties that hold his loincloth in place. The material drops away easily, revealing his throbbing cock, fully erect and pulsating with unspent lust.
Your sight settles on his veiny meat, and you linger there for a moment. It's not nearly as large or long as his father's, but it bends slightly upward, giving it a wicked look that makes your walls flutter.
Mauhul glances at you, your face showing signs of nervousness mingled with lustful curiosity – the perfect mix for this particular scenario. There’s something intensely satisfying about watching his family unite like this, bonding through tradition.
“Show her what you’ve learned,” his voice booms through the room, filled with pride and expectation.
Torak’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to cup one of your breasts. His touch is tentative at first, unsure, but quickly gains confidence under his father's approving gaze and your soft hums. He leans down, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand continues to knead the other breast.
Watching his eldest son attend to you stirs something primal within Mauhul, a surge of possessiveness mixed with satisfaction. He leans back on his heels, allowing Torak space to explore and learn while keeping a protective eye on the proceedings.
A smirk plays on his lips as he watches the young orc's tentative touches blossom into confident caresses, spurred on by your moans and the way you arch your back, offering yourself further to his son’s attentions.
You bite onto your bottom lip to muffle your moans as you feel the young orc’s hand travel along your stomach and slide between your thighs. Your lashes flutter and your head cranes slightly to the side to search your husband’s gaze. One of your hands reaches out as well, seeking contact with him. Your fingers find his thigh, resting near your head, and dig slightly into his tight flesh.
Mauhul meets your gaze, his eyes burning with intensity as he allows you to ground yourself through the touch. He covers your hand with his own, holding it firmly against his thigh, the contact a reminder of your connection amidst the sea of new sensations washing over you. His other palm comes up to brush stray hair from your sweat-dampened brow, tucking them behind your ear tenderly.
His voice is a low rasp when he speaks, meant only for your ears. "That's it, kisee . Let yourself feel everything. Remember, my sons are learning from you too - teach them well."
The praise sends a shiver down your spine, his words igniting a fresh wave of arousal but also a deep sense of responsibility. You think you realize now how important this moment is. How meaningful your role is in this rite. And so you brush aside the lingering awkwardness you feel towards this unorthodox orcish tradition, releasing your inhibitions to try and take on the duty your husband has bestowed on you.
Your free hand moves down towards Torak’s head to gently stroke his long dark hair tied in decorative braids, your fingers weaving carefully in his loose roots.
“You’re doing good, Torak.” you praise him softly, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "Don't be afraid to touch me as you wish." Your stomach flutters when you see the young orc look up at you in a mix of shock and awe, then the instant glint of confidence that flashes across his eyes before he lets his fingers brush against your wet folds and rub around your entrance. His eyes are locked onto yours to gauge your reactions. You moan and nod at him in approval, your hands tightening their relative hold on Torak's hair and your husband's palm.
Mauhul's grip on your hand also tightens reflexively as he watches his eldest son gain courage from your encouragement. Pride swells in his chest, not just for Torak's growing boldness, but for your poise and grace in guiding his son. You embrace your role as a mentor with a natural instinct that takes his breath away.
The sight of Torak's fingers disappearing into your slick heat sets Mauhul's blood aflame, but as much as he longs to join you and stake his claim once more, he knows he has to wait. This is his sons’ moment and he won’t rob them of it. Instead, he leans in close to your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck as he murmurs, "Such a good mate you are. My precious little wife… helping my sons become Shakran’z. "
Your heart leaps at his words, your languid gaze flickering up to briefly meet his eyes before you lock it onto his firstborn’s expectant look once more. Your fingers curl around the end of his braid, gently pulling on it. Your attention seems to spur him on, leading him to push his thick fingers inside your already thoroughly stretched and naturally lubed entrance. He’s still slightly hesitant in his actions, but you smile at him and roll your hips against his hand, to reassure him that he’s on the right path. “Yes, like that, Torak. Curl your fingers…”
Mauhul delights in the spectacle before him: you, the precious gem of his tribe, deflowering his young in service of mating traditions, but with all the grace and love of someone who genuinely cares for those they guide. It ignites a fire within him unlike anything else.
"That's it, Torak," his voice breaks through the silent haze of lust that fills the hut, gruff yet filled with paternal pride. "Please your mate before you claim them."
His father's words further encourage Torak to be more confident in his actions. His fingers curl and start to slide in and out of you, teasing that spongy area inside of you that has you instantly moaning in pleasure. His other hand moves to your lower belly, positioning his thumb over your clitoris just like he has seen his father do earlier. The pad of his thumb draws uneven circles on your swollen nub, managing to elicit shivers to run through your body.
Your head falls back on the furs, your body writhing and arching under his ministrations. Your palm tightens on Mauhul's hand and he squeezes it back as he watches intently, drinking in every detail of your shared intimacy. The flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your breasts rise and fall rapidly with each moan escaping your lips, the sway of your hips matching Torak's rhythm.
"Good boy," he praises Torak, his voice rough with need. "Make sure she’s ready for you... Make her cum..."
A whimper falls from your lips as Torak quickens his movements, wanting to take you over the edge just as his father said. Your hips buck against his hand, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel that pressure growing in your lower belly all over again.
"Yes... Oh... Yes..." you encourage him, cradling his braid in your shaky fingers until you can't take it anymore and start to convulse in pleasure, a muted scream falling from your parted lips.
You don't have time to recover, however, because feeling your walls clench around his fingers has sent Torak's hunger to the roof. His instincts kick in, overpowering his lack of experience. His eagerness to finally claim his maturity is so deep and ardent that he grabs his cock and pushes it inside you while you're still spasming.
"Oh! Gods!!" you cry out, eyes widening in shock and landing on Torak's hips just as they start to move back and forth with an erratic and disjointed pace that makes your whole body shake and jiggle.
With a low growl, Mauhul witnesses as his eldest plunges into you. Watching as his progeny claims you with his throbbing cock brings forth memories that burn bright within his chest - his own rite of passage decades ago, the impatience of youth, the yearning, the awake of his primal instincts, the overwhelming sensation of completeness, the deep-seated need fulfilled. Your pleasure-laden screams fill the air, mixing with his son’s huffs, setting off an echo of past bliss inside him.
