TELL me these photos don't scream brat tamer. THE LOOK ON HIS FACE oh my god i can hear it now.
"oh?" "is that so?" "say that again for me?" "i didn't quite hear you."
the vampire armand loves a bratty little slut to tame - he gets sooo cocky, lets you run your pretty little mouth and sass him again and again, lets the slight annoyance build up in his gut until you make him snap, he knows your boastful little remarks mean nothing, and if he wanted to he could have you on your knees in seconds.
loves reading that little pang of fear sprouting in your chest, he smells the slight tinge of arousal as he leans in and asks you to repeat yourself - danger in his words that you know he means.
the immediate obviousness of the power dynamic when it's tested is his favorite thing. gripping your jaw painfully, tilting his head with that devilishly perilous smile that tells you everything you need to know about who it is that's in charge, and why it's not you.
"you'd be wise to not speak to me like that again, dear."
Armand's sudden fascination with you quickly escalates to something more.
Warnings: NSFW, Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Exhibitionism, Polyamory, Degradation, Blood Drinking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, (Suspend your disbelief with Armand's sharp ass fingernails), Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm, Squirting, Biting, Draining, Mind Control, Forced Intoxication, Vampirism
Word Count: 3k+
Read Part I
From the moment his fingers leave your mouth, you can’t help but crave of the very taste of him, their sudden absence creating a desperate need for more contact, for more blood. You lean forward as his hand slowly drops to his side, your lips swelling with a desire to seek out tangible reward of that decadent elixir.
Gods, he tastes good. Is that how all blood tastes to them? No wonder they can barely control it.
“Ah ah ah, that’s enough for now,” he clicks his tongue, smirking slightly as he watches you fall deeper under his spell. “Don’t want to overwhelm your senses.”
Easy for him to say.
Your veins all but cry out as you feel his essence trickle into your bloodstream, taking over with each frantic beat of your eager heart. You can hear it drumming in your ears, feel it pounding in your chest, see it blurring every color and shape around you, melding them together until they’re nothing but a swirling abyss of blacks and grays behind him. No more sterile minimalism. No more sharp lines or dull colors. No more unsettling contemporary paintings. Just him and his midnight locks that appear to move all on their own, to shift and curl and grow around his perfect face as it gets closer to your own.
“Shhh, I know, darling, I know.” He teases in a slightly demeaning tone, crouching down as that endlessly black aura follows him around like oil through water. Slick, buoyant and unmistakably stark. “You’re seeing it all now, aren’t you? More than you’ve ever dreamed of before?”
All you can do is nod silently as he holds your face in his hands, reverently stroking your cheeks as if you’re something precious he can’t bear to lose.
But his own face seems to change slightly now, his eyes shifting from gold to black to gold again. Burning like a fierce sunset, his features morph with the weight of experience, shifting with the intensity of immense loss and hardening with the burden of trauma. Almost as if he’s aging backward and forward at the very same time. Different scents begin to emanate off of him with each flip of the proverbial filter. The musk of Arun’s massage oils melts into the earthiness of Amadeo’s church incense before Armand’s cigarette smoke crumbles into the dust of velvet theatre curtains. Every persona he’s ever taken up, every year, every decade and every century he’s lived through suddenly becomes visible to your mind’s eye. Past, present and future all freely given to you.
The heartache of each lover sinks into the very depth of your viscera, the brunt of his maker’s abuse churning in the pit of your stomach as it hardens him to the world over time. You can see that the need for control is much more dire than his hunger for blood, somehow justifying his malignant manipulation of Louis in Paris, a shocking hidden truth he hadn’t told anyone before. A truth that he’s choosing to share with you now.
Oh no. Ohhhhh no.
A new trail of tears streams down your face as your body attempts to release the exponential flood of raw emotion, his ancient temperament combining with yours in a tempest of volatile longing, sorrow and discipline. He merely smiles at you and wipes your tears with his thumbs, almost as if he’s pleased to see your trembling lips and quivering limbs. You understand now that this is a gift in its own morbid sort of way. A warning. A test.
“I see you,” you mumble softly, relishing in his affectionate hold as conflicted sympathy swells in your chest. “All of you.”
“All of me?” He simply smirks and lets go of your face, resting his palms on your knees. “And you’re not afraid?” He takes a beat to kneel down before you, taking his time to really look at you, to quietly analyze the racing thoughts in your head as your mortality lies in the balance. His cool hands travel up your trembling thighs before parting them slowly, twin trails of goosebumps erupting in their wake. “I knew I was right about you.”
Not afraid? Not afraid? What the fuck does he mean, not afraid? Of course you’re afraid! How could you not be?!
But what can you do about it? What other choice do you really have, here? Deny him and try to re-focus the interview? It’s far too late for that. Spit in his face and attempt to fight him off? Then Louis? Then run out into the street without your passport in the middle of a foreign country where you don’t even speak the language? Yeah, good luck with that.
“You… you don’t think I’m afraid?” You stammer as his hands creep higher up the length of your thighs, sending delicious waves of warmth up into your core that you wish you can ignore.
“I know that you should be.” He grins so darkly it nearly blots out all the light in the room, filling your chest with an impending sense of doom as your center burns with a toe-curling need for him. “But your scent betrays you.”
You shake your head, surrendering to the fact that even you can smell how aroused you are as his fingertips push the fabric of your skirt all the way up toward your pelvis, exposing your underwear to him and the two others still watching.
This isn’t fair. None of this is. You were just supposed to be shadowing Daniel for an interview, and now you’re… somehow at his mercy, itching to have him inside you. Gods, what is wrong with you?
“Already wet from words, darling?” He hums to himself before brushing his fingertips over the soaked spot on your panties, exciting the sensitive skin beneath it with a slow circular motion he’s managed to perfect over the centuries. “Oh, you poor, poor thing.”
Fuck, he’s really good at that.
“Louis and Daniel already know how it feels to have me as their maitre. Now it’s your turn,” he smirks, slipping his fingers beneath the damp fabric to finally touch your bare skin. “They may be frozen where they sit, but they can still see the way I touch you, still hear the sound of your heart racing inside that tiny little chest of yours, still smell that intoxicating musk that coats your folds.” He glides his fingers up and down your length, spreading the moisture onto your clit as he glances over at them smugly.
“Daniel?!” Your brow furrows in confusion as he continues to excite those tingling nerves buried just beneath the surface of your skin, rubbing maddening pulses of pure ecstasy as they lick up your spine, one right after another. “You… you slept with Daniel?”
Gods, that feels divine.
He clicks his tongue again, scolding you with a pouty scowl as he deftly pushes his index finger into your entrance. His lips part as he watches it glide inside with a gentle ease, relishing in how your body envelopes every inch before he decides to slip another in alongside it, forcing your eyelids to flutter. “So eager,” he whispers, almost to himself as he ignores your question altogether. “So desperate to feel.”
You want to say that he’s using his powers to keep your legs spread wide open for him, that he’s forcing you to sit still enough for him to rip your panties completely off before you nearly soak yourself over the danger and depravity of it all. But you know as well as he does that that would be a lie; that you’re more than willing to see how far he’ll take this, no matter the cost.
You gasp as he pushes a third finger in, down to the very base of his knuckle. That gasp morphs into a moan as he turns his wrist to make sure every last inch of your circumference feels the widening breadth of his digits before pulling them back out and sliding them back in again.
“Fuck!” Your mouth falls slack and your head falls back, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he pushes in deeper, sheathing his perfect fingers inside you. His thumb instinctively finds your clit and begins rubbing a slow, hypnotic rhythm into it. Up and down, left to right and over again as another breathy moan leaves your parted lips. Your hips begin to roll into the slow, tantalizing thrusts of his hand, allowing him to delve deeper inside until he finds that sweet spot so many men have missed.
“You’re not the first lover Louis and I have shared, but you are the first woman, the first seer. He can sense how perfect you are for us, how useful you’ll be in the future.” He curls his fingers inside of you, massaging that sinful bundle of nerves until your entire body begins to shiver, muscles clenching down and pulsating around his digits as your juices leak out onto the chair.
“Louis?” Louis, why would he mention Louis? And what did he mean by ‘sharing a lover’?
You hear the scraping sound of a chair’s legs against the concrete floor as something stirs off in your periphery, but disregard it as Armand removes his thumb from your swollen bud. Furrowing your brow, you watch as he tucks his thumb against his palm and carefully pushes all five fingers inside you, stretching you out more than anyone has ever done before.
“Oh my god!” You cry out and grab onto his shoulder in an attempt to brace yourself, in an attempt to somehow take control of a situation you have absolutely no control over. Only he doesn’t move, doesn’t relent in the slightest as your velvety walls obey his carnal command by dripping and stretching around him.
“Shhh, darling, you can take it. I know you can.” His praise holds you fast as your flushed chest heaves uncontrollably, forcing your eyes to shut with the excruciating mixture of pain and pleasure. “This is what you were made for.”
Stars suddenly shine blissfully behind your closed eyelids, bursting into life as the somatic shock of his hand brings you to a state of nirvana you’ve only read about in books. Bright whites, yellows and pinks take over in a kaleidoscope of rapture as he glides in at just the right angle, combusting those heavenly bodies into glittering, tingling fireworks that trickle down your spine like burnt up embers in all their immaculate splendor.
You can hear him laugh as you unravel completely, feel his cool breath against your thigh as shockwaves of euphoria follow, sizzling their way through every inch of your sensitive tissue as he pushes his hand in even deeper. Fuck! A low, guttural growl rumbles in your throat as you take him down to his wrist, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm squirts out of you, soaking his wrist and the chair beneath you. He pulls his hand out and pushes it back inside, twisting it around just to hear you groan again as you lose yourself to the euphoric rapture.
”There she is.” He goads you with a voice that only you can hear before gratuitously licking your clit, pushing your body to its limit as he swirls his tongue around and around, nearly driving you mad. ”Stay still for me.”
Louis’ hand in your hair forces your eyes to open as Armand suddenly buries his fangs into your sex, biting down on that sensitive spot he’s been licking, almost as if he’s been softening it up. Without flinching, you watch in awe as he dines on your flesh, pupils dilating in utter fascination as he drinks down the primal concoction of fluids that pours out of your body, his hand still tucked tightly in the warmth of your walls as you shudder and convulse around him.
