[tteokbin]

dear, my sweet puppy. +*:ꔫ:*﹤

who am i? ☆ — jade! she/they, black, 20 & married to soobin, seungcheol & nanami♡

works? ☆ — genshin, tommorowxtogether

what’s this page like? ☆ — i write whenever i feel like it, which can take months, but im always reblogging or posting tiny drabbles here n there ^^

[tteokbin]

sub!sephiroth anyone…

[karmamira]

Prey predator dynamics with Rabit Hybrid!Lohen x Wolf Hybrid!Reader... spice it up a lil more with even more power imbalance by making Reader his captin...

Warning(s): Preydator Dynamics (duh), Segguestive, Degradation (Giving), Mutual Drugging (Kinda? Lohen uses aphrodisiac on both you and himself), Blood (Not much but there's a Fighting Scene and a little something after), Lohen is a masochistic freak but that's nothing new, That's all I think.

Lohen loves the thrill of the chase. Finds so much ecstasy in it that nothing else can make him feel more alive. Craves it like a drowning man would crave oxygen.

He takes great joy in shaking that tiny puff of furr on the end of his tail bone at you teasingly before setting off. Your not-so-playful warning of "I'm coming!" as you follow soon after making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight, and sending delightful shivers of rotten want down his spine.

You call it strategic retreat training. Both of you know that it is anything but. Not with the clear intent behind your purposefully loud stomping as you approach his sprinting form.

The adrenaline races through Lohen's body. The exhilaration of getting hunted down by his lovely partner sending blood to his already throbbing groin as his breath becomes heavier.

Lohen hears you before he sees you, poisoned dagger in hand as he parries your surprise attack with the precision of someone who's been subjected to it more than once. Your blades clash violently, locking you in place long enough for you to get a good look at the crazed smile placed on his terribly flushed face.

"Getting out the sharp stuff already?" Amused, you tilt your head slightly, ears pin straight as you ask your question before sweeping a leg under him to put an end to your ongoing standstill. "Looks like you aren't underestimating old little me after all."

The knight dodges by jumping away, but instantly returns your kick with one of his own. He follows it up with a sweep of his knife, aggressive and relentless in his attempt to gain the upper hand by overwhelming you into submission.

"Wouldn't even dream of it, captin." He purrs, smile crooked in his frenzy and voice offensively sweet in a way that you know damn well is nowhere near being loving.

You don't fall for his weak taunt, gracefully weaving through both his verbal and —weirdly clumsy— physical baits while allowing the back and forth to continue a while longer for the sake of getting some actual practice done.

The spar doesn't last as long as you'd hoped it would, however, as one slash from the vice captin's dagger was more than enough to introduce your body to a weird feeling of hot dizziness. The poison's influence is your guess.

Deciding that game time is over for the bastard, you manage to make him drop his weapon swiftly before the drug can take any further effect on you. Immediately using his moment of distraction to roughly pin him down to the ground. One hand holding his wrists on top of his head as the other reaches out to bend one of his legs over his stomach, making him whine pathetically as his pants tighten around his aching cock.

"Nghh." His ears perk up giddily, chest rising and falling with each one of his frantic breaths as he looks up at you with wide, lovesick eyes. Face blood red from how unnaturally heavy his blush is.

"What. Exactly did you put on your weapon, Lohen?" You bare your teeth at him, the abnormal hotness burning your body feeling more present as it pools between your tired legs. Your tail stands straight in alarm.

"Fuck"

He giggles in that absent-minded, almost cute way that he does whenever you toy with him after a long day at work. This deranged lunatic has drugged himself too, you realize. "Take a guess, darlin—Ngh-Ah<3"

Lohen's words gets intrrupted by a pretty moan when you squeeze his injured thigh, digging your nails into the bleeding wound as his eyes up from the pleasure and pain.

"Such a naughty little thing, aren't you?" You press your knee against his covered crouch, your hand letting go of his thigh to tug on the choker wrapped tightly around his pretty neck instead. "Couldn't even be patient enough for us to return home." His long ears twitch erratically as breathing becomes a little harder. "Disgusting freak."

He chokes on his own breath as you take your knee from him, taking with it any semblance of pleasure he might have had. "I was so... hah... close." He whines, thighs twitching weakly at the lost friction.

"And you will be soon again, pretty. Over and over until I teach you a good lesson about patience, got that?"

[jumpscaresoutoftheblue]

OH MY FUCKING GAWD BRUH

[tteokbin]

Lohen genshin impact submissive masochist yandere x reader no borax no glue

[mysicklove]

sometimes i reread some of my posts from 2023 and i get shocked at how freaky i used to be

[tteokbin]

Lohen making my obsession with masochistic men come back with full force, gotta love it

(creds to akhronly on twt)

[tonycries]

Walk Em Like a Dog - C.K.

Synopsis. Name: Choso Kamo. Age: 23 Hybrid type: Canis lupus familiaris AKA puppyboy. Diagnosis: He’s in rut, and who does he need? His pretty owner—you!

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, dog hybrid!Choso, hybrids AU, puppyboy!Choso, RÚTS, pheromones, sheIters, companionship programs, hybrid parks, COLLARS, Ieashes, he Iikes it (a Iot), tail wagging, possessive Choso, use of ‘mistress’, use of ‘ma’am’, PÚSSYDRÚNK Choso, first tímes (Choso), oraI (f + brief m), spítting, teaching, manhandIing, he’s just so DESPERATE to pIease you, p worship, pánty-steaIing, stepping on him, finishing early (him), stamina, fíngering, begging, asking for permission, overstímuIation, p sniffing, he’s GONE, Choso with tattoos, ríding him stupid, he’s BlG, making it fit, feeIing for it, cervíx smoochin, BIG stretches, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, miIking him, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, mátes, bonding bites, KNOTS, implied marathons, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 14.4k

A/N. Mwahahah you babygirls asked so daddy provides…

The forums online told you there was nothing to worry about.

Each with their smooth, structured message boards and those advertisements for the country’s best hybrid supplements (‘Buy your companion these chew-safe sweaters NOW!’); and their respective hybrid owners each with queries quite similar to your own. 

“Hybrid has started taking my clothes [URGENT]!”

“Is my hybrid sick? Clothes disappearing, feverish, etc…”

“How do your hybrids let you know if they aren’t feeling good?”

To the symptoms that most-closely aligned with your own canine hybrid’s, the most popular conclusion by the panel of amateurs was that they were likely feeling the effects of the changing seasons. Hybrids, particularly purebreds, were more susceptible to heat and weather than humans like yourself. 

And so you’d forgone the call to your hybrid specialist, Dr. Shoko, for now—in favor of helping Choso keep cool as much as possible, and supporting him through these motions. 

Until today: when you’re folding your laundry and realizing that half your underwear drawer was missing.

As you’re opening up the rickety wooden drawer even further, it clatters mockingly up at you. At your flabbergasted expression—you were sure it’d been at least a third more full the last time you opened it up. At the way you’re bending down and peering in, as if expecting to see the rest of your panties and bras somehow hidden away inside.

Nothing.

You shut the drawer and straighten up silently.

The rest of your laundry sits idly at the foot of your bed, though the last thing on your mind was attempting to finish your folding. You don’t think you could’ve succeeded in doing so even if you tried. 

Because you already know who did this.

Hell- there was only one other person living in your snug Tokyo apartment. It would be impossible not to be him.

Your roommate of five months.

Your hybrid.

The ever-nervous, ever-sweet, ever-handsome Choso Kamo.

You remember the day you got him as if it was yesterday: that phone call that changed everything. The massive hybrid shelter in your neighborhood had been holding an adoption program; in which humans could sign up to be caretakers and companions for hybrids freed from large-scale mills and facilities that raced to churn out the most purebred hybrids. All shapes and species—from the deep underbelly of having a society where humans and hybrids co-existed. 

Mostly temporarily, of course - until the hybrids chose to pursue jobs, education, and whatever else it is that they wanted to do. 

Tokyo JSH (Jujutsu Shelter for Hybrids) wasn’t just a simple rescue operation; but their territories spanned far and wide from medical facilities, to rehabilitation, to temporary homes, to this current matching program that let the public get a more hands-on method to volunteer. Led by Ieri Shoko - a caracal hybrid herself - it was one of the most famed for their sheer number of hybrids taken in and reassimilated into society. You yourself had volunteered for JSH on a few occasions. 

And having a soft spot for hybrids, you barely thought twice before signing up for this new program. 

The registration process had been long and tedious - though you didn’t blame them. Columns upon columns of forms to fill out. Towers upon towers of medical checks for you yourself. They investigated your apartment, they investigated your job, they investigated your personality and ability to house a troubled hybrid temporarily—until they could get back on their feet.

And even longer than the registration process had been the waiting process. 

It’d been months- almost a year before you heard back from the shelter - and by then, you’d begun to think that perhaps they hadn’t found you suitable after all. But then…then it’d happened.

Then you’d been rung by none other than Dr. Ieri Shoko herself. 

The fuzzy-eared doctor had asked you to come into the shelter the very next day, if you were still up to it- and of course, you were up to it!

Spiffed and spruced. Smoothing down your best outfit - for you did want to give a good first impression - you were outside the doors to Tokyo JSH before they’d even been unlocked. The teenage employee in charge of opening those double doors had shot you a strange look as you waited patiently for them, but that didn’t matter—you were about to meet your newest roommate. 

Of course, you were aware that it wouldn’t be all sunshine and daisies and- and whatever else the saturated infomercial playing on loop inside the shelter lobby showed. But at the very least, you hoped by the end of this, you’d be making a lifelong friend out of this - to help someone without expecting anything back…if not a friend then you hoped you’d at least be making a change. And that’s why you were here.

Dr. Shoko had entered the shelter not too long after the infomercial’s 50th loop. 

She seemed somewhat surprised to see you here so early - no doubt the first volunteer she was seeing for the day - though her effortlessly composed features didn’t betray a thing. You, however, were feeling a churning amalgamation of nervousness and excitement that you’re sure showed. 

Though she was kind enough not to point it out, “You’re here early.” And with that, you were being led to the separate patients’ ward.

The air was thick with saline and tension—and the acrid smell of adrenaline. Bed after bed. Each one had their white curtains drawn, and out of respect you didn’t dare peek inside - instead you kept your eyes fixed firmly on where you were going.

So much so that once Shoko stopped in her tracks, you almost bumped into her back. 

Hastily, you looked up to find that…this, too, was a bed obscured by thick white curtains. Only, that was where the similarities between this hybrid and the others stopped: lost in your whirlwind of thoughts, you hadn’t realized that Shoko had led you to the sole bed at the end of the hallway - the one at least twenty-five meters away from all the other hybrid patients. 

Solitary. Silent—no hums or growls that emanated from beyond the opaque partitions. 

Sectioned off, almost. 

It made you wonder just what sort of hybrid - you looked at the chart hung up at the foot of the bed - Choso Kamo would be. 

According to the other notes on the chart, they were a dog hybrid like most of the others here—Canis lupus familiaris. And to be more specific, Choso was said to be a Great Dane. 

And though you had better manners than to engross yourself in someone else’s medical chart, you couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to read even further. Quickly finding out other such details like his gender, his age, his height (6’4 was to be expected as a Great Dane hybrid…but nonetheless absolutely massive), and even his rescue from-

“An underground fighting ring.” Shoko told you in a measured tone, and you’d picked up on the fact that she didn’t want to disturb the hybrid inside those curtains. “It’s not often that we’re able to rescue hybrids from fighting rings- alive, that is. Though they remain our toughest problem.”

Your mouth felt parched, “I…I see.”

“This hybrid was lucky—he was said to be their top fighter. But no one lasts long in an underground fighting ring.” She looked at you solemnly, “No one. And before we proceed, I need you to understand what you’re getting yourself into. I know how much you love helping hybrids - I’ve seen you ‘round here almost every week - but I need you to understand that Choso might not be the easiest companion.”

You nodded seriously.

“It’ll take him some time- and on some occasions he might even lash out.” Shoko gestured to the other beds - namely the distance between them. “We’ve had to separate him from the other hybrids as well.”

You looked from them and back, “But surely he’s not dangerous-”

“No.” She shook her head, “He’s hurt. He’s powerful. But most of all, he’s highly intelligent.” Her ears twitch, and there’s a small quirk at the edge of her painted lips, as though a smile—“All he needs is some love and care, and someone kind enough to wait for him…which is exactly why I chose you.”

And how could you not help Choso Kamo after that?

So she’d peeled back the curtains and oh…and inside had been perhaps one of the largest hybrids you’ve ever seen. One of the most magnificent. 

Even for a purebred, Choso’s drooping ears were covered in the darkest, glossiest coating of chestnut brown. They’d perked up even before you’d entered - no doubt hearing every single nervous breath you were trying to regulate - and they stayed on alert even as he caught sight of you. His sharp canines made an appearance. His powerful tail whipped. 

And yet, even with his features twisted into something unwelcoming, you found the wind knocked out of you at the utter beauty of his features.

They were prominent and pretty. As though carved by the most delicate of hands: those slightly downturned eyes of his, the pertness of his mouth, those high cheekbones. 

There was a glint of something unforgiving in the depths of his chocolate irises, however, as though weathered through the years. Something honed. 

Sitting up on his bed, his gaze narrowed as you entered his space- and a slightly feral growl had left Choso’s lips. His toned body was naked beneath the clinical blankets, and he gripped them as if he was ready to fling them off and attack-

You slowly took a step backwards - something other than fear. You understood how it felt to want to be alone for some time.

And sitting on the empty bed beside him, you waited in silence as he realized you weren’t here to attack—and leaned back into his crisp mattress. Though he still looked slightly wary of you, you didn’t hesitate before introducing yourself and launching into a conversation - rather one-sided at the time, but a conversation nonetheless. 

Shoko had smiled and left the two of you alone for now. Meanwhile you spoke of your day, your job, the weather outside and- did he like the food here? What were his favorite foods? 

Despite the fact that Choso didn’t answer a single one of your gentle questions, you weren’t deterred. And it wasn’t long before you’d looked up at the clock on the end of the hallway—and realized that it was nearly past visiting hours. Choso himself had seemingly come to the same conclusion, as he watched your eyes drift back to him.

And you’d only had one more question left for him.

“Do you want to come with me?”

And he’d given you a single, short answer—in a deep baritone that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in years. “Yes.”

From then on it’d been a short few hours of paperwork - much shorter than your initial registration - to get Choso officially situated in your apartments. In a week’s time he was discharged from JSH and gathering his sparse belongings (nothing but a broken collar) to move in with you in your Tokyo nook.

Your first outing together had been to buy him all sorts of new clothes and necessities and a collar - something that you didn’t think Choso would like. But Shoko had recommended you get one, just in case.

And so there had been a pretty, pink-colored collar with your name on it—fitted to Choso’s size—jostling around at the bottom of your shopping bags as you dragged the Great Dane hybrid from store to specialized hybrid store. 

The first day had been a little awkward…you introduced Choso to the guest’s bedroom that was now all his - and he’d locked himself in there for about two days. Only coming out once he’d completely and fully immersed himself inside, once he’d finally gotten used to the sense of a place—a place that was his own. 

Following had been a blurred few weeks of attempting to get used to one another in this limited space. Choso himself wasn’t all that bad of a roommate, to be honest - he’d spoken to you in bits and pieces whenever he felt like it, gathering up after himself, and letting you know whenever he liked your cooking. And you scoured for these interactions like a man in search of an oasis in the desert, after prolonged summer after summer, after prolonged heatwave after heatwave.

You weren’t even sure why you were drawn to him so much- sure, Choso Kamo was one attractive being. Especially when he was walking around the apartment after a shower, in nothing but a slightly-dampened towel…

But more than that—he was just so damn sweet.

You came to understand that the more you found out about him. 

It started off small: the charred attempt at preparing breakfast for you in the second week he was here, the shy way he’d tug at your collar - despite being such an intimidating size - whenever he encountered another dog hybrid in public. He followed you around everywhere—everywhere. He waited right outside the door for you whenever you went to work.

And come to find that…Choso wasn’t the strong, seethingly silent type you’d initially assumed at all. He was smart. He was funny. He was such a sweetheart.

Soon enough, once he’d opened up to you in the coming months, you’d come to find that Choso actually loved sappy romance movies (and he cried at the end every time), Choso loved making little treats for you whenever you were down, Choso loved cuddlin’ up to after a long day at work. Perhaps it was unconditionally true what they say about Great Danes being ‘gentle giants’ - because Choso Kamo was the gentlest giant of them all. 

And after five months, the two of you were what you could honestly consider good rommates—good friends, actually. Though the housing situation was meant to be temporary until the hybrid was able to get a place of their own - and/ or wanted to - you could honestly see yourself living with Choso for the rest of time. 

Who would have thought?

Though the collar still sat collecting on one of your cabinets. You hadn’t brought it up, and Choso - despite eying it from time to time - hadn’t asked, either. 

Everything had been perfect—that is, until about a few weeks ago when your clothes had started disappearing.

It started off with a jacket here, a bracelet there, and then something you couldn’t ignore - an ugly Christmas sweater from the last holidays (that you honestly weren’t upset to see go). And you could’ve let it slide had it been limited to these souvenirs that you wouldn’t mind never having to think of ever again. 

But your underwear? 

Not only was it your underwear, but it was about half your entire drawer? Perhaps even more so? All those lacy black numbers n’ those matching sets, all those expensive lingerie you’d treated yourself to and even a few of those grandma panties with holes in them- you couldn’t help but wonder just what your hybrid needed these for…

Nesting wasn’t as common for dog hybrids, right? Besides, Choso had a perfectly comfortable bed that you knew he loved and adored. 

To be honest, there was one person in the forums who’d suggested that perhaps those aforementioned hybrids were veering into ruts and heats- though, they’d gotten downvoted to hell.

And though you’d considered the possibility…that certainly wasn’t the case this time, right?

You’d read up on the matter prior to meeting Choso, and you knew that that particular period occurred every two to three months for a hybrid. But in the five months since getting to know him, and since worming your way into his good graces, Choso had never shown any indication of a rut. 

Not even the slightest glimpse of it.

And that was certainly alright - some hybrids simply didn’t have certain proclivities, or perhaps their pheromones didn’t overtake them as such. But your question remained: if Choso hadn’t started his rut then, why would it start now? There must be another explanation, surely. 

And so you’re still mulling over the possibilities as you’re trudging your way to him- knock-knock-knocking on the door to his bedroom. Choso opens the door instantly - as he always did when it came to you - and you’re somewhat taken aback at the sudden…shirtlessness that you’re bestowed with.

Clearly fresh out of the shower.

With his long hair untied, wet tips reaching his broad shoulders- with glistening droplets of water slipping down his hairline and down the middle of his chest. With a tattooed No. 1 on the sculptured ridges of his right v-line. With his toned chest slightly panting—at the sight of you.