“Easy now,” he growls soothingly through clenched teeth, giving his son a pointed look, to which Torak immediately responds by steadying his thrusts, even if only barely. Since the start of the rite, he’s felt his length throb maddeningly, an ache which only worsened as he watched his father claim his wife. And now that he is finally inside you, he can't hold back any longer. His grunts become louder, his eyes squeeze closed and his warm palms grab onto your hips as he plunges deeper inside you, seeking his first release. Release that comes quickly and overwhelmingly, with hips bucking erratically against yours as his hot seed fills your channel.
Your stunned gaze flashes towards your husband, searching his face, silently questioning if his son was supposed to cum inside you. The proud look etched onto Mauhul's face is enough to convince you that Torak's did exactly what was expected of him. You feel his palm squeeze yours as he cups his son’s jaw, drawing his hooded eyes on him.
"Let it be known," he declares in a loud, clear voice which echoes through the room, "That Torak, my firstborn, has finally become a Shakran .”
The sound of Torak’s shallow breaths mingling with the crackling of the fire and the gazes of the three orcs so full of intensity and pride creates an atmosphere that is both raw and sacred. You don’t even dare to breathe as you lie there on the furs, your mind spinning and walls twitching around Torak’s softening cock as you stare at the scene in awe. Your wonder only intensifies as you catch your husband dipping a sharpened bone in a pot of ink and puncturing his son’s skin with it, skillfully etching a marking onto his chest. You’re not sure what the intricate lines mean but you’ve seen identical marks on your husband’s chest and you can definitely tell how significant they are. Torak’s passive reaction to the puncturing is also worthy of notice; he maintains his attention on his father and keeps his muscles from twitching despite the droplets of purplish blood rolling down his thick green skin.
Once the marking is completed, Mauhul gives his son a final proud nod. You can feel his seed leaking out of your walls, as well as the humid air meeting your wet folds, as Torak slowly detaches from you, but not before smiling down at you and whispering, "Raak ut, ishtà-kurme."
You've been with the clan long enough to grow familiar with the way the orcs express their gratitude, although perhaps not long enough to understand what the term 'kurme' means. Now, however, there is no time to dwell on translations because, while one son has completed his rite, another has yet to go through the passage. And so, everyone's attention is drawn to the youngest, who has been patiently waiting, in reverent silence, for his turn.
As soon as Torak pulls away from you, leaving behind a trail of your combined fluids, Moth steps closer to take his place between your legs.
Leaning back on his heels, his large hand finding your hair, Mauhul allows his eyes to roam over the youngest orc. He’s not particularly large like Torak, but he carries a strength in himself, an aura of determination. The same determination that was in Mauhul when he became an adult, years ago. Even you can notice the uncanny resemblance between the two now that Moth is so close. Both of his boys resemble your spouse in more ways than one, but the youngest exudes the same calmness and tenderness that Mauhul has. The way his palm reaches for your face to gently wipe a stray tear from your cheek - a tear you had no idea you shed - and his kind eyes smile down at you as if he's the one supposed to reassure you only serve to reinforce your impressions.
You’re so lost in his dark eyes, marvelling at just how much his gaze resembles that of your beloved Mauhul that you barely manage to catch a glimpse of brownish freckles scattered across his throbbing length before he rubs its head along your slit and gently but firmly pushes inside, eliciting a soft gasp out of your lips. He feels larger than his sibling as he stretches your walls. The wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh soon fills the room again as Moth picks up the tempo, his pace much more controlled and steadier than Torak’s. One would almost think this was not his first time, although watching his father first and his brother second must have given him enough visual clues to know what to do. Soft whimpers fall from your lips as your body is rocked by his thrusts, your heavy-lidded eyes unwavering from the youngest's face.
“Strong, steady strokes,” Mauhul advises softly, his voice carrying an air of approval. He feels a surge of pride swell in his chest seeing how Moth seems to have taken in everything, moving with such control and purpose. It reminds him of himself, years ago, determined to make the most of this rite, eager to prove his worth. He runs a comforting hand over your sweat-drenched hair, noting the exhaustion etched on your face but also the satisfaction shining in your eyes.
Moth nods, acknowledging his father's words without breaking the rhythm. Yet, it's clear that he needs no prompting, every thrust a deliberate caress designed to elicit moans both from you and him. His hands cup the soft mounds of your breasts, thumbs teasing your hardened nipples, adding to the rousing sensation. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, causing your walls to clench tighter around him.
“...You're doing well, my son.” Mauhul praises him, his massive hand slides possessively over your stomach, feeling the tremors beneath his palm as you respond to Moth's attention.
Your eyes meet the dark pools of your husband's, and even through the haze, the exhaustion, and yet another orgasm brewing in your belly, you find yourself smiling up at him, searching for his touch with your smaller hand, his name falling from your lips in a hushed plea.
The sound of his name rolling off your tongue causes something to stir deep within Mauhul. A warmth spreads across his chest, mingling with pride and love, a blend that makes his heart throb painfully. “My beautiful kisem… ” he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. Meanwhile, the rhythm between you and Moth grows more frantic, your hips rolling lazily to meet each of his powerful thrusts. Your body moves of its own accord, responding naturally to the sensations flooding through you. You're teetering on the edge once again, the pressure building in your core threatening to burst forth at any moment.
Moth’s fingers meet your swollen bundle of nerves, interrupting the kiss by eliciting a loud whimper from your lips. Your hooded eyes meet Moth’s again, his gaze locked onto your face, eager to capture your every reaction, ready to change his actions accordingly.
You only have the force to rest your free hand upon his - the one still squeezing your breast - and nod meekly in approval before you drop your head back, resting it on your husband’s thigh. Every nerve of your body is awake and on fire, your muscles tensing, your thighs twitching at every stroke of his cock and flick of his finger against your clit, your face contorting in pleasure as one more orgasm rapidly approaches.