Louis silently watches his partner eat you out, grinning as you writhe in your masochistic fit of passion, hips bucking up against his maitre’s face like the wild animal that you are. He hums to himself and blithely strokes your hair, taking his time to sweep it onto your opposite shoulder before leaning in close enough for his natural aroma to surround you.
You manage to turn your head toward the smoky bourbon scent, trying to continue this salacious chain reaction between the three of you. But instead of kissing you like you expected, he simply grabs your jaw and sinks his fangs deep into your throat.
Sharp. Cold. Brutal.
Louis’ bite tears through you, stinging for just a second before his tongue brushes over your exposed flesh, lapping up the blood that immediately spills out of your vein and into his mouth. Something in his saliva must somehow be easing the pain, dulling it to a tolerable throb on its way down your neck before it shifts into something utterly euphoric. The sensation of both men drinking from you is absolutely divine, dizzying your equilibrium as they both latch on even harder, their grips tightening with each passing second.
“You taste just as good as you smell.” Louis’ voice enters your mind like a faint whisper, his words just as hungry as his tongue as they settle into the base of your skull.
You smile in response, but your vision begins to blur, to darken around the edges as both vampires continue drinking their fill, stifling the spasms that could well have been your second orgasm. You try to speak up to prevent them from taking any more, try to push them off of you as your body grows weaker by the minute, to save yourself in some last ditch effort. But it’s no use. There’s not enough blood to perfuse your already weakened muscles, not enough breath in your lungs to speak or even grumble against them. Shit! They're going to drain you until there’s nothing left. They’re going to drink until you’re dead! But all you can do now is silently plead with your hosts to stop what they’re doing and spare your life, to keep you as you are. Alive. But those silent cries seem to fall on deaf ears, the monsters consuming you far too lost in their own bloodlust until… you’re suddenly tasting a warm, wet rush of iron and salt.
Blood.
“Drink,” Louis whispers into your ear as he shakily presses his wrist against your lips. “Drink now or die.”
You open your mouth and swallow it down without question, without even really tasting it. Like a glass of cool water on a hot summer’s day, you consume mouthful after mouthful out of sheer necessity until flashes of New Orleans at the turn of the century suddenly appear. As if you’re looking straight through Louis’ beautiful emerald eyes, you see distinct images of Spanish moss, church steeples and the red lights. You feel the loss of his brother and the lustful pull toward Lestat, his memory only sharpening the image you’ve cooked up of him in your mind. You see Claudia being turned after the fire, the justified betrayal of Lestat during Mardi Gras, and then… Armand and the coven appear in post-war Paris, ultimately ending the familial tug you can’t help but feel toward the young vampiress.
It’s only moments after you’ve consumed at least a liter of his blood that you consider slowing down as images of San Francisco, New York and Dubai begin to take shape in your head. Their glittering city skylines, bridges and people melt into one another like a fresh painting on canvas left out in the rain, leaving nothing but a messy memory in its wake. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve taken enough to save yourself from an untimely demise, you pull back just a little, the aftertaste of chicory, bourbon and citrus still lingering on your tongue.
He tastes almost as good as Armand.
“That’s enough, cher, that’s enough.” Louis pulls his wrist from your lips and strokes your hair once more before letting your weakened body lazily slump forward, colliding into Armand’s chest.
Armand.
Daniel’s protests echo far off in the distance as Armand’s hold on him finally wears off. But you don’t turn to look at him, don’t care to see his reaction after all that’s just transpired. Instead you nuzzle your face into Armand’s shoulder, memorizing his intoxicating scent again as you listen to the slow and steady beating of his heart. How could he be so calm at a time like this? You feel the vibrations of his voice reverberate off the bones in his chest as he utters a single word to Daniel, stopping him in his tracks. Rest.
“You did so well for us, darling,” Armand whispers into your hair before planting a single chaste kiss onto your crown, a kiss of ownership.
“Yeah?” Is all you can mutter as you feel your heart rate begin to pick up, the combination of their blood rapidly flowing through your body as it reanimates the neurons and muscles in your extremities like the monster in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Is this what they felt like all the time? Lighter? Faster? Extremely alert? You turn your head to see Daniel paused mid-stride on his way toward you, a feeble yet admirable attempt to save you from these ‘monsters’, from your makers.
“Now you’re one of us.” Louis whispers, still behind you with a hand on your lower back. “Now you’ll be able to ‘see’ for all eternity.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Daniel, darling, he’ll be perfectly fine. We just couldn’t have him interfering with your turning, now could we?” Armand scoffs and pulls back enough to lift your chin with the same fingers that were previously inside you, still slick with the culmination of your arousal. He takes another moment to look at you properly, to run his hands through your hair and cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your now porcelain cheeks. “Louis’ eyes,” he whispers to himself with a soft smile, almost as if he can’t believe it. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
A/N: Happy Easter for those who celebrate. Did I imagine the alien as someone similar to the Easter Bunny from The Origin of the Guardians. I don’t confirm nor deny it… But yes. Enjoy!
He pushes his hips deeper, making you moan like a whore. “Come on, little bunny, you can take one more,” his soft words try to coach another egg into you.
“I- I don’t know if I…” You try to tell him, but your voice breaks with a loud moan when you feel the stretch of another egg going in.
Your stomach is already distended, egg after egg filling you until you feel like you are about to pop and he’s just rubbing against your special spots until your eyesight goes white and he can slip another egg into you as you climax for the thousandth time.
You had so many orgasms you can’t feel half your body already, you are just a puddle of pleasure and come. His seed is overflowing from your abused hole, and he keeps fucking into you as if it’s his life mission. And good goddess if you aren’t enjoying it more than you thought possible.
“Shhh, little bunny, just a couple more and then you’d be nice and round with my eggs. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you like to be pretty all full of me?” You moan at his words, too tired to tell him you are already round with his eggs.
He pinches your nipple and kisses your neck, his actions so soft compared to how hard he’s fucking into you. How hard he’s pressing egg after egg in you… “You said one more…” You weakly remind him.
His voice is almost begging when he speaks again. “Just one more, I swear. One more and I’ll pull out of you,” he says between grinding his hips against your hole and kissing your forehead sweetly.
You cry out his name (or you try to with your fucked out voice) as you feel his dick expanding once again, another egg joining the dozens already inside of you. You can feel them sloshing inside of you, the mix of eggs and come driving you insane.
He pulls out and you can feel the mess between your legs, his self satisfied smile looking at his doing making it even more obvious how messy you must be. You can’t really see anything over the bulge in your stomach where his eggs lay.
“What now?” You ask when your brain gets back into action, your body so tired you can barely open your eyes to look at him over you.
He looks up at you for a second before announcing: “Now I let you rest for a while… And then I fish them out,” he bites his lower lip as he stares back to your leaking hole. He looks mesmerized, and if you weren’t so fucked out you’d be embarrassed.
“You what?” Your voice sounds high pitched, and you try to sit up, but your body is too tired to do so.
He pats the side of your leg in a calming manner, his eyes never reaching your face as he licks his lips and probes your hole with his fingers, making you shiver because of how tender you are. That makes his grin so wide you think he’s going to get sore cheeks.
“You won’t be able to push them down on your own… So I’ll help.” He looks giddy with excitement at the prospect to pull the eggs out of you, and you can’t even care that he’s a freak like that. You fell in love with him already knowing he was an alien pervert.
You are too tired to get more explanations. “Okay,” you let out in a whisper before your eyes close.
You wake up with a moan, your body thrumming with sexual energy as you feel his hands caressing your sides and his furry body rubbing against your hip. He’s hard again, and his dick feels huge again. You aren’t sure if you are up for another round, but you’d definitely want to try.
“Again?” Your voice is slurred and he chuckles.
“It’s time to get them out, little bunny,” he announces, his big body looming over you. His completely black eyes focused only on one thing.
“Ho- how?” You ask with a sigh when his fingers probe your hole once again. It feels raw and stretched, and his touch feels like a thousand electric shocks running down your spine.
“I fish them out,” he explains as he pushes three of his fingers inside your hole without warning. You let out an unhinged groan as he starts wriggling them. You can feel his fingers elongating, you never though dating an alien who could stretch his body would be this fun, but good goddess…
His fingers reach so deep inside of you that you are worried he’s going to touch your organs, but good goddess if the wriggling of his fingers trying to catch the eggs is not sending you into all kinds of new pleasure levels. You never thought you’d be into this kind of… exploration, but is doing something for you. It’s doing a whole lot for you.
Your whole brain is melting inside your head and you can’t do anything but to weakly roll your hips with the excuse to help him out, but in reality just trying to reach that orgasm that feels at the tips of your conscience.
You don’t even know if you can come anymore, you feel completely spent, he milked each drop of pleasure from your body and your greedy little hole is just asking for more… You can’t believe how much of a whore you are for him, but damn it, the embarrassment only makes you hotter.
“Push down, little bunny. Help me take them out…” He instructs, one of his hands slowly caressing your sweaty skin as he
“Please,” you beg not knowing what you are asking for.
“On it,” he says in his most cheerful voice as you feel his fingers curl inside of you until you feel him pulling back.
He almost cheers with happiness when he shows you the first egg. You look at him, blinking really slowly as your body releases some pent up tension. But then he pushes his finger back inside and you are screaming once more, your body seizing as you come once more.
The pleasure is borderline painful after so many orgasms, but he’s relentless as he pulls out two eggs at the same time. The stretch is so big you think you are about to be split in two.
“How… How many more?” You ask between muffled groans after he pulls three more out.
“Just a few more, little bunny. You are doing wonderful. Your hole looks so pretty, so stretched and abused for me. I should take a pic to immortalize this moment.” You clench involuntarily at his words and he chuckles. “You like that, don’t you? We’ll explore your fantasy next time.” You moan at the prospect, your body trembling as he fishes another one out.
By the time the last egg is out of you, you have had so many orgasms your legs are shaky and you can’t move. Your face is all messy with saliva and tears as he licks it off you and tells you how well you did for him. You fall asleep with a smile on your lips and his come slowly dripping out of your stretched hole…
Kinktober day 7 - Tentacles + Oviposition
Blue Ringed Octopus Hybrid Konig x reader
˚.⋆𓂃𓊝 cw: dub-con, aphrodisiac, tentacles, possessive Konig, oviposition, womb fucking, afab reader, dark themes, bondage??, belly bulge, breeding, eggs, This one's actually really freaky so proceed with caution
*ੈ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🕸️⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ *ੈ
You took the job as a caretaker at the local aquarium because you had an interest in aquatic creatures, but certainly didn't expect to become so tightly bonded with a certain, strange octopus hybrid. Konig seemed to be quite shy, or irritated by being seen by so many people, you couldn't tell which, yet. The only way you could tell he was still in the tank, was those bright blue rings glowing in the dark corners of his little rock cove.