Choso’s flushed lips part-

“Cho…” At the sound of your voice uttering his cute nickname, Choso’s long tail immediately starts wagging. And you’re finding it hard to keep the sternness in  your voice, “I didn’t disturb you, did I? I just wanted to ask whether you wouldn’t happen to know where my erm- underwear disappeared, would you?”

And at that- his eyes go slightly wide. “U-underwear?”

And you’d almost have been fooled by the innocent blush that spread across his cheeks…if it wasn’t so damning, that is. “Yes. Underwear, Cho. Where is it?”

“And you’re asking me—?” He pleads.

“My panties didn’t just grow legs and walk, Choso.” You cross your arms with a sigh, “They’re not magical.”

“…I think you’re magical.”

Somewhat catching you off-guard—“You can’t just-” And you feel something flip at the pit of your stomach, “Don’t think you’re going to wiggle your way out of this, okay? I need my underwear back before tomorrow- unless you want me to go to work pantyless-”

His canines slip out with a growl, muscles rippling as he shivers. “Never.”

“Then you better- return them.” You’re wagging your finger strictly at him, to which he lets a sheepish smile escape.

He places a hand on the top of the doorway - a gesture of nervousness, surely. “Y-yes, ma’am.” That little nickname you’d told him time and time again not to use—why so formal? But you can’t help but notice the bulge of his swole muscles, still dappled in the dampness of the shower. 

And to hide the flip in your stomach - again - you’re sighing and looking away from the vision of Choso before you. 

You could still hear the fervent wagging of his tail.

“Wanna go out for a wal-”

“Yes.”

.

.

.

“Okay- ready, Cho?” Slipping your shoes on, you turn towards the hybrid that stood at the edge of the threshold.

Choso was never the type to be leashed whenever the two of you went on walks - you suppose that came with his seeming distaste for the collar. He’d meander along beside you, and though you’d been nervous about losing him the first few times, Choso had proved himself to be loyal and steadfast by your side. Never wandering off too far, even when he was exploring in the hybrid park.

And right now—he was shuffling shyly. “Y-yes…”

You frown, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-” He replies hastily, putting on his own shoes and getting ready to follow you out the door. But even so…his eyes drift beyond the threshold. “It’s just…”

“Hey…” You’re lowering your voice- and the tension bleeds out of his shoulders as you reach out and gently hold onto his arm. “You can tell me anything, y’know?”

And that’s what makes him finally muster up the courage- “I want to put on the collar, ma’am.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

And who were you to say no to that?

And it feels as if you’re walking on air as you go up to the cabinet and pull those glass doors open - taking out that pretty, pink collar you’d bought specifically for him. Slightly dust-bitten. Yet its heart-shaped pendant glimmers in the sunlight, your name etched onto there—Choso dons that name proudly as you’re fastening it onto his pale neck.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, alright?” Its metal buckle hisses coldly against his nearly-feverish skin: was he heating up? 

That prominent Adam’s apple of his bobs- “Mhm…”

Before long, the two of you find yourselves walking down the summery pavement; it was a beautiful day and the balmy breeze kisses your cheeks. Clouds frothing. Birds twittering. You’re humming at the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin, contrasted by the unfamiliar coldness of that looped handle of the leash in your hands.

The thin, chain-linked length sways just a little—leading up, up, up to the collar wrapped around Choso’s throat. It lets off a metallic sound that melds with the bustling noises drifting from your local hybrid park - you hadn’t had Choso for long before you found out about this place.

And ever since about your second or so week with him, you’d been going there almost daily. With Choso being so naturally shy, it was a good place for him to make friends and interact with someone that wasn’t just you—and bit by bit, you’d gotten the privilege of seeing him open up. Hell, he even had a few regular friends there. And by now, he looked forward to the park just as much as you did- except…today, Choso was pulling back a bit.

Not as though he wanted to leave, but as though he always wanted to be half a step behind. No matter how much you slowed down your own pace for him.

“C’mon, Cho.” You’re gently pulling on the grip of his leash, and yet it doesn’t give away anything. “We’re a little late, your friends will be leaving soon.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Choso?” Your fist tightens around the leash.

He doesn’t budge a single inch—in fact, he seems to slow down even further.

“Choso, come on-”

And then he’s letting out the softest, sweetest sound that makes you stop directly in your tracks- “N-ngh—” Something so unexpected. That you can only turn around and stare at him.

Choso fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, eyes downturned- and yet, you’d be able to make out that cute blush of his anywhere.

You attempt to take a peek at his expression, “Something wrong? D’you wanna go home, Cho?”

He shakes his head. “N-no…” And the fidgeting with that metallic nub grows even faster, Choso’s feet shuffling on the smooth, grey sidewalk. “It’s just…keep going at your own pace, ma’am.”

“My own pace? But isn’t that a little too fast for you today?” You probe.

And he nods, “Yes…” Barely even a whisper, “Keep doing that- k-keep pulling on my leash.”

Electricity zaps down your spine at his tone- oh, his tone. Currents of it leaving your mind a little fuzzy, and curdling somewhere between…

Choso raises his nose up into the air to sniff— with his honed senses, and you couldn’t start tugging on his leash fast enough. “A-alright then.” You weren’t sure to exactly what degree his senses were honed, but you didn’t doubt he could smell even the wetness of your cunt - it’s exactly why you’d tampered down proddin’ away at yourself with your vibrator after he’d moved in. 

And then he stalls so you pull once more- 

“Fuck-”

And you look towards him instantly, “Shit- I’m sorry. Did I pull too hard, Cho?”

“No-” He shakes his head immediately, “No, not at all.”

The tighter it was, the better.

The air feels more humid than it had once been—so much thicker. It’s enough that you feel like you can finally breathe only once you catch sight of the hybrid park; those swooping slides and those green, open spaces. Slides and tunnels. Stores and pathways.

You’re reaching up to unclip his leash, and Choso lets out a sheepish smile as he stops you. “I-I want to keep the collar on, is that okay?”

You’re stunned. “That’s perfectly alright, Cho.” And so you watch his tall figure stalk towards his usual group of companions, your name sparkling on the pendant between his collarbones. Perhaps you should ask him about this sudden change, but…you decide not to push it for now - perhaps it was still the weather that still had him all out of sorts. 

Deciding that you’d join him in playing just a little later - at least when your knees weren’t feeling as weak as they do right now - you sit down on one of the benches overlooking the park. It makes you smile to see Choso laugh and talk with his hybrid friends—such a stark difference from how he’d been when you first met him.

You were proud of him.

“Hey, Choso’s wearing a collar today?” A sudden voice makes you look up—and who else would it be but the ever-charming Kusakabe? You’d met the older man on your first visit to the hybrid park - and you were sure you’d been such a sight: awkward and standing by the edge of the park, a towering unleashed hybrid at your side, both of you unsure what to do. 

He’d been the one to reach out to you first- asking you whether you wanted to join him and his smaller, more welcoming canine hybrid. That had been the first time that you’d seen Choso interact with another hybrid without bearing his fangs. 

As a much more experienced hybrid owner than you, you admit that he’d helped you smoothen your journey as a new companion—vastly. All the best spots to eat here. All the hybrids to be steered clear of due to their aggressiveness. So it was practically routine to run into the dark-haired man during your days at the park, and so you flash him an easy smile. “He is, isn’t he? New development.”

“Pink. Looks good on him.” Kusakabe nods approvingly, arms crossed. “Everyday he surprises me.”

“Right?” And with a chuckle, you’re holding up the slender chainlink leash. “Though if he chooses to continue then I might just have to get something stronger…”

“Oh, I know just the place-” And Kusakabe sits down right next to you on the bench - thigh against thigh, arm against arm. You’re unable to say anything about anyone’s personal space before he’s pulling his phone out and gesturing for you to lean in—“There’s this shop downtown in Shinjuku I go to- the best discounts. It’s right beside the convenience store and the-”

And as soon as you blink, Kusakabe is ripped from his seat next to you.

And before you crouches Choso.

Though not as you know him. Not at all.

Choso bears his piercing canines and lets out a rumbling growl; muscles of his back shifting, body panting, claws protruding—and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew it was contorted into something of utter murder. And you weren’t sure whether this was just your imagination due to the tension of the incident…but did he seem somewhat…bigger? Veins popping. Back hulking. There was almost something…animalistic about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on- other than the fact that he was scarin’ off the others around you like a guard dog. He lets out another rumble of gnarled words and it’s enough to make every hair on your body raise.

“Stay away.” It’s about all you can make out.

You stand immediately, heart pounding. “Ch-Cho?” You reach towards him.

“Stay away.” 

Was that really him?

He repeats.

And then he repeats again.

And he repeats and he repeats- as if crazed. Kusakabe pales and wastes no time creating some much-needed distance between himself and the hybrid.

He bumps into his own cowering hybrid.

“Choso-”

“Stay away from my mat-” 

“Choso- enough.” And you finally manage to pull him back - he doesn’t even seem to register you beside him for a brief few seconds. Not until you force him to just fucking look at you—

And then - only then - do his claws retract, and the sharpness in his eyes fades just a little bit—turning into their usual chocolate-caramel brown once he turns them towards you. You look into his dilated peripherals and wonder whether he was really the same hybrid as just a few seconds before. 

Choso Kamo could easily overpower you, but he’s pulled by your arms easily. 

As you look around, you’re realizing that almost everyone in this vicinity of the park was staring at you. The hybrids nearby had their ears lowered. The owners were tugging on leashes of those same hybrids that refused to move- seconds away from danger and they were too afraid to move. Kusakabe himself was blindly reaching for his own companion. Hell, even the birds seemed to have stopped fluttering about—as though summer itself had been paused for this sudden feral coldness of your sweet Choso. You can’t help but let a shiver run through you as you imagine just what might have happened if you weren’t there to stop him. 

Choso would have torn that man to shreds. 

Without thinking twice, you loop a finger underneath his collar and pull him away- not even bothering with the leash anymore. Fuck…his skin was just feverish. “C’mon.” 

And for the first few tugs, Choso doesn’t respond—doesn’t dare to tear his eyes away from the trembling Kusakabe. But then you’re saying his name once more, “Choso.” He jolts as though hit with a thousand volts of electricity- and you’re quickly pulling him out of the park. Not even a second glance at the mess you’ve left behind, “We’re going home.”

He quietly responds from beside you, “Yes ma’am.” In a voice so heated. 

Collar tight on his neck.

Tight. Tight all throughout your speedy walk back home—even afterwards. And once you’re attempting to reach up and free him of that restraint- Choso flinches away from your hands faster than light. 

Starin’ straight at you with his dazed, darkened brown eyes he holds the buckled lock of the collar and crushes it with his bare hands.

Crushes it so that it cannot be removed.

.

.

.

“I don’t know, Shoko….” Nervously gnawin’ on your lower lip, you pace the hallway outside Choso’s room. Her response comes out as languid and reassuring as ever- but you can’t help but cast a concerned look at the closed door. Locked. “He’s just never acted like this—”

“Aggressive?” Comes her question, “Why, it might just be because of the increasing temperatures that hybrids-”

“No, not just being aggressive.” You struggle to articulate, “It’s just he’s being so…”

Because it hadn’t been just the collar incident after you’d gotten home from the park. Almost immediately afterwards, Choso had rounded the room a few times- alert. Alarmed. For a second there, you almost thought he’d caught onto a whiff of something else entirely—before he’d grabbed one of the throw pillows on your couch and rubbed his swollen scent glands down its puffed surface. 

Scenting.

Scenting was the act of coating an object, hybrid, or person in the pheromones of a hybrid; it’s said that they often feel more comfortable in a space if it reminds them of their own scent.

But to this extent?

You’d gotten used to Choso scenting the apartment during the first week of your cohabitating, but right now it was as if he was attempting to erase every single shred of evidence that anyone else had ever been inside this apartment. 

No one but him. No one but you.

That laptop charger that your coworker had touched last week? He’s gliding the smooth surface down the side of his throat, and replacing that scent instantly. That cushion your friends had sat on the last time they visited? That hair tie you’d washed with a different shampoo than your usual? Even the damn jacket that Kusakabe had brushed up against on the park-

That one, in particular, Choso was ripping away the scent most fervently. 

Until the apartment was saturated with his soft, sweetened vanilla scent. 

It smelled like a bakery here. 

Concerned, you’d attempted to then coax Choso into playtime- he refused. The first time he’d ever refused to spend quality time with you—not even when you’d pulled out his favorite axolotl toy. Thereafter he’d been draped across your living room couch for hours on end, panting, sickly; the only times he’d moved was to disappear into the bathroom every fifteen minutes. And each time he came out more and more feverish than before - flushed down to his chest, trembling just a little. Hands pressed between his thighs. What did that…

When you’d finally insisted that perhaps the two of you go see a doctor, he’d disappeared into his bedroom and refused to come out.

Not even when you’d knocked.

Not even when you’d called for dinner.

And you were two steps away from begging- but instead you’re regurgitating your woes to the ever-trustworthy Dr. Ieri Shoko. 

She listens to your day silently.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry…” Of course, the only thing she was doing by being so evasive was making you worry. “-and this is just a suggestion, of course-”

“Anything.” You’re pleading, “Just- anything that’ll make him feel better.”

She hums, and even through the phone it sounds knowing. “Have you ever considered that…” Somewhere in the distance, your hallway clock tick-tick-ticks away—and it feels as though your stomach flips just in time with its clanging announcement of the hour. “-perhaps Choso might be in rut?”

Breathless, “What?”

You hear the flipping of pages - presumably notes - from her side of the call. “It seems that in our care, Choso Kamo was yet to experience a rut. And from what little information we were able to gather from his previous…accomodation, the same can be said for there.”

“I thought Choso couldn’t get ruts?” It’s surprising that your voice manages to be so steady. 

“Perhaps so.” Shoko answers, “But that is merely a medical assumption.”

Your brows furrow, “W-what are you saying?”

And she sounds as sage as ever, “What I’m saying is that there is no evidence to suggest that Choso can experience a rut-” You’re just about to open your mouth in agreement. “-however, there is no experience to suggest the contrary, either.” More flipping pages—“For all we know, the lack of a rut period for this hybrid could be a result of the high-pressure environment that he’d been placed in since his mature years. We’ve certainly seen as much- though, I never did think that this would be such a case.”

And you just about can’t believe what you’re hearing—“Wait- so you’re saying that Choso can experience a rut…all because he’s finally feeling comfortable?”

“Safe, is the more likely option.” She corrects, “Though comfortable isn’t incorrect, either. As well as open, happy, attracted-”

You reel- “Attracted? To who—?”

There’s a slight pause.

“I might be no optometrist-” She deadpans, “-but rest assured that I’m not blind.”

A sudden rush of something in your veins—“A-and what can I do to help him through this…rut?”

“At this stage? Find him a mate.” Shoko answers, and there’s shuffling from the other end of the line. “Or be his mate.”

You’re speechless.

“Good luck!”

A tone rings. The call is over.

And you’re left alone in your Tokyo apartment- alone with the massive puppyboy that was in the throes of his rut. 

The door feels taller - more intimidating - than you remember it being when it’d been nothing but an empty guest’s room. But now it had meaning to it…it had someone inside that you cared about. Cared about to an extent that perhaps you never thought you would—fuck. Before you know it, you’d been standing motionless outside Choso’s doorway for a few minutes.

And you’re sure he can smell your heady wetness from inside.

And once you’re jolting back to your senses, you realize that your legs had lugged you as clooooose to it as you can go - had already put a hand on the doorknob that you don’t remember putting there. 

You twist it open.

And the wave of pheromones that hits you is enough to bring you to your knees. 

The flurry of vanilla sweetness, of the sunshine of early morning, of the warmth that comes from days spent at the beach—it all envelopes you like a whirlwind set to devour you whole. First it’s taking presence in your lungs, then your brains, then your cunt. Quite literally- you grasp onto the wooden beam of the doorway in an attempt not to embarrass yourself.

But you don’t think that Choso was in the presence of mind to care.

You don’t think he even notices you enter at first.

He’s buck-naked on top of his bed. All twisted up in slightly-dampened sheets, he looked like a Renaissance painting; with his meaty thighs spread wiiiiiiide and his angry red cock throbbing between his legs, with his entire body covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, with his tail not even wagging anymore, with his pinkish mouth parted and letting out the prettiest whine after whine as he fucks up into his fist.

Up and up.

Again and again.

He still has his collar on him.

Every muscle in his nearly-Herculean body twitching as he does so. Abs tensing. Biceps bulging—

Dribbles of sap explode from his tip like a damn fountain- leaving his hand glistening in layers of sticky glue-like substance. Shaft pulsing in the air. Heavy balls twitching once-twice- If it isn’t just the filthiest sight you’ve ever seen…he cums. 

With the most pornographic cry of your name falling from his lips. 

And from the puddle right below those ruttin’ hips of his, you wonder just how many times he’s cum to the thought of you before.

Choso gliiiiides his palm down his aching shaft to drag out his high. Again and again.

Pump after pump.

And it’s only once those sticky white droplets of seed have petered out that he’s finally attempting to crack his eyes open. Long lines of tears glimmer down his cheeks, and you think he just looks so pretty whimperin’ out your name as the last few ropes of his cum empty out of his cock. Letting his sweaty head slump back against the pillows, Choso’s chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath before—

Oh- and how is he supposed to catch his breath when you’re standing there - so beautiful and fuckable - in front of him? Jaw dropped. 

Unbeknownst to himself, Choso’s tail starts wagging.

Unbeknownst to you, your thighs are pressing together. 

And he lifts his sensitive nose in the air once more taking—one sniff, two sniff. Like cherries. It’s all he needs to register in that hazed brain of his that you’re completely and utterly soaked through those panties you weren’t wearing. 

He wasn’t exactly doing anything lewd, but you think you’ve never felt more exposed.

Pulling down the hemline of your short, short skirt, you gasp- “Ch-Choso.”

And he flinches.

As if you’re struck him down to his very core—there’s something carnal there that shifts within Choso’s eyes and obscures anything of the sweet hybrid that you knew. His body trembles as he heaves to a stand beside the bed - and it’s just then that you’re realizing that in his rut, Choso was much bigger than you normally knew him to be. He was taller. Bulkier.

Just as he had been at the park, it’s like a more base part of him had taken over. Invaded. 

Those claws of his drag down the soft covers of the bed and tear it to shreds without even trying- and you start to wonder what that might just mean for you…

He’s oozing power you knew he had- you knew he had, but never knew he’d think to harness as he crosses the bedroom in nothing but three strides. 

And he kneels before you in a shorter amount of time.

Kneels. 

Like it’s where he was always meant to be, beneath you like this, those capped knees of his strike the carpet with two thuds! Hard enough that it should hurt a normal human, though not even the faintest glint of pain registers in Choso’s eyes - so dilated now that they were almost completely engulfed in blackness. 

