kind of wanna reinforce this here. because i’ve seen ai writing become so popular on tik tok.
ai writing is not okay.
it’s literally theft. just like how ai art steals, ai writing steals. it’s using authors’ very real work to generate whatever you type in. and this also needs to be said as well.
writing is a form of art. fanfiction is a form of literature.
seeing this all over my fyp is REALLY discouraging. fanfic itself is already a labor of love and we love it when you interact. but please do not use ai writing for your fanfic needs when this writing literally steals from fanfic authors.
genuinely don’t know if this post will go around because my interactions outside of hcs are shit, but i hope it does.
Description: Sick of not being able to find a date, you turn to getting a nightly work out in. You find yourself intrigued by a woman who occupies one of the benches at the park you walk at, though you never see her leave...
Got pissed off at the lack of of lesbian teratophillia fics so I turned this out :) Nothing too NSFW, but there is some very very light NSFW content at the end of the story (nipple play if you could even call it that). Ghost herself is based loosely on one of my friends, who recommended that I let her model for a story character. There's like, only one reference to appearance in this part though oops
NOTE: This fic has a large basis in working out though weight loss is not mentioned. I understand this may be uncomfortable for some readers though so proceed with caution!
Meeting people in this day and age has not been easy for you. You’ve tried dating apps, speed dating, getting dolled up and going out in hopes of being asked out... but nothing has worked. It’s been a constant struggle to form a connection with someone you find attractive and keep that connection going. So, you turn to changing yourself. Focusing on working out more, going out more, and learning a new hobby. If only you could figure out places you actually really enjoyed going to frequently and find a hobby that you actually enjoy.
The working out part has been somewhat easier for you, though. You live relatively close to a park, which has a lovely path around it and a little pond that you loved to stop and stare at. The geese were friendly in terms of geese, so you don’t get chased off when you’re taking a rest to stare at the pond either.
With your work schedule, you only have time to go to the park at night. You keep pepper spray on you, just in case, but it’s usually chillingly empty by the time you get there from your abode. You’ll sometimes catch a glimpse of a woman sitting on one of the benches around the pond, but she seems to leave before you can ever get to the pond. You never see her leave, but she’s never there when you manage to get across the park. You sit on the same bench she does when you take your little break. By the time you get to it, it’s cold, which you know is logical, but it almost feels too cold.
You’re proud of your consistency of working out, even if it is just a walk around the park, and you begin to tie the consistency to seeing that woman at the pond. You want to get to know her. You at least want to see her up close, and say hello to her in passing. You want to hear what her voice sounds like and see what her face looks like. So, you make your journey to the park, which is only a few blocks, and you try to quicken your pace around the path every night in hopes of finally catching her before she leaves.
Eventually, you’ve reached a point where you can consistently jog and sometimes run, depending on how tired you are from work. You just need to see her face. You just need to see if she’ll react if you ask her if you can sit with her. You need to hear her voice, engage in small talk with her about the geese.
You can tell that these wants don’t come out of just a desire for connection. They come out of a desire for connection with her specifically.
This particular evening, you’ve had a very slow day at work and ate a decent dinner. You have plenty of energy, so you manage to sprint for a good portion of the beginning of your workout. By the time you reach the pond, the woman is still sitting there. You’ve never seen her this close before, and there’s no way she can just disappear in front of your face, so you finally get to approach her.
Praying that you don’t smell like sweat or look like a total mess, you walk over to the bench.
“Good evening,” you say, a bit louder than you intended. The woman jumps a bit, turning in your direction and managing to show a smile. She nods in your direction, uttering a small greeting to you. Her face is soft and round, and she wears her hair in butterfly locs. The moonlight illuminates her face, shining in her eyes. She’s incredibly captivating.
“Would you mind if I sit here for a moment?” Your inquiry is overshadowed by your actions, as you’re already making the move to sit down.
“I don’t mind at all. I see you here every night,” the woman on the bench says. You could listen to her speak all night. Her voice has something almost smokey to it, and that sends a chill right up your spine. You sit in silence for a moment, unsure of how to start a conversation with her, unsure on how to speak to such a beautiful woman.
She fills the silence for you.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
You turn from her, to the pond, and back to her, tilting your head.
“How do I do what?”