You barely ever saw Konig, only being warned by the older caretakers to keep away from the edge of the tank, he's been known to nab things off of guests, jewelry, phones, anything shiny really.
When you worked the night shift you could see his tentacles flashing and changing colour, blue rings lighting up before dying back down again, only for the cycle to repeat itself. Foolishly, it drew you closer, wanting to just take one peak at the male, wandering much too close to the edge of the tank, standing above the water's edge on the feeding platform.
It was calm here, water lapping near your feet, one of Konig's tentacles slowly emerging from the hidden cove, coming to the surface to greet you. You knew it was wrong to be here, that you could get fired, but you didn't have anything shiny on you, so it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
Your reached out towards the water's edge, tapping the surface a few times to create ripples, to tell the tentacle exactly where you were. The vibrant yellow flesh curled around your wrist, the blue iridescent rings brightening up feeling the warmth of your hand before finally settling down to suckle on your skin.
On the surface, he was a shy octopus who craved warmth and affection, growing clingy and needy for you as the months passed, and every night, more tentacles would come out to greet you. They all had to be equally loved by you, of course!
Konig's routine was ruined however when you were finally caught on your midnight excursions and heavily reprimanded, banning you from coming near Konig's tank again.
He was furious that you'd been taken away from him, his precious mate stolen from his grasp. Konig didn't hesitate to make the other caretakers lives a living hell for the transgressions of one man.
He inked his enclosure so heavily no one could see into the murky depths. His tentacles beat against the glass, cracks spider webbing across the now delicate wall. Live feeding was horrendous, with tentacles whipping out of the water, latching on to ankles and biting with the suckers until flesh tore.
Konig was completely unbearable, a safety hazard at best, ready to kill someone at worst. Your boss couldn't take it anymore and reluctantly allowed you back to see Konig, and hopefully calm him down.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
He could smell you before you came close enough for him to see. The tank was inked black, impossible to clean considering his behaviour these past few days. That allowed Konig to linger just below the water's surface, his thick, colourful tentacles already coming out to see his beloved mate.
He would never let anyone take you away from him again.
The familiar feeling of his warm, slick tentacles gliding over your skin sends a shiver down your spine. It's like they have a mind of their own, seeming more aggressive with you than usual, but the teeth imbedded in the suckers beginning to chew and tear at you clothing was like a rock dropping into your stomach.
"you are so warm" Konig whispered lowly as he emerged from the inky darkness, trying not to frighten his skittish mate who seemed to be growing more distressed when his tentacles slid further up your body, craving your hot skin, which included any tight, slick orifices they could sink into as well.
"shh, shh, my liebling, don't you dare scream." He cooed softly, coaxing you to lean closer to the water's edge, his version of coaxing being dragging you over, close enough for him to lay a heavy hand on the back of your neck, scruffing you as if you were a puppy, so he could sink his teeth into your skin. Paralytic venom mixed with an aphrodisiac, a toxic love bite, something specially engineered to make you a little softer, a little bit more plaint for him tore through you veins, you heart pumping the toxin to every tissue in your body.
"it's okay, kleine, you will look so good stuffed full of my eggs." He hums, pleased with how docile you looked, how only a tiny bit of aphrodisiac can make his mate so needy and pliant.
You could feel the sudden weakness in your muscles and heat crawling over you skin, an uncomfortable sweat breaking out that only made Konig's tentacles wriggle more aggressively in delight, nosing against the warmer areas of your body. It felt like your brain was coated with warm, syrupy molasses, everything feeling slow to process and tingly.
You could only watch as Konig's limbs curled around you so gently, growing tender in nature when you submitted, albeit a bit reluctantly, but he didn't really care. One of his many tentacles slithered up your body, slick and eager, wrapping around your plush breasts and squeezing, one of the suckers latching on to your pebbled nipple to tease and tug at it.
There were no bones to the tentacles thick bodies, only pure muscle to them as they pull you closer to the edge, right into Konig's arms and into the unusually warm water of the tank.
Now, you weren't a prude by any means, having had a bit of experience with other people. But the deeper, more depraved part of your mind quivered with excitement at the idea of being fucked by the octopus hybrid. The feeling his slimy tentacles writhing inside of your warm, gummy walls had you leaking a pornographic amount of slick into his enclosure.
His gentle caress where merely a distraction however, as a strange thick looking tentacle emerged from his body, slinking up your thighs to nudge at your swollen, sticky cunt, parting your soft folds around the tip before inching its way inside.
The stretch burned, the tentacles around you gripped on to your limbs, holding you in place as his ovipositor impatiently pushed its way deeper. Your walls clamped down like vice around it, trying to prevent it from probing around, but the rippling of your walls just made it more active, until it nudged against you cervix.
"relax for me, schatzi, be a good girl, be a good host."
A heavy, full feeling settled itself inside your tummy, the cock-like flesh pulsing with unfamiliar life, twitching and spasming. It was curious in nature, bumping against your cervix, exploring the barrier to your fertile womb that it so dearly wanted to sink itself into, rubbing itself into every conceivable surface it could, leaving you a whimpering, shuddering mess of overstimulation. Your nerves felt like they were on fire.
It felt so good, but was so frustrating, just being poked and prodded at with no real end in sight, like the ovipositor was exploring and committing your body to memory rather than doing it's actual job.
Konig could sense your ever-growing frustration, the way you whined and squirmed in his arms, his warm tentacles stroking over your soft skin, trying to comfort you and keep you happy.
One more tentative nudge, and the thick, veiny ovipositor buried itself inside of you, startling you with a sudden yelp before Konig's tendrils held your knees open while he thrust in and out of you. You couldn't do much to fight it, falling limply against Konig's chest while you cried out, every nerve along your walls stimulated in the most delicious way, even if the rhythm was a little sloppy and uncoordinated.
The textured, ribbed surface of the appendage rubbed against you cervix once again, growing more insistent to get inside as it jerked and writhed against it, attempting to force its way it. What should have been painful brought shameful moans to your lips, the tentacle finally forcing your cervix to give way so it could sink inside, the head of it lodged inside your womb.
You couldn't move, could barely breathe or see straight when you felt a strange clench run through the length of the tentacle, rhythmic in nature and powerful, forcing a fat, round shaped orb up through its length. You could feel the shape of it as it pressed against your walls, scraping so perfectly right against that particular bundle of nerves before another one followed shortly after.
You were weak, overstimulated with pleasure and only being kept afloat by Konig's arms and tentacles, so the soft fluttering of you walls only served to pulls the eggs deeper, only getting caught on your cervix for a moment before a rough thrust from the ovipositor pushed them inside with a lewd pop.
God, it was too much, too much stimulation, too much pleasure, your pussy and now womb was way too full. Your head lolled back against Konig's shoulder, eyes rolling back into your skull while the implication that you were being stuffed full of sticky, soft eggs sat like a tac in the back of your mind, only for you to lose consciousness a few seconds later as the second egg made a home for itself inside your body.
When you came to, you were lying on the side of the deck back where you had originally been, soaking wet and exhausted, Konig's tentacles still curing around you, cradling you in a protective and possessive manner, especially your tummy, now swollen taut with a modest paunch.
God, oh god—
Eggs.
So many eggs.
How many were there, you couldn't even count anymore, already packed inside snuggly against one another. The ovipositor had long since left you, exhausted and sore from all the squeezing your poor cunt abused it with.
But there was Konig, overly satisfied, the blue rings on his tentacles flashing brightly with satisfaction that his mate had done so well for herself.
Maybe it was the neurotoxin seeping deep into every crevice of you brain, but it felt good. it felt right.
These were yours now, and someone needed to protect and take care of the endangered species.
You can't say no to your half-sister, Rei. This is perhaps the only time you really should have.
tags. Dark Fic, Dark Kuroo, Pervy Kuroo, Awkward Reader, Age Gap ( 8 Years), Non-Con Somonophilia, Extreme Dub-Con, "Cheating", Doggystyle, PIV
i say "cheating" because while kuroo is cheating on his partner the reader is 100% an unwilling party member. song title comes from "MAMA" by EXO-K
"Rei...I really don't think this is a good idea" You say quietly, trying to pass Rei her phone back. She doesn't let you and you're forced to gaze at the pictures of the sprawling rustic cabin very much against your will. "I would like to go, really I would but...I just don't think I can right now"
You look up into Rei's pouty face—who has never been one to pull her punches in order to get what she wants. And what she wants right now is you on this trip with her.
People have always said that the two of you look alike, eerily like twins despite only being half-sisters. You two may share a father, buts thats as far as the similarities between you two go. It feels like an insult, one that Rei has never taken offense to. You don't see how people look at someone as beautiful as Rei and possibly see you as well.
"Come on—! It's just for a week!" Rei makes an exaggerated whimpering noise like a kicked puppy. One manicured and very elegant finger begins to swipe through the photos, as if showing you what you were potentially missing out on. "You don't even have to pay for anything. Tetsurou says it's completely paid off! And he's agreed to pay for everything else. All you have to do is show up!"
You bite your lip anxiously, once more attempting to shove her phone out of your face.
"Rei, I just can't take off work for a whole week—"
"I bet you have more than a week of PTO already" She interjects, eyes flashing at you. You aren't sure if that's true or not but- "You've been working like a dog since high school. I don't even think you know how to relax. You can think of it like a free vacation!"
You won't. Not to mention, you and your mom aren't exactly swimming in money. Not like Rei's family. A week off work is impossible. As much as you love her, it frustrates you that she doesn't seem to understand the rampant class differences between you.
Rei seems to sense that you're closer to kicking her out than saying yes in the first place, and switches tatics. Unfortunately for you, it's the easiest tactic and never works out in your favor. " She looks away, sighing forlornly—playing it up. "All I want for my birthday is to have my most favorite people ever there with me...and that includes you. Ever since I went, it's like we've grown distance. I think this trip could be good for both of us. That's all"
There are just too many unknowns. You don't know her boyfriend, Kuroo Tetsurou that well. You don't know Rei's new college friends either. Everyone, as far as you're concerned, already knows everyone else. And you'll be there—for an entire week, surrounded by strangers. You don't see this ending in any other way that isn't disastrous.