Mauhul’s hand caresses your hair, providing a grounding presence amidst the storm of sensations overwhelming you. The sight of you losing yourself to pleasure over and over again is intoxicating, he’s already grown addicted to it and he can't wait to witness it every day from this moment forward.
Moth seems to sense your impending climax, his movements becoming erratic as he chases after his own. His strokes grow shorter and more insistent, his fingers rubbing tight circles around your sensitive nub. With a final, deep thrust and a low grunt, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, holding still as he unleashes ropes of cum into your channel. He doesn’t stop pleasuring you though, even as he reaches his first release. Only a few moments later your back arches and a strangled cry tears from your throat as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.
Mauhul watches in awe as you shatter apart, your entire body trembling and writhing against his and his son’s. Pride swells in his chest at the sight of his youngest son bringing his wife to such heights of pleasure. He leans down to scoop you into his arms, cradling you against his broad chest. "You did wonderfully, my love," he praises softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, his tusks grazing your sweaty skin.
His gaze shifts to Moth, who is withdrawing from your quivering body, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. "It seems my young warrior has inherited his father's prowess in the art of lovemaking." he announces with a smug, then looks at Torak and adds, “Both of my young warriors. You have made me very proud.”
His look then turns solemn once more as he fixes his dark eyes on his youngest son and declares: “Let it be known that Moth, my secondborn, has finally become a Shakran .” And just as he did for Torak before, he grabs the bone from the floor, dips it in the pot of ink and brings it to his son’s heaving chest. Mauhul presses his other palm on his skin and looks at him with affection and reassurance as his son’s body gradually eases its tremors. Only then does he start to mark his skin with the same intricate lines as earlier. Even through your droopy lids, you can’t help but reverently watch as your husband’s hand makes quick work of the tattoo. Your tired eyes rake over the young orc’s skin, rising to his face. He’s calm even now, a perfect picture of serenity, which deeply amazes you. He too, just like his brother has done before, moves his gaze back to you and smiles as he whispers the same orcish words with a devotion that makes your still racing heart miss a beat. You cling to your husband’s side as you nod at his son, acknowledging his words despite not fully understanding their meaning, already thinking of inquiring about them to Mauhul later.
With the completion of the ritual, Mauhul sets the bone aside and pulls you closer, his embrace enveloping you completely. As he rests his chin atop your head, his voice booms out, filling the room with a mix of pride and love.
“You've earned your rightful place among our adults,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Today, you became true Shakran’z - protectors, providers, and lovers. May these marks serve as a reminder of your role in our tribe. When the time comes, you’ll carry on our line of truebloods by providing your seed to the clan’s zàgartha but you will also take wives and repopulate our tribe with strong warriors, children of the bond you will build with your drùda’z.”
Mauhul's gaze drifts to you, looking exhausted but content in his embrace. He brushes a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone.
“Tomorrow we will celebrate. Now… you may go.” he dismisses his sons in a whisper, without taking his eyes away from you.
He wraps his massive arms around your tiny frame protectively, holding you close against him. The warmth emanating from his large body envelops you in its cocoon-like embrace as he cradles you.
You struggle to keep your eyes open, feeling too spent, drained of all your forces after the physically straining rite you've taken part in, your body still buzzing from the intense series of orgasms you've just experienced. Your sweaty forehead rests on his chest, your frame sagged against his muscular torso.
"Mau?" you meekly call out for him. Your droopy eyes lock onto his, your fingers lazily drawing patterns on his broad chest. You wait for him to hum back before speaking again.
"Your sons have called me… 'kurme'," you point out, curiosity twinkling in your tired eyes. "What does that mean?"
A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes Mauhul's chest, resonating through your frame pressed against him. He looks down at you adoringly, his expression softening at the adorable sight you present - so exhausted yet curious like a mouse. His broad hand strokes slowly down your back in soothing circles as he responds.
“That is the orcish word for mother,” he explains in hushed tones, his dark eyes beaming down at you. “However, they have not simply called you mother but ‘ishtà-kurme’. Guiding mother. The mother who lights the path.” His thumb draws idle figures on your bare shoulder. The gentle motion seems to ease your strained, tender body.
“In our culture,” he starts again, his deep voice growing serious. “It's a term of utmost reverence and devotion. To a Shakran orc, the ishtà-kurme is someone held dear and sacred. They have shown you immense respect by calling you that, my love. They will hold you in high regard for their whole lives for what you have done for them today… and for all the things they will learn from you in the days ahead.”
Slowly he lifts his hand, cradling your delicate face gently within the expanse of his huge, calloused palm. He lowers his roughened lips against yours, capturing them in a tender kiss, conveying a wealth of emotion that words cannot match. “You became their yazàkurme , chosen mother, the moment I took you as my kisem… ”, he pauses as a fond smile curls up his lips, his black eyes sparkling as they reflect the warm glow of the fire. “My kisee -” he coos affectionately in a softer tone, making your stomach flutter. “My wife. And one day you’ll be kurme to our children.”
You sigh, feeling your heart swell with love. “Those are a lot of names…” you quip back with a soft huff of a chuckle, your tired eyes crinkling in both amusement and affection as they gaze lovingly up at him.
With a hearty laugh, Mauhul’s deep voice fills the room, echoing off the stone walls. His laughter fades into a soft hum as he gazes down at you, his eyes sparkling with undisguised adoration.
“Indeed, many names for one little human,” he muses aloud, a touch of pride evident in his voice. “But each one holds its weight in significance. For us orcs, titles matter. They define bonds, roles, and responsibilities.”
He releases your face, allowing his roughened hand to slide down your neck, coming to rest on the swell of your breast, just above your heart.
“You lost your name when you left your village to join us,” he whispers solemnly, his eyes flickering to his hand as his fingers splay over your soft flesh, feeling your heartbeat under his palm. “So we shall give you many, in return.” His eyes meet yours again, a genuine and fond smile blooming on his lips, one that causes your heart to stutter under his palm. “But one will always stand above all. And that is mìzaher. My mìzaah, that's what you are. My life companion, my only love.”