The woman’s response is just a laugh. You think for a moment, figuring out she must be referencing your habit of getting a jog in every night.
“Oh. Well, I just practice a lot. Consistency is key.”
Your gaze is fixed onto her. She nods as you speak. You feel so calm sitting next to her.
“I could never. My body aches too much to be able to push myself the way you do.”
You feel your face get warm. Are you blushing? All she did was compliment you, you have no reason to be blushing. But you are. It feels nice to be able to blush at an interaction you’re having with another person. You smile shyly back, a little pit forming in your stomach. She was so pretty that she was making you nervous.
You turn back to the lake, spotting a goose sleeping peacefully by it. You focus on it, still listening to the woman to see if she speaks, hoping that looking at something other than her will help you ease the nerves.
She doesn’t talk for a few moments, and you assume that she’s looking at the goose with you. You turn back to her, starting to comment on how cute the bird was.
When you turn back, she’s not there anymore. You hadn’t felt her get up, which would’ve been next to impossible since you two were fairly close on the bench. She left without a word, leaving behind an oddly cold feeling. You stand up, spinning around, looking for her. She’s nowhere to be found. You sigh, hoping you hadn’t done anything wrong.
You continue on your way, a small ache in your chest. You decide to walk the rest of the way back to your apartment, hands stuffed in your pockets. As you circle around the pond, you feel a cold sensation directly on your nipples. You shiver, your knees knocking together. You close your jacket up, blaming it just on a breeze you hadn't felt. A small pinch to each now hardened bud causes you to quicken your pace, leaving the park dissapointed and freezing.
Contains: Getting freaky with a ghost, male ghost/female reader in terms of anatomy, P in V, no real aftercare, written while I was half asleep and not beta read or editted (AKA don't complain about the quality please)
The hot shower water drenches your skin. The perfect way to distract yourself from working a double was to scorch yourself. It worked, too - you can’t feel the soreness when you’re practically burning your skin off. You wrap your body in a towel that’s just big enough to meet in the front, and step out of the bathroom after giving your head a lazy shake to get rid of some of the water. If it works for dogs after getting out of the bath, it must be good enough for you.
Slinking into your bedroom, you catch a slight indent on the comforter you left bunched up at the foot. Your friendly ghost. He was certainly no Casper by any means, but at least he was nice enough to not throw your favorite mugs around. You decide to pay him no mind since you can’t technically see him.
Your towel hits the floor as you walk over to your closet, deciding on a tank top that would at least cover your nipples and a pair of old sweatpants. You toss them on the bed, gazing at the imprints on your blanket. He’d shifted. There was a new set of imprints, indicating he’d sat with his legs out and somewhat spread while looking at you picking out your night clothes. You roll your eyes, declaring that he was a pervert. You receive no obvious response, but you notice from dips in your mattress that your ghost friend had lifted himself up.
Perhaps you’d offended him so bad that he decided to leave - though you weren’t sure he could leave. Making a few assumptions, you bend over to work your way into the sweatpants. That’s when you feel your cunt stretch. A little gasp escapes you, and you lean up against your bed for a little more support.
You weren’t necessarily surprised. You always felt someone watching you when you used your vibrator, but you never felt any particular way about that. Your otherworldly friend was proving to truly be a pervert, and you take a little bit of pride in your assumption being affirmed as he begins to thrust into you. You aren’t particularly sure what to do - having sex with a physical being is much different when compared to sex with a supernatural being. You reach down to play with your clit, rubbing circles lazily as you allow your guest to slowly thrust in and out of you.
That doesn’t last for long. You feel him grab your wrist, in a somewhat rough manner, and move your hand to the bed. You feel a cool sensation on your clit, paired with some friction. The contrast in temperature makes you moan, your back slightly arching as you allow your mind to slip away. The ghost, who seemed to be in no rush before, increases the pace of his thrusts, as well as how hard he’s thrusting into you.
This was much more on par with your style. You moan and whimper as he continues to fuck you, surprised that he’s able to hit all the right spots. You’re a bit less surprised when you remember that he’d watched you fuck yourself silly, for an undescript amount of times. Still, having something other than plastic inside of you was something you weren’t going to take for granted.
Your visitor must’ve taken notes during your self-pleasure sessions - he manages to hit all the right spots, inside and out - he rubs your clit at just the right pace, uses one of his hands to pinch your nipples, and slams into you just perfectly.