But one final, earnest look into Rei's eyes has that very valid voice inside of you shutting up. Even if you're sure your friendship won't last past her graduation, the least you can do for Rei is show up and actually act like you want to be there for her. After all, you only turn 21 once.
You don't even have to say anything. Rei whoops and cheers, throwing her arms around your neck, giggling way too loudly into your ear.
Dread sinks down into your stomach like a heavy stone.
The photos really don't do it justice, you think sourly, as your car pulls into the long winding driveway. A lot bigger in person and more of a contemporary mansion with the rustic cabin feel. A large pond in the front yard, a bonfire. Large, stone steps with not a vine in sight.
In other words, it's absolutely beautiful. You wouldn't mind living in a place like this—surrounded by nature and removed from the city life.
There are several other cars in the driveway, shiny new things that look like it stepped right out of a magazine. Your car is...reliable, you'll say the least. Enough to get you to and from work and good through weathered storms.
You register the sound of Rei's loud chattering voice, nearing closer and closer until you see her at last. She's flanked by bodies, though she drops everything to jump into your arms. You stagger backwards trying to support her weight—but you don't dare drop her.
"You came! You actually came!" Rei cheers, and you feel her arms around your neck tighten. You sputter and cough weakly.
"I told you I was coming" Is your murmured reply, suddenly feeling shy in front of so many other eyes. You've never liked being the center of attention, but such things are impossible when you hang around someone like Rei—who soaks up attention like a sponge. "Why do you sound so surprised?"
"You know Rei, just a little dramatic" A male voice cuts in, and both of your heads perk up at the sound of Kuroo's voice. Your head darts back down though, eyes trained onto the cobblestone. Rei makes some protest that you don't fully hear, ears trapped in your stomach.
Kuroo speaks again, this time entirely too close. You try to back away, but Rei's hold onto your shoulders makes sure you stay exactly where you're meant to. And Kuroo, ever the dutiful boyfriend, is right beside her.
"Wow. You two really do look like twins" He says, and the sound of his voice makes you believe like he might be smirking as he says it, arm looped casually around Rei's shoulder.
You don't really know what to say to that. Give a lazy, one shouldered shrug. "I guess so. I don't think so"
"Well, I do" Rei interjects, shrugging Kuroo's arm off of her shoulders to press your cheeks together. Her hand squishes both your cheeks and hers. "I told you, Tetsu."
A hum, contemplative. "Two pretty girls"
Your eyes dart to Rei, widened and slightly panicked. Should he be saying that? She doesn't seem bothered by it, or uncomfortable? So why do you? You don't have much time to dwell on it, as Rei claps her hands together and proclaims that she must give you a tour immediately.
"Is this all you packed?" Kuroo inquires, suddenly stepping into your personal space and taking your duffel from your hands, hoisting it up easily on his shoulder.
"I have one more in the backseat—" You stumble, backing away. "But it's okay—I can get them"
Kuroo smiles at you, with a glint in his eyes that does nothing but make the discomfort in your stomach flare to rest of your body. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist."
Get awaygetaway, get away— your instincts seem to scream at you, so you nod and hurriedly scamper after Rei into the house. Anything to get away from him.
She introduces you to her other friends when you come across them. Ayame, in the kitchen, who is a nursing major in her first year. There's Daisuke—majoring in accounting and a second year, with sandy blond hair that must be fake. Then Ren, first year sports medicine major and finally, glamorous first year child education major Koharu.
Rei hurries you along, finally getting to a long hallway, lined with doors. The way she brims with excitement spells nothing but gossip.
She caves the second you two are alone. "Okay so. Ren and Koharu just got together. As in, yesterday. They've been FWB for a while. And they didn't tell me. Should I feel some sort of way about that?" Before you can even think of a response, Rei is barreling onwards. "But Dai and Ayame are highschool sweethearts. He studied hard to get into University of Tokyo so they could be together. Isn't that cute?"
Well. If Ayame and Daisuke are together, and Ren and Koharu and then Kuroo and Rei...your face pales. "Wait. I'm the only single person here?"
Rei pauses in the middle of the hallway, as if she hadn't yet considered that. You didn't think anything could be worse than going on a trip where you only knew one person. But going on a trip where everyone else is in a relationship is ten times worse. You feel like you're going to be sick.
"Well we aren't going to start having weird sex parties in the living room!" Rei protests, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're 20, not 12. Relationships shouldn't be gross anymore. It's a normal part of adulthood"
You squirm in place at that. Rei is being just a tad bit unfair about the whole thing, you feel. But she isn't really someone who can be reasoned with without feeling personally attacked.
"You're right" You affirm, steeling your nerves with a smile that only betrays how nervous you feel about everything. "It's only for a week" and it's not like you'll end up seeing anyone after the week is over with.
Rei brightens. You've said the right thing this time. Good. "I guess it's good news then that they stay on the other side of the hall, isn't it? And the rooms here are bathrooms. Tetsurou and I are sleeping in this room, and your room is here" It's the dark oak door directly across from her own. "So if you need anything, you can always come get me, okay?"
The words bring a small smile to your face. Rei's always been protective over you, even as kids. As spoiled as she was, you can't help but deny that there's some sweetness to her too. But the two of you aren't children anymore. Rei's changed and moving on to different stages of her life now. Stages where you're increasingly becoming more aware of the fact that you don't belong.
Knuckles rap against the door, three sharp times. Whoever it is, it isn't Rei. Your stomach flutters with anxiety and endless nerves. You don't really know who to expect, but Kuroo isn't very high on your list.
He shoulders into the space like he owns it (well, he does), disarming smile on his face. The smell of his cologne fills the air—something warm and heavy. You aren't a fan of it at all, nose wrinkling as you take a step back. "Rei says dinner will be done soon"
"I already ate" You mumble, busying yourself with unpacking your second duffel so that you don't have to look in Kuroo's direction. "I'm just going to head to sleep as soon as I shower"
The sound of your door clicking shut ensures that you do, in fact, look in his direction, head swiveling to face Rei's boyfriend, panicked. What is he doing? Why—what? Why is the door closed?
"Are you not feeling well?" He inquires, standing between you and the door. His head tilts to the side, black hair dipping into his amber eyes, spiked like a cat's fur. "Rei mentioned that you're prone to feeling nauseous. Says something about it stemming from your anxiety. Should I tell her that's the reason why you won't be joining everyone else tonight?"
Why would you tell him that? You think helplessly, before nodding. With everything being sprung on you at the last moment—packing and preparing for the trip to the reality that you'll be surrounded by couples has been sending your nerves into overdrive. You couldn't force food down even if you were starving.
A smile dawns onto Kuroo's face. "I'll tell her, don't worry Bird" He says, stepping further into the room and toying with your small Tweety Bird plush on the desk. "You know—the first time we met you wouldn't even speak to me. But Rei told me you just get a little shy around new people. Which is a relief. I thought you hated me. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me, either. I promise I don't bite, okay?"
Your eyes dart back to the duffel. You know Rei only means well, but damn her and her big mouth. Your hand curls around an article of clothing, smoothing over it with your fingers. Why is he still here? Why did he shut the door? What if someone saw? What if someone gets the wrong idea and tells Rei? You don't want to be here anymore. You want to go home. "Okay"
Another smile. No teeth, like a wolf in sheep's clothing concealing its fangs from view.
The minute Kuroo leaves the room, you dart over to the desk and snatch the Tweety plush from its surface, breath rattling in your lungs. You smooth your hands over it, feeling the softness of the fabric as you soothe your nerves.
Whatever that was, you were sure that you were just imagining it. You know you get like this sometimes. Anxious and scared over things that aren't. Normally, you would go to Rei for help. And even with her door right across from your own, you're too afraid to. What would you say to her, anyway?
Sorry Rei. You picture yourself saying. I want to go home, your boyfriend scares me.
It's the age gap, you think, as you put away the last of your things. Rei is one year older than you yet Kuroo is seven years older than her. It's impossible to feel at ease around a stranger. Nonetheless one eight years your senior and then expected to treat him like a friend, at that.
How is he able to act so friendly around everyone else, much less date someone so much younger than him?
It's...wrong, you feel. He's nearly 30. Shouldn't he be with someone his own age?
Rei's words enter your mind once more. You're 20, not 12. You're only blowing it all out of proportion. No one else seems uncomfortable around Kuroo—much less Rei. Besides, Rei is turning 21 in a couple of days. She's an adult, and far more mature than you are—despite the way she carries on. She's got her head on straight. University, a mature boyfriend, surrounded by good-natured friends.
You twist and turn in bed, trying to get yourself to relax in such an unfamiliar environment. Only seven more days. That's all you have to do. Even you can do that much.
Six more days, you think, as birds wake you up with their singing.
It's early, seven and you've barely slept a wink. The bed is much softer than the one you own and it isn't for lack of trying. Everything about this room is just nicer than what you're used to. Hopefully tonight, you'll be able to sleep better.
You scurry out of bed and into the shower and back out again. You're surprised you've managed to avoid everyone. But then again, these are uni kids and if they're anything like Rei—are used to sleeping in and even skipping the occasional class or two to sleep in some more.
The easy-going optimistic outlook you have for today ends up being squandered flat when you realize Kuroo has beat you to the kitchen. He's standing by the coffee machine dressed in low-rise sweats and black tank top.
"Good morning" He says, hip against the kitchen counter, dragging his eyes down your body. "Coffee?"
"No thank you" You say quietly, and with lack of anything else to do, stumble over to the island counter to take a seat at one of the tall barstools.
A part of you wants to scurry back to the bedroom, where you can try to wait it out. But since you skipped dinner the night before, you're starving. Nervously, you wring your hands in your lap. Rei would want you to start a conversation with him.
You wrack your mind for something to say, considering the fact that Kuroo is happy to watch the coffee machine do its thing. But all you can come up with is, "D-do you always wake up so early?"
You're given a wolfish grin for your efforts. "You're up early too, Bird"
Sharks swarm in your belly as if your organs are mere fish. You bow your head, tracing idyllic little shapes on the smooth marble surface, so shiny you can see your reflection in it. "I work morning shifts. I couldn't sleep in even if I wanted to"
"Then you and I are the same" Kuroo hums, leaning across the island bar, sipping at his coffee. He takes it plain, you notice. That can't be good. Even when the rim of the mug is lifted to his lips, you can still see the way his amber eyes study you. You feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.