Your palm comes to rest on his cheek, softly cradling his face as you gaze deeply into his eyes, a faint veil of emotion blurring your vision as you return his adoring smile. You're physically drained, still a tad unsure of what has just occurred and what it all means for you, but one thing is certain: the overwhelming feeling of being loved, treasured, and protected that envelops you fully now as you rest in your beloved husband's arms. You wish for this feeling to last forever.
Mauhul leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savours the gentle caress. When he opens them again, they shine with a depth of emotion you have rarely seen in another being - pure, unadulterated love.
"You need rest, mìzaah, and a bath," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your palm. His eyes crinkle in amusement as he adds: "I can gift you more names tomorrow."
He shifts, carefully scooping you into his arms without breaking eye contact. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist as he stands, cradling you against his broad chest.
“You can close your eyes. I’ll take good care of you.”
🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me ♡
a.n.: any kind of feedback is highly appreciated! Let me know what you think pls 🥺
mothman x afab!reader - slight dub-con, monster in heat, oviposition, impregnation, belly inflation, lots of cum, intoxication (getting high on his pheromones, kinda)
You've never heard those wailing noises before. You've been living in a cottage in the midst of the woods for a few years now, and while you're used to hearing all kinds of animal sounds, you've never been scared by such high-pitched keening coming from the dense trees that surround your house.
You didn't know what to expect when you decided to follow the sound. Fortunately, it was daytime and you were familiar with the area, so your sole fear was coming across a truly horrific sight.
All your worries vanished as soon as you found out the source of the noise. A towering, imposing creature clothed in fur stood beside a tree, or rather hunched over its trunk. There was nobody else. Only one of the mothfolk you'd heard so much about but had never encountered before. The antennae were furiously shaking, producing that high-pitched sound that had terrified you from a distance but now filled you with something akin to pity. The massive wings, a triumph of red, white, and blue that sparkled in the sunshine pouring through the foliage, twitched and heaved as if the creature's breathing was laboured.
“A-Are you alright...?” you asked hesitantly, your eyes wide in awe and locked onto the trembling figure.
The moth was startled by your voice, turning around to set their huge red eyes on you. You couldn’t help but notice how incredibly beautiful they were. The colors, the long dark hair, the big eyes, the imposing stature... everything about the creature both amazed and astonished you.
“I... I'm fine,” they managed to say, their voice coming out rough and trembling. “I just... I don't want to hurt you, so please go away.”
Your brow furrowed at his words. 'Hurt'? Why would they hurt you? The mothfolk was among the most peaceful creatures of the forest, or so you’ve always heard. Perhaps they could be dangerous to strangers, attack out of fear or to defend themselves… but this one moth didn’t seem to be scared of you. You watched, puzzled, as their clawed hand reached for the bark of the tree and clung onto it as if to ease his tremors.
“You look like you’re in pain…”, you said as you warily made one step forward, your worried and curious gaze still locked onto their shaking figure. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
A low groan escaped their lips, their voice came out strained and pained as they warned you again. “Please, stay back!” They squeezed their eyes shut for a moment, as if fighting against themselves upon what, you didn’t know. When the eyes opened again, they were glazed with a mix of desperation and shame.
“I... I'm in heat. My body craves... it needs…”, they trailed off just as their gaze raked over your figure before abruptly averting, unable to bring themselves to confess exactly what their body yearned for. “Just stay away.”
They shifted uncomfortably, turning to support themselves against the trunk and only then did you notice the huge erection poking out from the thick fur covering their hips.
You swallowed and instinctively stepped back, your eyes wide with shock. You understood now why the mothman was so hell-bent on keeping you at distance, why he said he didn’t want to hurt you…
“Oh-! I'm sorry-! I didn't realize-!”
You had no idea what was going on inside of him. A shudder surged through his entire frame as he witnessed your reaction. He knew he must have looked monstrous to you: a freakish creature overcome by heat and driven by primal, animalistic instincts. Humans do not go through it, they cannot understand. The humiliation that gnawed at his insides became stronger, mingling with the furious desire pumping through his veins.
“It's okay,” he forced himself to say, even though nothing about this situation felt remotely close to being okay. “Please, just go... get somewhere safer.” But even as those words left his mouth, his legs trembled with the effort of holding himself back. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to lunge forward, to pin you down - the sole creature that had dared to approach him since this torture began - and claim you as his mate. To pump you full of his seed until you swelled with his offspring.
You should have done that. You should have listened to him and ran away as far as you could... Your instincts were screaming at you to go, urging you to leave but for some reason you didn't. He looked and sounded so desperate and vulnerable... You found yourself pitying him even more than before. You truly were out of your mind to even consider the notion of helping him… Except, he could have easily assaulted you from the minute he spotted you, and yet he didn't; instead, he made every attempt to push you away. That proved to you that he was kind. And a kind creature always deserves to be helped.
“What if I touch you?” you asked him, trying to keep your voice and heartbeat steady and the images of you being fucked sensless by a mothman out of your mind. “Would that be enough?”
“You... you truly wish to help me?” His voice was barely above a whisper yet thick with emotion. “Even though I am... this?” He gestured to his imposing form, to the rigid length of his arousal straining against his fur, as if to persuade you to see reason but you were already advancing. His eyes somehow appeared even larger as he watched you cautiously stepping towards him, until you were only a few feet away from him. From so up close you could see how distraught he truly was; his dishelved hair, his sweaty skin, his ruffled fur. Your heart ached for him.
“I-It might be enough-,” he admitted with evident hesitation mingled with urgency, swallowing sharply as he called upon all his might to hold back from jumping you. You were so close, he could sense your sweet, tantalizing scent. “Feeling the warmth of your hands could be enough to ease the ache...”
The air seemed to vibrate with tension as you approached his fur with you hand. His breath quickened, his whole body tensing in anticipation. For a moment, he considered pulling away, hiding himself somewhere and suffer through the pain for the next days - but the ache in his loins was becoming unbearable. He wasn’t sure he could resist it any longer.
Slowly, almost reverently, he extended a clawed hand towards yours, guiding your fingers to the base of his throbbing erection. Even that light contact sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him, and he bit back a groan.
