there is a criminal lack of submissive nightcrawler on this site and in general (at least outside of mlm ships including him) so my down bad ass has to make my own goddamn food
this does not have proper fic structure but i kind of just needed to get this out of my system so anyways,
gn!reader x sub nightcrawler
contains: overstimulation, mild dacryphilia, reader and kurt are implied to be switches, no mention of reader’s genitals, might be a little ooc sorry 😓
(some of this was also inspired by a nightcrawler nsfw audio i stumbled on…)
kurt is a giver, everyone knows this; he wants nothing more than to take care of the ones he loves and doesnt expect anything in return (whether its because he’s used to his generosity being taken advantage of or the act of giving itself is all he needs) but i dont think that doesnt mean he wouldnt absolutely love being on the receiving end
i think at first when the roles change he takes it as him giving to you in a different way instead of you focusing on him but he doesnt object when you explain what you want
yeah, sure, at first he’ll whine “please, let me be in service of you as well,” when you start pleasuring him (whether its with your hands or mouth) but it doesnt last
you’ll murmur something like “you do so much for me already, let me take care of you,” in a way he hasn’t heard you speak before and he melts, losing any willpower to fight back (not that he’d want to)
its new to him, its different, and i don’t think he’s expecting to like it as much as he does, but he won’t complain, kurt is gracious like that
he can’t focus on anything but you and the pleasure you’re giving him, the way your touch makes his fur bristle and heat flush across his skin underneath, the way his own inhibitions start to crumble and his composure is lost to the wind
he also gets really loud.
he’s already pretty noisy but when he’s the dominant its mostly just soft moans and whispers of german pillow talk directly into your ears, for your ears only,
but now?
now, he’s damn near crying out your name between german expletives and pleas, so overwhelmed it hurts but in all the good ways
his back arches up off of the bed, his eyes will shut tight, and his hips will buck upward without any controlled rhythm, just chasing more, please, more, anything, “i need it, i need you,”
before he can warn you he’s spilling over with an abrupt shout, tears gathering on his lashes, tail going rigid against the bed before twitching with the rest of his body-wide aftershocks
and then you don’t stop.
his eyes shoot open, and when he tries to speak the only noise he can make is a surprised moan that crescendos into a sob of ecstasy, squirming for a few seconds before going completely limp and throwing his head back into the pillows, curls sticking to his forehead from sweat, staggered gasps and choked-off cries filling the room
normally you go multiple rounds because he has the stamina for it, but his reaction’s so intense you’ll ask “should i stop?” to which he answers with a shake of his head, his hands reaching up to grab onto you for support (if he wasn’t already clinging onto you like he usually does)
“<give me more,>” he’ll plead, in a voice that’s already starting to go raw from overuse, reverting to his native language because his mind is completely blank at this point
“<i can take it>”
so you do, you give him more and you don’t let up,
because who can refuse when he’s so goddamn pretty when he’s wrecked to the point of tears?
when he’s truly spent all he has, when you’ve decided you’ve tortured him enough, he’ll lie breathless against the mattress, chest heaving as he gathers his bearings
even in that dazed state he won’t let you leave his side though
you try to get up to grab a washcloth, some water, or anything, and he’ll whimper, his tail wrapping around your wrist and weakly tugging you back
he’ll look at you through glassy, half-lidded eyes, not saying a word but you already know he just wants you to stay for a little bit longer
so you do, you curl up next to him, pull him into your arms, run your fingers through his hair and whisper praises of how well he did, how much you enjoyed yourself
and he’ll manage an exhausted smile into your neck, an involuntary purr rumbling in his throat and chest
i really do think he’s willing to do whatever you ask of him on the condition that afterwards he’s allowed to latch onto you and hold you close
there really is nowhere else he’d rather be than perfectly nestled in your arms
…you’re definitely going to have to wrestle him off if you want to not fall asleep all sweaty and sticky though, he couldn’t care less with how tired out you made him
im working on something with a longer format but for now here’s another little thing for my fellow sub nightcrawler enjoyers because people really liked my last one
gn!reader x sub nightcrawler
contains: exhibitionism (sorta? its watching while kurt masturbates), nightcrawler typical tail shenanigans, dirty talk / banter / idk reader and kurt are just goofballs who love each other
“can you let me see you?”
you don’t have to ask him twice, you usually never do. he spreads his legs on the bed, revealing himself to you, his length standing at full height and twitching against his soft stomach.
he’s not shy or abashed, not in the slightest; kurt wagner is a performer and you are his beloved audience.
he will not dare disappoint.