"That's right...Rei told me you worked in..." What was it again? "Marketing?"
Kuroo flashes you a million dollar smile, chuckling. "That's right, little bird" You wish he would stop calling you that. It makes you just as uncomfortable as everything else about him. "What do you do? Are you in school?"
You shake your head, dread starting to fill every pore. "Just working"
To your surprise, Kuroo doesn't delve deeper or pry. It's unusual for adults his age but you're all the more thankful for it. He doesn't seem to be judging you for it either—despite that everyone else is in university already.
"Rei did mention something like that. She talks about you so often, I feel like I know you well already" You chuckle nervously at that, sheepishly shrugging your shoulder, eyes downcast. Kuroo seems to zero in on that, and strikes like a snake with its fangs in the throat of a mouse. Everything about him makes you feel like you're being hunted. "You don't agree? Bird, you're going to hurt my feelings"
Luckily, you're saved from answering when Koharu strolls sleepily into the kitchen. You're so thankful for her presence you could just about kiss her. She greets you both, yawning behind her palm. You manage to give a soft greeting in return.
"Has Rei said anything about breakfast, Kuroo?" She inquires, pouring herself a cup of water. "Or is it a fend for yourself thing?"
You envy her tranquil energy. She doesn't seem nervous or put out by him at all.
Kuroo snickers. It makes him look a little younger. "Sleeping Beauty isn't awake yet" and likely won't be for a while, if no one wakes her. That pulls an exasperated groan from Koharu, as if she too were expecting that response.
"So it is a fend for yourself thing" She says, confidently pushing past Kuroo to get to the fridge. She pulls it open, holding the door against her hip, eyes scanning over its contents. Then sighs, and closes it again. "Kuroo—delivery works here, right?"
"Too good to cook?" Kuroo replies, looking at her from the rim of his mug again.
"If you want a house to come back to, I think its in everyone's best interest that I don't cook"
A soft smile dashes onto your face, though you pretend to be engrossed in your phone. In reality, you aren't doing anything more than checking the settings app.
Breakfast ends up being a chaotic affair as more people pour into the kitchen. There's a (somewhat) playful argument that unfolds about who will cook what and when before Kuroo decides that the best course of action is split up into duos in charge of meals. There won't be much eating in anyway, as Rei has a list of restaurants in the area.
As the day goes on, your nerves slowly start to melt away. They aren't so bad, Rei's friends. Sure―there's the occasional class gap comment and plenty of bouts of awkward silence. But Rei is quick to smooth things right over. And as long as you're as far away from Kuroo as possible, then it really isn't as awful as you thought it would be.
That's what you think, until everything goes to shit on day three.
It's the day before Rei's birthday, and she's turned into a bit of a bridezilla over it. She isn't usually like this, isn't one to let her emotions get the control over her. But with the resturant cancelling her reservation a day in advance and Daisuke needing to leave early for a family emergency―everything must seem like it's unraveling for Rei.
But...you don't think what Rei said was because of that. Nor was it okay. The entire table is stunned into silence and even Kuroo appears to have nothing to say. And you're only an outsider, so really the only thing you can do is observe. But Rei and her friends seem like the sorts to trade barbs with one another.
Thats what everyone had been doing, even you weren't safe from the gentle ribbing of Rei's friends. But all of it was in good fun. You even found yourself trading quips in return with them. You thought it was a normal thing for them, no harm no foul.
Until a joke goes too far. You stare in shock at Rei, as she sips away at her champagne (ordered for her by Kuroo―of course), seemingly uncaring of the fact that Koharu is struggling to hold back tears. But you can tell by the tense line of Rei's shoulders and the firm grip of the stem of the glass means that she feels a lot more guilty than what she's willing to show.
Ren breaks out of his stupor first. He shoots daggers in Rei's general direction, reaching out to brace a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.
Koharu jerks away from him and forces a smile onto her face. "I'm fine...really, I'm fine" She seems far from it. Your eyes dart from Ren to Koharu before finally settling on your half sister―who feels you looking and resolutely juts out her chin.
So she isn't going to apologize.
"No, it's not fine" Ren presses, hand on her shoulder. His voice is hard, and clearly angry. "This isn't the first time she's said something like this to you"
Rei gasps, affronted. Your eyes dart around helplessly. Has no one else realized that you're still in the restaurant? You can feel your nerves grating against one another anxiously. Surely you're imagining the way the table ahead of you keeps glancing back.
"And I told you that in confidence" Koharu hisses back before looking to the rest of the table apologetically. Ayame looks just as uncomfortable as you are.
"No―what was it?" Rei challenges, crossing her arms over her chest. When Kuroo tries to mollify her, she shrugs off the touch with a cold glare. "What was it that I said was so bad you had to go to Ren about it? The same guy who didn't care about you besides screwing your guts and disregarding your feelings, by the w―"
"I think we should get the check" You hear yourself saying, before Rei can finish, though what was said was already bad enough. Kuroo actually winces beside her, hand coming up to scrub the lower half of his face tiredly.
"I think that's a great idea" Ayame says, standing from the table and gathering her bag off of the back of her chair. "I need a smoke break"
"I'll get the bill" Kuroo starts, already reaching into his pocket for his wallet. It's the easy way out, and you almost wish you had enough money to spare to be able to do the same. "I'll join you all in the parking lot shortly. Sweetheart, you should stay with me"
Rei opens her mouth to give some sort of protest―but a final look from Kuroo has her falling silent.
Awkwardly, you end up following behind Koharu and Ren outside of the restaurant. Ayame stands off to the side, smoking a cigarette while she speaks into her phone. Relaying what just occurred to Daisuke, no doubt. You watch as Koharu and Ren exchanged heated whispers of their own.
You try to scroll on your phone to pass the time, but of course now happens to be the one time where your service is dogshit. A hand on your ass brings you out of your thoughts. You seize up like a taut wire as the palm, broad, squeezes. Groping you.
Bile rises up in your throat. Kuroo's voice in your ear, the hand that was groping your ass coming up to throw itself casually around your shoulders.
A kiss to the side of your head. "She isn't usually like that, is she, little bird?"
Horrified, your eyes dart around the parking lot. No one else has seen―how has no one seen him? What he did to you? You're right there in the open...how did he? Where did he come from?
Before you can even think of what to say, or how to extract yourself from the situation, you hear the telltale sound of Rei's heels clicking down the asphalt, glowing underneath the moonlight.
Kuroo stares at her, pretending to be shocked, before looking back at you. He withdraws his arm from around your shoulder and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"God, baby. I thought she was you the whole time" He says, snickering a laugh―crowding into her space to kiss Rei messily on the cheek. "You need to grow out your hair, or something"
Rei's dress is floor length, bodycon and a magenta in color. She instructed the rest of the guests to wear black and dark red. You wore a simple midi black dress with matching heels. There's no way he could have gotten your dresses possibly confused. And Rei...she should know that.
But, she's so fixated on the events that happened moments ago in the restaurant that she doesn't even bother to spare a look in your direction before ordering you into the backseat. The entire car ride back to the house, you try and think of a way to tell her what he did.
She should know. She should―no, she needs to dump him. What he did to you wasn't okay. Rei might be selfish and spoiled but the love she feels for you as her sister is far greater than what she feels for Kuroo. It'll suck to do this right before her birthday, not even to mention that it's in the midst of everything else that's gone wrong for her. But, she'll understand.
You need to do this.
Doing so proves to be much harder than you imagined, once you actually make it back. Kuroo seems to be plastered to Rei's side in a way that he usually isn't―and you don't think you'll be able to catch her alone at all before the night is over with.
"I need another drink" She says, collapsing onto the couch, kicking off her heels. Ren and Koharu are still outside, you think. Ayame is nowhere to be seen. "Tetsu, you have something, right?"
"Not if you don't want to be hungover tomorrow" He tells her, the perfect deflection, sunny smile ready at his disposal. He doesn't even look in your direction once―even at the way you obviously hover around her. "I made a lot of plans for us tomorrow, Rei. I don't want to have to push them back"
That's right. Rei and Kuroo were supposed to leave on a couples getaway the entire day. That was the entire point of having the birthday dinner tonight. Your panic at the realization only grows. She'll be all alone with the guy who...
"I used to get blackout drunk and go to class the next day without anyone noticing. I can handle myself just fine, babe" She snaps, running a hand through her hair, outright glaring at him. You aren't sure if what she's said is true, but Kuroo seems to know when to push. "Besides―it's my birthday. If I want another drink, I should have another drink"
It isn't her birthday yet. Kuroo wisely doesn't choose to bring this up either. Instead, he holds his hands up in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture, before going to do as she asked.
The minute you're sure he's out of earshot, you grab onto Rei's arm.
"Rei―" You start, but before you can get another word out, she's groaning and shrugging you off. "Kuroo, he―"
"God, what?" She snaps at you, sitting up straight on the couch. You too, face a glare from your half-sister. "I really don't have time to deal with your shit right now, on top of everything else. I've got enough to stress about, okay?"
You reel back from her like you've just been slapped. Your mouth runs dry and you feel tears pricking up in the corners of your eyes.
"Okay" Is your mumbled reply, just as Ren and Koharu enter from the front of the lodge. They don't even spare a glance in Rei's direction, continuing on down the hall. "Sorry. It's nothing"
Rei takes one look at your face and groans aloud. You can tell its from obligation rather than actual guilt and remorse. "Fuck. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. I just...fuck, why is everything going wrong right now?"
"Maybe you and Koharu-san just need to talk things out tomorrow. You won't feel so angry, come morning" You tell her, shrugging off the apology with a quiet smile. "You both just need to sleep on it"
She seems to consider your words for a moment. You can't tell if she really agrees, or if she just wants you to go away and give her some space. To be honest, you aren't sure if you meant them all yourself.
After all, you wouldn't blame Koharu for cutting ties with Rei after this trip. You resolve to take things out with her tomorrow as well. And if Rei won't break up with Kuroo then, after he hears what you have to say―you'll be cutting ties with her too.
You wake up in slow stages―thoughts just as sluggish as you attempt to cling to the remnants of your dream. Something about an awful episode of the Looney Tunes and Rei and everything else that happened at the restaurant.
Yet, all of it dissolves as the late hour pierces the quiet room. The sheets below your fingertips, smooth and smelling faintly of your soap. The mattress shifting under your weight.