“Here…”, his voice cracked with desperation. “Please, will you stroke it for me?”
Your eyes flickered down to watch as the long, dark red proboscis-phallus, stricken with bluish veins, throbbed under the feather-like touch of your fingertips. You felt your skin tingle at the touch, his skin somehow warm and cool at the same time, moist and slippery.
Your eyes met his again as you started to stroke his cock, avoiding the swollen purplish tip.
“Like this?”
A low, guttural moan escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered shut while he savoured the sensation of your hand moving along his aching length. "Yes, like that," he breathed, his hips subtly rocking into your touch. "More... please."
His cry boosted your confidence in your strokes, delivering even more waves of comfort and pleasure through his pained body. He opened his eyes to meet yours once again. There was a tenderness in your gaze that touched his soul, and he found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn't fully comprehend.
"Don't stop," he urged, his voice strained with need. "I'm so close… I’ve been on edge for days…"
You simply nodded in acceptance, feeling as if you would do anything he asked of you at that moment. It felt as if you were losing yourself in his big, mesmerizing eyes, in those glowing pools of crimson as vast and limitless as the universe. You were in awe at the sight of such a magnificent creature… at his raw response to your touch. You felt both powerful and utterly subservient.
When your palm touched his swollen tip and tenderly squeezed, the mothman felt the dam break within him. With a strangled cry, his body convulsed, his cock jerked sharply, and a torrent of eggs erupted from it, flooding your hand and wrist with his warm, slimy discharge.
"Oh Light, I'm sorry!" he gasped, horror and ecstasy warring in his expression as he watched his seed overflow onto your hand. "Too much, I couldn't control it..." Despite his words, he made no move to pull away or stop your ministrations. Instead, he leaned into your touch, his hips still thrusting weakly as the last of his eggs emptied into your waiting hand.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you felt the myriads of tiny slimy eggs surge onto your palm. You instinctively reached out with your other hand to collect them, but you couldn't avoid the sticky goo from staining your clothes and dropping onto the ground. You were panicked, unsure what to do, his apologies barely reaching your ears.
Your dismay deepened when you realized his erection hadn't softened; in fact, it appeared to be growing even harder than before. It turns out that simply touching him wasn't enough to quench his heat after all.
The creature watched in fascination as you scrambled to capture the stream of eggs pouring from his cock, your hands working feverishly to contain the slimy mess. Despite the chaos, a small part of him was thrilled at the sight; it was as if you were trying to protect his precious offspring. His lust-clouded mind could only picture how good of a nurturer you could be for his larvae…
"I-I can't help it," he choked out, fresh tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I need to be inside you..."
Reaching out with trembling hands, he grasped your waist, pulling you closer until your soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his body. His rigid cock nudged insistently at your stomach, leaking trails of slick fluid across your clothing.
"Please," he begged brokenly, "let me put them inside you where it's safe... I promise I won't hurt you."
You were so shocked, so speechless that you barely reacted. You were still keeping your hands cupped, stuck in your instinctive yet pathetic intent to save the eggs, when he laid you down on the grass. The slimy mess inevitably dropped all over you, even on your face. A sweet taste similar to nothing you had ever tasted before met your lips, causing your head to spin, your vision to blur and your body to heat up all at once.
"W-what-?" you gasped, your slime-tainted palms grasping blindly for him. The mothman took your eagerness to touch him for consent, and so he pinned you to the ground, dwarfing you with his larger form, and then sought out your mouth, capturing your lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss. His long tongue plundered the warm cavern, savoring the sweet taste of his own sperm mingled with your unique flavor.
Murmuring wordlessly, he ground his pelvis against yours, the tip of his throbbing cock sliding along the crease of your hip. The friction sent jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through his loins, fueling his frenzy. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he peppered your skin with open-mouthed kisses. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading the plush flesh, mapping every unfamiliar curve and valley of your human frame.
“You have to guide me”, he breathed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “I don't want to hurt you, but I need to be deep inside you…”
His huge hands grasped your knees, spreading them wider apart as he notched the head of his cock against your crotch. His body trembled with restraint, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to hold back.
In your blinding and mind-dulling trance, all you could feel was the intense heat pooling between your thighs and the velvety touch of his fur against your clammy skin, and so you clung to those feelings, allowing them to guide you through the fog. One of your hands ventured down to pull your pants past your hips, while the other gripped hard onto his fur. Your panties slid down as well from the force of your tug. With eager movements, you spread your thighs wider for him and stretched your folds open with your fingers offering him a good view of your glistening cunt.
At the sight of your bare, vulnerable sex, the mothman let out a strangled groan, his cock pulsing with renewed urgency. His eyes glazed over, and releasing one of your knees, he brought a hand to caress your inner thigh, his claw tips lightly scraping the tender skin.
The intoxicating scent of your arousal wafted up to him, mingling with the musky fragrance of his own heated pheromones, clouding his senses even further. His sensitive head rubbed across your swollen folds, his keen eyes flickering anxiously from your flesh to your face to gauge your reaction.
Once he figured out you were not in pain but rather eagerly clutching further onto his fur, his control snapped, and with a deep cry he pushed forward, the swollen head of his cock breaching your slick entrance with satisfying ease. His antennae vibrated furiously as he sank into your welcoming warmth, your tightness enveloping him like a glove.
For a moment, he just stayed still, relishing the feeling of being fully sheathed within you, of finally tasting te soothing warmth he had been so desperately craving for days but the urge to claim you, to impregnate you with his offspring, proved too powerful to resist. Slowly, he started thrusting in earnest, each snap of his hips burying him to the hilt inside you. While his fur muffled the rocking of his hips hitting yours, the wet squelch of your arousal filled the air and only encouraged him to rut into you with even wilder abandon.
You were a mess of shameless mewls and whimpers, your fingers driving into his thick fur till you could almost feel the skin beneath, your hips feverishly meeting his in your desperate and blind search for release. A release that was growing at an unfathomable speed within your belly, spurred by the blissful way his inhuman cock filled your every crevice, generating that familiar yet exquisitely new kind of pressure that hit its highest point as his proboscis-phallus jerked and erupted inside you. The phenomenal orgasm that hit you seemed to merge into an even more earth-shattering one when he buried himself deeper inside you. You felt your womb inflate, stretching to accommodate each little gelatinous orb that poured out of his cock and found its home in your warm depths.