His milky thighs squeeze around your calves. Which inadvertently means you can feel his cock grow even harder than before…

From your feet, he’s peering up at you with an expression akin to worship—clammy fingers grasping desperately at your skirt. They’re sliding just beneath - where his feverishly hot skin sizzles against your own - and a sudden pang of neediness shoots through your every blood vessel. 

The air in the room suddenly feels hotter. Sweeter.

And you’ve always wanted Choso Kamo, but those pheromones he’s jetting out makes you feel almost dizzily greedy to feel him-

“Ma’am…” Choso’s voice quivers out—husky. But it wasn’t in the way that made him sound demanding- no, it was veering on the edge of an unsteady pleading. His unfairly handsome face cocks ever-so-slightly to the side, and he’s looking up at you through his loooong dark lashes. Puppydog eyes. “-permission to eat you out?”

You’re nodding so rapidly that your head bumps against the wall you’re pressed up against- hips bucking towards him, and he only yearns even closer with a whimper. “Yes—” You’re uttering out, “Yes, pl-”

But you didn’t think that Choso Kamo would ever make you beg for him, did you?

Hell, he should be the one begging—just to taste you. Just to sniff your pretty pussy. Just to tip his head slightly backwards and let those ropes of clingy sap leak down his tongue aaaaaaall the way down to his throat. His pheromones leave him in gusts, rendering the hybrid more n’ more ruined every time you’re blinking down at him. “Permission to swallow, ma’am?”

“You may.”

You witness the exact moment that Choso Kamo tastes you on his tongue for the first time.

Because his powerful, hybrid tail starts to wag harder than you’ve ever seen it. Because he groans. Because a primal noise escapes him that sounds like the most erotic music to yours eardrums—“Fuck.” Choso’s eyes go slightly wide. “Fuh-fuck…”

With the wettest, most lecherous plap! that mouth of his drops even further ajar. To plaster more of you across his maw. 

You’re the sweetest things he’s ever had the pleasure of smelling- with or without pheromones. 

His Adam’s apple bobs with the wads of your pussy’s needy juices slippin’ straight into his gullet. Pressing himself so close to you that he’s physically unable to breathe through his nose- Choso wastes no time before clawin’ onto both sides of your hips and plastering your sticky, syrupy pussy all over his mouth. 

Just wide open.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses. 

“Sh-shiiiiit—” Gasping, your hands snake down to grab onto Choso’s sweaty locks. They were practically pitch-black with perspiration by this point, making it slippery for your hands to tighten around and place the slightest pressure when tuuuuuugging-

Choso fights with everything left in him to not dig his claws into your pretty thighs and drape your thoroughly wet pussy across his mouth. He mewls, “N-no.” His kisses grow more fervent. “No, baby…”

Eyes just a bit teary from the sudden stimulation, you’re wondering just what it is that poor Choso’s huffing n’ puffing about. And that’s the instant you’re witnessing the dog hybrid lean up onto his haunches and jerk his toned hips against your legs. That reddened, throbbing erection of his crushing against your calves. 

It’s the only bit of friction he can get- and the only bit of friction that he needs to spurt his webbed seed all down your skin. Splatterin’ some against the wall and even down himself—he’s making such an utter mess as he cums just from eating you out.

That, too, with merely a few sultry licks.

Whimpering. 

Choso’s head throws back with an echoing sound, lips wobbly oh-so-cutely as he drenches your heated flesh with his gooey sap. It forms a layer of warmth that you don’t get too feel for too long-

Because the man himself is draggin’ his roughened fingertips down the dredges of it and stuffing every ounce he can gather between your legs. Straight into the sinking divot where your hole was, Choso makes sure to retract his fatal claws as he slides his lacquering layers down your pussylips. Painting gloss after gloss of creamy white.

Pheromones were just soaking into the air, making it so heavy.

And that ruddied tip of his tongue slips out and starts lavishin’ away at your messy slit. Just so fucking messy.

Despite his tail wagging away at the lewd sight, he can’t keep the regret out of his tone. “I c-can’t believe I’ve cum.” He utters out a breathy pant into your cunt. “I can’t believe it—”

“Awww- s’okay, Cho.” You swear you see his cock twitch at just the slightest mention of that nickname falling from your gorgeous lips. “It’s probably your first time, huh?”

“I-it is.” Your poor puppydog nods.

“Then it’s alright-”

“But I wanna be good for you, mistress.” And even more sinful than that title was the way he was looking up at you with the most agonized tearful eyes—“I-it’s all my body’s telling me to do…” As Choso’s huffin’ away, the edge of his lower lip jutted out into the cutest pout. His brown brows furrow as he focuses on chastely pecking your hole—and you’re hit with the understanding that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. By now he’s rutting against your calves like a dog in heat - and it would be incorrect to say he wasn’t. “I wanna please you.”

“Is that soooo?” You’re crooning out- and he shivers. Reaching the edge of your foot out, you slide up the lined muscles of his left leg - ending up pressed between his thick thighs.

You step on Choso’s rock-hard erection with your foot and he all but cries-

Humming to yourself, “Then act like it.”

He gasps, “Wh-what?” And though he was in disbelief - his ears waste no time pricking up.

Your heel crushes his hot, dribblin’ erection- “Awwww, didn’t hear me, baby?” Harder. As he bucks his hips and lets out a sudden yelp, you’re pulling his handsome face up to yours—“Why’re you giving me kitty licks if you’re a dog hybrid, huh? Why don’t you eat me out…”

Hooking your non-dominant leg over his shoulder.

“-like a good boy then?”

And then you’re swervin’ his head just sliiiightly to the side—and helping him open up the puffy slit of your pussy and ease his tongue inside.

And all it takes is one push - just one push - of Choso’s flattened, ridged tastebuds- for you to clench around him. The most goopiest feeling.

Enough to make a hybrid addicted. 

“Oh…” He barely has enough space to breathe let alone speak- any and every breath he has left in his lungs is spent parched over your cunt. Choso slips his fat tongue past your first ring of muscle—and you best believe that his extra-specialized hybrid tongue was tasting every droplet of your slick up close and personal. Savoring you - his bleary eyes roll to the back of his head. He’s feeling the velvety squeeze of your walls as he dives in and out, in and out, in and out. 

In and oooooout- and thrusting ravenously all the way back in again. 

“Shiiiiit-”

His eyes widen at the effect that he - he - seems to be having on you. “D-does this feel good-”

“Shut up n’ eat, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was just so obedient.

Not having much experience but swabbin’ the friction of his tongue wherever he could- as fast as he could. Tail wagging as fast as he could. The crowned edge of his tastebuds dig against every orifice inside you, as fast as he could.

And you’re swearing that the way he’s fucking you with is tongue feels almost…animalistic in nature.

Choso’s grip fastened tight upon either side of your squirming hips- and the tips of his fingers twitch as though he was having trouble keeping his claws back. Rugged grunts leave him with every slip n’ slide. Chin plastering against the bottom of your pussy—his handsome features scrape-scrape-scraaaape every inch of you from the end of your cunt and all the way up to the tip. Where your clit was throbbing and needy for him.

He’s whining at the feeling of that pulsation against his face, looking down innocently at your sensitive nub. “D-do I touch you ther-”

“Fuck, yes- you touch me there.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Fuck. 

You’re directing your inexperienced hybrid. And perhaps it was the pheromones that were making your body looser than ever-

But you’re wielding that ruthless restraint you have on him and bucking straight against Choso’s open mouth. As his tongue slips into your hole at a constant pace, you’re making sure that that handsomely big nose of his isn’t going to waste either - just grinding down on the mostly-straight line of it. Your favorite part was that lil’ bump that he had around the middle, it’s where your clit felt its primal pangs the most satiated. 

As Choso eagerly pushes his face between your tremblin’ legs and laps and laps his thick tongue away. Textured tastebuds. Sizzling against where you were most sensitive.

And you might not be a hybrid with those keen sensibilities to know what every single pheromone puff meant- but what you’re feeling right now in his sweetened fragrance was nothing more than utterly content. Pure gluttony.

He was droolin’ down both sides of his mouth and only push-push-puuuushing his face even deeper. “Please-” And his swollen mouth lolls stupidly open- probing his tongue inside to the maximum, to the very hilt of his wet muscle, and even then he grinds his face deeper like he wanted even more. “P-permission to have even…ngh, more, mistress?”

“More?” Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull- Choso was already wolfing you down like a man starved. Fucking you with his tongue and gyratin’ his nose across your clit. 

Thirsty for every pearly droplet of slick you’re spraying out, his brows press upwards and he’s fixing you with the most convincing puppydog eyes you’ve ever seen. Hell, even his scruffy ears start to droop- “Please, mistress?”

Muttering underneath your breath, “I swear if you were any other…”

And how could you ever deny him that?

Oh, your hybrid was just so spoiled- but that was a problem for later. Right now, all you can think of doing is reaching down and hooking a finger in that pink collar of his—he keens as you’re using that to puuuuull him even further upwards, nose-deep between your legs, and sputters. 

Rolling your hips faster and faster - you were just so glad that you had the upperhand with his collar now. Because every time that Choso even pulled away to gasp out his unsteady breaths- you’re hauling him straight back.

“What’s the matter, baby?” You’re cooing down at him, letting his flushed face crush against your pussylips. Leavin’ such a lecherous smear of your pussy’s slick across his features, “Didn’t you say that you wanted more?”

“I did- I do.” He’s whining, hips starting to rut once more. Just so teary and guttural with all the stimulation - your pussy was just ruining him, and it really didn’t help that those rut pheromones left him in an even more dire state. Choso sloshes your slick ‘round with his tongue and sobs at the searing restraint you had on his collar, “Wanted more- ngh, wanted to taste your pussy more, ma’am.”

“Then—?” Just so mean now. You tug on his collar again and make him shiver as he’s whimpering, tearing up, bucking like an animal—so overstimulated on being used. “What else does my good boy want, huh?”

“I-I’m your good boy?” Those tear-filled eyes of his are just so pretty, and they’re blinking a few times before Choso even realizes that you’ve asked a question. He hastens to answer before your tugging grows even more insistent - though he really doesn’t mind the pain…“I just wanted permission to…”

“Yeeees?”

“J-just to…”

And you’re peering down at the poor hybrid: his powerful tail is still now, and his pheromones were slowly becoming more and more maddened. You’re seeing the way his long fingers tremble where he’s holding you—edging juuuuust the slightest bit closer to your core…

“Permission to finger me-” You smile down something sinful at him, “-granted.”

He gapes, “Th-thank you, ma’am.”

“It’s a hybrid-eat-pussy world, right?”

And those slender tops of his fingers have no trouble just sliiiiiding a few inches inside- filling you up enough that his digits fill up every single orifice. Every single nook and cranny. He’s thrashin’ around inside, letting the curved tops of his fingers prod and poke away—

“Can smell you getting e-even wetter when I reach for…ngh- here.” He’s muttering out in a slightly breathy tone- slightly crazed. And the sweeter your treacly cunt jets out pheromones, the closer he’s veering towards that one spot-

Choso babbles, “Can smell you the sweetest…around here.” Through his shaggy bangs, you see those brows of his furrow- “Can smell your pussy wantin’ me to go…”

And then he’s hitting it.

“-here, ma’am.” 

Unlike the sudden surges of pleasure that were almost knocking you to the floor, Choso was just looking up at you so innocently as he pumps his lengthy digits towards the very back of your pussy. Striking splat! where your g-spot throbbed—before he’s pushing inside and inside to scrape damn near your cervix.

Fingers so long that you think he could reach that spongy layer if you really wanted him to-

“D-deeper, Cho…” Your mouth waters at the delicious zaps of pleasure running through your veins. Your head throws back as they only seem to increase with every passing second, and you whine. “M’so close—deeper.”

“Close?” He breathes out, as if in disbelief.

And you best believe that Choso was running his poor fingers ragged doing exactly what you’re asking - he’s scrubbin’ up every ounce of space down your walls, he’s leaving your g-spot feeling raw at the constant whacks, he’s sure the skin of his knuckles was reddening at the impacts but—but he doesn’t even fucking think to slow down as Choso fucks n’ fucks your pussy stupid.

He could feel himself going stupid, mouth latched ‘round your pulsating clit and moaning. “Please cum.” Babbling, “P-please cum…need to make my mistress feel good-”

“Shit, and I really do feel good-”

“Need to be a good boy and give her pleasure-”

“Already doing so much, baby-”

“Need to make her cum—” Tears spilling down the sides of his handsome face, he looks up at you with pouted lips. Quivering, “Permission to make you c-cum, mistress?”

You tug on his collar - this time, high enough that you can bend down and press a chaste peck on his forehead. “Permission granted, Cho.”

And it’s just then that Choso’s reeling his fingers properly back - all the way till those rotund ends - and pushing straight into the deepest depths of your pussy. Directly into spots you perhaps weren’t even sure you had—perhaps your cervix. It certainly felt that way. 

Deep.

And suddenly you’re shattering all over the hybrid’s fingers n’ mouth - something that Choso realizes before even you yourself do. His nostrils flare at the sudden peak in your stewed cherry pheromones—like the trumpets denoting the opening of those pearly gates.

Suddenly your legs tremble open and you’re gushing your orgasm down his ready tongue. 

Jaw ajar, he lets you riiiiiiide your waves of bliss through and through his mouth. His handsome features. Your hands being a permanent fixture in his hair now, “P-please…” Blabbering away as the dopamine renders you more loose than ever, “Feels so good, Choso—”

Those ears of his perk up, “Yeah?”

“Feels so good- hck!” Sparking all over with pleasure. “Shit- it might just be the b-best orgasm of my damn life.”

And it really was.

You weren’t just saying this to soothe his rut - those sudden jolts and sparks, the way that he’d prolong them so much by massaging your bundles of nerves…it was the best you’ve ever felt. Choso just keeps swervin’ and swervin’ his knobbly fingertips against that pulsing target of your g-spot, in sloppy tandem with the slurps of his mouth suckling away on your clit. Again and again.

Draaaaaagging out your euphoria until it seemed like it couldn’t go on any longer- then pumping a fresh few waves of electricity into you with the sudden hits at your g-spot. Again and again.

“Mmmm, I’ve been a good boy then.” He murmurs deep into your cunt. And it’s only once most of the haze clouding your mind has cleared up - by the time that your orgasm has diminished into nothing but a few tender jolts - that you’re finally registering the way Choso’s hips were still humpin’ away against your body. 

The way that Choso crushed his large, sculptured frame to yours and rutted into you like a dog in heat- “Been- been such a good boy. Can this good boy get a…”

He bores his pleading eyes up at you.

Feverishly flushed.

“-treat then, ma’am?”

You’re riding out the last of your high on that very handsome face, and you gasp. “But of course, Cho.”

In practically no time, you’re finding yourself helping Choso Kamo stand up- yes, you were the one to help him stand up.

The powerful hybrid was just too pussydrunk on you to even stand straight—being readily moved in the direction of the bed. Pheromones heating up. Rut intensified. Choso’s clamoring onto the mattress on your command, letting himself fall backwards against the pillows and half-hide his face against their puffiness.

His dewy mahogany eyes peek at you as you shrug off your clothes and join him- stopping right between those long legs of his. “Wh-what are you going to do, mistress?”

“Give you a little payback, of course.” You’re winking. And without further ado—you’re pushing apart his slightly-jittery legs; almost miles long now that you were seeing them from this angle. He was flushed all the way up to his inner thighs, highlighting the spattering of freckles that he had upon that skin.

From here, you could see his rock-hard erection even better - sure, you’d been given a proper show earlier. But this?

This gave you the opportunity to admire eeeeeevery single detail up-close.

The sheer rose shade at the crown of his shaft, the way it graduated down to the prettiest pink on his hilt. No wonder he liked that collar so much, it looked so similar to the color of his…

The veins upon veins that made the most beautiful patterns down his cock - they curved and overlapped in a way that made your cunt throb. The way his dark curls spattered him all the way down to his swollen hilt—Choso was mostly well-groomed, though he didn’t seem to have had the sense of mind to trim these days. But you almost…liked it like that. 

The way he was not only blessed with incredible length, but incredible girth, too—perhaps even bigger now that he was in rut? But you’d always imagined that Choso would be the type to have a massive cock anyway, it’s always the silent ones who do…

The hybrid watches - looking as though he wanted to tear his eyes away from a vision so lewd but couldn’t - as your pretty face looms closer n’ closer to his throbbing erection. Fuck, he might just be longer than your damn face…seeing it compared like this…he can’t help but let his tail wag ferociously. 

“Now now, Cho.” Your stern voice breaks through, “Settle down now or I won’t be able to-”

“S-sorry!” He stops immediately.

And you grip the base of his red, thickened cock. “No interrupting me.” Hard.

“I understand…” Choso whines, body startin’ to arch off of the mattress - though he holds himself back for the most part given how he wasn’t sure how you’d react. Would you punish him? Would you like it?

Whatever his frenzied mind had been fearfully conjuring up, it’s all wiped blank by the feeling of you surging your head down and gulping up the first few inches of him. Happily.

First, Choso’s mouth drops. 

Then, the sensation of your wet tongue on his cock hits him.

Finally, he’s planting his feet at the edge of the bed and bucking- gripping onto your scalp with his hands. Bucking. And bucking. And bucking—he cries out, “Oh f-fuuuuuck, ngh—” Just a few tears of overstimulation leaving the sides of his eyes, “Fuck- ngh, this is what it feels like?”

Of course, you certainly couldn’t respond due to your mouth being full - but that doesn’t stop you from looking up at him through your lashes and winking.

The thickness of his cock fills up your entire mouth, pulsating in a way that was incredible. The creamy layers of pre that topped his bulbous tip tasted almost…sweet? Almost like salted caramel - and you didn’t know whether that was you or the pheromones talking. 

“Fuck-”

You’re just starting to give Choso a few gooooood, loooong bobs of your head—up and down. Up and down. Slobberin’ your entire mouth from the top of his mushroomy tip and about halfway down that incredible length.

But that’s around when the hand at your scalp grows almost searing.

And you’re looking up to find Choso shaking his head after only a mere few seconds of you giving him a blowjob- “P-please…any longer and m’gonna cum.” Which had just been too good for him.

You pull yourself off of his fared tip with a pwah! “Aaaaand?” Still kissing him down there.

“And I want to…ngh, save it.” He admits, eyes not meeting yours.

“Save it?” You’re cocking your head in confusion, “Save it for what, Choso?”

“Well…”

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am—” The dog hybrid looks up at you with a slightly pouty expression, “I wanted to save for when I f-fuck you…”

Your jaw drops.

There’s a slight silence in the room- though the sudden heated increase in pheromones does enough talking for the both of you. And you’re wasting no time before removing yourself completely from his cock—he ruts. 

Before pushing those hips of his right back down.

Before shuffling up the king-sized mattress to straddle either side of his thoroughly sculptured hips, feeling the curves and divots of his muscles there.