In the somewhat hazy moments between waking fully and still being asleep, you register...hands. Big hands, warm and solid, gripping onto your waist. Sliding along your skin until your shirt is shoved underneath your armpits, a presence behind you when there shouldn't be one at all.
The realization rushes through you like a train. Someone is in your room. Someone is touching you. You aren't wearing your pants. You aren't wearing your underwear either. The more you register, the more afraid you become. Hair tickles against your cheek and the sickening scent of Kuroo's aftershave is enough to have you gasping out.
His hands on your waist slide up towards your ribcage now, fingers splaying across the bones. And then higher up still―cupping your breasts in his heated palms. Your eyes register to the darkness of the room, though it doesn't help. The curtains are drawn shut and even then, the moon isn't shining nearly as brightly anymore.
How did he come in? You locked the door. You locked the door.
That doesn't matter, you find yourself thinking, as a wet warmth suctions over the skin of your neck. A mouth. Kuroo's mouth with just a hint of teeth and the slithering wet appendage of his tongue―sucking a mark. This is Kuroo's house. He has...he probably has the masterkey.
He wouldn't have been able to get in any other way. Because you locked the door. His fingers fondle at your breasts, pinching and tugging at your nipples until a little noise leaves your lips, shame darting down your back in fearful increments.
Your own breath quickens slightly as Kuroo's knee slides between your legs, slightly adjusting your position. You rest somewhat on your knees, face and upper body still pressed down onto the rustling sheets. Kuroo's knee moves out of the way and your surprised that no sound comes out of you at all when his palm suddenly cups your pussy.
You don't give any reaction at all besides your eyes snapping wide open. You should be doing something...saying anything. Screaming. Push him off of you, at least and run to Rei for help. But your entire body is tense with fear. You can't move can't even think―mind stopping and breaking, refusing to let you fully process what's going on.
There's a soft exhale behind you. It makes your knees tremble, you think. You can't feel anything but anxiety flopping in your stomach. You might even throw up, you think. Kuroo shifts even closer and then you feel the undeniable heat of his fully erect cock against your bare ass.
Everything is hazy and startlingly clear, all at once.
"Are you still pretending to be asleep, Bird?" He asks, voice whisper soft and gravely in your ear. You screw your eyes shut at that, heart pounding a mile a minute inside of your chest. When it's evident that you aren't going answer, Kuroo chuckles. "That's alright, baby―you can just keep pretending"
The hand not cupping your pussy runs reverently over your ass. Another soft grunt, entire body stilling as Kuroo begins grinding his cock against you. You hope your breathing isn't nearly as loud and panicked as you think it is, biting down on your lip hard―clinging to the desperate hope that this is just another bad dream.
It isn't a dream, though. Even your worst nightmares couldn't conjure up the very real feeling of Kuroo's long cock rutting against your ass, slipping between your thighs to slide through your wet folds. The fact that you manage to feel arousal from this at all does nothing but worsen the shame you feel.
You're a terrible friend, a horrible sister. Rei's going to hate you when she finds out.
"Oh..." Kuroo sighs wistfully, seconds later feeling his head against the back of your shoulder as he betweens to rut his cock between your thighs. The insides of your thighs quiver like taut strings ready to break―stifling a quiet panicked sob as Kuroo replaces his cock with his hand, rubbing through your wet folds. You're getting wetter still, practically dripping down his wrist, much to his pleasure.
His lips press to the skin of your shoulder. "I knew you wanted me, little bird. You were jus' shy, weren't you?"
You want to shake your head no. You want to tell him that you've felt something wrong about him sense the beginning. That you never once trusted him, despite only meeting him in person one other time before this. You want to scream out for Rei, to push him away and run into the safety of her arms. But you can't. You just lie there, waiting for it to be over.
It's damning, realizing that there's so much more you should have done, but too afraid to do any of it all. Then, cracking through your thoughts like a warm knife on butter ; two of Kuroo's slicked fingers press against your entrance and push right in.
They're long―gliding right in like he's done this before. Done this to you before. How long were you asleep? You choke back a whimper, hand fighting tightly onto the sheets as your body trembles. Kuroo's content to lazily thrust his fingers in and out of your cunt, sliding in a third beside the second. Your back bows at the slightly painful stretch and you cover your own mouth to stifle the keen that leaves you.
Covering for him.
Then, just as casually as he slipped them into you in the first place, Kuroo pulls his fingers back out of you again. In fact, he moves back completely, stepping away and taking the blanket with him. You've shut your eyes again, not realizing when―but still too afraid to open them again. You don't hear the door clicking shut, so it dashes the quick hope that he's finished with you early.
You let out a startled muffle against your palm as you suddenly find yourself face first into the pillow. You fight hard against the instinct to look over your shoulder to see what Kuroo might be doing. Your throat bobs, when he climbs back behind you on the bed, bare cock hard as steel as is presses against your backside.
A hand spreads your thighs apart, air brushing against your pussy and you realize all too late what's about to happen. A split second to gather your bearings is all you have before Kuroo's cock presses into your cunt and splits you open.
This time, there's no denying the loud, pained whimper that escapes you―pointless now to try and pretend to be asleep. Your eyes widen, growing impossibly big in the stillness of night. You half think to shout one last time, give one more plea. I'm not Rei you want to scream, to warn him. As if he doesn't fully know who it is that he's doing this to. Please stop, I'm not―
Your forced to bite down on the pillow as another handful of inches pushes deeply inside. It's a friction that shoots all the way down to your toes, eyes wet with unshed tears because it doesn't feel good. Even with all the prep you're sure Kuroo's given to you, it doesn't take away from the fact that he's big.
Too big, but Kuroo continues pushing on, cramming his cock in your virgin pussy―despite the fact that it burns, that you can feel yourself stretching around his girth to accommodate him. This time, you really do sob into the pillows, as Kuroo's hands latch onto your waist―holding you up in a position that your knees won't allow. Your body tries to give out, but its pointless. Before you can even fall back down again, Kuroo's just holding you back in the same position.
"Fuck...little bird" Kuroo breaths, when his balls smack against the back of your thighs. "Been so long since I had a virgin"
He says it like you wanted this ; any of this. You didn't even want to be here. Rei's feelings on the matter be damned. As Kuroo pulls back out and shoves inside again, you realize you should have never come.
Kuroo begins to fuck you with intention, pace slow and even but no less purposeful. His fingers press bruises into your skin, surely they do, and you're horrified at the fact that you're going to see them tomorrow. Your fingers twist and pull at the sheets, letting out soft, weak noises into the air, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks as the shame burns throughout your entire body. Like fire. Hot, molten, lava.
Does he do this to Rei, you find yourself thinking. Is this the sort of fucking she likes? Raw? You aren't on the pill. You didn't need to be―before now you were a virgin. You wanted your first time to be with someone special, someone you cared for.
Not like this.
The sudden thought makes a fresh waves of tears escape you. You mewl loudly, too loudly. Kuroo pauses, hand slipping over your mouth.
"Shh, it's okay, Bird"
It isn't. You don't' want this.
"I know its a lot, little bird" He says in your ear, hips continuing to lazily thrust into your cunt―biting back gasps of his own. "But you have to keep it down, okay? You don't want Rei to find you like this, do you? Hm? What would she think?"
Horror washes over you like an ice-bath. You don't want Rei to know. You don't want her to see you like this, whimpering and crying on Kuroo's cock.
Fingers thread through your hair. Kuroo pushes you down, fully into the pillows. "There you go, bird, just use that" And then one hand settles on the back of your neck and the other on your waist before he resumes fucking you for real.
His balls smack loudly against your bottom, cock practically drilling into your wet cunt. Choked noises leave your lips, hands gripping the sheets so hard you fear they'll tear apart right at the seams as tears consider to slide down, wetting the material below. Kuroo must not like the position and the noise it makes because he's shifting again.
Paralyzed with self-loathing and shame, you do nothing to stop him as he brings you back up to your knees. This time, one hand lands on the back of your thigh, keeping you spread open as his cock continues to pound into you.
"That's it" Kuroo praises breathlessly in your ear, grunting out a string of several soft-spoken curses. "Voice down, bird, just like that. You're taking it so well. Knew you'd be good for me"
Your cunt clamps around his cock, feel your insides and stomach swooping with the rush of a rollercoaster everytime Kuroo fucks inside. Your breath spasms choppily―eyes screwing tightly shut as you try to imagine anything else but what's currently happening. Is Rei asleep? Is she awake? You hope she isn't. Hope that she continues to slumber away like the dead. Kuroo's breathing is heavy and humid, hitting against the back of your ear―in tune with your own silted breaths.
You come, suddenly, clenching tight around his cock as you feel it all gush out of you. Kuroo praises you for it, which only worsens the shame you feel in the moment. The relief is just as horrible as it is needed, desperate. You bite at your hand, hard, stifling the worst of the noises, toes curling and pushing at the sheets below you.
You can't tell Rei about this, you realize. You can't tell her and that just makes it worse. She'll never forgive you for finding pleasure in this act. In her eyes, you'll be just as horrible as Kuroo.
Your orgasm knocks the air out of you, but you realize that Kuroo isn't stopping. Your body is boneless from cumming, and it's harder to tamper down on the onslaught of noises that escape you―bitten back gasps and moans, pussy sensitive. But Kuroo does not stop; only shifts you so that you lie flat on your back, smothering himself into the skin of your neck as his thrusts grow so hard it moves your body along the bed with every thrust.
Then Kuroo bucks forward one last time, hand shooting out to stop the headboard from slamming against the wall―bearing all of his weight on top of you as he cums. His panting cuts off into still silence, mouth sucking a mark into your neck and jaw.
It takes you a second to register the fact that he's still inside. To register the feeling of hot cum spreading, shooting out of Kuroo's spent cock in bursts as it throbs inside of you.
Your vision swims with panic. You could get pregnant from this, you realize. You don't want to. Kuroo pulls out then, cool air rushing to your pussy―leaving you achingly empty. You feel the slightly off smattering of his mouth against your cheek, noses swiping against your own.
You can't bear to look at him, as he rolls off of the bed and begins righting his clothes. You almost wish he would take you with him, wherever it is he's going. So that you don't have to remain in this place where he took your virginity, as if you'll be able to sleep for the remainder of this trip.
If you'll be able to sleep comfortably after this, at all. Even when Kuroo isn't here. Even when you're in the comforts of your own room.