The sensation of his eggs taking root inside you, combined with the sheer volume of cum pumped into your fertile womb, sent the mothman spiraling into a euphoric haze. His antennae quivered uncontrollably, brushing against your face as he continued to grind against you, ensuring every last drop took residence in your fertile core. As the last spurt subsided, he collapsed atop you, his panting breaths hot against your neck, his bulk pinning you to the forest floor and his wings wrapping securely around you.
A strangely exhilarating feeling flared up in your womb and propagated throughout the entirety of your body, causing your skin and insides to tingle. You felt no pain; in fact, you had never felt better. The best way you could explain the sensation is as if you were floating in the air among pillowy clouds, cocooned in the warmest embrace. This delightful feeling swiflty dragged you into a peaceful slumber, though not before you felt strong yet soft arms gather your trembling form and a gentle breeze blow through your hair.
a.n.: I feel like this is a weird one... mostly because I've never written about oviposition before and I haven't read much about it either so idk if this is how it's supposed to go lol but I guess this is my take on it, I hope you enjoyed it <3
centaur x human - mildly dubcon, hand job (monster receiving)
He does not like you. That's the only plausible explanation you can come up with after weeks of unsuccessful attempts to befriend him.
The newest addition to the farmhouse, a huge, majestic centaur with long dark hair and a glossy tawny coat black as pitch, whom you've been assigned to personally care for, seems to… loathe you.
Without any reason, you may add.
What reason could he possibly have when you’ve barely managed to make him look at you when you first introduced yourself? On that occasion, he quite literally threw you a brief glance and then turned around, almost hitting you with his rear. Despite your initial shock, you tried to not give too much thought to his rude manners. You tried to not be too quick to judge. Perhaps he needed time to get accustomed to his new home, perhaps you needed to earn his trust just like with the wild horses you’ve been working with. And so you tried to give him time and space, to treat him with all the respect and kindness and consideration that a creature like him deserves.
But the result has always been the same: his rear being shoved in your face.
You've tried everything you can to get his attention, to earn his attention, but perhaps you've been too nice thus far. Perhaps he needs a firmer hand. You’re quite tired of being ignored, avoided, disrespected. Why does he feel the need to ostracize you when you’re there to take care of his needs? To help him? Does he not understand that?
It’s early morning when you find him in his stall, carving wood - something you've seen him do frequently since he arrived at the farm, although you’ve never been able to see up close what he’s been working on. When he spots you approaching, he turns around and gives you his back - as usual. That doesn’t surprise you any longer. The hundredth rejection does however cause your blood to boil in your veins, and make you more determined than ever to make him respect you, as you deserve.
You take the horse brush from your work coat and march into his enclosure. He instantly huffs and shifts nervously in protest but there isn't much space for him to move and by blocking the gate you don't give him a chance to escape. He can't ignore you forever.
You are however painfully aware of how easily he could smash you against the wooden fence with his enormous and muscular body, or strike you with his hooves and seriously injure you... Though, you're hoping that his hatred for you doesn’t run as deep as to risk killing you.
You approach his side and begin brushing his mantle without saying anything, for words have so far proved to be futile with him. You are expected to tend to him, so that's what you're going to do from now on, whether he likes it or not. This is your job. This is what you're paid for. You will not let a spoiled snob of a centaur get you fired just because he refuses to let you perform your duties over who knows what stupid whim.
The centaur instantly grumbles in displeasure and tries to evade your touch but with little success. Your back hits the fence with a thud yet not hard enough to hurt you or make you stop.
"I'm going to take care of you, even though you do not deserve it." you state solemnly as you struggle to keep your brush on his coat with how much he squirms against your touch. "Now stop moving!"
"Go away! I don't need you!"
You're too annoyed with his actions to be startled by his response. It's the first time you've actually heard him speak, and his voice is so grave and rough, exactly as you'd expected, that you barely notice it.
"You do need me! Can you brush yourself? Can you? You can't even reach your back with your fingers!"
He huffs again and writhes sharply when you press the brush with more force against his side. He trashes around so much that he hits you again, but this time hard enough to make you stumble and fall, ass down on the ground. You let out an exaggerated sigh and squeeze your eyes closed for a moment as you try to calm your mounting frustration. Patting your clothes to clean them from the hay, you shake your head in disbelief and curse him under your breath.
You push your palms on the ground, ready to prop yourself back on your feet but the moment you raise your gaze, you see it; the enormous shape of his horse cock, long and erect, throbbing so hard its veins look like they're about to explode. You blink in shock at the sight, your mind going blank and your body instantly warming up.
Maybe, just maybe, this is why he has been avoiding you all along. Maybe, just maybe, he's been in pain all this time... and with no way to relieve himself of this ache. Maybe, just maybe, he was too embarrassed to let you any way near him.
Despite everything, it doesn't take long for you to come to a decision. Crawling underneath his belly, you reach out for his length and touch it ever gently with your fingertips. But even that light touch is enough to make him groan and recoil.
You grab onto his sides to avoid being stumped, holding tight until he stops writhing. One hand then reaches up for his cock again, palm closing around its girth.
"Don't… touch… it!" he groans through clenched teeth. You can hear the strain in his voice. He is indeed in pain.
"I'm here to take care of you, aren't I? So I will take care of you." you remind him firmly, a hint of sympathy edging your tone. Your palm starts to stroke back and forth, slowly, gently. Your first isn't enough to close around his whole girth so you soon add your other hand.
The huffs and groans and poorly restrained whimpers that leave his lips fill the empty stall.
His wriggling body soon starts to match the pace of your strokes, bucking against your hands. You gasp as he shifts abruptly, lifting his torso and resting his front legs against the wall, putting his weight on his hind legs which shake and shift a little behind you as he tries to find his balance. In this position he can better piston his cock in your palms, urgently, desperately. His full big balls smack against your arm at each thrust. It's scary to be under him like this, one wrong move and he could badly hurt you, yet at the same time, you feel in power. He searches your touch, he ruts into your fists, desperate for more friction, desperate for a release he's been craving for who knows how long.