“mein gott, that look in your eyes,” he chuckles, his tail flicking behind him, “you are staring at me as if you want to swallow me whole,”
you shrug. “for now i just want to watch you work.” you wait for him to realize what you left unsaid, and satisfaction pulls your lips upward into a smile as his eyes open a little wider and the indigo on his face starts to reach the tips of his ears.
it’s so cute how flustered he gets when the tables turn and you’re the one teasing him for once. and really hot.
kurt clears his throat and runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “just… allow me to get a little more comfortable first.” he leans back against the stack of pillows against the headboard, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, giving you one last look through his eyelashes.
his hand glides up and down, staring slow, eliciting a soft sigh that leaves his mouth ajar. he’s always been the type to prefer taking his time, and you don’t mind one bit, especially if it means you get to watch him gradually fall apart.
you lean forward in your seat, elbows on your knees, your gaze never leaving his figure on the bed.
he looks like art, what, with him illuminated by the dim, warm orange light from the bedside table, hand between his legs, golden eyes lidded over as they meet yours.
his free hand runs across the fur on his chest before it grips at the pillow behind his head, a whimper of your name sending heat between your legs. “this feels…”
“good?” you finish for him, propping your chin onto your palm.
he nods, biting his lip, giving you just enough of a peek at his fangs. “but it… it would be better if it was your hand instead of mine,” his laughter is husky, and it almost implores you to fulfill that request. almost.
“i might if you put on a good enough show for me, honey.”
his eyes glint, and a wobbly smirk plasters itself onto his face; he’s trying to play off of you smoothly but it’s obvious your words do things to him.
“then i- ah— i suppose i shall entertain you thoroughly.”
he goes a little faster, twisting his wrist every other stroke and wringing the prettiest noises out of his throat.
you sit back up, completely enthralled. your nails dig into your thighs, further creasing the fabric of your pants. jesus christ, you almost feel unworthy getting to see him in such a state. getting to hear him moan and whimper, getting to hear him whisper your name like that…
his tail hangs off the side of the bed, swishing as it dangles, and the idea that it brings you sounds too good to ignore.
“use your tail instead of your hand,” the appendage stills, then snakes back up the mattress, the blush on kurt’s face somehow deepening even further. he pulls his hand back, bunching up the bedsheets as he replaces it swiftly.
it coils around him in two rings, the spade flat against the head of his cock and sliding down to the sensitive underside on each downstroke.
“o-oh—” he chokes on a moan, gritting his teeth. you can’t imagine he hasn’t tried this on himself before, but maybe he’s as skilled with using it on himself as he is with using it on you, that it surprises him each time. that’s your guess, at least.
his hand clasps over his mouth and you’re not having it.
“you know the rules, kurt,” your reminder’s gentle but firm and it has him trembling as he nods, lowering his hand, doing as he’s told like it’s second nature.
you murmur “good boy,” and follow your praise with an amused huff at the way he keens. the ego high you get at his reactions to your words is unmatched. “yeah, you’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
he nods his head, his breathing shallow, the rise and fall of his chest with each pant mesmerizing you even more. “ja… i-i am… for you,” his struggle to speak is evident in how wobbly his voice is and you swear that should be illegal. “just- mmhh- just for you, m-mein herz…”
thank god you’re sitting down. even when he’s losing himself and stumbling over his words the petnames he uses for you always have you weak in the knees.
your self control’s wavering; as much as you’re content to just lay back and enjoy his performance, you desperately want to reach out, give him the salvation of your touch that he searches for, and with his voice filling the room, echoing in your ears-
his hips buck upward, toes curling at the edge of the bed as he thrusts to meet the rhythm of his tail, and the little care he had about not being too loud is completely gone.
he’s close, you know he’s close, because he’s babbling in german in between panting and crying for you, his hands flying up behind him and gripping the pillows for dear life.
“p-please— please tell me- tell me that i can,” kurt begs so, so prettily, and you don’t have the heart to deny him.
“go on, baby,” you’d worry about bruising yourself with your grip if you weren’t so focused on your lover. “let go for me, you can do it...”
he strokes at least two more times before he does himself in with a sharp cry, thick strands of white painting his chest and trickling down the spade and rings of his tail.
his hips stutter to a stop and he collapses against the sheets, taking deep, laboured breaths as his whole body trembles from the aftershocks.
that’s when you get up from your chair and you climb up onto the bed, sitting in front of him, reaching out and petting his hair, smiling at how he nuzzles up with a tired groan.
“there you are, just breathe, honey,” you coo, leaning down and pecking his forehead. “get your energy back. we’re not done here yet.”
his eyes flutter open, wide, hopeful; he’s far from worn out, and that promise seems to be just enough to completely revitalize him. you can’t help but laugh a little, how is he so goddamn cute and sexy at the same time?