Just before your orgasm, you begin to doubt yourself - are you really going to let a ghost make you cum? You answer your own question through actions rather than words as your invisible lover bucks his hips, making you unravel. You nearly scream as you finish, clasping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You wouldn’t want to be disruptive to your neighbors, after all.
Within seconds of you finishing, you feel an icy sensation pressed against your pussy, cleaning you up. Within a minute, the sensation leaves. The room warms up by a few degrees and you know you’re alone. The tired, heavy feeling hits you again and you don’t even bother with pajamas as you crawl into your bed. As you wrap yourself up in a blanket, one satisfied sigh leaves your lips. A small smile is plastered to your face as you drift off to sleep, satisfied by a lover that you couldn’t even see.
|| Being a struggling college student sucks. Luckily, your werewolf boyfriend doesn't mind helping you de-stress - even if he gets a little too into it.
CONTAINS: AFAB READER, GIVING!SCOTT, RECEIVING!READER, BITING, MARKING, HICKEYS, OVER THE CLOTHES, NO AFTERCARE, MENTIONS OF MIDTERMS
Word count: 1k
Author’s note: IK I switched this fic from what was planned at the last minute but shhhhh... tried to put some characteristics of the Monster Prom writing style but I don't know how successful that was. Based mainly off the first Monster Prom game. (Ignore how the gif is monster roadtrip okay byeeee have fun reading or don't)
Midterms, midterms, midterms. Jesus fucking Christ. That’s all your life has been for the last few weeks, working on gradually revising your notes and studying for those God forsaken tests, worth a part of your grade that’s way too big. You slam your flat palms onto the desk in your small apartment, giving it a good couple of smacks. You’re frustrated, unable to grasp the topic you’re reading through. Why the hell did you have to take a math class? You hated math. Your major didn’t really use math, either.
You groan as you hear a knock at the door, lifting yourself on to tired legs. Who visits this late at night, especially when you have a giant sign on your apartment door labeled “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE?” You’d think by now people would catch on to your witty ideas of decoration and lack of availability. Maybe studying for midterms wouldn’t be so hard if you’d stop making interior design into your impromptu passion.
Your hand quickly twists the knob, without giving much thought to check if there was some kind of evil monster or a serial killer or a Jehovah Witness outside of your door. Luckily, it’s none of those - it’s Scott! You manage a smile as his tail wags, and step aside, nonverbally inviting him inside. You can do that since he’s not a vampire. He quickly enters, wrapping his muscular arms around you.
“Dude, where have you been?!” He yells out, a large and toothy smile plastered on his face. You can practically hear his tail wagging, and you can definitely hear it hitting into his backside as it wags.
“Studying.” You reply, returning the hug weakly and shuffling back over to the living room, lit only by a singular lamp (setting the aesthetic is an important part of studying, after all). You didn’t realize it until now, but your desk was piled with sticky notes, flashcards, notebooks, highlighters, pens in every color under the sun, and empty energy drink cans.
“Studying? Who even studies anymore?” Scott cocks his head, making that stupid-yet-so-damn-cute face at you like he always did when he was questioning your totally normal decisions.
“I mean, c’mon, when was the last time you got some sun, bro? Your curtains are never open.” Scott says, a small pout on his lips as he looks down at you. You opt to ignore the comment about your currents, and instead huff and walk over to your desk.
“It doesn’t matter when I last left my apartment or opened the windows or anything like that. What’s important right now is that I teach myself everything my professor has been trying to teach us for the past few weeks.” Your ass hits the office chair a bit hard, which sends it backwards. The back of your chair hits Scott’s front, stopping it in its place.
“You haven’t even showed up to the gym recently! You’re not getting any exercise.”
“I’m not interested in exercising. I want to pass these dumbass exams, Scott. Plus, there isn’t an exercise in the world that I actually like.”
“Yes there is, bro, you know that.”
“Great, Scott, then go ahead and tell me because you definitely know me better than I know myself.” You roll your eyes, and the action could probably be heard just off of the nasty tone you dip down into using. Swapping sleep for caffeine isn’t good for your mood, note to self.
“Well, Polly says that sex burns calories, so therefore, it’s exercise.”