Before perkin’ your hips juuuuust behind you and catching Choso’s globular tip in your entrance- slamming your cunt down as far as you could take him.

You’re sucking in a harsh breath as the first heated inch of him enters your cunt—shit, he really did feel as good as you’d imagined. “Fuck.” 

The pointed top of his shaft probin’ inwards. 

Zig-zagging veins massaging up against your soft walls. 

The throbbing of his shaft creating a vicious drumbeat that you find your pounding heart synchronizing to- you’re throwing your head back and arching your hips to get more of him- and right now it seems like you were the one that was finding yourself utterly ruined on his body. 

Your hands find themselves slitherin’ right up his toned body—right past those ripples and curves of his muscles. Ultimately resting on top of both his pecs, “Fuck, Cho.”

“Mistress…” He pants out- lips meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

With a low snarl, you’re absolutely melting into his embrace. It’s barely anything of a kiss and more like Choso was bearing his canines and glide-glide-gliiiiding them dangerously down the front of your cracked maw. Just the slight softness of his actual lips peaking through and gluing against yours ravenously, “Choso-”

“Mistress.” 

“Choso- you feel so good.” Before you know it, Choso rams his strong hips up - plunging his achingly hard cock - just the slightest few inches until he suddenly stops. But not because he’d bottomed-out. It’s as though he’d been completely and utterly ready to pound your silly cervix raw- but jerked himself to a stop out of nothing but pure will and the need to-

“G-get permission.” He mutters between trembling lips, words coming out as nothing but a few slurred syllables - each one melting into the last. 

And as you’re blinking away the haze in your eyes, attempting to make sense of him, you ask. “Get permission? You want permission to- ngh, fuck me, Choso? You know you already have it…‘

He shakes his head. “Not…that…” Sounding as if he was on the very verge of ruination just from the way he found himself stuffed inside you—not moving a single inch. But still ruined.

The pheromones in the room heighten, and Choso’s tail swishes agitatedly. 

“Then what is it?”

“It’s something far, far dirtier…” He admits, and despite his words there was the shyest blush upon his face. And you swear his cock starts to throb even harder at his utterance—going to the extent that it felt like Choso was damn near about to explode- “It’s where I- hngh, fuck, it’s not something that a hybrid like me deserved to even imagine about you, mistress.”

As though he couldn’t even stop himself - his hips were moving in the slightest ruts up and down now. Up and down. Up and down. Barely-there grinds that almost felt more lecherous than just fucking up into you.

His tail starts to wag once more as Choso starts rubbin’ his tip against the roof of your cunt. Forgoing those rational desires of his to not fuck you until he gained permission for…whatever it is that he was too afraid to admit. Those pinkish lips of his quiver as you’re starting to clench around him—“I-it’s nothing something I deserve…but fuck, how many times I’ve thought a-about it…”

“Then tell me.” You’re humming ruthlessly down at him. His eyes slightly widen at the commanding tone of your voice - surely, you must know that he could never deny you when you speak to him like that? “That’s an order from your master, baby—”

He shivers. “A-an order?”

“Tell me what it is that you’ve been thinking about for so long.”

Choso’s slick-wettened cock slips in just a few inches deeper, and he whimpers something inaudible.

“What was that?” You’re leaning down to hear him better.

His lips moving mere millimeters away from your own, “I-I’ve always thought about- ngh, almost ever since the first time I saw you- fuck, it was like th-this animal desire in me…” Big, bulbous tears collecting at the edge of his right eye, Choso finally jerks his hips up—“Permission to breed you, mistress?”

Oh—

That ‘yes, baby’ is keening out of you faster than you can register it leaving your hips.

And that’s all it takes for Choso to succeed in bottoming-out, that’s all it takes for Choso to dig his strawberry divot against the edge of your cervix, that’s all it takes for Choso to fully n’ properly start to fuck up into you like an absolute madman. 

Arching his back against the mattress.

Higher with his hips, lower with his shoulders: he runs his pumping tip across every inch of the roof of your cunt—even deeper, and then stirs his fattened length around in search of that pretty g-spot he’d been troublin’ so much not too long ago. Pump after pump.

Probe after heavy prooooobe of his geysering orifice- you’re feeling your toes curl at the sensation of being so full with him. Warm and heavy inside you. “Permission granted-” You gasp out.

And though he’d already heard your affirmative answer from earlier, it makes Choso swell up just a liiiiittle thicker at his circumference. Snaggin’ against the sides of your elastic walls, he’s filling you up  like nothing before, just so plump n’ puckering up at every nook…especially around the area of his base that seemed to be growing at an even faster rate than the rest of him…

But you have no time - nor ability - to count away at the feverish throbs and stretches of Choso’s cock right now. Right now, he’s runnin’ his tip against the side of your g-spot until that pretty inner lining of your walls bulge with his sheer size—

“Permission- oh.” You’re throwing your head back in sheer pleasure, seeing white burst behind your eyes. “P-permission…” Sounding as though a broken record-player, “And for how long have you wanted this permission, baby?”

“Too long.” Choso cries out. Hands trembling upon either side of your hips, “Been wanting this pretty pussy for w-waaaay too long- as far as I can remember…was just impossible when I was smelling her sweetness all the damn time.”

Your heart races, “And how long have you been wanting to breed me-”

“Always.”

And after a few more probes n’ a sudden clench—from your sopping wet walls, Choso whimpers and tucks his head into the crook of your neck - where you’d assumed that humans had their scent glands. 

His heavy balls thwack! the globes of your ass cheeks when he drills his cock inwards, “I’ve n-never had a rut before…” He admits, “It just never felt like the right time. But this- fuck, primal part of me always wondered just how pretty you’d look all round and glowing a-and…pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” You breathe.

“Pregnant with my pups.” Choso babbles out. Those doe-like eyes of his kept on rolling to the back of his head every time he’s feeling himself being clenched juuuuust a little tighter than usual. Dark brows furrowing. Hands tightening. “Wondered just how much your- hah, pretty tits would grow even more.” Mouth lathering over your right tit, he suckles—as though expecting milk to come pouring out already. “Wondered just how sweet your milk would be, mmmm…”

“And what else?” You huff. But the hybrid’s just so dazed on your pussy and his rut and your pussy that it takes a firm tug on his collar before he’s back to his senses.

 “Huh- oh—” Choso blinks his teary-clung eyes back open, peering around the thickly-scented room as though he’d just forgotten where he was already. “Wondered just how many people would stare at you as we w-walked down the street, me on your leash…”

“And why’s that?”

“Because just how many of them would think that it’s me—” Out-of-breath. Voice a couple octaves higher than usual - utterly gone. You didn’t have to feel the steadily-increasing sloppiness of his cock to know that Choso was losing himself - thwack! thwack! thwack! “Just how many of them would think that it’s your poor, shy puppyboy that fucked you all pregnant, mistress?”

“Shiiiiit—” Your legs were starting to tremble - and whether because of fatigue or something else entirely, you’re unsure. But Choso immediately snakes his fingers down just a little lower to cup either side of your ass, and he’s using his immense strength to support you as you start bouncing back down onto his merciless thrusts. “Keep going-”

His eyes grow wide, “P-permission to-”

“Keep going, Choso.”

And who was he to go against his mistress’s wishes? Especially when such wishes was something that he’d been wanting to do since the day he fucking met you—fuck, perhaps even sooner. It was always in that carnal part of him that he’d been trying to ignore ever since the first time he smelled your beautiful, addictive scent outside his bed at the clinic. Those curtains were useless - he already knew that you’d be the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes upon. 

Like cherries, syrup, and sex.

And right now he was fucking into the most beatiful thing of all- your thighs press against that No. 1 tattoo on his v-line, and you’re keening.

Arching your back so that the roooough curvature of his cock could stir up your insides even more than he already was- and that was saying quite a lot already. That ridged pattern of his veins were bumpin’ up against the sides of your channel, your nerves, and making you clench around him even tighter—leaving the hybrid more and more honest with every single thrust. “I’m s-such a dirty hybrid…so perverted.” He admits, “I’d even wonder about trying to fuh-fuck you pregnant all over again every single day—”

“H-how do you mean?” You’re panting out.

“I’d wonder how many times it’d take to plant my seed inside- to fuck you so full that it finally- hngh, takes.” Eyes only partly-cracked open, “And then I’d wonder that it’d be best to fuck you every- single- day-”

“Yes-” You’re mewling out, your nails digging into the plushness of his pecs.

“I’d make sure my hybrid cum’s dripping down your legs every second of the day-”

“Yes.”

“I’d make sure when we’re walking—ngh, going on our walks, that every single hybrid in a five-mile distance is going to smell me on you…” Choso leans in as though sharing one of his deepest, darkest secrets, “-and in you.”

“Yes—”

“And thennnnn—” It’s here that an almost sleazy smirk graces his pretty lips, “I’d wonder about fucking you even after you were pregnant.”

Your jaw drops, and your hands fly to his collar.

“I’d wonder about fucking you u-until your womb remembered me and…” So caught up in his sinful words that you hadn’t even registered that the thickened base of his shaft was only growing thicker…and thicker, and even thicker—to the extent that now it was a round circumference nearly twice or thrice what it had normally been, and you hadn’t even seemed to notice the slamming slaps against the forefront of your cunt. Faster. Harder. His right hand dips down between your jittery legs to start teasin’ your clit with fresh tugs and rolls, “—we don’t stop until we have nine kids.”

Nine kids.

Nine kids?!

Choso Kamo had been so-ravenously dreaming about pumping you full of nine of his kids; creating a small army of hybrid half-breeds that would likely look just like him but with your open warmth and that beautiful smile of his. And why was it that you could imagine it so clearly? 

“Nine kids…” Eleven repeating it a few times doesn’t do much to let the words fully sink in - who would have thought that the nervous, innocent Choso Kamo would be such a lewd character inside? Who would have thought that he’d be nodding along to your repetition.

Gingerly letting his eyes slip to the side of his pillows, “B-but I know that’s just a far-off- ngh, dream, mistress.” Much more of the usual Choso that you know, though he’s still fucking up into you as though it ached him very second that he wasn’t stuffing you all the way to the brim inside - Choso’s rounded, reddened tip plasters against the back of your pussy and you’re yowling. “That’s why I stole those panties, that’s why had to- ngh, satiate myself with just my hand…”

And that makes you slightly more alert- “My panties? Where are my panties, by the way?”

He shyly shrugs.

To which you’re narrowing your eyes in suspicion, “Choso…”

And the larger hybrid almost flinches- “Th-they’re under my pillows.”

Without a mere moment of hesitation, you’re diving your hand underneath one of those puffy pillows you’d picked out just for him during that first shopping trip you’d undertaken with him…and you find all those panties you’d lost. Half your drawer, to be precise. 

Choso whimpers as you’re pulling a few strappy pieces of lace and gauze out—some of the sluttiest of your collection, and your fingers had scraped the rest of it that still remained down under. Honestly, how many had he collected without you realizing at first? How many had he fucking used—?

Those scraps of fabric were sticky and slightly cloying to each of your senses- and so what else could you think of doing? What better option for punishment was there to do but gather them up into a tight ball in your hand and push them between Choso’s pinkish, puffy lips- gagging him with your panties. Your panties that he’d used to jerk off.

A taste of his own medicine - or at least it was supposed to be. You just didn’t expect for Choso’s tail to start wagging even harder than ever. 

Pervert puppyboy.

“So you wanted to breed me, huh?”

“N-not wanted…” He corrects you, hips surging up uncontrollably into your wetness. “Want.”

“So you want to breed me, huh? So you want to make all those dreams a reality?” Purring, and the man beneath you can only nod with his massive tear-filled eyes - just so pretty when he cried, hm? To stimulate him even further, you’re exerting your hips to outmatch his pace, rammin’ his bulbous cock into every crevice and geysering orifice that you’re able to realize exists—“Then you know that you still haven’t gotten my- ngh, permission for that, Choso, baby.”

Choso sputters out an exhale, “P-please, ma’am?” Muffled through your own panties. Rubbin’ his roughened thumb against your clit even further to sweeten the deal—“Do I have the permission to-”

“Yes-” And whatever hopeful moan was about to leave him, you’re cutting him off. “But only on one condition.”

“Please- what is it…?” He hisses, “Please-”

“But be warned, it’s a bit of a tough one-”

“I’ll do anything.”

And this was exactly where you wanted him. Exactly. You’re smiling down at the beautiful, utterly ruined boy beneath you—and pulling him in with a finger hooked underneath his pink collar - one that proudly had your name upon his pendant - to whisper into his flustered ears. “Then…bark like you want it.”

Choso’s eyes widen just a fraction. His cock trembles dangerously deep inside of you, and his nostrils flare as he exhales a large breath. Right before- 

“R-ruff…” Before he’s muffling out the sweetest, most sultry fucking barks through the panties you’d gagged into his mouth- all because you’d asked. At the smell of your treacly cunt only growing even more aroused, Choso continues—“Ruff- arf—”

Your grin grows, “Ohoho? Louder.”

“Ruff-”

“Louder.”

“Ruff—woof.” He was just embarrassing himself, and it only made him even harder. Cock blushin’ almost as much as his cheeks were by this point- “Arf- arf, pleeeeese, ma’am.”

“Hmmm?”

Those dilated pupils of his cross, and Choso’s spitting out the gag of those gauzy - soiled with his own cum - fabrics to plead through trembling lips. 

“P-please let me breed you, mistress.”

And what else more could you say but—“Of course, Cho.”

And in the next few sloppy thrusts, you’re feeling Choso empty out rope after loooooong heaving rope of cum inside you. It’s sheer volumes that you never even thought possible, sheer wads that were webbin’ up your tight insides and taking over every single ounce of space inside you - each with those creamy, glued-up wads of his seed. 

Warm and wet.

Wild.

They’re splashin’ around inside of you and lacquering a thiiiiick few layers upon the channel of your cunt—over and over and over again. Choso doesn’t even need to try to make sure that every single spot is covered, because the sheer volume makes it impossible for a generous heap of his sap to puddle at your cervix, gettin’ hit by a torrential wave of his cockhead striking. Pumping deep inside. 

Choso’s twitchy balls press up against your ass, just the slightest bit of your pussylips, and you’re shivering as you feel the orgasm that runs through him.

Collar dangling.

“Fuck…” Choso seethes through clenched canines, one of his hands coming up to press down upon your core. That cute front of yours where if he pressed juuuuuuust right- he could feel the vibrations of his shaft emptying out at your sponge-covered womb, “Fuck, m’gonna get at least one kid tonight , ma’am.”

Soon enough, you’re crashing into your own high, too.

And it zaps through your body faster than the last one - clearly having been so overstimulated that this one overtakes you more quickly, this one makes you see stars behind your eyelids, this one makes you shiver n’ shake on top of him.

Being properly fucked through your rapidfire waves of dopamine as he leans you even closer into his arms. As he nuzzles the side of your neck. As he hums out sounds of satisfaction at every euphoric peak he’s probin’ his massive cockhead into.

As Choso leans down and bites the side of your scent glands—you’re feeling something pop! 

And you’re experiencing a sudden rush of warmth like another orgasm- like a hundred thousand other orgasms. It all courses through your overstimulated body one by one, at the same time, increasing in both length and intensity—it’s breaking you down to your very core—until you don’t even realize that you’re gasping out Choso’s name like a prayer. 

And he’s worshipping yours in much the same fashion. 

Basically ruining it with his lewd tone as he manages to slip that girthy knot of his inside - grinding n’ grinding the plumpness of his base until he’s fit-fit-fiiiiiiiiiitting in. Your cunt stretches like elastic around him, and it’s unbelievable to you that you’re able to fit so much of him inside like this. 

You can feel him hot and throbbing deep inside you.

Preventing you from leaking even a single wad of his dewy white cum you’re milking. 

“My mate…” Choso rasps out. You’re collapsed on top of him by now, and he runs one open palm down the curvature of your spine—then aaaaaall the way back up again to check on that freshly-made bonding mark on you - all bloodied and already healing through the special properties of a hybrid mate’s saliva - and then even further up to trace that collar of his. Lock broken. Your name always against his beating chest. Having you mewling at the sensation of his knot-

Currently, however, it was also your head against his beating chest. 

You’re gripping onto his muscular body even further- and it almost makes you chuckle to feel that way just that makes Choso’s cock twitch inside of you. “No…” You state simply, “My mate.‘

“Anything you say, ma’am.”

.

.

.

Thereafter, it hadn’t been too long before Choso had roped you into a second round. Then a third. Then a fourth—where he’d been whimpering and shooting blanks, drool dripping down either side of his mouth as his cock slid into you in a thorough mating press.

And then a fifth. A sixth.

A seventh- honestly, after the seventh you’d stopped counting. 

You didn’t trust Choso to keep count, either - honestly, you don’t think you would’ve trusted Choso to remember his own name. 

Not this night or any of the hot summer nights that came after. 

By the time the heat’s simmered down, and your lungs don’t feel clogged with the cloying sweetness of mingled pheromones, and you’re finally able to crack open your eyelids in this sultry sauna of a bedroom—you can barely move. 

Body heavy.

Limbs aching.

Even the tiniest of twitches sending soreness shooting through your vessels.

You’re finding yourself tucked to Choso’s side underneath the covers- hand thrown around his muscular side, your chin hooked into the curvature of his spine. Who’d have thought that the big, bad hybrid would’ve been a small spoon? 

That collar of yours was still ‘round his neck and showed no signs of being taken off soon. And you’re remembering just then that through most of his rut, the two of you had gotten up to scarf down food and clean yourselves when necessary. Though towards the feverish end of it, honestly you couldn’t remember anything other than wanting him to mark you with a bonding bite over and over and over again- so why were you notably wiped down and smelling of your favorite body wash?

Did Choso…wash you down even through his rut? 

You knew the pheromones always hit the strongest towards the beginning and the end of one’s rut, did he really push through all that n’ tenderly tuck you in?

You’re feeling such a rush of affection for your puppyboy, and, sleepily, you press a line of kisses down the column of his throat- marked as well. In the heat of the moment, you’d somehow managed to puncture Choso’s scent glands with your own human canines. 

He was yours, and you were his. 

Choso hums groggily and snuggles even further backwards against you. Frankly, you think you could cuddle up against him and spend another day here—another week, another month.

Perhaps even the rest of your life.

But if only that incessant bzz-bzzing would stop.

With a pained groan, you’re managing to sit up and blink your eyes somewhere behind you - where the noise seemed to be pulsing from. Choso whines in disappointment and attempts to pull you back down with his warm hands- and oh, how it hurt you to deny those puppydog eyes. 

“I’ll be cuddling you soon, spoiled baby.” You tut down at him. Finally locating the source of the noise, you’re reaching your sore hand out and grabbing onto your glaring phone.

Its screen assaults you with light immediately.

And then with a phone call.

Dr. Ieri Shoko.

Wincing, you’re answering the call. “Hello?”

