#we pariahs

[entropical-punch]

Alright everyone, I haven't written anything here in a while and I need some fresh ideas. I'm taking anything and everything under consideration. No promises it'll lead to something, but I wanna get the creative juices flowing, y'know?

Do your worst.

[rotworld]

Your secret vanilla fetish for Rex is adorable. How would he cope if reader initiated somwthing 'soft"? Like held his hand in public, or just wanted to snuggle on the couch after a hellish day??

Not sure if Rex considers that soft enough but if reader tried to do something he considered soft?

rex's restraint is actually decent, when he bothers to have any.

->rex/reader. short, fluffy, with just a bit of rex thinking vaguely threatening thoughts while you're trying to relax.

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You sigh. It’s the softest noise in the world right now, a whisper against the pounding of his pulse. Your chest rises and slowly, gently, falls. You rest your head on his chest, just beneath his collarbones. You sag against him, your whole weight pressed into his side. Leaning on him. Depending on him. You could be anywhere tonight. Could’ve gone to that party Jay mentioned or snuck off with Levine somewhere, but you didn’t. You’re here. With him. Dragged in with that sad dog look you’ve always got this time of night when you’re by yourself, like he’d ever dream of turning you away. 

“You have a minute?” you’d said. He has all night, if that’s what you want. He always has time for you.

He’s done this, plenty of times. It’s nothing new. You’ve crashed on this couch before. You’ve been up late, watching out of season movies and infomercials, on this couch. He’s fucked you till you were sobbing, till you were marked all over with teeth and hands and all his hunger, on this couch. So why does this feel so different? So weighted? He looks at you again. Rough day, he’s guessing. You’ve barely said a word since you got here, but you don’t have to. He gets it. He won’t ask any questions you don’t want to answer. That’s why you came to him. You knew it’d be safe here.

You sigh, again. Harder this time. Your lips part and that little, tired sound pushes out. You shift, restless, like you can’t get comfortable. “Can you…” You never finish the sentence. You aren’t quite sure what you want. But you keep trying, keep nuzzling your head against him like an animal he’s supposed to pet. “Can you just…” You reach for his hand, the one he’s keeping on the back of the couch, near your shoulder but not touching you, not until you drag it across your body. Rex holds perfectly still, only moving when and where you want him to. You make him hold you. You bring his arm around so he’s not just casually close, not just touching your shoulder, but really holding you. Pulling you into his chest. 

“Like that?” Rex says. He hopes he just sounds like he’s trying to be quiet. Not hoarse. Not petrified. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.”

You’re warm, too. Soft. Your quiet, subdued breaths tickle his skin, fanning across the neckline of his shirt. He’s never done this. He can admit that to himself privately. This is different. This is special. The hand you brought down to your waist gently caresses you. His thumb rubs small circles into your side. He hears your small, soft noises getting even quieter. You’re going to fall asleep, he realizes. You trust this place. You trust him. That’s why you’re cuddled up on him, curled into his side. So sweet. So helpless. 

“Rex,” you say, a mutter that almost sounds like a moan. Rex takes a deep breath. You don’t stir at all. Not when his grip gets a little tighter. Not when he gently, silently, turns and buries his head in your hair, and inhales the scent of you. Anything could happen to you right now. 

It won’t. But it could. 

[rotworld]

Inhuman AU: A Brief Escape

an anon asked:

Hi I’m new to your blog and I’ve been consuming a lot of WP and the Inhuman AU, I don’t know if this has been asked before though did the MC in Inhuman AU ever try to leave before? Is it even possible for MC in both original and the AU to leave now? I just want to see the boys in emotional distress 🫣

in the original continuity, the reader does eventually leave (not successfully, of course, because that leads into sore loser) but interestingly enough, the inhuman au mc actually hasn't tried to leave yet. i don't think it's even on their mind. but i wanted to see the boys in emotional distress too lol so let's see what a minor case of this looks like!

->mostly inhuman au!rex/reader, but the other two make guest appearances. contains possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamics and brief, implied mind-altering magic/hypnosis.

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You look like a runaway, or an escaped convict. Somewhere between frightened and guilty, you curl up on the stiff, gaudily-patterned motel bedspread with your shoes still on. The room is cold, poorly insulated with a heater that doesn’t work. One of the lamps is dead and the other is dull, flickering, threatening to die. You’re lying in a puddle of your own soggy clothes, and you dragged the rain in with you, a dark carpet trail leading to the door. 

They can track that, you catch yourself thinking. Like they’re bloodhounds or something. You just know, somehow, that it’d be enough. Jay’s always going on about how you smell (“Good, baby, so fucking good.”) and you catch Rex sniffing the air when he thinks you aren’t looking. Levine doesn’t do that, but there’s probably something else. Something about the rain coming off your skin that singles you out to the kinds of things they are, like blood to a shark.

Your phone vibrates on the bedside table. Texts now, because you haven’t picked up the last twenty calls. They’ll come rapid-fire, one after another, and then they’ll stop for an hour or two. You wonder what Rex does in the time between, why he starts up again. You don’t want to talk. Not when he gets like this. 