You freeze up for a moment, thinking about the implications of the sentence that just slipped out of Scott’s lips. Was he implying that you two-?
Before you can think much longer, one of Scott’s large hands is slowly massaging your chest, and the other is in between your thighs. He may be a bit academically challenged, but at least he wouldn’t be totally lost in an anatomy class. You can’t help but lean into the touch. It’d been ages since you’d gotten any action, even before you started obsessing over getting good grades on your midterms. Scott’s large fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit is enough to melt your brain, getting it off of finding derivatives, even if it was only for a temporary amount of time.
“Shit- don’t stop- please.” You manage to get your voice to work in between pathetic squeaks and whimpers, and Scott simply speeds up in response to your words. You close your eyes, soaking in the much needed feeling of human contact. Two of Scott’s fingers find their way to the hard bud that’s developed under your shirt, gently twisting and pinching it as your moans get louder.
He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and before long, you feel fangs on the tender flesh. Love bites are completely welcome, of course, so you don’t complain. You run your fingers through his hair as he finishes you off, giving you much needed release without so much as undressing you.
“There, bro! Now you’ve got your daily workout in. Your studying is going to be way easier now.” Scott says with a proud smile, turning your office chair around to face him. The way his face drops, you can tell he’s totally marked up your entire neck to the point even a turtleneck wouldn’t be enough to hide it. Oh, shit.
“Well… a workout is exactly what I needed. Thanks, bro.”
“Anytime, dude! Just, uh, make sure you have that color corrector stuff you were talking about the one time.” Scott laughs, turning on his heel and walking to your kitchen. You rub your fingers over the bite marks, and the fact that they’re indented into your skin is enough to tell you that any amount of color corrector wouldn’t be enough anyway. They trail up to just below your ear, so you’ll just have to hide away in your room and study for a few more days until they fade.
You take a deep breath, turning away from Scott as he opens your fridge, and picking up one of your colorful pens for the umpteenth time that evening.
|| When your boyfriend’s back from deployment but you took every opportunity to tease him across the distant, he has a little something in store for you.
CONTAINS: AMAB READER, DOM!GAZ, SUB!READER, BONDAGE, IMPACT PLAY, TICKLING, TEASING, PRAISE, NOT TAKING THE NASTY SUPER SERIOUSLY, DOES NOT CONTAIN AFTERCARE
Word count: 930
Author’s note: I might go back and make a part two for aftercare for this fic but writing a fic daily is kicking my ass alongside school so don’t wait on that 🫡 I hate the name ‘Kyle’ so he’s only referred to by name once in this
The rope around your wrists is all that you can really feel. You know that the silk blindfold that your boyfriend, Gaz, had tied around your eyes is still there. However, you’ve adjusted to the feeling while waiting for him. Your body hovers slightly above the mattress, your wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts in a way that makes you float.
Really, it’s an incredible feeling, but you’re getting a little impatient. The smell of vanilla fills the room and the only thing you can hear is the soft, smooth jazz Gaz had left playing for you while he gathered “a few things.” He’d just got home from a painfully long deployment, so you were going crazy waiting any longer for him.
You’d pulled out the stops to embarrass him while he was away - kissing letters to seal them, spraying his care packages with your perfume, and slipping polaroids of you in your underwear in cards. He’d ripped the same underwear off of you when he’d gotten home. A shame, really, because the red lace “really shows off your figure” according to the culprit himself. He’d bought the panties as a joke gift for your birthday, which was months ago. You were surprised that they lasted this long.
Your mind starts drowning out the record that’s playing, and you finally can catch the sound of footsteps. You bite your lip, hearing footfalls on the wooden flooring outside of your bedroom door.
“Alright, all set.” Gaz’s voice rings out in the room, not too loud but not too soft, either. He truly was perfect. Well, to you, at least. Your cock twitches in response to his voice, and he breathes out a small laugh.
“Somebody’s eager,” he jokes, “guess we’ll just have to take it extra slow today.” The thought of not having his body on yours instantly makes you groan. You buck your hips slightly, fucking the air above you. He was right - you were eager. Rightfully so. His voice sounds closer now, so you assume he’s made his way over to the edge of the bed with whatever he planned on using on you.