“Woof- you sound rough.” Her cool tone wavers just the slightest in amusement, “Rough week?”

“Rough day.” You’re joking, “Rough rut.”

And there’s a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Right, but…you do realize it’s been a week, right?” 

“What?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

Almost immediately, you’re ripping your ear away from the phone and checking the date- fuck, Shoko hadn’t been messing with you. It really was a week since that last time you’d called her—you spent an entire week together in bed with him? And you hadn’t even realized?

Jaw dropping as so many things hit you at once, “My job-”

“Has already been notified.” And she sounded to be the exact opposite of you, collected and pausing for what you assumed to be sips of her morning coffee. “After our last call, I signed you up for the Hybrid Rut Registry- I do this for everyone that shelters, but didn’t consider it for Choso. It lets your workplace and loved ones know if and when your hybrid is in rut—and for your relationship I entered it as you’d be needed for the duration of the rut.”

Your heart races at her (very correct) assumption.

“You’re welcome.” She hums, “Also double-check on that to make sure that everything’s in order there- and also congratulations-”

Your bitten mark throbbed.

“-I expect to see you both at the clinic for a check-up today.” From your side, Choso wraps his muscular arms around you with a whine for you to come back. “But that’s not actually what I was calling you about- I was actually checking on your availability.”

“My availability?”

“Yes, for the program.” She replies simply.

“The program? Th-the companionship program?” You breathe, “Wait- I can help another hybrid?”

And she merely hums in satisfaction, “Mhm, I’ve got another hybrid that needs your help.” And whatever Choso’s honed senses let him hear or feel—he’s sitting up on the bed and pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Another dog hybrid- a year older than Choso, slightly smaller, golden retriever variety, same intelligent and mild demeanor.” 

“Yes?” You breathe. Heart pounding already. 

“His name is Ino Takuma.”

A/N. WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOG, SIS, WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOOOOOOOOOG-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[444sweetmourninglamb]

i need to watch leon cum so hard it almost knocks him out. all breathy n winded, shaking all pathetically like the needy creature he is. he knows deep down hes destined to be in the presence of a person like me. whole body shaking from head to toe when he cums n hes so verbal about it.

[aceofcolours]

ᯓ‎♪ 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: childe/gn reader

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.8k

𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: sub yandere childe, handjob, heavy praise kink, not exactly petplay but there's a lot of dog imagery and reader calls him puppy, light begging, an instance of biting + blood, he's messed up in the head but you like it lmao

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: hi guys this is both my first smutfic and first tumblr post...hoping at least one person enjoys🥹never thought i'd write nsfw but this man makes me a little too feral sigh

ᯓ‎♪ your lover is too greedy for his own good, but you so love indulging him.

Greedy. Your lover was greedy.

But oh, it was beautiful. Beautiful in the way his hands tugged at your clothes, trying to pull you closer as you pressed him into the wall, like he could never get enough. They were callused with years of training and fighting; you loved watching the surefire steadiness when he easily cut through his enemies with even the dullest of blades.

Yet they shook when he clawed at you.

It was beautiful in his eyes, pools of the darkest recesses of the ocean. The almost haunted eyes that stared down at you, pale, gingery lashes fanning over freckled cheeks. You could get lost in them, you thought, lost in the storm of love and lust and greed and want all tangled together until neither of you could tell where one ended and the other began.

The light never hit your beloved's eyes, yet you found you couldn’t care less.

Your fingers slid to the nape of his neck, tangling in the silken hair there. Beautiful he was, looking at you like a starving man. Every inch, every scar, every freckle…you wanted to engrave it forever in your mind.

But perhaps the most beauty was in Childe’s mouth, pink and plush and so willing when you claimed it. The greed seeped like venom into your own, settling hot under your skin. On instinct, your tongue slid across his bottom lip, lapping up more of that sweetness. 

“[name]…” His heated breath puffed against your mouth between desperate little kisses. “Fuck, I need you. I was so good today.”

His usual melodic voice was reduced to a halting, barely restrained whisper. Greedy lips tried to chase yours as you pulled back, but you held Childe back with the grip on his hair. A strangled noise caught in his throat, fathomless eyes fluttering open.

“Were you?” 

He shuddered when you spoke. “Yeah, y-yeah, ‘course I was. I got rid of him, that scum that was bothering you earlier. He’ll never dare even think about it again.”

Ah, so that’s why there were smears of blood on his clothes. After the first several times, you’d stopped noticing; judging by the breathless giggle that escaped your lover, he had fun with this one. And that was all you wanted, wasn’t it? For your beloved to be happy.

You indulged him, free hand cradling his cheek, thumb tracing his lip. You'd meant for it to be an innocent gesture – however innocent it could even be with a man such as Childe – but the wetness of his tongue lapped at the pad before he sucked it into his mouth. Greedy as always, even when you weren’t giving him what he actually wanted. 

“Good boy,” you murmured anyway, watching the pretty flush on his cheeks darken. Childe’s breath quickened against your hand, teeth scraping your thumb. You experimentally pushed it further; he took it like he always did. Like a dog, eager to have anything given by its master. Even when the corner of your mouth tugged up in the faintest of smirks, even when drool laced your thumb, he didn’t budge. Just stared at you with those wild eyes, chest heaving.

There was only a thin ring of blue left in them.

When fingers yanked on your clothes again, you took pity. Your lover had never been a patient man; this much restraint for him was like the flames of hell softening to a lull. 

“I get a reward, right? I protected you so well…” slipped breathlessly from Childe’s spit-slick lips as soon as you retracted your touch. One of his hands detached from your shirt to come up to your own, pressing your palm harder against his cheek. Without your thumb stopping it, his mouth curled into a semblance of a grin. It was more a baring of teeth, a little too wide to be completely natural. But you loved it, like you loved him.

“Mm,” you hummed, noncommittal, as you leaned in to mouth at his jaw with a leisure he couldn’t afford. Your lover’s hips pressed into yours inadvertently, seeking, as he let out a ragged breath. “I suppose so.” You let go of his hair to instead slide your hand down his torso before slipping under the hem of his shirt. The skin there was feverish, and the muscles of Childe’s stomach jumped beneath your fingers.

You felt the hitch in his breath against the pads of your fingers, then – “Come on, please…” It was an almost imperceptible whine. You pulled back enough to glance up at him and had to hide a smile. The grin that had stretched his face mere moments ago was gone, replaced by a childish petulance at not receiving an immediate shower of praise for his good behavior. Childe stared down at you, unblinking as usual, but his brows were furrowed, the flush on his cheeks matching the redness of the waves that tumbled into his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing the pout that painted his lips, swallowing the little grumble that escaped him.

The pout remained even when you pulled away. “What do you want, puppy?” 

Your thumb lazily pressed into his jaw when he stayed stubbornly silent, urging him to tilt his head to better expose the expanse of his neck. He obeyed, of course. Always obeyed, even during one of his fits of paper-thin defiance. Your lips found a familiar patch of skin and bit down, and the choked sound that followed fed the curl of heat in your gut. 

It only took one bite for Childe’s hands to slide from your clothes and rest on your hips, squeezing desperately. His fingers dug so hard into your skin that they’d surely leave pretty little crescent moons in their wake, crescents your lover would trace in the morning with a kind of awe.

Your teeth sank deeper in response until you tasted the metallic tang of blood bubbling in the wound. He whined, hips canting into yours with a sloppy sort of desperation. Unsurprisingly, you could feel his arousal pressing against you, the restraint he was trying so hard to hold onto to not grind against you.

“I want,” he huffed, and it seemed as if this was a great effort for him to form a coherent sentence with the exquisite pain of your teeth still in his neck, “want you to touch me.” 

You licked your lips and pulled back enough to smile, a teasing little curve. “Hmm? Where? I’m already touching you, puppy.” 

Another whine, the sound of an indignant child. Childe glared down at you, but any real threat it might’ve held was lost in the haze of desire painted on his features. You had to hold in a laugh as he spoke. “You know where.”

“Oh? Your dick, Ajax? You want me to touch your pretty dick?” you crooned, leaning in to nip at his jaw. 

Your lover shuddered, the fight slowly seeping from his shoulders, and with that, you knew you had him. You always had him. Childe’s face burned, but he didn't deny it, just gave a miserable little nod. It didn’t matter if you humiliated him like this. You could kick him away time and time again and he’d still come crawling back to lick crumbs off of your hand.

And yet, despite it all, you still found yourself giving in more often than not. Maybe that was why your lover’s avarice knew no bounds; you indulged it every chance you got. Perhaps Childe’s greed was your fault as much as it was his.

“Alright, alright,” you finally agreed, relenting, and Childe sagged in relief. “Good boys do get rewards, hmm?”

He immediately perked up, falling over himself to agree before getting cut off when you pressed into him. His breath hitched as you finally unzipped his pants, and he let out a shaky sigh of relief when your hand wrapped around his length. He was already hard, throbbing in your grasp.

“There we go,” you cooed, swiping your thumb over the tip to smear the precum gathering there before slowly starting to stroke him. “Happy now?”

Childe didn’t answer for a moment, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips bucked into your touch. His breath was hot against your skin, body trembling as he took in ragged inhales of your scent. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled by your neck. “Yeah. Yeah, t-thank you, more please…”

Oh, Ajax. Not even five minutes into his reward, and he was already asking for more in that broken voice that yanked your heartstrings. You couldn’t help yourself from spoiling him this time, smiling before placing a kiss on his temple. “I know baby, I know. I’ve got you.” Besides, you already knew what you wanted to do with him later to satisfy the heat rushing in your own veins. 

You obliged and sped up your touch, your other hand sliding down to press into his hip and hold him in place. He was trying so hard to hold back, to make this last, but it was a losing battle. He was too desperate, too greedy for anything you could give him. And you, how could you hold back when such pretty little sounds fell against your ear?

When you twisted your wrist just right, Childe keened, unable to continue clinging to you as the back of his head hit the wall with a dull thud. “Please, p-please, haah, ‘m close…so close…” The words slurred together in between the punched-out breaths that left him, the freckles on his navel jumping. 

"It’s okay, sweet thing," you murmured, the softness of your words starkly contrasting the roughness of your grip. "Go ahead. Cum for me."

That was all it took. With a choked cry, Childe spilled over your hand. His whole body went rigid and then slumped against you, boneless and panting. You held him through it, rubbing his back and murmuring praises into his hair.

When he finally came back to himself, he pulled back enough to look at you, cheek resting against your shoulder. He didn’t say anything, silent in a way he rarely was – just stared. Stared with a worship that was almost frightening in its intensity, stared like you were the one who’d hung all the stars in the sky. You smiled at him, gentler this time rather than amused, and your free hand came up to card through his hair akin to petting. 

Your lover preened under your attention, eyes fluttering shut. He really was like a dog, your Ajax. A loyal, loving, dangerous dog who would do anything for you. And you loved him for it. 

When those fathomless eyes finally opened again to meet your own, you brought your messy hand up to his lips. He didn't hesitate. His tongue darted out, lapping at the mess on your hand with an eagerness that was almost pathetic. 

But how could there be shame when you spoiled him so? When you gave and gave and gave, and let him take and take and take? 

He couldn’t help being greedy, not with you.

[eternalseal]

i love paladin illuga hes sooo cutie

[lucidwntrr]

can you pls write sub soobin begging to come inside of reader :3

୨୧ TAGS: MDNI, smut, fem!reader, mutual masturbation creampie, begging, teasing, breeding kink (kinda?), he cums quickly . . . ୨୧ WORD COUNT 500+

TUBATU MASTERLIST ! ୨୧ requests are open !!

"please - i don't wanna cum like this,"

you were both sat on the bed, soobin was on his knees with his legs spread open as he touched himself. he was hastily stroking his cock, obscene wet sounds fill the room as he coats himself in precum. his face flushed, eyes hooded and he bit on his bottom lip as he watched you, trying not to cum all over.

on the other side of the bed, was you. resting against the headboard with your legs also parted, just enough for soobin to see the way you shoved your fingers deep in your wet cunt. fluttering your lashes at him and moaning obnoxiously, the sounds being sent straight to his throbbing cock.

"mmm," you moan as you take your fingers and brush them over your clit slowly. soobin gasps, his hands flicking over his sensitive tip at the same time. his body tensing up, the touch almost sending him over the edge, he has to hold the base of his cock to stop his impending orgasm.

you've been at this for at least fifteen minutes, teasing soobin. denying him the thing he wanted the most, what he loves to do whenever you fuck. his body trembles, his thighs tensing up as he watches you curl your fingers inside of yourself, a little jealous of them as silly as it sounded.

"please," he pleads, a bit of sob laced in his voice. he really didn't want to cum in his hand but he wasn't sure how much longer he could last when you looked that good touching yourself in front of him.

"please, what?" you mock.

"please let me, i wanna-" he trips over his words, getting drowned out by his moans. his body lurching forward on a particularly hard pump that grazed his frenulum just right, a fresh spurt of precum spilling from the tip of his cock.

"you wanna cum inside?" soobin groans, his glistening eyes locking with yours as he nods his head vigorously. he fucks up into his fist, desperate for anything that felt even remotely similar to the feeling of being inside of you.

you beckon him forward, crooking your finger and soobin happily makes his way over. he settles in between your thighs, leaning over you. his heavy breaths fan across your face as his gaze trail to your lips, gasping when his cock presses against your slick folds. his eyes flitter and his hands fly out to grip your waist, one wrong move and he'll cum.

"yes i wanna cum inside," he breathily whimpers, slowly rocking his hips between your folds. you place a hand on his stomach, stopping him from moving much to his dismay and he pouts to show it.

you smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips that he melts into, his mouth pliantly sliding with yours. he moans into the kiss and allows you to slide your tongue against his, "you want it that bad?" you coo at him.

he nods, "so bad, i need it pleasepleaseple-" he's cut off by you wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling his body flush against yours, his cock easily slipping inside of your cunt. soobin brokenly moans, a distraught and strained sound as he grips onto you and his body shakes.

he takes one slow thrust, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes rolling back as he starts to cum. he has no time to process as it crashes into him, tears falling down his face as he unabashedly moans in your mouth. you can feel each spurt of cum, every twitch of his cock as he releases all he has.

"fuck, holy shit-"

© lucidwntrr est. 2025 - please do not steal, repost, or copy !

[necrophili]

how can people make soobin a fucking dom?!!?! he made it clear he likes to be degraded, led around AND smacked.....

[dishia]

nerium oleander

pairing: childe/reader

content: sub!childe, dom!reader, unhealthy dynamic!!!, childe is very obsessive and manipulative, mentions of stalking, threats of violence (not towards reader), reader is mean but childe is into it, begging, slapping, cockstepping, unprotected sex, hair pulling, degradation, possessiveness, slight angst, childe has a scent kink, marking/biting, praise kink, elements of petplay (reader calls childe “puppy” & treats him like a dog lol)

a/n: i do not condone the behavior in this fic! please don’t read it if any of the themes may be upsetting for you, and never let a cancer man manipulate you into fucking him 🙏

word count: 12.8k

The hush that fell over Morepesok late into the night was typically one of comfort, a gentle blanket enveloping the village and drifting its citizens off to sleep. Tonight, however, there was a distinct lack of that peaceful lull you’d grown used to on your walks home. No soft veil of darkness, no calming silence that was disturbed only by the familiar rhythm of the sea—rather, an oppressive sense of dread hanging in the air, like when ocean waves receded from the shore moments before bringing about a devastating tsunami.

A thick sheet of clouds covered the sky, blocking out any traces of moonlight and promising fresh snowfall. Nothing unusual for Snezhnaya, all it meant was a few more inches of white powder crunching beneath your boots if you didn’t make it home in time. You pulled your hood securely over your head and, sure enough, it wasn’t long before the first few snowflakes began floating down in a delicate dance, so fragile that it was easy to forget how unforgiving they could be.

As you approached the walkway to your cottage, the source of all your foreboding suddenly became abundantly clear to you in the form of a distant silhouette. The faint light emitting from the streetlamps revealed a figure standing motionless in front of your house’s entrance, one you recognized all too well.

A horrible chill gripped your body, completely unrelated to the frigid winter air swirling all around you. It turned your feet into cinderblocks and your blood to ice. Despite every instinct screaming for you to turn tail and run the opposite direction, your heavy footsteps trudged on, only because you knew that the slightest glimpse of fear you exhibited would immediately be sniffed out and used against you. So, you continued steadily forward, ignoring the way your heart rate picked up with every step you took until the pale light finally illuminated the form that had been waiting for you. That thick, fluffy coat—you could never decide if it made him look absolutely massive, or highlighted how lean he really was underneath—and that bright, ginger head of hair, standing out against his surroundings like blood splattered in the snow.

“Childe,” you muttered. “I told you to stop coming here.”

“I know,” he let out a breathy chuckle, puffs of air fanning out around him in a ghostly fog. His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before they darted to the ground, feet shuffling from side to side. It was a sight that was probably meant to appear sheepish, but you knew better than that by now. 

If Childe had any shame, he wouldn’t have waited by your house again. He wouldn’t have come back to you time and time again in the countless months you’d been broken up. He wouldn’t have sent you so many gifts and letters that you’d come to dread the arrival of the mail. He wouldn’t have memorized your daily routine and used each day he was back in town to follow you everywhere you went. He wouldn’t have made the view of him on his knees for you so commonplace, breaking down crying with crocodile tears every time you sent him away again. At least, you liked to think of them as crocodile tears. The possibility that they may be real was too troubling to consider.

No, Childe didn’t feel any shame. He wanted you to make him feel it.

Another spell of that hollow silence passed between you two, interrupted only by the sound of your keys jingling as you crossed your arms, an indirect order for him to explain himself.

“I just really missed you,” he whispered at last. 

You should’ve come to expect it by now, but those words never failed to soften your heart just as much as they struck dread into it. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so much that you were afraid of him. You pitied him, and that was what frightened you the most. Knowing that you still had the capacity to care for this man no matter how many reasons he gave you not to.

You steeled yourself, hoping your expression hadn’t already betrayed you. “It hasn’t even been a week.”

“Two weeks and a day,” he frowned, visibly drooping over the implication that you didn’t count every waking second you were apart the same way he did.

“Yeah, well…” You eyed your front door longingly, praying you could wrap this up as quickly as possible and head inside the warm sanctuary of your house. “That’s nothing. We’ve been apart for far longer before.”

That was your first mistake of the night. Childe’s face brightened over the acknowledgement of a “we”—you and him, together again. A single unit, exactly how it should be in his mind. You realized your blunder a split-second after he did, panic rising in your chest when you caught the pure glee lighting up his features. Before you could backtrack, however, he used the opportunity to his full advantage.

“Exactly! Which is why we should make up for all that lost time, right?”

He tilted his head in a way that was so deceptively innocent, it only made you all the more determined to get away from him. Before you could fall for it again, before you could make a far greater mistake. Swallowing hard, you took a step towards the entrance of your house, and like clockwork, he matched you, taking a step backwards so that there was no path ahead for you but him.