It’s stupid. It always is. It’s always over meaningless shit. Before, things would diffuse themselves before they got too heated. You’d go your separate ways for the night and then come slinking back to each other the next morning like sad, lonely animals. But Rex is different ever since Jay and Levine showed up. It’s like he’s tense all the time. Things that’d roll off him back then stick now, and they fester, and they sink their claws in, and they make him lash out. And it’s not like they make things any easier, the way they pile on, pouring gasoline on the fire. Things don’t work like they used to. It feels hard to breathe sometimes.

So you left. You didn’t go far. You didn’t want to stay home and you didn’t want to be near them, so you went downtown and found a cheap place to hide for a little while. Just for a night. And maybe you should’ve said something to one of them, at least, but that felt like favoritism, like another thing for them to get mad about, and now it’s too late. 

Thunder shakes the building, windows rattling in their frames. The lamp buzzes and flickers again. You wipe away angry, frustrated tears. Your phone goes off again and it’s a call this time. You pick up impulsively, something vicious on the tip of your tongue, but you lose it when nobody starts yelling on the other end. 

There’s silence. It lasts so long you start to think you lost the call, but then you hear Rex say your name. It’s so quiet you almost miss it, hoarse and choked and desperate. 

“Rex?” you say. 

“Yeah,” he says. And that sounds more like him, his usual gruff, standoffish tone, but it’s softer than usual. You hear him inhale shakily. “Really wish you wouldn’t do shit like this. Thought something happened to you.” 

“I’m okay,” you tell him. You sit against the headboard and suddenly wish he was with you. “I just…I hate it when you get mad like that. I hate when you all fight.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a while. You only know he’s still there because you can hear him breathing. He sounds like a wreck, like he was running somewhere. “I know,” he mumbles. “I know you hate it. Sorry.” The apology is brief, more of a cough than a word, but you hear it. You hear the quiver in his voice when he says it. “I’m not mad. Not at you, okay? And we agreed to cool it for tonight. Jay’s with me right now. We can pick you up, if you’re in town somewhere.” 

You think it over. The motel room is dark and drafty. Your clothes are soaked through. The thought of being sandwiched between Rex and Jay on Rex’s shitty couch, curled up under a shared blanket with chips and bad movies and their warmth around you, almost makes you whimper. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Rex says. You can practically feel all the tension leave him through his voice alone. “We can take you home, or we can hang for a while. Up to you. Where are you at?” 

“It’s, uh,” you pause, laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing, “it’s that shitty motel on the strip. You know the first one right when you come off the interstate?” 

“Wait for us in the lobby.” 

“I might use the shower first—”

“I’m not asking,” Rex says. All that tender uncertainty vanishes in an instant. There’s something about his voice, more than anger, more than that irritating bossiness, that makes a shiver run down your spine. “You’re going to get up,” he says, and you do. Your body moves without permission, lurching out of bed. “And you’re going to walk to the door. And you’re going to go to the lobby. You’re going to do that right now. And you’re staying on the phone with me until we get there.” 

You think about arguing. About telling him this is exactly what you hate, this paranoia, this obsessive need to know where you are at all times. You’re already twisting the door handle and shouldering through into the hall, but you think about it. You open your mouth, but the words never come. Because as you throw one last glance back into the room, you see slender, creeping fingers curl along the bottom of the bed from underneath, too long, too thin, black like shadow. 

You take the stairs, two at a time, down to the lobby. 

[rotworld]

Would Wp boys ever agreed to taking a bubble bath with mc? If they agree what would it entail? (Rex should really wash his greasy hair)

a bubble bath is so pure and wonderful, and i feel like there's no way you could get the boys into one lmfao. rex does have what i like to call a "secret vanilla fetish," where the idea of overly sweet, romantic stuff regarding you is exciting in an almost obscene, dirty way to him, although he's unable to act on it due to embarrassment and his equally potent sadism. it's hard to maintain the vanilla aspect of the fantasy without the desire to hurt you creeping in.

i mention all that because a bubble bath is exactly the kind of secret fantasy he'd have, with flower petals and scented bath bombs and the works. there's no way he'd ever admit to wanting that, but i'm sure it's crossed his mind.

[rotworld]

Faith in Monsters

jay is tasked with keeping an eye on you while rex investigates the monster causing your nightmares. he wishes you trusted him more.

part 3 of the we pariahs inhuman au.

->inhuman jay/reader. explicit; contains feral behavior, dubcon, non-human genitalia, rough sex.

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“So, we had this church back home, right?” Jay says over the hiss of spray paint. “It was this little wooden one-room thing, super old. The paint was flaking off and it flooded when it rained and shit. But it was the only one in town ‘cuz this was the back of beyond, y’know. We didn’t have anything fancy.” He’s perched cross-legged on a bare, splintered altar, misting the back wall with puffs of red and yellow, a painted inferno. He does it haphazardly, little flecks of color dripping down his wrist and staining his shirt. He’s staring defiantly into the hooded eyes of Jesus upon a crucifix like he’s daring him to get off the cross and do something about his feet turning neon orange.

You sit in one of the moldering pews near the front, fidgeting restlessly. You don’t like it here. This church is nothing special, just another forgotten place on the south side of town, but it feels distinctly more lived in than its abandoned neighbors. You’re trespassing, intruding where dozens of others have left their market. The carpet lining the aisle is blanketed in dirt, hardened and crusty with old stains and littered with fast food wrappers and cigarette butts. The walls have turned into the open sketchbook of every street artist in town, covered in stylized tags, dripping bubble letters, stencils, abstract gang signs. A lot of people come through here, which means Rex probably avoids it.