"Morning, little bird" Kuroo says, in greeting the next morning. You and Rei stand side by side in the kitchen. You stiffen up, staring down at your cup of orange juice so that you don't have to look him in the eye.
Rei makes an expression, face screwing up in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"
"You, who else?" He says, eye shutting with a grin as he pulls her in for a kiss and hug. She melts into it. Kuroo opens an eye and slides you a pill still in the plastic. You snatch it off the table and shove it into the pocket of your sweatpants. "Because of your shirt, duh" He explains, when she pulls back.
Rei glances down at her shirt. Tweety Bird and Sylvester the Cat. Makes another face.
"Oh, this isn't mine" She says, and jerks her head in your direction. "I took it from her years ago"
ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ2,050 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), brief somnophilia-> so noncon, dirty talk, dry humping, no penetration, roommate is a pervert, denial, flash cut smut, abrupt ending, etcʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ
𐙚18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𐙚
You've been living with him—your roommate—for six months now.
At first, the idea of sharing space with a stranger made your skin crawl. You told a friend, "What do I look like living with a man I don't know? I might as well go on Tinder and end up on the First 48." But rent kept creeping up, and even with all the overtime, minimum wage wasn't cutting it.
The first few weeks were fine. You laid down rules, locked your door, and barely spoke. You thought you could keep it that way.Then the little things started to show... your bear hybrid wasn't bad, though.
He's all hair, warmth, and awkwardness.
He smells like cedar and soap, sometimes like the beer he drinks when he's nervous. He moves slowly in the mornings, hair mussed and shirt riding up to show that thick, fuzzy stomach—soft-looking but solid underneath. Always in some thermal that's seen better days, stretched across his chest, curls of fur peeking over the neckline.
You've seen the little trail of hair below his belly button too—once, when he reached for something on the top shelf and his shirt lifted. A soft, dark line running down into his sweats. You looked away quickly, pretending you weren't staring, but it stayed in your head longer than you'd like to admit.
He had ways that felt like nature creeping in. How he'd sniff everything—laundry, takeout, even the damn air when you walked by, nostrils flaring like he was trying to catch your scent and hide it behind a cough. He slept in long stretches, deep and dead quiet, like hibernation was creeping in early.
When he tried to focus on a book his lower lip would catch slightly between his teeth, and his cup-shaped ears—nestled beneath black curls—couldn't stop shifting, rotating faintly to catch the distant sound of a passing car.
Not that bad, right?
He was just... pathetic in a soft, almost endearing way. The kind of man who apologizes for taking up space in his own home. Who still keeps his ex-wife as his lock screen months after she left him for another man, and pretends it's by accident. Who keeps getting fired for things like "poor communication" or "low initiative," but always gets rehired within days because people take one look at him and think he needs this.
You can tell when he's lonely. He hovers by the couch, pretends to clean things that don't need cleaning, hums to fill the silence.
You've caught him stealing glances, too. The kind that linger. The kind he's not proud of.
You can tell by the way he avoids eye contact, scratching at his beard like he's trying to rub the guilt off. There's a perverted streak in him—gentle, clumsy, half-hidden. When you borrowed his phone to order groceries, you saw the tab he forgot to close. Something filthy and kind of desperate, starring a woman who looked a bit like you. Familiar enough that you didn't bring it up. Just one more quiet thing between you.
Not even because he lingers by your door some nights, mumbling something about cooking or watching a movie together, voice all low and hopeful—like a kicked puppy trying not to whine too loud. Like now.
"Please," he says, eyes wide, voice rough. "I just want to spend time with you. You've been working a lot."
"Yeah, you should try it," you shoot back, meaning paying rent on time. You glance at his beard—thick, uneven, still a little neat from when you trimmed it last week.
You two have a deal. Three movies a month, or a few hours doing something together to make up for it. It's domestic, weirdly comforting. Easy to get used to.
He's good company, in his way. Kind. Respectful. Always trying too hard. Maybe a little too aware of you.
"Please," he says now, voice lower. "Just one more. I want to spend more time with you. You know I'll be sleeping through winter."
You sigh. It's hard to say no to him round, soft, needy in that big, lonely way. He's too easy to read, all his wanting sitting right there on the surface.
"Fine," you murmur, brushing a hand through his thick hair, feeling the warmth radiate off his scalp. His tail gave a single, strong, involuntary flick. A silent, needy confession. "But I'm picking the movie."
He smiles then—slow, uncertain. Something flickers in his eyes, part gratitude, part hunger.
You tell yourself it's fine. Just another movie night.
But you can already feel the heat of him beside you, the weight of his attention. That soft, heavy presence that fills the whole room—and keeps you just warm enough to stay.
-
The movie's halfway through.
You're on your stomach, cheek buried in a pillow, and a carton of lo mein balanced beside you. He's next to you in the same position—shoulder brushing yours, arm stretched out close enough that his fingers graze the blanket every time he shifts.
He was originally at the head of the bed, but that didn't last long.
You could feel his stare on your ass, the quiet ache of it. When you glanced over and teased him, told him if he was going to look at you like that he might as well feel you up too, he lowered his head, muttered an apology, and scooted closer like being near you might make up for it. You laughed, shaking your head. Knowing if he didn't move, your ass and flattened thighs would be starring in his nasty fantasies.
Now, he's still trying too hard to look casual, like he isn't fighting the pull of it. The warmth between you hums. You can smell him when he exhales—warm, a little like cedar and fried rice.
"Outlast" plays softly against the low hum of the heater. It's a tense show. Building shelters, finding food, sabotage, and lasting the longest for a cash prize. Halfway through, you mumble, "I wouldn't survive that. I'd tap out."
He chuckles, a low sound that rolls through the mattress. "You'd want to leave in the first two hours," he says, "but you'd stay. Just to prove everyone wrong. Maybe stay a full two days."
You side-eye him, chewing a piece of cabbage. He's got sauce on his chin. You want to wipe it. Don't.
He's always been like this. Too near, too eager for your approval. You'll make some offhand comment, and he'll glow under it, tail flicking once like he can't hide how pleased he is. He always finds a way to lean close, to make sure you see him, smell him, feel him around you.
And lately, things stick out more. How when you fall asleep on the couch, there's always a blanket tucked over you that smells faintly of his detergent. How he likes to do your laundry. How your panties always end up missing like clockwork.
You'd joke about it if it didn't sit so heavy in your gut. If you didn't already find them under his pillow. If you didn't look through his entire room and stumble upon that clear plastic toy. You lingered for a second before sliding the drawer closed, but the damage was done.
For the next few days, you couldn't stop picturing him using it. You saw his hips bucking messily, the toy wet and vocal under his weight. He’d moan without a shred of shame, mouth agape, hips snapping into a blur. You could see him groaning as he pulled the toy flush to his pelvis, balls smacking, cock swelling to fill every inch of it. He’d go over the edge too soon—a hot release overflowing the sleeve and dripping over his thighs—yet he’d keep thrusting through the ruin of it. Finally, he’d collapse, flushed and spent, muttering about how he only really needs you. The image made you throb.
The movie winds down quietly. Neither of you move. The room hums low and warm. At some point, your lids grow heavy, and the warmth of him beside you makes it easy to drift.
- Flash Cut 1
You wake to the heavy weight of him. His body is a solid pressure against your back, rocking into you with a subtle, steady rhythm that makes the mattress groan. His breath is shaky against your neck—caught halfway between a growl and a sigh—while his hand rests heavy and possessive on your lower hip.
You could push him off. You could say something sharp and end it right here.
But you don’t. Not yet. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, staying perfectly still as you let him linger there, the rhythm of his hips soft and uncertain against your ass.
His scent wraps around you—thick fur, sweat, and that cedar-sweetness underneath. He’s so big and solid that he makes the bed feel smaller, the very air in the room thicker. You feel the tremor of restraint in the way he moves, a faint vibration of nerves and need as he tries to hold himself back even while grinding against you.
In the dark, he murmurs your name like it’s the only thing holding him together. "Mghn—fuck... I'm sorry, so sorry... I just—uhn," he pants, the whispered words broken as he pulls you tighter against the soft curve of his belly. "Please don't wake up... just let me... god, you're so warm." He’s twitchy. Needy. Filled with the kind of restlessness that makes his entire body ache with tension.
The thick bulge stretching his sweats grinds right against your center. You feel every roll of his weight, the fabric of your shorts rubbing and catching your clit with every pass—and it doesn’t help that you aren't wearing panties. You stay still, breathing slow, pretending to sleep like you don't feel that slick heat already dampening your shorts. Like you don’t feel his hand slide further down, his blunt fingers cupping your inner thigh, just inches from your heat.
In the blissful haze of it, he catches your scent—a change in the air he immediately latches onto. Arousal. He knows you're awake. His movement hitches, his heart hammering against your spine.
"H-hey... are you awake?" he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. "I'm sorry, I just really needed you. I couldn't take it anymore—you're just so—"
He stops, waiting for a rejection that hasn't come yet. He let's out a shaky, broken breath against your skin, his eyes glazed and desperate in the shadows as he waits for you to acknowledge him.
"Say something," he pleads, his grip on your hip tightening. "Please. Tell me to stop or... or tell me to keep going."
- Flash Cut 2
You reach back, fingers digging into his jaw to jerk his face toward yours. You squeeze his cheeks, forcing his glazed, half-lidded eyes to meet your gaze in the dark.
"You really are pathetic, you know that, right?" you berate, your voice low and sharp. "Waking me up because you're too weak to handle yourself?"
He leans into your palm, eyes fluttering shut, shamelessly chasing the warmth of your hand even as you insult him.
"Y-Yeah… I know," he rasps, his voice wrecked and thick with shame. "Sorry… I just—god, I really need this. I need you."
He doesn’t stop moving. If anything, the verbal lash makes him push harder. He grinds slow, syrupy-slick against you. You can feel the head of his dick trapped and pulsing behind his sweats, weeping fluid like he’s never been touched in his life. He moans into the shell of your ear—a broken, needy sound—at the sensation of your wet fabric sliding against his.
His grip on your thigh tightens, his blunt claws pressing a desperate, soft indentation into your skin. His fingers tremble, clutching at you as an anchor while his hips start to stutter, moving in earnest now. It’s ragged. Animalistic. Each heavy roll of his hips makes your body jolt.
He drags his dick up against your heat, catching the seam of your shorts against your clit again and again. You gasp, your breath hitching, soaking through your own clothes now until the friction becomes unbearable.