Your mind wanders a bit, but you’re snapped away from thoughts as you feel a feather gently tickling your back. You arch your back, trying to get away from the sensation, forgetting for a moment that you’re tied in place. Gaz moves the feather up, adjusting to your arched position.
“That’s a pretty position, sweetheart.” He teases, and you can hear the smile that’s plastered on his face as he speaks. It makes your entire body feel warm, and blood rushes to your cock. You begin twisting side to side, trying to get away from the feather before you start to laugh. The rope doesn’t feel pleasant on your wrists as you wriggle, so you allow yourself to lay still and give in to the sensation. You laugh a bit, a smile stretching over your lips.
“What a gorgeous sound,” Gaz teases as he rubs a hand on your inner thigh, dropping the feather. Soon, the cold feeling of leather replaces his warm hand, giving you goosebumps. Your body ached for his touch, and here he was, denying you more than seconds of it. You whimper quietly before the leather belt is pulled back from your thigh. Your entire body tenses, waiting for the belt to come down hard on your inner thigh. A few chuckles from your boyfriend later, you assume it’s not coming, and your body relaxes. You remain slightly on edge until the belt slaps down on your thigh, making you wince and suck air in through closed teeth.
“God damn it, would you just-”
“Shush. You get what I give you.”
You knew Gaz was right, and you accepted it. Your hips buck again, involuntarily, before Gaz actually wraps his hand around your length. You moan, sounding ever so pathetic to your partner.
Then, nothing. He just keeps his hand there.
“C’mon, fuck into it. You know the drill.” His accent slips through more when he speaks with such vulgar words. You’re happy to follow his request, starting to slowly move your hips. The friction feels extremely good, finally satisfying the needs and cravings you’d had since Gaz hadn’t been home.
“Kyle- fuck-” you manage to squeak out, forcing your hips up and down despite your muscles starting to strain and get sore. You can hear a small chuckle from Gaz’s lips. He’d gotten so used to hearing his nickname while deployed that hearing you moan out his name was a breath of fresh air.
You’re so focused on fucking into his hand that you miss the distinct click of a small vibrator being turned on, and you don’t really process what the whirring noise you’re hearing is until it lands right on the head of your cock. You moan like a desperate animal, feeling your release building up inside of you. It’s hard to focus on anything at this point, your mind feeling like it’s melting, but you can hear Gaz talking you up to your orgasm.
He does quite a good job at it, as well, as you thrust into his hand a few final times before cumming on his hand and your stomach. He pulls his hand away, but keeps the vibrator in place as he gives you a small tap on the stomach with a flat hand. A click later, the vibrator stops, and is pulled away from your sensitive tip.
“Good boy,” Gaz murmurs, moving to untie you. “Let’s get y’ out of these, yea?”
|| Helping your partner relax after she has a long day. (Not explicitly sexual but still involves kink).
CONTAINS: F!DOM, DOM!CYNTHIA, IMPLICATIONS OF PET PLAY (if you squint), SUB!READER, SUBMISSIVE TRAINING, GENDER NEUTRAL READER, NO EXPLICIT NASTY AND THEREFORE NO AFTERCARE, PET NAMES, PRAISE
Word Count: ...556...
Author's note: Unmotivated today so the fic is short :( Tomorrow will be better + be written for an AMAB reader w/ Gaz from COD though!!
What could be said about your Cynthia? A lovely woman, one of the strongest trainers in the entire region, but… extremely indecisive outside of battle. She’d stumble over her words if someone asked what kind of ice cream was her favorite, stutter when you asked her what she wanted for dinner, hell, she’d even draw a blank when people asked for her name sometimes.
There were two places where Cynthia was cool, calm, and calculated, however. Pokémon battles and your bedroom.
Especially the bedroom.
You’re kneeling, three feet away from the foot of the bed. She sits on the edge, her soft eyes looking down at you with a pleased smirk plastered on her lips.
“You’re doing amazing darling. Fold your hands in your lap,” she coos, “for me.” Before you can even think of disobeying, your hands are still and comfortably positioned above your thighs.
“Such a good pet for me.” The words make your cheeks light up, and your eyes flick downwards for just a moment. A moment, however, is long enough for Cynthia to realize you’d lost your focus. Two short snaps and your eyes immediately find hers once again. A neutral expression is on her face for only a second, before once again turning into a pleased smile.