You noticed when you first walked in—the absence. A weight you’d never noticed, lifted. You felt light, untethered, and utterly alone. The melancholy hit you with such painful suddenness that it was like getting punched in the gut, making you stumble and gasp, your hands clutching at something that was simply no longer there. You had no way of knowing what you’d lost, but you understood somehow. That feeling was Rex. His aura or presence or whatever he calls it, the feeling he gives off when he’s simmering under his human skin. You’ve been smothered in it for so long that you didn’t even notice until suddenly, walking through the doors of the church, it vanished.

There’s a little whisper in the back of your brain; he should be here. You try to ignore it, and when that doesn’t work, you try to rationalize it. Of course you miss him. He’s always around, and now he’s not. It’s that little sentimental impulse that wants to share the moment with him. Is that what you really look like? you’d say, and point at the graffiti Baphomet painted over a window, and maybe he’d laugh or scoff or roll his eyes. And maybe there’s a little part of you that’s scared, too, that wishes Rex were hanging out by the altar and trading quips with Jay or sitting next to you, because then you wouldn’t watch the shadows so carefully.

Sometimes it looks like something shifts, like a shadow flinches or stretches or does something shadows aren’t supposed to do, and your heart lurches. Just your eyes playing tricks on you, but isn’t that how it always starts?

He should be here. Then you wouldn’t be afraid.

“You listening?” Jay drawls. You snap out of your thoughts. He’s not even looking at you, staring pensively at the mess he’s made of the wall. You stare at his back, the loose t-shirt and head of messy, dark curls. Without his jacket, Jay looks gangly, almost thin, the kind of guy who never outgrew his teenage metabolism. “You noticed, huh? Rex doesn’t come here.” He twists around on his perch and seems to size you up for a moment, his gaze wandering, lips pinched into something like a pout. There’s this look in his eyes that’s somewhere between mischievous and sadistic. He nods at the shopping bag on the floor next to the altar holding his spray cans. “Hand me the green.”

“It’s right there, Jay.” 

“Can’t reach from up here,” he says petulantly. “Besides, I’m, like…babysitting you, basically. So you gotta do what I say.” 

You roll your eyes and get up from the pew. You can feel him watching you. You make the mistake of looking up and meet his heated, unflinching stare, closer than you expected. His eyes are a warm shade of brown speckled with gold. He slips just a bit and his pupils turn to reptilian slits, making your heart skip a beat. He makes sure your fingers brush when you hand him the color he wants, teasing you with the glide of his nails over your palm. 

It’s not that much of a shock. You know Jay wants you. You’re more surprised at yourself for lingering by the altar, hands in your pockets, trying not to look like you’re expecting something. He stands up on the altar and starts outlining, overlapping shapes and silhouettes in deep, forest green. His face scrunches up in focus, one sharp tooth poking out at the corner of his lips. You can’t stop looking at it. It’s cute, and a small reminder of who you’re with. It’s easy to forget that Jay’s not completely human. His presence is less imposing than Rex’s, softer, not as overwhelming.

That, or he’s just better at hiding it. 

“Yeah?” Jay says.

“What?” 

“You’re staring.” 

“Just thinking,” you say. “You said Rex doesn’t come here.” Jay hums in acknowledgement, focused on his work again. “Why is that? Can he…” You pause, uncertain. “Can he not come inside?”

Jay shrugs. “I doubt it’d be a problem for him, but I dunno. Probably just doesn’t like it. I don’t, either.” He grins, showing off a mouthful of teeth far sharper than any human should have. “But I like the idea of being places I’m not supposed to be.” 

“Does it hurt or something?” 

Jay doesn’t answer, but you see something shift in him, an idea suddenly crossing his mind. He stops outlining, drops the paint can, and sits down on the altar again. He beckons you closer with a smirk, patting the open space beside him. You shake your head. “Come onnnnn,” he says, his needling tone calling you a coward. “Look, there’s nothing to be scared of up here. Shit’s only sacred if you make it that way. And this?” He opens his arms wide and glances around the church, letting out a short, derisive giggle. “None of this is sacred anymore.” 

But you still hesitate. Jay’s smile shrinks, slowly melting into a wounded expression. All the bravado leaks out of him and he slumps, drawing one leg up and letting the other dangle off the altar. “I know I’m not Rex,” he says. He lets the words hang there a while and he doesn’t look at you. He’s embarrassed, you realize. “I know I’m never gonna be Rex. But you can relax around me, y’know? Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” Your tongue trips over itself in your haste to deny it. “That’s not what I was thinking. I trust you.” 

Jay shrugs, smiling half-heartedly. “It’s fine. Anyway, like I was saying—we had this church back in my village. I went every Sunday with my mom. It was all ‘love thy neighbor’ and shit half the time, and the other half was about temptation and sin or whatever. The priest would look right at me the whole time he talked. Waiting for me to burst into flames, I guess. But I never did.”