"This is why you've been avoiding me, isn't it?" you say softly, the frustration of before gone entirely from your tone. You almost feel... pity for him. Such a majestic creature forced to depend on others to relieve himself.
He doesn't answer. But he doesn't need to. You know it's true.
It only takes a couple of minutes for him to grow tense and then jerk violently as he spills gallons of cum in the hay; white stripes even splatter over your work coat. You ease down on the ground, sitting on your heels, panting from the exertion, eyes darting from his spent cock to his trembling body. Your hand reaches up for his belly, gently caressing his soft coat to ease his tremors.
"I'm sorry..." you hear him utter, breathlessly, as he slowly eases down from the wall, careful not to knock you over.
You're not sure what he's apologizing for, if it's for the poor way he's been treating you from day one or for what has just happened. Either way, you accept it. Perhaps this is how you ‘turn over a new leaf’ and start anew.
"It's okay... It's okay." you coo softly, keeping on rubbing his belly. "I'm here for you… I hope you understand that now…"
The centaur seems to appreciate your words because he nudges your body with his side, not like before when he was trying with all his might to push you away. No. This time it feels more... affectionate. You pat his side with a soft chuckle and he huffs softly in response.
With a gracious movement, he bends down and retrieves something from the ground and extends it to you. Crawling away from under him, you take the brush from his hands and finally meet his dark but beamy eyes. There's a gentle expression on his face, one you've never seen graze his features before. You return his smile and gratefully take his stretched hand to prop yourself up. As you do, however, something sitting in the hay catches your attention and you reach for it. It's a half carved piece of wood, possibly the one he was working on when you came in.
"Oh, that's… uhm-"
You gaze up at him again, watching curiously as his cheeks flush and his look grow shy.
Your eyes return to the object, inspecting it with interest. The figure is still roughly shaped, but as you turn it in your hands you seem to recognize its features. Realization dawns on you when you notice it resembles... you.
Maybe you were entirely wrong. Maybe the explanation for his behavior towards you is that he likes you, though a bit too much.
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gyno!lizard man x afab!human - medical kink, gyno checkup, vaginal fingering
You have another gyno appointment today and you're already dripping wet before you even leave your house. It's always so embarrassing to spread your legs wide for your doctor and show him your drenched folds... He must know that you're so wet for him. He must know.
You really can't help it. You get so aroused even just at the thought of him, his long and thick reptile tail sprouting out from his white robe, his large scaly hands spreading you wide and probing at your pussy as he checks that everything's alright. It doesn't help at all that when he sees you enter his study he welcomes you so amicably, greeting you with such a genuine smile - he even called you his favourite patient once, and you're sure you turned into a puddle at once.
He always takes his gloves off when it's your turn because "with human genitalia he can better feel bumps or other anomalies without the gloves on"; you're almost sure that's just bullshit but... you don't care. The rough texture of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive walls makes you feel so fucking good, your whole body tingling in delight... You would never deprive yourself of it.
There's no appointment that ends without you cumming around his fingers at least once. It's just part of the routine, isn't it? He must make sure that everything works as it should. And your cunt works perfectly, oh sure it does. The most perfect and reactive pussy he's ever had the pleasure to take care of. You're his favourite patient for a reason.
I'm already working on a longer fic for this one, let me know if you'd like to be tagged 🫶🏻 [Update, I wrote it. You can read it here]
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minotaur x afab!reader - slightly dub-con, finger fucking, romance, fluff
The minotaur had spent centuries in captivity in that damned labyrinth, all alone with the endless rage he was cursed with, only bothered by stupid glory-seeking warriors or by the eventual human sacrifice thrown in to quench his hunger. He had been lost to his madness, and anger, and misery for so long he didn't think he could be able to feel anything else anymore...
Until you came along.
He came running towards you, the umpteenth intruder, ready to rip you into pieces with his own hands, only to have you kneeling down on the ground the moment you saw him and announcing out loud that you had no ill intentions.
That was enough to halt him in his tracks and stare down at you with utter bafflement. No one had ever behaved in such a way at his sight; anyone would either raise their sword and attack or run away screaming in fear. But you didn't do either of those things. No. You bowed your head as if to show respect and spoke with a soft and kind voice.
He saw you cower a little when he asked you the reason for your intrusion in his domain, his booming voice echoing through the walls and causing you to tremble yet you answered him nonetheless with that same sweet voice that was starting to make his stomach churn, out of anger or something else, he couldn’t know.
You explained that you'd always read and hear stories about him, about the legendary minotaur, stories that only talked about how merciless and terrible he was but never once mentioned how lonely he might have felt. You confessed that those stories always made you cry; cry out of pity for him. That's why you had come to the labyrinth, at risk of your own life. That's why you had come to see him...
To offer him companionship.
Your words had broken the cage shielding his heart. Who could ever feel pity for him? A monster who only knew how to kill and ravage and devour and destroy. He thought he would never know kindness, or empathy, or comfort...
Yet there you were, offering him those exact things without even asking for anything in return.
The way you stared up at him with those big doe eyes, your expression carrying so much sympathy, it made him feel different. He had never felt so weak, as though he could fall prey to your gentle heart. And yet, as he stared down at your outstretched hand, he found himself craving for your touch and reaching out for you to claim it. The way his massive palm completely enveloped your soft and delicate hand caused an odd flutter in his stomach and a rare smile to take form on his face.
He should have probably killed you with one swing of his ax the moment you had stepped into his territory, instead now he was holding your hand and accepting your company with such genuine vulnerability so unknown to him.
He couldn’t understand what was happening, why he was behaving so unlike himself and yet the more he stared at your intertwined hands, at how small and fragile yours looked, at how your fingers perfectly fit in the spaces of his palm, he found his touch grow softer and a thought bloom in his mind: he didn’t wish to hurt you.