“You know your cues.” Cynthia purrs out, looking proudly down at you like you were a pokémon she had trained all by herself. She uncrosses her legs, standing up from her perch on the bed. Her hips and backside still lean against the edge of the bed, supporting her somewhat tired legs. She’d had a long day as the Champion of Sinnoh, after all. She needed a little relaxation.
You provided this sense of relaxation. While her mind was still working, and she was being disciplined, she still felt so relaxed whenever you two had your time alone with each other.
She drums the fingers of her right hand on her thigh, thinking. Cynthia’s hands had their own ways of being restless, especially when her mind was slowly calculating her next move.
“Well, I think you’ve done very well today, my dear little pet.” Cynthia practically coos, her voice a slight bit higher than usual - just like she was talking to her pokémon. She shifts a bit, letting one leg cross in front of the other while she remains standing. She was posing for you, tilting her chin downwards further as she spoke to you, giving you one final command before you’re sure to get your release.
“Crawl to me.” Cynthia’s soothing voice commands, and with little thought, you simply follow the command. You’re instantly moving towards her, and once you arrive at her feet, you’re instantly rewarded with a pet on the head. She sits back down, patting her thighs. You stand, taking this as permission to sit on her lap.
As you take your own personal throne, you smile a bit yourself. Cynthia has a proud look on her face, her eyes twinkling as she looks at you. She wraps an arm around your waste, beginning to plant kisses along your neck.
Between each kiss, she tells you how good you’ve been for her, her hands wandering all over your body as she lays back on the bed. She cradles you in her arms, laying there.
“You are so good for me.”
CONTAINS: -> DUB-CON <-(Sex in exchange for safety, though verbal consent is given), AFAB READER, P IN V, PUBLIC SEX/VOYEURISM (briefly mentioned), NO AFTERCARE, MONSTER/MUTANT FUCKING, NOT CONSISTENT WITH LORE
1.2k words
As your fingers pound incessantly on the keys of the cipher machine, your back aches. Staying your days bent over a typewriter isn’t good for you, and your body protests against your current lifestyle. It isn’t really your fault, of course, because you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into when you accepted the invitation to Oletus Manor. A colleague from an event you didn’t remember was so kind as to invite you to participate in a game in his lavish mansion, so you couldn’t decline. Thinking back to your happy, almost greedy, past self, makes you cringe. You’d much prefer to be at home in your favorite chair at the end of a long day, humming along to a tune you used to love. Your longing memories have lost so much detail since you’d come to the manor. You couldn’t remember the rhythm to your favorite show tunes or the faces of your favorite people.
It doesn’t matter anymore, though. This is your life, and this is probably where you’ll die. Deep in thought, you finally crack the cipher you were working on decoding. The machine makes a loud popping noise, and a small light above it fizzles to life. The sound makes a shiver run up your spine, despite hearing it countless times before.
You knew you were lucky - hearing that sound so many times meant that you’d survived through so many of these twisted “games.” As you briskly jog to the next cipher, your mind starts to swim with negativity. Why haven’t you died yet? Why did this cruel world let you live, time after time? You’d outlived allies and enemies, and you didn’t let your mind take note of their faces or names. It’s best not to linger, especially at times like these.
You approach the next cipher, cracking your knuckles. It’s too late by the time that you notice the crow flying in circles above you. Shit. You’d been marked by the hunter, a mutated man with a bird mask. You’d taken to calling him the same name that a woman you’d befriended had called him - Nightmare. He truly was one, a beastly creature that defied standards of natural sciences. Bulging muscles, a pen that appeared to be part of his hand, and extremely top heavy… you didn’t think he was human, frankly. But if he wasn’t human, what else would he be?
You’re broken out of your philosophical thinking by your heart starting to beat, breaking away from the machine you’d just arrived at. Your head swivels, looking in every direction to see where that… thing… was approaching from. You huff, breaking into a run as you dash towards the nearest wall. Around the corner, you find one of multiple bronze lockers scattered around the area. They served as perfect hiding spots, though they were definitely a tight squeeze.