Jay legs go slowly, a little bit at a time. A gentle gust rustles the trash scattered down the aisle and you smell heat—the hot must of an attic in the summer, or the air in a dryer. His aura rushes out to fill the church like a rolling fog. It’s not the same as Rex’s, not the quiet comfort you’re used to, but something sharp and humid, just as clingy. You hear a soft hiss, a scraping sound. A tail snakes over the altar and drapes itself beside Jay’s legs. It’s long and thin with spines protruding along one side, and the tip flicks back and forth restlessly. Streetlamp light bleeds through cracked stained glass and bounces off his scales in pale green. A pair of horns, short and lightly curved like a baby ram’s, poke out of his hairline.

You realize, with a sudden rush, that he’s taller than you. Even now, sitting down, he’s a lot taller than he was a minute ago. Somewhere between his tail slinking out and his horns coming in, he’s suddenly filled out, no longer skinny and fragile-looking but bulky and muscular. The hand that reaches for your chin and tilts your gaze higher suddenly has long, sharp claws.

“See?” he says. You feel his other hand at your waist, sending you into him with a stumble. You catch yourself against this chest. “It’s just an altar. Nothing special. Come here.”

You inhale sharply when he lifts you, dragging you up on to the altar with him and into his lap. This is your first time seeing and feeling all of him with a clear head. There’s more muscle in his legs and shoulders, more texture to his skin where flesh turns seamlessly into scales. His body is several different temperatures, his fingers frigid while his core radiates heat like a furnace. “Are your hands cold?” you ask.

“A little,” he admits. “But you can warm me up.” You let him guide your hands, rubbing your palms over his neck and forearms, exploring his body. There are scales shining on his cheeks and over his collarbones, disappearing beneath the neckline of the t-shirt that now clings tightly to his shoulders and biceps. Prismatic shapes bristle along his arms and settle into place like flexing quills. Anything protruding seems to smooth flat against his skin in anticipation of your touch, settling flat by the time your fingertips reach it.

The whites of his eyes are black and all you see is amber, and an animalistic shine makes them glow when the light hits them just right. He’s beautiful, and a little frightening. All that nervous energy and jittering, the anxious Jay you’re used to, has been replaced by effortless confidence. He smooths his hands up and down your hips, squeezing your nervously flexing muscles and chuckling at your little, startled gasps.

“So?” he says. “What do you think?” 

“Of?”

“Me, obviously,” he scoffs. His claws graze your jawline. “Rhetorical question. I know you’re into me.” 

“Real full of yourself tonight.”

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he says smugly. 

“You can hear what?”

“Mm. Now it’s even faster.” He places his hand flat on your chest and you become acutely aware of your heightened pulse, how it picks up even more when Jay tucks stray hair behind your ear. “I’ve got real good hearing. Not as good as my dad’s, but better than yours. This close, your heart sounds like a drumbeat. Loud. Excited. Are you excited?” 

That’s when you feel it; a twitch underneath you. A hot throbbing under your thigh. There’s a very noticeable, very large bulge in Jay’s pants, and he grinds it against you with a pleased rumble. Your eyes meet, your wide, frightened human gaze meeting Jay’s inhuman intensity. A primal fear stirs within you, laced with excitement. You wonder if Jay can sense it somehow, can detect the shift in your scent from uneasy to anticipating. Emboldened, he rests his hands on your hips and pulls you into a lazy grind. 

“Rex knows,” he says, like he can read your mind. “He left you with me. He knows.” There’s something hiding in those words, something almost tender. You don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to think at all. And you think Jay can sense that, too, because he’s all over you with no warning.

His kisses are sharp and clumsy, and he wounds you almost instantly. Your tongue just grazes one of his teeth and the taste of blood blooms in your mouth. A playful bite leaves you with a gushing wound on your lower lip, and Jay is there, suckling it, leaving a runny trail of saliva and puncture wounds wherever he kisses. His hands wander from your shoulders to your chest, tweaking your nipples, caressing your sides, before they settle at your hips.

He likes to dig his claws in, likes to feel you tense and tremble under his touch. He likes grabbing your ass even more. He likes to grope and squeeze, sinking in the sharp points of his fingers. He moves you like he’s imagining this without clothes, like he’s picturing how it’d feel with his cock between your cheeks, urging you to meet the roll of his hips. You’re dry-humping on the altar before long, the hurried bump and grind of your bodies making you feel dirty and desperate for more. 

His lips leave yours to nip at your jaw and then your throat. He gets excited when he finds your pulse, mouthing over the spot like he can taste the arousal pumping through your veins. “Do you trust me?” he says. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it, a rough, gravelly sound, more like growling than words. “Will you let me try something?” 

“Yes,” you say. You’d let him do anything he wanted right now as long as he doesn’t stop. Jay shifts around you, and you’re too lost in the sensations to notice that he’s repositioning, turning you both so your back is against the altar and he’s hovering over you. It’s only when he disentangles himself, when the bites and kisses stop and his hands go from gripping your hips to pinning your wrists over your head, that you come back to yourself. Jay smiles. His hair is a mess from where your fingers were tangled in it. He leans in and you feel the wet pess of his tongue slithering along your neck, but it’s strange. Not what you expect. Longer than it should be, and forked at the end. 

“You’re so cute,” he purrs. “So helpless.”