“Who knows how long my next assignment will take,” he added wistfully. 

The snowflakes were falling faster now, forming a crown of crystalline flecks in his fiery hair. You resisted the reflex to reach up and brush them away, instead deciding to use the coming blizzard as leverage to get rid of him.

“Childe,” you gritted your teeth. “It’s cold. Go home.”

Whatever hint there was to be taken, he tossed it to the harsh, blowing wind without a second thought. Rather than moving out of your way like any normal human being would, he surged forward, engulfing your body with his. You stumbled backwards from the sheer force of his embrace, only managing to remain upright thanks to his arms wrapping around your torso like a protective belt. More like a cage, really.

“What are you—!”

“Warming you up,” he sang, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you could even think to react, he pushed past the shelter of your hood and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, brushing its reddening tip that you’d always found so painfully cute against your skin. He took in a deep, blissful breath, strong fingers clutching the back of your coat, eager to break past the barriers of fabric and get to you. 

Then, his muscles stiffened around your body, just noticeable enough to put you on edge.

“You smell different,” his voice grew eerily low. “Were you with someone else?”

You blamed the shiver that ran up your spine on the sensation of his breath tickling you.

“No, Childe.”

He nuzzled his nose further down your neck, completely shameless as he rubbed his face all over your scarf and burrowed underneath to reach more of your bare skin, taking in your scent over and over like a guard dog on a mission.

“Where were you?” He sounded more distressed now. “Why are you back so late?”

What, too busy to stalk me, today? You bit back what you really wanted to say. Somehow, refusing to address that incessant, ugly habit of his felt safer to you in that moment—because admitting to knowing about it would be the same as admitting to allowing it. Perhaps it was better to play dumb, let him think he was more subtle than he actually was.

Or maybe, subtlety had nothing to do with it. Maybe it made no difference to him whether you knew he was following you or not. He wouldn’t stop, either way.

“That doesn’t concern you,” you shut him down before he could start his usual spiel. Not wanting him to get used to the proximity, you rested your hand on the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his sweet-scented ginger hair and giving it a harsh tug. He didn’t fight back, but a soft noise rumbled in his throat as you yanked him away. The effect it had on you was even worse than if he’d just resisted.

Childe’s eyes fluttered open as he came back into view. Even in the low light, you recognized the look starting to glaze them over, pupils dilating after just a small taste of physical contact with you that no doubt left him hungry for more. He took in another deep breath, making it no secret that he was lingering on the traces of your scent in his nostrils. 

“Why aren’t you wearing the perfume I got you?” He tilted his head again, and he was pouting. Reminiscent of a hurt child whose mother hadn’t hung his drawing up on the wall for everyone to admire. “The heart-shaped bottle from Ying’er’s shop in Liyue, I thought it was your favorite.”

You forced your eyes away from his puckered bottom lip. He must have caught the way you were staring, because the corner of his mouth twitched a bit, threatening to break into a smile.

“It is my favorite. That's why I save it for special occasions.” You saw no reason to deny that fact. “Anything else?”

He reached for your hand where it was fumbling with your keys in growing agitation, gloved fingers resting over yours. Despite the thick gear covering his hands, you could tell that he was still wearing the ring you’d gifted him over a year ago underneath—you knew the accessory by outline alone. A simple silver band with specks of ruby; his birthstone. The color of love and passion. The color of blood. Who knew where the gem ended and the bloodstains began.

“I miss it,” he murmured. “I miss your scent.”

There it was again, the earnest declaration that snaked its way around your heart and seized it in an iron grip, no matter how badly you wished you could remain indifferent to it.

“If you miss it so bad, you know where to buy the perfume,” you dismissed. Another impatient step towards your door, another step matched seamlessly by him. “Go home, Ajax. I have to be up early tomorrow.”

You’d thought that using his real name might help sway his obsessive mind and make him listen to you, just like it always used to. It was your trump card; soothing all his worries with your doting tone and putting his head into a happy haze, ready to follow any command you may give him. This time, though, it seemed to backfire. Childe’s entire face lit up over the first sign of affection from you, the closest his dead blue eyes ever got to reflecting light.

“I'll stay with you tonight!” he chirped. “I can help you fall asleep, so you’ll be well-rested for tomorrow.”

Only he could make such a harmless offer sound so inexplicably sinister. The worst part was, you knew he meant it, too. There was no underlying meaning to his words if you didn’t want there to be—if his sole use to you was helping you sleep, then he would gladly fulfill it.

And if you wanted to use him for anything else, well, he’d gladly fulfill that, too.

“I don't need help falling asleep.”

Another step forward. The lock to your front door was almost within reach.

“I can tell you a story or sing you some tunes, just the way you like.”

Against your better judgement, you paused. Memories flooded your mind of that sweet, charming voice that had first won you over all those years ago, the same voice he would sing his younger siblings lullabies with. It was uncharacteristically gentle and pure, so entrancing that you never stopped to think of the poison laced within it. An oleander voice. 

Childe sensed your hesitation immediately. A fox on the hunt, scanning the undergrowth for the faintest rustles to lunge at and sink his fangs into. He leaned in closer, his hopeful gaze studying you so intensely that you worried it may actually burn holes into your skin.

“Please?”

“No,” you said at last, cursing the strain in your voice. “You can’t. You need to go, Childe.”

Back to Childe. It twisted the knife that you'd plunged into his chest all those months ago, the day you'd been foolish enough to think you could ever truly break free of him. His face darkened again, eyes narrowing with a predatory accuracy.

“Someone’s coming over, right?” he muttered. A barely concealed rage bubbled beneath the surface of his question, like the final moments before a dormant volcano erupted in the most violent of ways. “You’re seeing someone else behind my back, right? That’s why you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I'm trying to get rid of you because you act like this,” you spat, giving his chest a shove. For all the force you put into it, he barely even stumbled. “No one's coming. And even if they were, it’s none of your fucking business. How many times do I have to tell you that we’re done?”

You’d half-expected him to look hurt— angry, even. To finally run out of his seemingly never-ending supply of patience for you and lash out at you for being so heartless, to give you another practiced pout that always made you forget why you felt the need to treat him so cruelly in the first place. But what he said next caught you off guard, taking your words and throwing them right back in your face. 

“Until you mean it.”

Childe lifted his hand slowly, curling his fingers around the collar of his thick jacket to tug it down and reveal something that made your heart drop. A bruised patch on his neck, originally deep red and lined with indents where your teeth had dug into his skin, now faded into a purple-yellow color. Even among the countless battle scars riddling his skin, the mark stood out. It had been over two weeks since you’d given it to him—you couldn’t believe it still hadn’t gone away. But for such a fearsome warrior, Childe’s body had always been oddly delicate, quick to bruise. Especially around his neck, especially in your hands.

Or, the bastard might’ve taken measures to make sure it didn’t fade, pressing down on the damaged skin, breaking his blood vessels all over again to keep your brand on him for as long as physically possible. You wouldn’t put it past him.

The unwelcome reminder of that night made you wince. Of course. Maybe you were just as much to blame for this endless cycle as he was—after all, even the most loyal of dogs would eventually learn to stop returning to the same place over and over if it hadn’t grown accustomed to getting some kind of reward, right? But when Childe had finally returned from Fontaine a few weeks ago after being gone for much longer than either of you had anticipated, battered and bruised like you’d never seen him before, you’d had a moment of weakness. Or perhaps, several moments of weakness. 

Rumors about what had happened to him in the foreign nation had reached your village; the unjust trial, his unexplained disappearance, his long, grueling battle with something horrifying and otherworldly that had left him so weakened he couldn’t make the journey home for months. You’d been worried sick about him, it was foolish to pretend otherwise. So when you found him on your doorstep again two weeks ago, still not fully healed, but smiling that sunbeam of a smile when he saw you, you’d let him fall back into your arms without much resistance. Back where he belonged, as he would put it.

You gave your head a violent shake, physically forcing the memories away. It had been a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Go home,” you commanded. “Now.”

“My home is here, with you.”

You forced out a scoff. “Give me a fucking break.”

It was obvious Childe knew just as well as you did that he was chipping away at your resolve, little by little. You had to put an end to this before it went any further, spiraled into something out of your control. Disregarding the crestfallen look on his face, you found the willpower to push past him at last and shove your key into the lock of your front door. 

“Can’t you see how much you’re hurting me?” 

His voice was far closer than you’d expected it to be, warm breath fanning over your ears and making goosebumps creep up on your skin. Struggling to focus, you threw out the first response that came to mind.

“You like it when I hurt you.”

“I do.”

You could hear his lips curving into a grin as he spoke. It made your stomach churn with disgust and desire, all at once.

“Goodnight, Childe.”

There was no room for debate in your tone, distant and resolute. Turning the handle of your door, you at last cracked it open, a fleeting sense of relief finding you as the welcoming warmth from inside began to seep out, beckoning you to safety. 

“I guess I’ll stay out here, then,” he said quietly. “To make sure no one disturbs your sleep.”

If that was his last-ditch attempt at gaining some kind of sympathy, then you were confident that you’d won this battle. Stepping into your house with newfound certainty, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you replied.

“Don’t bother. You’ll freeze to death in this snow.”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggled. “Can't say that doesn't make me happy. But you should really be more worried about anyone who happens to pass by your house tonight.”

You froze.

“I don’t like hurting innocent people,” he continued on with a sigh. It was far too casual, as if he were discussing something as mundane as swatting a few pesky flies. “But who knows what kind of creeps might be lingering around here? If someone gets too close, I might not be able to tell the difference between them and the bastard who’s trying to steal you away from me.”

There was a soft crunching in the snow as he inched closer and closer to your rigid form until he was pressed fully against your back again, eclipsing you with his shadow. The comfort of your home was taunting you like a sick joke now, a mere step away from the nightmare unfolding behind you. It all clicked in your head. Even if the person Childe had it out for didn’t truly exist, he would make them exist. He would hold the whole world hostage if he had to.

“I really hope you won’t let it get to that,” he finished with a whisper. Low, barely there, but full of promise. 

Your throat went dry, anything you’d planned to say shriveling up along with it. Given how uncomfortably close he was, you were certain he could feel the tension in your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat, pounding wildly against your ribcage like that of a cornered prey animal.

Whether it was an empty threat or not, you didn’t want to risk finding out. Every day, Childe challenged what you thought you knew about him, the limits you’d set in your mind for what he was capable of. He loved nothing more than to test himself, after all, and blurring the lines of his morality was no exception to that. The only predictable thing about him was his unpredictability.

He’d already given you glimpses of how far he was willing to go. His returns to Morepesok started becoming apparent to you not when Tonia would send you excited letters in the mail or when he showed up unannounced at your front door, but when the people you had grown close to in his absence inexplicably started to keep a distance from you. You didn’t know what he’d done to them—you weren’t sure if you wanted to know—but the very fact that they were still alive once he was finished with them sent a message in itself. 

“Look what I can get away with when they lived to tell the tale. Imagine how easily I could get away with killing them.”

“Ajax,” your voice cracked on a single word, as did the composure that you’d worked so tirelessly to maintain up until now. Any delusions you’d had about being free of him just moments before seemed so laughable, in retrospect. It had been a losing game from the start, it always was.

He rested his chin on your shoulder with a carefree hum. “It is really cold out, huh?” he noted, hand reaching out to rest over yours on the door handle. “Do you think I could come in with you, instead?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was an offer of mercy.

You nodded.

That was all it took for him to slip past you in a flash, swinging your door wide open and stepping aside to hold it for you. He watched eagerly as you brushed past him and entered the cottage, like a puppy awaiting some kind of approval for remembering his manners so well. You found yourself thinking that if he had a tail, it would surely be wagging by now.

The door shut with a heavy thud, at last freeing you from the unforgiving snowstorm that was swirling to life outside. But you were far more concerned with the storm brewing between you and the man you’d just allowed into your home. He mirrored your actions as you removed your heavy boots and shrugged off your thick winter gear. Rather than hanging his coat on a different hook, he draped it completely on top of yours, no doubt to make sure you smelled nothing but him the next time you wore it. It was so ridiculous, such an annoyingly him thing to do, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He met your irritation with a self-satisfied grin, almost cheeky enough to remind you of simpler times. A time when you were blissfully unaware of what that smile was capable of. 

The coziness of your home eased your nerves a bit, at least, allowing you to feel more in control as you watched him wander down the hall, head turning curiously from side to side to take in every last detail of his surroundings. It earned a bitter laugh from you. As if he didn’t have every nook and cranny of your house memorized in that sick mind of his. As if he didn’t break in regularly when you were gone to see if anything had changed in his absence. If you’d purchased any new clothes or perfumes, developed a taste for any new dishes he should learn how to cook for you, or, most importantly, if any evidence of another person being there had been left behind.

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you followed Childe to your room, where you found him fiddling around with the items on your dresser. He inspected each one with a childlike fascination, toying with various trinkets and souvenirs and opening up the caps of your creams and lotions to smell them.

“You never change,” he remarked dreamily, placing a bottle of Inazuman, sakura-scented lotion back where he’d found it with a care he only reserved for you. For such a simple comment, it was full of overflowing adoration that you’d never been able to pinpoint the source of. You wanted to dispute it—to insist that you were no longer the same person you’d been when you and Childe were lovers—but you supposed the fact that he was back in your bedroom was proof enough that he was right.

He must’ve removed his gloves at some point, because his hands were now bare, your ring shining on display as he ran his fingers carefully along every bottle and piece of jewelry decorating your dresser, many of which were gifts from him that you hadn’t been able to discard. A detail that you were certain he took great pride in. The snow in his hair had begun to melt, dripping off his bangs and splattering onto the wooden floor in a rhythm that was partially soothing, and partially akin to a ticking time bomb.

Without thinking much of it, you opened one of your dresser drawers to pull out a hand towel, reaching up to press it against the droplets forming on his hair. His breath hitched as you dabbed at the wet locks, eyes darting to fixate on you, to make sure that you were actually touching him on your own accord and it wasn’t just his imagination.

You regretted the gesture the instant his widened gaze met yours. It was full of an emotion you’d never once considered could be dangerous before seeing it on him—joy, unbridled and far too intense for your liking. What was even more troubling than that, however, was the very obvious craving that lurked beneath it. Itching for more, he always wanted more.

“You were getting my floor wet,” you tried to explain, yanking your hand away just as you would when veering too close to an open flame. But he grabbed your wrist before you could, not breaking his stare for even a second as he guided you back to his head, tossing the towel aside and nuzzling shamelessly against your palm.

It was frightening, how right it felt to have your fingers tangled in his hair again, brushing through the charmingly messy strands and watching his eyelashes flutter shut in contentment. You fell back into your roles with such ease every single time, a domestic facade beautiful enough to trick you into forgetting about what festered underneath.

Your gentle scratches to his scalp came to a sudden halt when he turned his cheek without warning to press his lips into your palm. The peck was soon followed by another, then another, until he was leaving hungry kisses all over your fingers and down your wrist. Each one sent a jolt through your senses, hauntingly familiar.

“Childe,” you warned.

“You’re so warm.” His thumb pressed against your wrist’s pulse as he mumbled between kisses. “Missed you so much.”

“You have no right to miss me anymore.”

His lips stopped for a moment, body tensing against yours. You tried not to let it get to you, even if the thought of who might suffer the consequences if you angered him made a wave of nausea rise within you.

“Don’t you get it?” he chuckled, but there was a hurt crack to it. “I’m yours. I'm always gonna be yours, no matter what you do.”

“I don’t want you to be mine,” you said coldly.

“You don’t have to want me.” He rested his head against your chest with a happy sigh, burrowing into your softness and tracing patterns into your back with restless fingers. “I still belong to you. Throw me out like a used toy and I'll still be yours to play with. Give me to someone else and I'll still have your name engraved on me.”

“Ajax.”

You cut him off before he could rile himself up with his own delusions any further—or perhaps, before he could pull you into them with him.

Hearing his name uttered so harshly on your tongue was enough to snap him out of it, at least momentarily. The look he gave you would put a kicked puppy to shame, and you could only hope that the unnatural gleam you spotted in his eyes wasn’t the beginnings of tears forming. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it otherwise, not when he was such a convincing crier. A pretty one, too.

“They’ll be dispatching me to Nod-Krai soon.”

Your heart dropped. This time, it was impossible to hide your reaction from him. Confusion, relief, dread—they all burst to life at once, a battle of emotions that you were certain Childe sensed in you with ease. You, on the other hand, couldn’t read his expression. It was good-natured as ever, completely detached from the situation at hand.

“Nod-Krai?” It came out incredulous. You wished you could just write it off as another one of his attempts to get in your head, but it was such a bizarre thing to lie about that you knew it had to be true. “Already? But you just…” you trailed off, mind racing a mile a minute with the implications of the news. Childe had just barely recovered from his extensive injuries in Fontaine, and Nod-Krai was far more unpredictable a place to roam, even for a Fatui Harbinger. Especially for Tartaglia, given his unquenchable thirst for throwing himself into harm’s way at any given opportunity. It was a lawless land, crawling with factions of varying loyalties, unbound by the same conventions as the rest of Sneznhya—or any nation in Teyvat, for that matter.

Childe hummed, and you knew just as well as he did that you’d taken the bait he’d set out for you. Even so, you didn’t care about keeping up the act anymore. His revelation should’ve come as a blessing to you, it should’ve lifted the weight of his suffocating love off of your shoulders and made you feel light again for the first time in months. But you didn’t. All you felt was guilt.

Guilt for treating him this way when all he wanted was your love. Guilt for rejecting every letter, every gift, every desperate attempt to gain just a crumb of your attention, when you knew that any one of them could be his last.

“I’ll be gone in a week, maybe less.” He moved closer to you as he continued, very deliberate in his phrasing, you noticed. Not “leaving”, but “gone”. There was an unspoken air of permanence to it, one that had become all the more plausible to you after his brush with death in Fontaine.

You weren’t sure when he’d managed to grab it without you realizing, but that coveted heart-shaped perfume bottle was now resting in his hand. “Dunno how long this project will take, either. It’s a really big deal, apparently.”

You said nothing.

“So, I just…really needed to see you, y’know? Really need to be with you, right now,” he admitted with a feather-light whisper. “Will you let me?”

His finger rested on the bottle’s nozzle without pressing down on it quite yet, silently asking you for permission to spray the perfume. You just nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as a faint mist wafted over your skin, fragrant and nostalgic. A scent you would never be able to detach from him. Maybe that was why you still called it your favorite.

Childe was back on you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug and burying his face right back in the crook of your neck like it belonged there, like he wanted to get lost in you and never find his way out. You indulged him, petting the back of his head in an all too familiar motion as he took in a deep, unstable breath, whimpering softly in the back of his throat as the perfume flooded his senses. When he exhaled, it came out shaky, his whole body shuddering along with it and making you realize for the first time that the firmness you felt pressing against your thighs wasn’t just his Vision casing.