You take a deep breath in, swinging the doors open and slipping yourself inside of the locker. You take shallow, quiet breaths as your heart begins to pound. The beastly man was nearby now, and you knew it. Your kneecaps press into each other as you try to stand despite wanting to crawl up into a ball, thinking that Nightmare wouldn’t be able to find you if you were as small as possible. Your heart nearly stops as you hear a crow’s call outside, and you’re certain it does as you hear the clicking of a bird landing on top of the locker. Seconds later, the doors to the locker flings open and you try to scream. Despite your best efforts, not a sound escapes your lips. You stand there, looking pathetic, with your mouth agape. Your eyes look at the purple goggles resting on Nightmare’s face, and your knees buckle again. You fall to your knees, and your voice box decides to start work.
“Please- please don’t hurt me.” You whine out, feeling the hard metal below you. You uncomfortably adjust, putting on the facade of a poor beggar for the monster in front of you.
“I can provide you with any kind of service you desire, I’m a jack of all trades, and in exchange you can let me go.”
Your words are met with a huff, and you’re quickly lifted up. This monster only needed one hand to grab you by the shoulder and lift you to your feet. You know you should be scared, but you can’t help but feel somewhat aroused. You hadn’t so much as touched yourself since you arrived at the manor, unless it was to clean yourself. Your legs quiver a bit, and your cunt throbs at the thought of what taking this monster inside of you would be like.
Clearly, you’d broken your begging facade, as you’re quickly turned around. Your cheek presses against the cold metal, and your pants are haphazardly ripped off. It happens so fast, but you have time to say two words: “Yes please.”
If you were going to die, might as well go out with a bang.
The locker doors close slightly, trapping you between Nightmare and the back of the locker. Your lack of touch must’ve driven you crazy, because you slowly move your ass side to side, welcoming in this monster that’d mercilessly slaughtered at least one of your teammates. You're not disappointed, though, as he suddenly thrusts into you. You almost scream, feeling stretched out. His cock is so thick that it almost hurts to take it, but you ignore the stinging of what’s surely a torn hymen. It felt so good to be so full.
Your pussy quickly adjusts to his size, slowly pushing yourself back into him, moaning desperately as you start fucking yourself on Nightmare’s cock. You were enjoying yourself, despite being scared out of your mind moments before. Claws on your hips signal you to stop, and Nightmare takes full control. His hips slam into you, filling you to the brim with his thick endowment. Moans of pleasure fill up the locker, feeling louder due to the small area.
Your cunt tightens around his length, already prepared to reach your peak with such little stimulation. Your back arches and you shake a bit as you start to cum on his cock, but he doesn’t slow down. Without hesitation, this monster that you should be terrified of continues to slam his hips against your ass, fucking you mercilessly.
Another grunt escapes Nightmare, and his claws dig deep into your hips, causing you to whimper. He cums, and you swear that your stomach started to bloat due to the sheer amount of his seed he’d pumped into you. A few sloppy thrusts later, he pulls out of you, leaving you sore and empty.
You turn around to face him, feeling his cum starting to drip out of you and down your thighs, but he’s already walking away, set on one of your teammates who had been watching. You pull your shirt down, trying your best to cover your ass and bruised hips. With a sigh, you fall back into your cycle, walking over to a cipher machine.
18+, MDNI. READ THE "CONTAINS" SECTION BEFORE READING.
|| During a drunk night, Graves finds something out about you that he wants to change.
CONTAINS: DRINKING/DRUNKENNESS DURING SEX, DOM!GRAVES & SUB!READER, AFAB READER, SQUIRTING/PISS, P IN V, MISSIONARY SEX, ESTABLISHED DOMESTIC RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC AU, CONTAINS SOME AFTERCARE, NO Y/N USE
You’d never been a squirter. During the few sexual encounters you’d had in your life, you wouldn’t squirt if you came at all. This fact never seemed very fascinating to you, but it was a good thing to throw out during drunken games of Truth or Dare with your partner, Phillip. After a few cans of low-quality beer like Pabst or Bud, his blue eyes would gleam mischievously and you would be plunged right into the game that you’d played so many times before. Giggles and beer sloshing would be the only things filling the room as you tried to get your answer out when he asked you questions for truth.
Tonight, however, was different. He didn’t laugh as he asked you the first question of the night, as you asked for truth over dare. His blue eyes twinkled as he spoke to you, and you felt something brewing inside of you. Something… different. This moment was different. Phillip slurs his words a bit as he speaks.