It isn’t until you squirm a little that you realize how right he is. Jay has you trapped. You fidget a little under his gaze, embarrassed, and you barely move. There’s nowhere to go with his weight settled over your legs. Your arms barely move even when you make a genuine effort to pull them out of his grasp. And he’s not holding on as hard as he could. He proves it to you with a little squeeze that makes your wrists ache. “I wanna try something,” he says. “I want you to stay still.”

He lets your wrists go without waiting for you to agree. But he doesn’t have to wait. You couldn’t fight him. He’d have you at his mercy again in seconds. An excited thrill rushes up your spine at the thought. That t-shirt that used to hang off his body has to be peeled off slowly, tugged over his horns. There are even more scales on his chest, bigger and more vibrant in color. You can’t help but stare, and Jay seems to puff up at the attention, smirking as his rolls his shoulders and lets you get a good look at his body. 

“Are you like this with Rex?” he murmurs. “Do you let him do anything he wants?” The name shocks you, almost gives you second thoughts. Jay slinks down your body with predatory grace, undressing your lower half. He’s careless, letting things drop on the floor and slicing seams apart with his claws, but you don’t care. You can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eyes as he hooks his teeth into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs. You don’t think much of it when he kisses you again, eager for the contact, chest to chest with his scales cool against your skin.

Something rubs against your sex. Your breath hitches. Jay hums in disapproval when you try to break the kiss. He doesn’t let you look. He clutches your jaw and makes you open your mouth wider. You feel his long, serpentine tongue curl around yours. The only thing you know for sure is that it’s not his dick. It’s still trapped in his jeans, hard and throbbing against your thigh. Whatever this is, it’s smooth and slender, sinewy with muscle and textured with small, scale-like patches that create dizzying friction against your sex. It pumps up and down with hard, grinding strokes and you can’t resist moving your hips against it. 

“Ohh, does that feel good?” Jay purrs. He lifts himself up just enough that you can finally get a look at what he’s doing to you. The sight of his tail between your legs is confusing at first. It doesn’t look like it should feel good. But he’s careful, using only the spineless underside, the ridges of flexible muscle under scaled flesh making it arch and vibrate pleasantly. “Bet I could make you cum like this.” 

You believe him. You think that’s what he’s aiming for when he reaches down and touches your sex, gathering the slickness of your arousal on his fingers to rub on his tail. There’s something obscene about the visual, watching him rub his tail like he’s jacking himself off, long, twisting strokes of his palm that lubricate the smooth scales on the underside. It feels even better after that, and it sounds filthier. You hear the sounds your body makes grinding against his tail and it fills your face with heat. You barely notice that Jay slows his movements until his tail stops moving entirely and you’re left arching your back, moving frantically against him. 

Jay watches like he’s never seen anything so beautiful. He licks his lips and gives in just a little, the length of his tail gliding against your sex in slow, languid strokes. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s not the one panting and moaning and chasing any bit of pleasure he can get, but he still sounds wrecked. “Some other time, you’re gonna cum from nothing but my tail. But not today.”

You whine when his tail slithers away, but Jay doesn’t leave you alone for long. He gathers you in his arms and you’re in his lap again, straddling his thick, scaled thighs. You didn’t notice him get his pants off. His cock is an odd, twisting shape with a thick shaft and a series of bumpy ridges along the underside. The color is strange, a mottling of his human skin tone and a darker, richer green than his scales. It’s hard and bobbing against his stomach, a pearl of precum gathered on the tip. All of that is enough to make you stop and stare, but the cherry on top is his size. 

Jay is huge. It’s not just the unfamiliar shapes, the grooves and bumps and the bulge midway up his shaft. You’re not sure he’s going to fit. You’ll feel him all the way in your stomach if you do. It occurs to you that he hasn’t said anything in a while, and you were expecting something snarky, something smug about how you’re staring, but you look up and understand why. Jay’s slit pupils are dilated into rounded diamonds. He’s panting, and every breath sounds a bit more like a growl than the last. He wraps one hand around the base of his cock and pumps slowly, and the other grabs your hip. He’s pulling you closer, trying to lift you, angling himself at your entrance. 

“Wait,” you say nervously. You don’t think Jay even hears you, but maybe he hears something in your pulse or the rush of blood through your body, because he starts opening you on his fingers. It’s not very good preparation. He’s quick and shallow, more focused on getting you right where he wants you in his lap than properly stretched out, but it’s better than nothing. You have to steady yourself, hands on his chest as your quivering thighs sink you down onto the head of Jay’s cock. You wait there, rocking against the tip. You’re not trying to tease him, but Jay seems to take it that way. He snarls and grabs your ass, pulling you down further. 

The first bit is mercifully easy. He’s still big, still makes your insides ache dully and spread around him, but it’s nothing compared to what comes next. His cock widens suddenly near the middle. It was one thing to see it, to think what it might feel like, and another entirely to have him forcing it inside. You scrape your nails down his chest and beg for him to wait, to go slow, to let you adjust, but Jay barely responds. That strange, reptile gaze bores into you. All you see is feral lust. “You can take me,” he says, the words a growl. “Know you can.” He thrusts upwards at the same time that he drags your hips down, and you swear nobody’s ever fucked you as deep as this.