It made your insides coil—with dismay, and with something far more shameful. Hot and uncontrollable lust, pooling in your abdomen at an alarming rate. But you were past the point of lying to yourself, of pretending that you hadn’t anticipated this exact outcome from the moment you saw Childe’s silhouette awaiting you in the darkness. As soon as he’d stepped inside your home, you’d made your choice.

This time, when his lips found your neck, you didn’t stop him. His panting was like that of a starved dog, frantically trying to absorb your scent and leave uncoordinated, open-mouthed kisses all over your skin at the same time. His fingers dug deeper into your clothes, pulling you closer to him in fear that you might disappear from his grasp if he didn’t. You shifted your leg so that it pressed directly against the growing ache in his pants, drawing out a whine from him that activated an old urge within you—to make him fall apart.

“You smell so good,” he managed to gasp out between fervent kisses. They grew sloppier and sloppier with every new patch of skin his lips devoured, leaving hot, wet rings of saliva all over your neck that were as dizzying as they were sobering. Kisses that were so distinctly Ajax. 

If all his nipping and licking wasn’t enough to thoroughly remind you that it was him, his nonstop chattering certainly was. “So good, so, so good. Need you. Need you so bad.”

You gave his hair a harsh tug as he wandered down the column of your throat to nibble at your collarbones, already completely drunk on you. “Is this all it takes to get you worked up?” You dug your knee harshly into his bulge. “You’re pathetic, Ajax.”

As if to prove your point, he let out a sweet moan of relief, mouth falling open against your skin and spilling out a dribble of drool.

“Slobbering all over me like a fucking dog,” you muttered. Using your grip on his hair, you yanked his head back. Though being forced away from your neck earned a tiny mewl of protest from him, he still complied without much resistance, giving you a lopsided grin when you came face to face with him again. You studied him for a moment, running your hand down his burning face and resting it on his flushed cheek, already smeared with his own saliva. Just a few seconds of not having his lips on you, and he started to grow restless again. He leaned forward on impulse, expecting you to kiss him, only for him to yelp in surprise as you shoved his head down and sent him to his knees.

“Act like a mutt, and I’ll treat you like one.”

Childe eyes gleamed. The only time they ever had any life to them was when he was gazing up at you. He gave you an obedient nod, far too eager as he tucked his legs underneath himself, waiting for your next move.

“Gonna collar me?” he asked sweetly, cocking his head to bare his throat. You weren’t sure if it was his intention, but it served as yet another reminder of the fading lovebite you’d left on his skin. 

“Dogs don’t talk.”

He went quiet, a luxury you were certain would last no more than a minute or two.

You could see his hard-on clearly from this angle, the outline of his length was painfully obvious even through the thick material of his pants, visibly twitching with anticipation. Childe swiped tongue over his lips, already beginning to shift a bit in his spot. It was adorable, really, how hopeless he was when it came to staying still. There was nothing in this world that he wouldn’t do for you—he’d made that abundantly clear a long time ago—but his overzealous nature couldn’t be contained no matter how hard he tried.

His soft, impatient whine morphed into a gasp when you brought your foot down to his crotch without warning, pressing your sole against the bulging heat. Childe’s hips bucked up instantly, only to be forced back down with a warning shove from you.

“No way you're this hard already,” you taunted, trailing along the shape of his length. “Thought I’d let you fuck me, just like that?”

The way he throbbed under your foot was answer enough. You could tell it was taking every ounce of his strength not to rut up into your touch again, just to prove to you that he could be disciplined, that even a trigger-happy mad dog who acted on his most depraved wants would still do his very best for you. 

“Please—mmph—I’ll be good,” he promised, voice trembling with effort. “I’ll be so good for you. Your good boy.”

“My good boy?” you echoed. They were the words Childe always yearned to hear the most from you, never failing to send him into a frenzy when they left your lips. But hearing them spat back at him with such disdain made his heart ache just as badly as his cock. “Does a good boy follow me around without permission?” You dug your heel mercilessly into his erection, making him double over with a pitiful choking sound. “Does a good boy break into my house? Take my things? Jerk off to my clothes and leave his filthy stains all over them?”

Childe’s expression didn’t disappoint. Eyes going wide in a rare display of shock, mouth hanging open uselessly—though, whether it was his surprise that had rendered him speechless, or a fresh wave of lust, you couldn’t decide.

“You’re not a good boy,” you sneered. “You’re just a whore.”

He keened, a low, primal sort of sound that made your core clench. His unsteady hands wrapped around your ankle, urging you to shift more of your weight onto his dick until you were fully stepping on it. You could hear how labored his breathing had become, see the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggled to speak.

“No, n-no,” he protested, nails digging into your leg, begging you to understand him. “I only do it to protect you. Need to keep you safe from all those rotten bastards who want you for themselves. Need to remind them that you’re mine.”

The irony of it all was almost enough to make you burst into a fit of laughter. As if there was anyone in this world you needed to be protected from other than the very man at your feet. You tilted his chin up with one finger, locking your eyes with his wild ones. Then, you drew your hand back and slapped him across the face. The sheer force of it must’ve caught him off guard, because it actually managed to swing his head to the side, sprawling his bangs over his eyes and giving you a clear view of the mark already reddening on his cheek.

“You think that justifies any of it?” you snapped. “You think you get to act like a mutt in heat in the name of protecting me?”

Recovering from the sting of your slap, Childe turned his head back to face you, jaw flexing under your fingers. As he came back into view, something twisted in your gut as you realized that he was smiling. Not only that, his length was practically ready to burst under your foot, pulsing with waves of heat that seeped through his clothing, threatening to ignite your skin.

“Sorry,” he breathed, thick with lust. “‘M really, really sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, I swear.”

He rubbed his aching cheek into your palm with a dreamy sigh, as if you hadn’t just struck him with that very hand.

“I’m so sorry. Won’t happen again, I promise. S-so please, take it easy on me, yeah?”

His tone sounded anything but apologetic, in fact, it couldn’t be more obvious that he was delighted with the situation he’d landed himself in. Coupled with the wide, insufferable smirk that had yet to leave his face, you pieced together exactly what he was trying to goad you into doing.

You grabbed hold of his jaw, digging your fingers into his flesh with little care for the whimper that slipped out of him.

“Liar.”

Childe didn’t falter. He batted his eyelashes innocently up at you, then opened his mouth wide to sink his canine teeth into the flesh between your thumb and index finger. His bite lasted for no more than a second, not strong enough to cause any real damage, but enough to make a sharp hiss rise in your throat. You freed your hand from his mouth and swung it back again instantly, coming down on his other cheek twice as hard as before. A loud, smacking sound echoed off your bedroom walls, only rivaled in volume by his sinful groan that followed.

He’d anticipated the second impact, but what neither of you had expected was the way his whole body convulsed as the rush of pain shot through his nerves. At first, when you caught his shoulders shaking, you thought the brat might actually be laughing. Then, with a weak gasp of your name, his hands flew to your foot in a panic, trying to lessen the friction and angle his hips away from your touch.

“A-ah, no, wait,” he grunted suddenly. “Too much, ‘s too much! Gonna—!”

Childe threw his head back with a broken moan, nails sinking into your ankle fiercely enough to leave behind crescent-shaped indents. The tinge of worry you’d felt for going too far soon morphed into understanding when you felt a fresh surge of warmth spreading underneath your foot, thick and moist. Just to be certain, you pressed down on his spasming cock a little harder, pleased to see the overstimulation make him writhe helplessly on the ground.

He panted as his unexpected climax started to ebb, leaving his head ducked low and his face burning with shame—a deliciously unfamiliar emotion, one that only you could ignite in him. Fighting back a smile, you tilted his chin up once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. His cheeks weren’t just flushed from the force of your slaps, anymore. The Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers was on his knees for you, blushing like a flustered virgin after making a mess in his underwear.

“Poor thing,” you cooed, rolling your heel over his soiled, twitching crotch and eliciting a small mewl from him. “Couldn’t control yourself, hm?”

He nodded miserably, hands sliding up from your ankle to grasp on to your thighs. “I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, and you knew that this time, he truly meant it. “S-so sorry, I tried to hold it in. Just felt…felt so good. I was just so happy you were touching me again.”

“Shh. It’s okay, baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair in faux sympathy. As you brushed his tousled bangs out of his eyes, he finally found it in him to look up at you again. The tenderness of your touch was almost enough to fool him, until it was sharply contrasted by the scorn laced in your words that followed, “I don’t expect much from a dumb little puppy who can only think with his dick.”

He whined in protest. His hands pawed at your thighs in a frenzy, squeezing your flesh and clinging to you with very real distress that you may actually toss him out into the snow for being so pathetic. Childe hated finishing without your permission—or, rather, he hated missing out on the addictive praises you’d shower him with when he was able to hold himself back for you. But what he hated most of all was cumming anywhere that wasn’t inside of you.

“Please, please,” he begged, leaning in to bury his face in your thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him away, only for the boy to latch on to you twice as hard. Anything you planned to say was promptly cut short when you suddenly felt his lips puckering against the inside of your thigh, pressing hot kisses to it as a meek apology. “Please,” he repeated, voice rising in pitch with each one. “Lemme make you feel good. I’m sorry, ‘m a good boy, y-your good boy.”

His kisses grew more erratic as he ventured higher and higher up until he came dangerously close to your heat. Your stomach flipped as it became clear what he wanted, fingers grasping at his scalp in a silent order for him to stop. Childe sucked in a deep breath through his nose, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip as he took in your scent with absolutely zero qualms about letting you see how much he was enjoying it. You cursed the way it made fresh wetness seep into your underwear, praying that your arousal wasn’t obvious enough for him to smell.

“Why? Why won’t you let me?” He pressed his nose back into the spot where your thighs met, trying to calm himself with shaky inhales of your essence. “Don’t…don’t get rid of me. You know I can make you feel so good. Please, let me show you.”

It was true, his mouth was good for so much more than just spewing delusions and pushing all your buttons. You shushed his rambling with a firm nudge to his torso, easing him backwards with your foot so that he was forced to let go of you and balance himself with his hands. It left him sprawled out on the floor below you, arms and legs spread wide with the embarrassing wet patch in his pants clear as day.

“Easy, baby. I’m not done with you just yet,” you assured him, ghosting your touch over his cock that, despite his orgasm, still hadn't gone fully soft. Childe swallowed audibly, but his panic at least seemed to ebb at the possibility of a second chance to satisfy you.

It was still impossible for you to wrap your head around. Someone of Tartaglia’s sheer physical strength and international influence, someone who not only had the ability to get whatever he wanted in this world, but the ambition to go after it. All that power bursting at his fingertips, and the only thing he wanted was to be under your control. 

You would never understand how the maze of his mind worked, but it would be a lie to say that it didn’t give you an adrenaline rush like no other.

“Undress,” you directed. With a final flick to the leather strap wrapped around his thigh, you turned and left him there, padding towards your bed and settling on the mattress. Childe didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time he stripped, his movements uncoordinated and urgent as he fumbled with his belt. An enthusiastic puppy barely managing to follow his master’s orders when his favorite treat was dangling just within reach.

You beckoned him towards you with your finger, and he scrambled over in an instant, legs wobbly from kneeling in the same position on your wooden floor for so long. The mattress dipped as he sat next to you—almost completely on top of you. If he could have it his way, you were certain he would’ve meshed his body with yours and never let go. Your eyes scoured over his bare form, illuminated by the low light; it was impossible not to. Every time you saw him again, his shoulders seemed to have gotten a little broader, his muscles flexed with newfound strength, plenty of fresh scars and bruises decorating his skin like badges of honor. New additions to his wounds never escaped your notice, not when you were more intimately familiar with the map of his body than even Childe himself. 

Old habits taking over, you reached out your hand, tentatively brushing along the recently gained injuries littering his skin. A long, rippling one across his toned stomach, several punctures on his chest that almost resembled the sharp teeth of some animal, a thick bump of healing flesh on his shoulder from a particularly deep wound. You traced over all of them with the same care you did when he was still the man you loved. 

Maybe he was right, you never changed.

Childe’s eyes were half-lidded with contentment, never more at peace than when he was under your undivided attention like this. Tender fingers touching him like he was the most precious treasure in the world, keen eyes observing every last detail of his body to lock safely away in your brain. It was his own personal heaven. Your gaze gradually wandered further down, taking in his built chest, the lean muscles of his abdomen, the trail of soft, red hairs forming under his belly button, and finally, his length resting against his thigh. Just as you’d suspected, it was still half-hard, already beginning to twitch under your attentive stare as more and more blood rushed south, reddining its tip. Evidence of his earlier release was still splattered all over his dick and thighs, slick and glistening from his own mess.

With a start, you realized you’d been staring for far too long. You snapped your eyes back up in a flash before he could get the wrong idea, only for embarrassment to wash over you when you saw the sick elation written all over his face.

“You can stare all you want, y’know,” he giggled. “It’s yours.”

You hardened your expression again, leaning back against the headboard of your bed with what you hoped was an air of indifference. Even if his words set every one of your nerve endings ablaze, that was something best kept a secret. He was already manic enough as is.

“Let’s see if it’s worth calling mine.”

Spreading your legs, you took your sweet time removing your layers of clothing, acutely aware of his ravenous eyes fixated on your every move. As you unclasped your bra, his gaze dropped to your breasts with a speed that had your lips twitching in amusement. He was so transparent in moments like these, nothing cunning about him. His hands twitched at his sides, mouth watering with desire, but even so, he remained put, fighting the urge to lunge forward and bury himself in your chest with all his might.

Your fingers paused under the waistband of your underwear, an idea coming to mind.

“Wanna touch, puppy? Take them off for me.”

Childe’s breath hitched. The order had barely left your lips before erratic fingers were tugging at the garment, as careful as he could manage when in a state like this. You could feel the effort it took him to restrain himself, animalistic need bubbling under the surface of his skin as he slid your underwear off, eyeing the soaked fabric longingly for several heartbeats before swallowing hard and placing it to the side.

The look he gave you, earnestly awaiting your praise for not pressing his nose into the underwear like he’d so obviously wanted to, almost broke your facade. But you couldn’t give it to him yet. It was your private way of punishing him, however futile it might seem in comparison to the unstoppable tidal wave of his obsession. Withholding the approval that he depended on so heavily in the hopes that one day, you might be able to wean him off of it entirely. 

Instead, you simply motioned for him to settle in the space between your thighs, ignoring his disappointed sulking. His dick rested against your folds, heavy and sticky with his own seed.

“F-fuck.” His hips jolted forward involuntarily, drawn to your dripping heat with all the natural force of a magnet. “Please, can I put it in? Please?”

He sounded like he may actually break into tears if you denied him any longer. It sparked something within you that was always lying dormant, no matter how tirelessly you’d tried to force it down until it was buried away for good. The need to comfort him, to satiate him just enough so that he wouldn’t spin completely out of your control—or at least, the illusion of control. You reached up to brush his bangs back, relishing in the brief sense of normalcy it brought you when he rested his cheek in the cradle of your palm.

“Come on in, baby.”

Childe fumbled with his cock for a moment, a tiny, frustrated sound forming in his throat before he was able to line its tip up with your entrance. He pushed past the slippery folds bit by bit at first, then, instinct getting the best of him, sank into you all at once with a powerful snap of his hips. You tightened around him instantly, adjusting to that familiar stretch that your body would recognize as his every single time without fail. His length had always fit inside of you so well, like two pieces of a puzzle, as he so gleefully loved to remind you when he was gushing lovesick nonsense into your ear.

The moan that slipped out of him as he bottomed out was pure sin. Drawn-out and broken and turning up in pitch at the end, almost like he was in pain. For a moment, you thought he might have actually cum again, just from the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. But his cock was still rock hard as it twitched inside of you. In fact, you could feel it growing bigger the more your walls squeezed around him, taking on every inch of his shape, pressing against every ridge and vein.

“I’m s-still,” he gasped, body slumping forward. “Still sensitive.”

You cupped your palm against the blazing hot skin of his face, tender to the touch where you’d slapped him. You rubbed his cheek delicately for a moment before trailing down to his neck. His pulse raced with adrenaline under your fingers as you wrapped them around his throat, pressing down on its sides to grab his attention.

“You wanted to make me feel good, right?” you frowned. “Now’s your chance. Fuck me like a good boy.”

Childe’s eyes clouded over, the words fogging up his mind like he’d fallen into a trance. You could feel the vibrations of his moan rumbling against your palm as he gave you a shaky, obedient nod, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and forcing himself to pull out despite his hypersensitivity. You tried not to think too hard about how your walls ached at the loss, immediately longing to feel him filling you up again. And like a good boy, he did exactly that.

Slowly, he eased back into you, inch after inch until his cock was almost entirely sheathed in your pillowy heat. You both sighed in unison, an undeniable sense of relief overtaking you that you were sure to reprimand yourself for later. He took a few extra seconds to bask in your wet warmth before pulling back out again, his trembling breaths puffing out against your face as he began to properly rock his hips. Each burst of pleasure he felt was accompanied by a tinge of overstimulation that made his brain go haywire, and after just a few agonizing thrusts, he was reduced to a wreck above you.

“So—fuck!” he choked out, barely able to string a sentence together when your walls sucked his cock back in so seamlessly every time, taking any coherent thoughts along with it. “So good, f-feels so fucking good. I missed you. Missed being inside you s-so much.” His forehead fell against yours, the pace of his strokes gradually picking up until he found a steady flow. You dragged your nails down his throat, encouraging him to keep going in the language he understood best.

“You…ah…feel so perfect around me,” he whimpered, lips brushing against yours, so rife with desperation that you could taste it dripping off of them. “So warm and soft. So…so wet.” He interrupted his rhythm suddenly to pull all the way out of your pussy before slamming himself back inside in one fluid motion. It created an especially obscene smacking sound, emphasizing his words and making his stomach twist with gratification.

The swollen head of his dick dragged against your sweet spot as he did, earning a soft moan from you that you couldn’t suppress. Childe throbbed inside of you, visibly ecstatic over the smallest indication that he was pleasing you right. Eager to draw more sounds out of you, he repeated the action, taking on an uncharacteristically careful pace that had your composure slipping further and further each time he filled you to the brim. 

“O-only I can make you this wet, right?” To anyone else, it might’ve sounded like he was simply stroking his own ego, but you knew better than that. He was genuinely asking, he needed to hear it from you like the oxygen he needed to breathe. “Only I get to—hah—feel you around me like this, fill you up like this. Make you feel g-good. Only me, right?”

You could’ve blamed it on the pleasure muddling your mind and allowing your heart to take over, but that was far more damning an admission of how you truly felt about the mess of a man sinking himself so deep inside you that you’d think he wanted to meld his body to yours. Swallowing down another moan, your hands found the back of his head again and tangled in his damp, fluffy hair.