He noticed the way you looked at him; your eyes traveling along his form, drinking in every inch of him as if he looked like something out of this world, like a statue perfectly carved out of the most refined marble, just like those he used to marvel at when he was younger. He seemed to find… pleasure in the fact that someone like you could gaze upon him with such admiration and fascination. He felt a spark, feelings he thought he had lost long ago.
He too couldn’t stop himself from admiring you; your small but plump figure, the beauty of your hair that framed your soft face, your fingers gently gliding up his hand. Your presence was weakening him and it was in equal part infuriating and liberating. You were so delicate, so fragile… He could easily lift you up with one hand, if he so wished. He could do anything to you in his clutches. He could just grab you, cage you in his arms and you wouldn’t be able to fight back. The temptation to do exactly that was overwhelming. That monstrous side of him, the heartless him, the one that knew nothing but death and rage would let his lust get the best of him. He would grab you and take you, to claim you as his own… But the human part of him, the one he had almost forgotten to have, was trying to resist.
You didn’t make it any easier for him by asking him if there was anything that he had been missing in his solitude, anything in particular that you could offer him.
He couldn’t ask for more than your presence, which was already much more than he could have ever dreamt for! But you insisted. Your other hand moved to rest upon his and the moment your fingers weaved in the fur of his arm, he shivered. Something about that simple gesture had an intense effect on him. He felt his control slipping. It was taking every ounce of will-power and strength to resist the urge to grab you.
And if your touch wasn’t already enough to make his will falter, those musical giggles that escaped your lips sent ripples of pleasure down his spine and gave cause to that tiny voice inside his head; a voice that was whispering to him all the things he could ask for, taking advantage of your kindness and naivety. The urge to take you was like the urge to breathe, just like his urge to kill. He found himself leaning forward just a bit, almost as if he was testing you, tempting you.
You didn’t back away.
"I want to feel your warmth." He finally said in a low voice and he took pleasure in the way your eyes widened. The sound of your sweet, innocent voice asking him if he was cold made him smile, and he had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. It had been ages since he had felt like that. It was a different kind of exhilaration that pervaded his body; one not caused by bloodlust, one he hadn’t felt in centuries.
He had always been a furnace of warmth, never had to care about warming up, not even in the coldest seasons, but he couldn’t stop himself from lying to you. It was only half a lie, after all; he had always felt so miserably cold inside…
"...Yes, I’m cold. Come here."
The moment your soft, delicate figure moved closer to his, he let out a quiet satisfied groan as if he was just given a gift. His massive arms reached out and cradled your body, pulling you in close to him until you were nestled tightly in his hold. Your curves molding against his hard muscles were driving him mad. The thought of you there, in his arms, pressed flush against his body was enough to make him lose all reason, all restraints. He had been missing this, exactly this. And you were willing to offer it to him, weren’t you?
His big hand reached up and brushed your hair back out of your face, gently tucking a strand behind your ear and exposing your neck in which he instantly buried his snout; your sweet scent flooded his senses and caused his muscles to ripple.
His lips brushed against the delicate skin. He kissed it and then licked it with his large tongue. One of his giant, furry hands cupped your rear, holding you firmly against his strong chest, while the other took a different path, one that led it to slowly inch up along your thigh, making its way under your dress. When you clamped your thighs shut in response, he let out a low growl, the noise rumbling from his belly and vibrating against your body.
He kissed your neck again before looking down into your eyes just as his hand started to move again, trying to slip between your legs while his palm on your rear kneaded your soft flesh, coaxing you to relent your clench. You did almost immediately and just enough to give him room to roam between your thighs. His hand quickly slipped in your underwear and he moaned in satisfaction as he felt your whole body tremble at the probing contact. Hearing your soft moans of pleasure made something flip inside him. He ripped your underwear, letting his palm cup your sweet, wet cunt. His touch quickly became rougher, hungrier, eager; he glided his fingers against your soaking folds, eliciting whimpers and tremors, then pushed two inside your tight little hole, grunting in delight at the way your walls clenched around his fingers and your arms clung onto his neck.
He kept licking your neck, his large flat and warm tongue lapping at your pulse point while your limbs quivered and your pussy fluttered and you babbled mindlessly. If he had this effect on you with only two of his fingers thrusting inside you, he couldn’t imagine how delirious your cries would be when he impaled you with his monstrous cock. His erection throbbed painfully just at the thought of it.
When he hit something within you that made you gasp and clutch desperately at his neck, he made sure to hit it again and again until he felt you spasm violently against him, your fingers tangling in his fur, your eyes rolling back, your body growing limp in his embrace. His own stomach churned at the sight, a wave of ecstasy spreading throughout his entire being had him gritting his teeth and groaning in both pleasure and torment. His hard length sprung from the fur on his hips, leaking and throbbing, tapping lightly at the back of your calf.
The minotaur drank in the sight of you. Your glazed over, watery eyes, your delicate lips twitching as breathy whispers escaped them, your trembling body, your damp skin… You were a vision and he wanted you, he needed you. His love and lust for you only heightened when you leaned in and let your lips lazily brush against his snout. His heart skipped a beat. Something that had never happened to him before. There were truly no words to describe how precious you were. He almost couldn’t believe a creature like you existed. But you did exist, and you were sagged there against his chest, tenderly kissing his nose, your small hands running through the thick bushy fur of his back and sending a pleasant tingle rushing through him. You were not afraid of him, you were touching him. He felt wanted. He felt desired. He felt more human than beast.
He leaned down to gently lick your cheek and his chest rumbled with a pleased growl at the sound of your giggles. A big, dumb smile of contentment crossed his face. His tongue kept licking your cheeks, your neck, your collarbone, before it retreated back into his mouth with a soft hum. His big, powerful arms wrapped around your waist and secured you in his arms.
His eyes stayed on you as he carried you through the labyrinth with unrushed but long steps. He watched you as you briefly glanced around in curiosity, then squeezed your arms tight around his neck and leaned in to plant another soft peck on the side of his snout.
"Where are you taking me?"
Your soft voice made his heart skip a beat again and he unconsciously picked up the pace.
"To my lair. Where I keep my treasures. Where you belong."
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