It’s a sick, satisfying feeling. You’re full, too full. You feel like his cock’s in your throat. It’s not, it can’t be, but he’s so impossibly big and deep that it’s got you a little delirious. You don’t know anything anymore. Not where you are, not who you are, not what you were doing five seconds ago. All you know is Jay’s cock and how it feels to be filled like this. Jay’s claws are digging into your ass as he holds you in place through your squealing and shuddering, making you open up and take him to the hilt. It’s hot. It’s awful. You hurt and you feel amazing. Every little bump on his cock pulls and presses on your inner walls. Every part of him, from his tip to his bulging thickness to the soft flesh of his balls against your ass when he finally gets every inch inside of you, leaves you breathless.

And then he starts to move.

You cum. There’s no stopping it. The pain and pleasure blur together into a razor sharp sensation that leaves you trembling and sobbing. Jay doesn’t even slow through your convulsions. He holds you by the hips and lifts you like you weigh nothing, like you’re a snug toy for his cock, and pounds up into you so fast and hard you see stars.

When you’re a boneless, overstimulated heap against him, he keeps going. He calls your name in a low, broken voice between growls and obscenities. In the painful clarity after orgasm, you become aware of tender, stinging bruises and all the places you’re bleeding. You make some weak, half-hearted move to get off of him and his tail lashes around your thigh, sharp spines digging in like barbed wire. You’re not going anywhere until he’s done with you.

This isn’t like that hurried rut in the junkyard with Rex. Jay isn’t rushed by urgency or a need to perform, isn’t tortured by his own restraint. This is him, all of him, wanting all of you. You don’t think he’s even aware of half the filth that comes out of his mouth, slipping in and out of English, praising you, teasing you, telling you how long he’s wanted this. “Feels so good, the way you open up for me,” he says, a whimper and a growl all at once. “Wanna mate you. Wanna cum inside. You’ll let me, know you’ll let me. Want my cum in you, don’t you, honey?”

It’s not enough to have you like this. Jay needs even more. He leans back and brings you with him, lets you lean against his chest as he grasps you firmly and starts fucking you faster. His sudden, jackhammering pace and the change in angle wrenches another orgasm out of you. You cum crying Jay’s name, the pleasure so sharp it hurts. Every thrust is another stab of blinding, agonizing ecstasy. Jay’s claws rake down your back and it feels almost dirty when your own blood dribbles down over your ass. 

“That’s good, baby, that’s it,” he moans. You’re going to pass out. You don’t know if it’ll be before Jay’s finished or after. You hear how your bodies meet, the quick, harsh smack of skin, the weighty slap of Jay’s balls with every thrust. You can barely breathe. Somehow, in desperation, your shaking hands find purchase against his chest and your nails rake the soft skin between Jay’s scales. You catch the very edge of a hard, sparkling scale and that’s what sends him over the edge. That thick bulge of flesh on his cock twitches and pulses, and then he’s cumming hard inside of you.

There’s so much of it. That probably shouldn’t surprise you. Jay moans and ruts into you with quick, little humps, each thrust coating your insides. It’s thick and foaming up around his length before long, dribbling out of you. Jay lets out a satisfied sound and rocks against you a little more, enjoying the way his bulge drags against you. He collapses without warning, crushing you with his full weight. 

“Jay,” you wheeze. You try to squirm out from under him but he’s too heavy, and you’re too sore. 

“Jus’ a minute,” he mumbles. 

“Jay, I can’t breathe!”

He grumbles something unintelligible and rolls over, letting you settle on top of him instead. “Better?” he says. You huff, too tired to argue. You expect him to fall asleep, but he lazily runs a hand through your hair and hums to himself while you recover. His tail coils between your legs, seemingly seeking your body heat. “You trust me, right?” he says quietly. “You know I can protect you as good as Rex can?” 

“Mnnh,” is the best you can manage. Jay chuckles and ruffles your hair. Something’s definitely changed between the two of you. You can smell the stink of sex, the headiness of cum and musk and the arid heat that Jay’s true form gives off. It’s reassuring in its own strange way. You think you could get used to the feeling of scales against your bare skin.

[rotworld]

OK secret romantic bath time with rex, including all the flower petals and Bath bombs, but he gets to waterboard you at the end

i got an avalanche of rex-related asks since the first post mentioning his secret vanilla kink but this one is a personal favorite

[exorbitantsqueakingnoises]

(in order from left to right, to bottom: jay, rex, levine, and a concept of the MC) trying to get over my terminal shy about this but I love these TRASH BOYS thanks @rotworld for makin......making em....Your prose impresses me constantly!

[rotworld]

Inhuman Encounters: Finale

an anon asked:

r u going to write a sex pollen situation where reader gets hit with it?

and i thought that was a great idea!

you're not okay, but you will be. they're all here for you.

->inhuman rex, jay and levine/reader. explicit; contains heat/mating cycles, dubcon/noncon due to sex pollen, mild possessive behavior, gangbang, marathon sex.

.

.

.

“It’s my turn, right?” Jay says. “I’m pretty sure it is. Levine’s been in there too long. It’s not fair.” He tries to look innocent, almost nonchalant, like he’s just asking about the weather, but Rex doesn’t buy it. He’s perched on the desk Rex is trying to use, the same one Rex told him to get off of five minutes ago, his tail swishing restlessly and smacking Rex in the leg. “Roosting,” Jay calls it. Sitting precariously at the highest elevation in the room to satisfy some deeply-ingrained instinct. He only does it when he’s agitated or pouting.