“You think anyone else is filthy enough to do what you do?” you answered with a breathless question of your own. It wasn’t exactly the doting response he’d hoped for, but it was more than enough to placate him for now. His lips crashed into yours, tiny huffs rising in his throat and spilling into your mouth as he returned to his breakneck speed from earlier. The sudden whiplash in pace might have caught you by surprise if you hadn’t known Childe so well. Slow and steady never lasted long with him. 

His kisses were a whirlwind of teeth nipping at your lips and drool coating your tongue, every bit as intense as his thrusts, like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs and selfishly keep that for himself, too.

Even if you didn’t say it, he was right—no one else could make you feel the things you experienced with him. No one else could ever replicate his essence; animalistic, but not purely in a chase for mindless pleasure, he was far too passionate for that. It was a chase for you, a perfect balance of primal and emotional craving that only you could provide him.

Your head was spinning by the time you forced him to break the kiss, drunk on all the moans he’d emptied into your mouth that still managed to be so loud despite your lips muffling them. Childe didn’t miss a beat before diving back into you, pressing sloppy kisses to the corner of your mouth, licking a messy stripe down your jaw, and latching on to your neck. The sensation of his canines pricking your skin made your body jolt in a different kind of way—bringing you back to your senses.

“No,” you warned him. “No biting. Bad boy.”

His hips stuttered, a wrench thrown into his frantic pattern of thrusts as he was denied by you yet again. It was cruel, really, for you to expect him to anchor himself long enough to form a response. He was so far gone, already, only able to peer up at you with wide, pitiful eyes.

“H-huh? But…please,” he resorted to begging right away. “Please, please, please. ‘S not fair. Everything’s faded, there’s no—ngh—!” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his hips to a stop long enough to gather his words. “All my marks are gone. P-please, need to make new ones. Need everyone to know you’re mine.”

His teeth dragged helplessly over your flesh, threatening to sink right back in at any moment. Your mind raced. Marks were far more tangible than an unwanted memory that you could banish to the depths of your conscience. Marks left evidence of your mistakes, taunting you with your own body each time you caught sight of your reflection. The marks you’d left on Childe were exactly what had landed you in this situation in the first place.

“No, Ajax. Do I need to muzzle you?” 

He whined low in his throat, already beginning to grind into you again, pressing his cock against the ridges of your walls in a way that was so dizzying it made rational thought an impossible feat.

“If I don’t…” he panted. “Someone might t-try something with you and I’ll just have to kill them instead. You don’t want that, right? Right?” 

His words made you stiffen all over again, an ice-cold, brutal dose of reality crashing back over you like a crack had formed in your walls and allowed some of the raging blizzard outside to seep through. In your alarm, you squeezed around his dick even tighter than before, making him collapse into you with an angelic sigh that was so wildly detached from what he’d just said, it was almost comical.

“Or…do you?” he mused, drawing playful patterns against your skin with his lips. “Want me to—ah—prove myself to you, yeah? I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll do anything for you.”

You said nothing, simply tilting your jaw back and pushing his head into the crook of your neck to grant him permission. With a grateful hum, Childe parted his lips, latching on to the patch of skin right below your jaw and suckling like his life depended on it. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d deliberately chosen a spot high up so it’d be difficult for you to cover with your clothing. He gradually began rocking his hips into you once more, picking up the delicious buildup of pressure in your stomach exactly where it left off. 

It made you feel a tinge of disgust with yourself—wanting nothing more to be free of this man one second, then shamelessly using his battered body for your indulgence the next. But just like everything else surrounding Tartaglia, there was no single, clear answer to your feelings towards him, there was nothing black and white about it.

You didn’t have time to brood over it for long, as the slew of sensations overtaking your body quickly consumed your thoughts again. The combination of his teeth devouring your neck and his length pumping a delicious friction inside of you was nothing short of addictive. It drew all your focus back to him at once, like he’d sensed that your attention had slipped off of him for a minute and greedily tried to snatch it back.

Not satisfied with just one lovebite, he quickly moved on to the base of your throat to create another. More, more, more, he always wanted more. His canines sank into your skin deep enough to make your back arch, rolling his cockhead against the roof of your walls and dribbling a pool of saliva onto your neck as his mouth fell open in a groan. Every sharp prick of his teeth was accompanied by a soothing lick over the damaged area afterwards, as if to apologize for being unable to control himself. 

“Crazy, crazy, crazy,” he babbled against your shoulder. “You make me s-so fucking crazy.”

“I don’t make you anything.” It was hard to sound as stern as you wanted to when your voice was so full of lust. “You’re like this all by yourself. A mutt that only knows how to fuck.”

A high-pitched whine met your ears at that, hands grasping your hips to pull you impossibly closer to him, plunging his length into the deepest parts of you. Your whole body jolted with pleasure, thighs wrapping around him and ankles locking behind his waist to trap him close to you. Childe finally pulled away from the crook of your neck, utterly lovestruck as he studied the array of marks he’d left all over your neck and shoulders.

“Did that feel good?” As expected, he’d caught on to your reaction immediately, even when you’d thought he was too busy making a meal of your throat to notice. “Am I—hah—making you feel good? Please, t-tell me ‘m doing well for you. Just wanna be a good boy.”

Endless praises for him danced on your tongue, yearning to be set free. The closer your orgasm drew, the harder it became to restrain them.

“Please.” He repeated the motion, and its effects hit you twice as strong this time, twisting the coil in your stomach so tight it was unbearable.

You relented. The ways he’d use himself for your pleasure were frighteningly easy to get hooked on, but that alone had never been the reason you let Childe back in, time and time again. It was the look of pure, unbridled need in his eyes, more irresistible than anything his body could make you feel and more honest than anything that could come out of his mouth. Raw, innocent love. You knew better than to believe most of the lies he fed you, but you would never be able to deny the fact that he loved you.

“It’s good, baby. You fill me up so well. Doing such a good job for me,” You appeased him at last, sickeningly sweet, reaching up to pet his head for good measure. “Keep it up, okay?”

His head fell into your chest, all the power of his arm muscles effectively rendered useless as they crumbled under his weight upon hearing a few simple words of approval from you. The sounds he let out eclipsed yours in volume as his hips pistoned inside of you, hellbent on bringing you to your climax. He breathed in your scent as he nestled his face between your breasts, pressing feverish kisses into the soft flesh and sucking fresh marks wherever he could. It came slurred and incoherent at first, but eventually, amidst the creaking of your bed and the smacks of skin, you realized he was saying something. Or rather, repeating something.

“M-mine—ngh. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he chanted. The closer you listened, the less they sounded like possessive growls and more like desperate whimpers, pleading for it to be true. For you to agree, to let him know that you craved him just as carnally as he craved you.

His hands slid down from your breasts to grip your thighs where they were wrapped around his waist, pawing needily at them in a thinly-veiled desire to push your legs back and bury his cock as far into your heat as your bodies would allow. However deep he was inside of you, he needed to be deeper, he needed to reach parts of you that no one else but him could ever touch. The only thing stopping his insatiable greed was the remaining few shreds of his sanity, telling him to control himself, to be good for you, to show you that he deserved to be yours. 

You could practically hear the pleas on his tongue without him having to speak a word. 

Not enough. More, more, more. Need you more.

“You’re such a greedy puppy, y’know that?” you clicked your tongue. Using your legs’ hold around his waist, you raised your lower half off the mattress just enough to press fully against his pelvic bone, granting his wish and pushing his dick further inside you. Childe keened your name, his brain short circuiting for a few moments before he remembered to resume his thrusts, slipping his hands under your back to help support you.

“Th-thank you, thank you,” he stammered. “Fuck, can’t get enough. Wanna stay like this forever.”

Coming from him, you knew it wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. The new angle was dangerously electrifying with how it allowed him to roll his tip perfectly into your sweet spot every time he sank into you. It wasn’t long before that familiar feeling in your core reached its limit, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped all at once. You sucked in a sharp breath, thighs squeezing around his hips so fiercely that it became difficult for him to move. Still, completely lost in you, Childe continued grinding diligently, making each wave of your climax all the more intense as his length didn’t falter its strokes once.

His eyes snapped open as he processed your walls clenched wildly around him, darting down to study the spot where he was thrusting into you. You could see the moment it clicked in his head as he noticed the fresh juices dripping from your slit and coating his cock, his entire face lighting up with a giddy grin.

“Did you—hah—cum?” he asked breathlessly. “You came, right? I made you feel good, right? Did I do a good job?” He lowered his head again, nuzzling his sweaty face against yours in ecstasy.

The aftereffects of your high were still in full swing, a light, floating sensation replacing the complicated web of emotions you’d been working fruitlessly to detangle up until now. Overcome with bliss, you finally stopped trying to fight back the affection banging at the confines of your heart, begging to be set free and reach him.

“Mm. Good boy, Ajax,” you murmured at last, pressing an encouraging kiss to his forehead. “You did so well for me, baby. My good boy.”

The final thread in Childe’s brain snapped. A violent shudder rippled through his whole body, hips bucking forward reflexively as the words he’d been driving himself mad to hear finally graced his ears. 

“O-oh, God,” he choked out, nails clawing pitifully at your back. “Again—ngh—please, say it again.”

All the added slickness from your climax allowed his cock to slide in and out of you even faster than before, and given how manic he was, the force of his thrusts quickly had your sensitive insides burning.

“You’re my good boy, Ajax.” It was a challenge to keep your voice from shaking when he was rutting into you with reckless abandon, no longer able to restrain himself. “My one and only. No one makes me feel as good as you.”

He suckled at your collarbone with a sweet, high-pitched whine that completely juxtaposed his intense movements, hands grabbing and squeezing at your flesh erratically, just trying to have as much of his skin in contact with yours as possible. 

“I l-love you. Love you, love you, love you, love you.”

For once, you were grateful for his mindless babbling, because it left no space for you to have to say anything in return. Maybe, in the very back of Childe’s fucked out mind, he was thinking the same thing. If he kept repeating the words over and over himself, he wouldn’t have to face the silence that followed when you didn’t return his declarations of love.

“Love you s’ much—ah! ‘M gonna lose it.” His dick pulsed inside of you, giving you a warning of its own. “Can I, please? Wanna c-cum inside, fill you up. Want you to always be full of me. Only me.”

Despite already reaching your own peak, his pleas made your toes curl all over again. It was so tempting to deny him, just to hear him grovel for you a bit more, but your walls were already overstimulated from the nonstop, merciless pace he’d taken on after you’d climaxed; you weren’t sure how much more you could take, either. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you clenched tightly around him, adding a mind-numbing pressure to his every stroke.

“You can let go, baby,” you encouraged. “Cum for me like a good boy.”

That was all it took for Childe to fall apart. Pushing his cock as deep inside of you as he could, his high crashed over him in an all-consuming tidal wave. You could feel his stomach flexing rapidly against your clit, broken cries and curses falling from his mouth as ripple after ripple of pleasure passed through him. Spurts of his release coated your walls with each one. Even after cumming once already, there was still so much of his seed spilling inside of you, hot and thick enough for you to feel as it filled you up. He never gave you anything less than his all, and this was no exception.

As the peak of his climax began to fade, so did his string of moans, quieting down into weak whimpers until he was left panting above you, shoulders rising and falling in exhaustion. He swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, then parted his lips to say something. But all that came out was a giggle; boyish, cute, and utterly infectious. Coupled with how innocent his eyes looked, blown-out wide so that the black eclipsed the blue, you felt yourself melt a little.

Childe at last removed his hands from under your back, still trying to catch his breath as he slumped his body weight on top of you like a blanket. You huffed at the impact, but your arms slipped their way naturally around him nonetheless. He hadn’t pulled a single inch out of you, even after readjusting his position, and as he nestled his head into the pillow of your chest, you could guess why.

“Can we stay like this a bit?” he mumbled, as close to shy as he ever got around you. “Want you to remember my shape inside you. Wanna remember how you feel around me when I’m gone.”

Reminded once again of his upcoming departure, you couldn’t have rejected him even if you’d wanted to. With a murmur of agreement, you reached up to play with his hair, curling your index finger around the unruly blond streak that stuck out in his bangs. 

It was moments like these where the reality of what had just happened should’ve shattered your peace, extinguishing the afterglow with dread and regret—but that was never the case. Seeing him so docile in your arms, drowsy from pushing himself to the limit and clinging to you to stay grounded, only added to your bliss. If you could just contain him like this, keep him secure and satiated so that none of his poison could seep out and harm anyone else, then that was enough for you.

He blinked his eyes open to watch you as you played gently with locks of his dampened hair, a dreamy, lopsided smile plastered to his face. His gaze flickered lower down, admiring the utter chaos he’d unleashed on your body—neck, chest, and shoulders all littered with deep, blossoming lovebites and very clear indents of his teeth. A thought seemed to occur to him, because suddenly he didn’t look quite so pleased with himself.

“You didn’t leave any on me,” he pouted. “Mine are fading too, y’know. I can barely see them anymore.”

He used some of his waning strength to tilt his head back as proof, and you tried not to grimace. It had been a very intentional decision on your part, even if the sight of his bared neck, ripe for the taking, had been tempting enough to make your mouth water as he’d rutted into you. You’d forced yourself to keep your mouth off of him, in the feeble hope that he wouldn’t be able to use it against you the next time you found him sitting at your doorstep.

“I hate it,” he added with a grumble. “I hate it when there’s no trace of you on my body. Doesn’t feel right. I'm yours.”

“You have my ring, don’t you?” In an attempt to soothe him before he could get riled up again, you cradled his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together in a way that made him look so harmless it was almost cruel. He considered what you’d said for a moment, his thumb coming to rub subconsciously over the silver band with a fond expression. Still, you could tell you hadn’t entirely swayed him.

“Mmm, but I want more. I’m greedy, right?” he imitated your words with a childish lilt. “So, you can just give me new ones tomorrow when we wake up. Please?”

You pressed your lips together. There it was—the beginnings of a crack forming in the illusion, exposing it in all its fragility. “Ajax,” you said lightly. “I have to be up early, remember?”

“Do you?”

He tilted his head, chin still perched on your chest. It was an unassuming gesture, cute even, but it made your skin crawl with unease. Of course. He’d seen through your bluff from the very beginning—he of all people would be acutely aware of what your schedule looked like the next day, after all. It was pointless to even consider lying to him about it. 

Though he’d more or less just announced that he knew you were deceiving him, he didn’t look upset in the slightest. Instead, he shifted his body so that he could lay on his side, pulling you along with him and letting out a soft grunt as his length rolled against your insides in the process.

“Let me sing you to sleep then, like I promised.”

He nestled back into you in a heartbeat, slotting his body against yours as he laid his head back against your chest and began to hum a gentle tune. It was one you recognized from the very first note, one you used to call your favorite. The sound of it made your entire being ache with nostalgia, mourning the past, mourning this current moment. Guided by the honey-sweet melody, you started running your hand up and down his back, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed that oleander voice to lull you to sleep.

[m1n-nie]

PT 2:; Hyperspermia on Sub!choso

(term—hyperspermia: a condition where the male has an abnormally large amount of semen; above 6ml)

an nsfwaudio of the inspo final part

"f- fuck me.." Choso whined—voice so high-pitched from how your hand's squeezing around him. "fuck m-me- ohh, p-please.. fuck me."

He didn't really expect for you to barge in the bathroom because of your worry on why he's so suddenly letting out loud noises in the room—nor did you expect him to be holding his semi-hard cock in hand with his cum splattered right down, making a large mess.

Annnnd, he also didn't expect for you to lock the bathroom door—make him a mess with your left hand whilst your right hand shoved your phone near his mouth to record his moans for 'later.'

And there he was—tired, you kept stroking the base of his dick, the tip becoming so red that it's redness is spreading to half the base from the many, many times you've edged him. Not to mention—the amount of pre-cum that's been coming out all over his dick and your hands, making it seem like he'd cum already multiple times though it's the opposite. The stickiness was so much—that he knew the recording would definitely hear those lewdly sounds.

He was tired—but fuck, did he just want your sweet pussy around him, fleshy walls tightening around his swollen cock.

"mommy—" he slipped, covering it with a following moan; "p- ppft- p- please.." Choso gasped, "fuck me.. p- please." His teary eyes widened as he looked up at you desperately, realizing his high is once again close—"s- sslow down.."

He begged—yet you continued your pace, stroking his cock up! And down, you held his chin as you pressed closer to him. You sighed his name; "Choso.. such a mess you're making." You teased, pulling his head closer to your's by his chin.

"haa- ha- haaa- fuck" he begs again—"Please.. I need- n- nneed your pretty pussy on me- p- please.." his sweaty hand desperately clinged on your wrist. "Fuck me.." he whispered. "I wanna feel like m' yours"

As his words spilled out his mouth—an abundance of his cum squirted out of his tip, white covering all over his cock and her hands—he squeaked; "t- too much"

"It's s- ssuch a waste, can you- can I have you n- now? Please? So- soo I can put it all inside you.."

Hello!! Finally, part 2.. though yes there's a part three, sorry, I cant freaking do a long ahh paged smut rn I'm busy but I hope this will feed you<3

Also, if you comment I'll tag you on the next part, thank you :c

Tags: @mythingsrhere @piixcelz @soozeu @psychobitchsyndrome @shinyfestmilkshake @namasaya

[magitextposts]

[h3rmess]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JABBER!! (and me)

“Jabber… my hand is tired… seriously.” You whine, pulling your hand away from him to rub your wrists. You’ve been jerking him off for hours now.

“Mmphm! Mmhng hmm phmmng?” He tries to speak through the gag in his mouth which is now covered in saliva. The bottom half on his face is soaked with drool, dripping down onto the bed as well. You’ve got his arms tied up, his legs bound to the bed posts. He fidgets as he lifts his hips, his dick already hard again after coming 6 times.

You pull the gag down to let him speak, “Keep going! Use your vibrator or something!” He begs, gasping as he speaks.

“How do you even know about that?” You ask, your face heating up.

“Don’t worry about that. Now, hurry! I need more!” His dick leaks precum and you’re wondering how his balls aren’t empty yet.

You grab your vibrator from your drawer and put it on the lowest setting, placing it on Jabber’s balls as you replace his gag.

He whines, hips bucking upwards, his cock twitching. His eyes are filled with tears as he cackles, clawing at his constraints. You suddenly put it on the highest setting, and he comes immediately, squirting all over himself. He squirming in the bed, moaning so loudly you’re sure the entire ground can hear it. Once he calms down, you realise that his dick is still hard. You wonder if he’s overdosed on viagra or something.

The gag slips out of his mouth as he speaks, “Do it again! But this time, use the candle wax! I wanna feel it burning my skin whilst you look at me with those pretty eyes.” He’s rock hard and now you’re seriously concerned.

You shake your head.

“Come on! You can’t say no to the birthday boy!” He says with that stupid grin that makes you wanna punch him. You squint at him before rolling your eyes and getting up to get the candle. It’s going to be a long night…