i !!!! would like to hear the unhinged megumi thoughts cielo!!
vic you are the little devil on my shoulder!!!!
first things first. megumi likes eating it from the back. this has been on my mind all week.
my other thoughts all have to do with….how i think he has rather depraved fantasies of you that he never wants to come to light because he feels so much shame about them. how you have to coax him into it all.
thinking about how…..he’d wanna be rough with you but is scared he’ll hurt you…..so you’ve gotta praise him into it…,,..
also thinking ab. barely controlled werewolf or wolf hybrid megumi. and even the slightest move triggers his predator response to prey…..wrestling you still. warning you. trying to be careful w you……..,..,whining when you praise him..,,…praising him with his teeth at your throat.,,….
i’m. gonna. leave this here. nobody perceive me.
cw: werewolf!megumi, smut, biting, slight prey/predator, maybe dub con if you squint? megumi is sorta undergoing a transformation of some sort/his control is thin and his lust is high. running on instincts alone almost. praise? use of “good boy” to megumi but i wouldn’t say reader is the one in control/the dominant one lol.
***
“easy, boy,” your voice is soft, fingers running tentatively through unruly strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck.
the low, dark growl that rumbles from him should frighten you.
his body is pressed atop yours, digging down into you, forcing you down into the bed. the moon hangs like a masked face in the sky, heavy, and full.
his control is thin.
you can feel his breath at your throat, the slight press of an incisor, just the shape of his tooth against your pulse. you run your hands soothingly over his trembling shoulders.
his hips, nestled into the crux of your own, reveal it isn’t aggression he has for you—but lust. you can feel the hard, hot press of him against your center. you can feel the way he ruts a little, flexing his hips.
you’re already bare—he’d accidentally torn the t-shirt you’d been wearing. you’d had nothing else on underneath.
you stroke up his flank gently. soothingly.
you coo to him as his growl presses into the side of your neck, reverberating through you. rattling around inside you.
you twist a little, arch your hips and move your hand down between your bodies—
the movement is a little too sudden and he opens his mouth against your throat.
you freeze.
he freezes.
teeth; thick and large and sharp, hover over your pulsing throat.
he snarls low, somewhere deep from his gut.
“it’s okay,” you try to soothe, returning to your movement but infinitely slower, filled with caution. your fingers creep beneath his own shirt, along his stomach and through the trail of dark hair there, “it’s alright, megumi.”
you feel the press of his teeth. just barely.
slowly, ever so slowly, you unfasten the button of his pants.
his nose nudges your jaw. you feel the scrape of his teeth, almost rubbing against you.
the sound of his zipper slowly undoing is drowned out by the sound of his ever present growl. still so low and hot; charged in a way that has your heart quickening. you wonder if he can hear it. you wonder if it sounds like a rabbits’ or a fox’s. you wonder if you sound more prey to him, or predator.
you pull his cock out slowly, feel the weight of it in your hand. you swallow hard, but know what he wants—what he needs.
you guide him along your folds. it’s an embarrassingly slick pass of his head against where you’re molten and slippery.
you’re almost thankful he’s nearly blinded by his own lust—his own instincts.
you wiggle your hips.
his growl deepens, “don’t move—“
you press just so and—
your gasp tears out of you as the head of his cock pops inside.
megumi‘a jaws snap down against your throat.
pressure so bad that you could just burst.
you yelp in pain, body tensing, throbbing beneath his own, grabbing for him. fingernails sink deeper than they should into his skin. he struggles with you a little, wrestling you down into the bed, down into submission.
he forces himself deeper. your lashes flutter hard and quick against your cheek. you curse.
megumi holds perfectly, horribly still. he’s making a guttural sound against your neck, he’s gripping the sheets beside your head so tightly, you fear he’s going to tear them right up. you can tell already by the different pitch in the sound against your throat, some small, human part of him is sorry—like he’s saying i’m sorry, i just can’t stop. i’m sorry, i can’t help it. i’m sorry please help me.
“it’s alright—“ you manage to gasp, voice breathless, already so gone—“that’s alright.”
his hips rut suddenly, a deep drag of his cock out and then back in. you’re so full that you’re aching with it, somewhere in the deep pits of you. pleasure and pain spark sharp and quick, like flames set to dry wood. it burns fast. burns hot. burns bright.
he snaps his hips—
you mewl, fist tightening in his hair. you think you’ve started to bleed beneath his teeth. your throat will bear that mark proudly.
“that’s it—“ you get out, hitching your hips up so that the next deep thrust of his cock makes you whimper, “that’s it, good boy—good boy.”