He’s also as much of a mess as all of them, stinking of sex with little human scratches and bite marks between his scales. He stopped bothering to get dressed between rounds a while ago, and all he’s got on are a pair of boxers. Rex isn’t much better, but he’s trying to keep it together.

“Go tell Levine, then,” Rex says dismissively.

“Levine doesn’t listen to me!” Jay snaps. “You have to tell him.”

“In a minute.”

Jay makes a grating sound, somewhere between a growl and a whine, and drags his claws over the desk petulantly. It’s annoying, but Rex understands. It’s getting to him, too, all the scents and sounds coming from the bedroom down the hall. There’s the musky stench of sex, sweat, and exertion, but above all that, there’s the scent of you. Your tears. Your distress. Your desire. Rex knows all of those smells, but it’s sharper than it’s ever been, irresistible and beckoning. He wants to lose himself in the haze of your need for him, but he has to focus.

His human—their human, as the other two keep reminding him—is unwell. He has a strong memory of the last time all of you spent time together, some strange, sharp aroma permeating the air in an abandoned place. You said you felt sick and left in a hurry. You didn’t answer any of his calls. And when he came to check on you—

“Are you almost done?” Jay whines.

“No, I’m not, and every time you ask, it’s gonna take longer,” Rex mutters. Down the hall, in his bedroom, you’re moaning breathlessly. Rex can just picture how Levine has you, pinned under him in bed with your legs over his shoulders, mostly human as he pounds into your tight heat. Whatever he’s doing, it’s making you gasp and cry, but it isn’t enough. He smells your dissatisfaction, your lust for more. He wants to be there. He wants to fill you. He takes a deep breath and ignores the erection straining in his jeans.

Rex carefully turns the yellowed parchment pages in front of him, trying to distract himself with the musty attic scent permeating the paper. He has a few boxes of his mom’s shit in the attic, things she didn’t care enough about to take with her (like him, he can’t help but think). There are encyclopedias and grimoires so old that no one alive would even recognize the language of the text. No index, unfortunately, so he just has to skim until he finds your symptoms. Not much to be done but help you burn whatever it is out of your system, and he knows that, but he’s more concerned with discovering the culprit.

He wants to find whatever did this. He wants to put it through agonies it never knew existed. He wants it to beg for oblivion, just so he can deny it.

He hears the bedroom door creak open. Your voice fills the hall, begging, weeping for more. “Please, please I can’t—it’s not—I need more, I need—need you, need all of you. Please, it hurts when I’m empty. Please fuck me, fill me up, I want you to cum inside. I need you. Rex—”

Jay jumps back like a startled cat when the desk splinters. Rex curses and starts pacing. He’s slipping bad. He has to take deep breaths, clutch his chest, and make his human heart slow down before he can get his tendrils under control. They want you. They twine together, straining against him to reach into the hall. He swallows hard and gradually, he pulls himself back together.

Levine appears in the open doorway, naked, gleaming with sweat, hair tousled and hanging in his face. He looks like worse shit than usual. He’s slipping, too, his eyes shining. He leaks nightmarestuff and it pools on the ceiling. “Listen,” he says groggily. His voice is wrecked. “I think we need a new strategy.”

“Fuck you and your strategy, it’s my turn,” Jay snaps, but Rex tugs him back with a tentacle before he can leave. Levine’s right. It’s not burning out of you fast enough, and your body isn’t built to handle this kind of strain. Your scent is even stronger now with the bedroom door left wide open, and he can hear how you writhe against the sheets. You’re delirious and rambling, telling them how much you love their cocks and how good you’ll be, how they can use you however they want and you’ll take it all.

“Alright,” Rex says, licking his lips. His tongue is too long, doesn’t feel much like a tongue anymore. He’s losing his sense of his own body, how the human form fits together. He clenches his hands into fists and sinks his nails in hard, makes himself bleed so he has to focus on healing. This isn’t about them. It’s about you. He has to be in control. “Let’s try something else.”

It’s a short walk to the bedroom, no more than a few steps to the end of the hall, but time slows to a crawl when he sees you. His human, curled up in his bed, panting and whimpering with need. You’re face-down, humping one of his pillows like a dog in heat, and he wants to take you like one. Wants to smother your body with his, bite your neck, pull you into the roll of his hips and fuck you deep. Jay swears under his breath when he sees you and that gets your attention, makes you lift your head and look at him with glazed eyes.

“Jay, fuck me,” you beg him, crawling on your hands and knees to the edge of the bed. You almost fall. Rex is closest and catches you, pushes you back into the safety of the pillows. “Rex,” you sigh, and his heart skips a beat. “Want you inside me.” He doesn’t know if he undresses properly, if he can bother to take his clothes off, or if his tentacles rip through them. Either way, he’s undressed and on the bed with you, and you’re nuzzling against his cock. Rex hates to stop you from licking and suckling at the head. He doesn’t, for a little bit, and pretends it’s just so he can gather his thoughts.

“Levine,” he says. The incubus is there suddenly, standing at the side of the bed closest to you. Rex didn’t hear or see him move. “You have another one in you?”