“Do y’... squirt?” He sounds almost shy. That was out of character for Phillip, he was usually brash or at least bold. He speaks in almost a whisper, his sweet voice falling out of his lips with the most hesitation you’d ever seen him speak with. You take a moment to process his words, before your face turns hot and red.
With a smirk on your face, you reply that you’d never been made to. Not a single man out of the handful you’d been with had made you experience that type of bliss before. Your smirking face is soon wiped blank as Phillip stands up before you, hovering over you before he rests his hand just behind your head, grabbing onto the back of the couch. A pool of heat gathers just below your stomach, and your eyelids fall just slightly as you look up at him. The blond hair, blue eyes, and little scar below his eye… no one would be able to deny how attractive Phillip looked at that moment.
“A pretty girl like you… nobody’s ever even tried?” Phillip’s eyes almost pleaded with you as he looked down at you, as if he was begging you to tell him you were just kidding. You weren’t. Before you can take the time to explain any of your sexual endeavors to him, his pointer finger and thumb gently pull your chin up as he slowly begins kissing you. The pace, at first, is soft, but it’s still needy. As the pace increases, however, both Phillip and you get needier and handsier. He quickly pushes you onto your back, laying on the couch, and hooks his leg over yours to pull himself on top of you.
In one swift motion, you find that your undergarments have been pulled off. You squirm under Phillip as his fingertips trace marks on your thighs, your hips bucking slightly up towards him, begging him for penetration. He breaks the kiss to speak, a dull whisper with a hint of a growl.
“Be patient, doll.” He murmurs, leaning slightly to gain more access to your neck and placing quick kisses on it, trailing all the way down to your clavicle. His calloused thumb finally makes its way to your clit, applying gentle pressure while it traces circles over and over again, getting wider and sloppier by the second. Eventually, a fingertip prods at your hole, just barely stretching out your entrance. Your eyes flutter shut, absorbing all the lovely sensations your body has been craving.
They don’t open until the weight of Phillip’s body leaves you, a cold tingle replacing the feeling of warm body pressed against your front. Your eyes open just in time to catch his muscles flexing as he pulls his shirt off, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his well-sculpted body. Light hair trails from his belly button, down to the waist of his pants. As if he caught your eyes tracing downwards, Phillip quickly rids himself of his pants and briefs in one swift motion. His hard length exposes itself to you without shyness, as he adjusts himself back down. His chest hovers above yours, and he takes no time to guide his tip right to your entrance.
In a swift motion, he quickly slips himself in, quickly stretching you out. Phillip slowly pushes his entire cock into your hole, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his size before he slowly starts thrusting. Your own sounds of pleasure fill up the room, but he’s unusually quiet. You look up at him, half-lidded eyes shining, and realize that he’s intensely focused on thrusting in and out of you. He’s observing which spots he can hit to really make you moan and squirm and shake. He grows impatient as he speeds up, thrusting harder and faster into your swollen cunt. You hear him huff in what sounds like frustration, and he adjusts his body.
Then, you feel his large hand come down on your stomach, gently rubbing your smooth flesh before pressing down. He presses hard, down onto his bladder. Suddenly, the few beers you’d consumed along with the pop you’d had with dinner seem to be affecting you. You’d never had to pee worse in your life. The sensation of needing to use the bathroom, the pressure that Phillip was placing on your bladder, and his cock thrusting in and out of you makes you feel so helpless underneath him, but the feeling is gladly welcomed.
“Come on, doll, just ‘cause you never have doesn’t mean y’ can’t.” Phillip says down to you, his voice husky but lacking harshness. His thrusts speed up as he finishes his sentence, and he seems to lose any gentleness he was clinging onto moments before. Your eyes roll back, and you let go all over him and the couch cushions. He fucks into you as you release, reaching his own peak just after your own. You both pant as he pulls out, flipping you over as he slides over and sits on the dry side of the couch.
“There we go… now, how was that, sweetheart?” Phillip purrs into your ear, as he pulls you onto his thigh. Your eyes are closed as you finish riding out your high on his lap, but you can feel kisses being peppered all over your face. A small smile rests on your lips, and the only response you can give him is a nod. He laughs quietly, bouncing his leg a few times.
“You were incredible.” He whispers into your ear, tracing shapes and patterns on your back as you start to fall asleep, exhausted from the drinking and the sex.