“Do birds fly?” Levine asks him wryly. He kneels on the bed and easily redirects your attention with a hand cupping your chin. “Here, little thing,” he coos, pumping his long, flushed length in front of your face. “Can you take me? All of me?”

“Yes,” you moan. You sound reverent. Without hesitation, you drag your tongue along his shaft from base to tip. Levine groans and tangles a hand in your hair, guiding himself into your mouth. He starts shallow despite your eagerness, just barely thrusting, but you’re shameless. You make obscene sounds sucking on him, saliva dribbling down your chin, and you start trying to take him deeper.

“Slow down,” Levine chides you. He tugs on your hair sharply but it just makes you moan around him. “Don’t rush this.”

You try to go still, but Rex sees you squirming, rubbing your thighs together. He doesn’t have to call Jay, because Jay is already there and trying to squeeze himself onto a bed too small for all of them, pawing at you, trailing kisses down your spine. Somehow, stuffed between Levine and Jay, you still manage to look up and give Rex a pleading look that makes heat rise to his face. “We’ve got you,” Rex murmurs. He brushes your sweat-sticky bangs out of your face. You almost pull off of Levine to lean into the touch.

You make it hard. You won’t sit still. The pillows and blankets end up everywhere, scattered across the floor from the constant awkward shuffle to reposition and your grasping, clinging hands. Jay mounts you like an animal and the quick, dirty grind makes you both cum fast, but it’s not enough. Levine works you with his fingers and you squirm, cry his name and cum all over his hand, but that’s not enough, either. You crawl into Rex’s lap and ride him and he cums twice, his nails sinking into your hips hard enough to draw blood. You don’t stop. You whine as you grind on him and run your hands over his chest.

He lies there bonelessly for a while, watching you get spitroasted between Jay and Levine with muted worry. Jay’s legs are buckling and his moans are getting quieter, almost pained. Levine’s thrusts are weak and robotic. He can’t help but passively feed on all the lust and frenzy you’re throwing off, and now he’s sluggish, so past full that it’s uncomfortable.

And it’s still not enough. You’re not cumming and you’re getting frantic, bucking your hips against Levine and sucking too hard on Jay’s softening length. Your body has to be at its limits. Rex considers all the things he knows that could have done this, and the chance that you’ll remember this in the morning. Doesn’t matter, he decides. He has to do something.

“Come here,” he says. He lets himself slip further, his voice going low, coarse, and commanding. He thinks he hears Jay collapse with a grunt but he doesn’t check. He doesn’t care. All that matters is you, the sway of your body coming towards him, the searing heat in your eyes. He waits until you’re in his arms, straddling him again, to slip even more. He wanted the first time he felt you with his true body to be special. It still will be, he decides. But right now, you need him, and that’s all that matters.

“I want you to close your eyes,” he says. “And don’t open them until I say.” You promise. You swear to him. Anything to get him inside of you faster. He’ll have to cover your eyes for you to make sure. He spreads your legs apart with a tendril wrapped around each, making you gasp at the wriggling, soft sensation. Something that you don’t recognize, that isn’t his cock and yet is, slides between your legs and rubs against your sex. Rex bites his lip so hard it bleeds. There’s no way he can hold his focus through all of this. You feel too good.

“What’re you doing?” Jay’s voice comes from just across the room, but it sounds even more distant. Rex can hear blood rushing through his ears. His flesh changing, his shape reforming. He keeps it restricted to his lower body so the top half is still human, still familiar to you. Easy for you to hold onto. Easy for you to look at with that desperate need. “Dude, you’re slipping—”

“I know,” Rex hisses, and the overhead light bursts in a rain of glass. Fuck, he’s in bad shape. You shiver against him. Rex quickly sweeps the shattered bulb off the bed with another tentacle and distracts you the best he can, caressing your body with his hands and tendrils. “You both need to get over here. Don’t hold back anymore.”

“...dangerous,” Levine murmurs, but he doesn’t disagree. In one smooth movement, he’s next to the bed again and his human skin is gone, consumed in the churning haze of his true form. The both of them crowding around you, caging you between them in their true forms, satisfies something in you. You whimper. You stop squirming and moving on your own. Everything about your body language screams submissive now, and Rex ignores the implications for now, the intentions of whatever set its sights on you, in favor of focusing on how much he wants you.

“Jay?” Rex says. He squeezes your ass, making you arch your back and moan for him. “Thought you were excited for your turn.” It’s cruel to tease him like that, but it’s good motivation. Jay is on his feet and staring at you, the way you shiver and moan as Rex threatens to penetrate you. He’s fully slipped, his tail thicker and longer, short horns poking out of his hairline. He kisses your shoulder and presses himself against your back, grinding against your ass until he’s hard again. You’re so far gone that all you can do is mewl helplessly.

“Thought I’d enjoy this, but I miss how they usually are,” Jay mutters. “Bein’ all mouthy and stuff.” He nibbles at the side of your neck and Rex feels you cum on the squirming length of his tentacle. A good sign, he thinks.

“They’re going to feel awful in the morning,” Levine says, but he’s wrapping cloudy wisps of himself around you anyway, chuckling at the needy noises you make. “It’ll be cute.”

“Focus,” Rex chides them, a useless reminder. You’re the center of the their universe right now. They’re going to get you through this, no matter what it takes.