He nuzzles into your throat, his mouth wet and open, kissing the pulse point with sloppy, worshipping desperation.
His hand leaves your thigh, sliding up your stomach, shaking with the effort of not simply taking what he wants. He hooks his fingers into the neckline of your tank top and bra, and yanks them down with a sudden, impatient tug.
Cool air hits your skin for a second before his hand is there. Your breasts spill out, soft and full, and he cups one in a firm, greedy motion—kneading the tender flesh, his palm rough and hot, thumb dragging clumsily over your hardening nipple.
"So soft," he whimpers against your neck, hips snapping forward as he loses the last of his rhythm.
- Flash Cut 3
The air in the room is stifling, thick with the smell of musk and the humid heat radiating off his massive frame. He’s hovering over you now, holding your thighs, his weight making the mattress dip so sharply you feel like you’re sliding into him.
Your hands slide over his chest, fingers grazing the soft bulk of him like you have every right to. His brown skin is impossibly soft beneath the dark, dense black hair that covers him, holding the heat in like a blanket.
His dick is bare, a heavy, pulsing weight that he’s dragging rhythmically across your wet folds. He isn't inside you—you won't let him be—but the friction is perfect. Every time he slides upward, the broad, weeping head of his cock catches against your clit. The slick dripping down is copious. His cum mixes with yours in creamy white strings and splats.
"So messy," you mutter, reaching up to thread your fingers through the thick, coarse hair at the base of his skull. You yank his head down, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are blown wide, the irises nearly swallowed by pupils, darting across your face with a look of pure, unadulterated worship. "Already came twice, and you're still humping me like a stray mutt."
A low, broken growl vibrates in his chest—not a threat, but a plea. His skin is slick with sweat, glistening under the faint light of the TV.
"Can't—can't stop," he gasps, his lower lip caught between his teeth just like when he’s trying to read, only now it’s bleeding slightly from the pressure. "Feels too good... please, just let me stay right here."
"Look at you," you berate him, your voice a low, cutting contrast to his frantic breathing. "Too stupid to know your own limits. You’ll fuck yourself raw before you give up, won't you? Just a big, needy animal looking for a place to hide."
"Yes—fuck, yes," he gasps, hips jerking faster. His cock drags through your slick folds, twitching with every grind, never slipping inside. "Need it—let me put it in—ah."
Your nails dig into the back of his neck, forcing his face against yours.
"I'm not letting a man this pitiful actually fuck me," you whisper against his lips, feeling him shudder. "You don't deserve it."
He curses, his movements becoming ragged and uncoordinated. You can feel the tremor in his thighs, the muscles corded and jumping as he nears a third breaking point without even being inside you.
He lets out a loud, wrecked moan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as his body finally gives in. You feel the hot pulse of him as he shoots ropes of white across your stomach and pussy for the third time tonight, his entire frame racking with a deep tremor. He ruts three more times—slow, heavy, and desperate—before collapsing into you, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs.
꩜𖦹༄ author's note: based on request!! let me out of my cage. pls. 😭 dadaman aang also tew fine in the new movie....
the silence here is a lie.
they tell you the air nomads were all about peace and detachment, drifting through life like clouds that never touch the earth, but the way aang is holding you right now feels like gravity being reinvented. he’s supposed to be the bridge, the monk, the vegetarian boy with the easy smile and the heavy burden, but in the dark of the sanctuary, he’s just a man who has discovered a different kind of hunger. he’s a good man, truly, the kind of soul that would weep over a broken wing, but right now his hands are bruised-purple against your hips and his eyes are dark with a craving that feels almost sacrilegious.
you used to think of him as something holy, something separate from the evil of this world. he’s the avatar, the master of four elements, the one who is meant to bring balance. but there is no balance in the way he’s folding your body into the furs, his weight a constant pressure that makes your lungs ache. he’s an airbender, but he’s moving like the tide, relentless but rhythmic, driving into you with a stamina that feels entirely supernatural. his tattoos glow faintly, blue lines tracing the curve of his muscles as he works, a divine light illuminating a very human, very pervy desperation.
"look at you," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rasp that's so unlike the cheerful man who plays with lemurs. he’s kissing your jaw, his tongue hot and wet, tracing the line where your skin meets the cold mountain air. "my girl. my perfect, beautiful girl. you’re taking all of it, aren’t you? every bit of me."
he’s sweet with his praise, calling you precious even as he uses his bending to hitch your legs higher, pinning your knees to your chest in a mating press that leaves you completely open to him. his cock is a thick, pulsing intrusion, sliding through the slick remnants of the last two times he’s come inside you.
"i want to see it leak out of you," he whispers, his words turning filthy as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white. "i want you so full of me that you can't even walk straight. i'm going to put so much in you that your body has no choice but to keep it. you’re going to carry my children, okay? we’re going to bring them back. all of them."
the dirty talk is a shock to your system. this is the boy who blushes at a compliment, yet here he is, describing exactly how he wants to ruin you with a clinical, pervy specificity. he’s using his airbending instinctively now, small puffs of air circulating around your sensitive spots, keeping you in a state of constant, vibrating overstimulation. your clit feels like it’s being buffeted by a storm, and your internal walls are clamping down on him in desperate pulses, trying to find some kind of release that keeps being pushed just out of reach by his tireless pace.
"please... aang... i can't—" you babble, your voice breaking as he hitches your hips even higher. your back is arching off the furs, your fingers clawing at his forearms, where the blue arrows glow. "it's too much... it's too much..."
"it's not too much," he counters, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that pins you in place. "you can take more. i know you can. i want you to feel every inch of me filling you up. i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at the sky. i’m the avatar, right? i’m supposed to restore the air nomads. and i’m starting right here. with you. i’m going to fill you so full of my seed that there won't be room for anything else."
he begins to move faster, the slow, deep grinds giving way to sharp, staccato jacks that make your entire body jolt. he’s being so sweet with his hands, cupping your face, brushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead, yet his lower body is a machine of pure, unadulterated lust. the contrast is dizzying. he’s praising you, calling you his everything, his soulmate, his world, while his hips are delivering a relentless pounding against your pelvic bone.
the overstimulation is peaking. you can feel the pressure building in your lower belly, a tight, coil of heat that’s about to snap. your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and the room is starting to spin. the smell of him—that sweet, peachy scent of his skin combined with the raw, salty musk of his sweat—is the only thing keeping you grounded. you’re lost in the rhythm, lost in the sheer, overwhelming presence of him.
"aang, i'm... i'm gonna—"
"go for me," he groans, his own voice hitching as he senses your climax. "let it go. squeeze me. show me how much you want it."
he delivers one final, deep thrust, his cock hitting your cervix with such force that your vision literally flashes white. your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, milk-hot and desperate, and that’s what finally breaks him. aang lets out a string of inaudible words, his back arching as he slams himself into you one last time. you feel the his third release flooding into you, a thick, scalding torrent that feels like it’s filling you to the brim. he pumps into you over and over, his balls drawing up tight against your folds, his entire body shaking with the sheer volume of his climax.
the silence that follows is thick, broken only by the sound of your frantic, synchronised breathing. aang collapses onto your chest, his weight a comforting, crushing blanket. he’s panting, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against your own. you can feel the hot slickness of his cum beginning to overflow, a warm, wet trail sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.
he stays inside you for a long time, unwilling to break the connection. he’s soft now, but the intimacy of the moment is even more intense than the sex was. he lifts his head, a lopsided, boyish grin returning to his face, though his eyes still hold that dark, lingering hunger. he reaches down, his fingers tracing the wetness between your legs, his touch gentle and possessive.
"i think i did it," he whispers, his voice light but filled with an underlying gravity. "i think i put enough in there to start a whole new generation."
he kisses you then, a soft, lingering press of lips that tastes like salt and peaches. he pulls back just an inch, his eyes sparkling in the dying candlelight as he watches a thick, white glob of his seed leak out of you and onto the dark furs.
"look at that," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "you’re practically wearing me. i told you, i’m not going to be the last airbender for much longer. we’ve got work to do."
i'm actually sobbing. please. what do you guys have me writing.
HAIII! I was wondering could you please bestow upon us a ES Bumblebee x reader smut fic where Bee absaloutley FRAGS the readers brains out then like- straight after that they go out somewhere or go visit someone and Bee is like acting completely normal or a little more calm and the reader is just watching him like- you just ruined my insides and you're acting completely normal roght now-
(SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE IT SOUNDED A LOT BETTER WHEN I CAME UP WITH IT...😟)
How does he do it?
You’re staring at Bumblebee from across the farm watching him train the terrans and all you can do is sit in your turtleneck on top of a donut pillow.
“Take it all the way, sweet spark.” Memories of Bumblebee and you making love just a couple hours ago were fresh. “Aww,” you remembered how Bumblebee mocked you. “Is it too big? I thought you could really do it this time.”
“Stop being mean!” You whined dipping your hips down to try and take his spike inside of your needy hole. You were crouched down like a frog trying to bounce on him the best you could but the ache in your legs was too much and the pain of taking him to the hilt further deterred you.
A swift slap to your rear made you squeak and fall over onto Bumblebee’s chasis. “I think you like it when I’m mean,” he teased rubbing his spike between your ass cheeks. You gripped his chasis as your pussy dripped begging to be stuffed with the all too familiar shape of his robotic cock. “You always get so wet when I rough you up,” Bumblebee whispered into your ear as he grabbed a servo full of your ass. Goosebumps rose to your skin as you hid your face into his chasis.
The damn bastard was right. Every time he teased you, spanked you, gripped a little too tight, or showed off how easily he could overpower you, you became nothing more than a leaking hole for him to fuck.
“Cute little thing,” Bee cooed as he switched positions so you were underneath him with your legs spread wide enough to accommodate his hips. “Are you really getting all bashful on me when you were just trying to ride me outside of my alt mode?” You couldn’t hide your face with how Bumblebee hovered over you with either of his servos on each side of your head.
Bumblebee curled his body in so he could reach your neck. You could feel the hot air his cooling fans whirred out of his body against your skin. His intake practically engulfed your neck as he lay a play bite that made you gasp. “So cute and soft for me,” Bee groaned into your ear. He moved down to take bites along your shoulder. You writhed grabbing onto his servos at feeling how much larger his mouth was compared to your body. “That’s my baby,” Bee grumbled into your shoulder. You felt his spike prod at your entrance. “Keep sounding all cute and I’ll make sure you’ll be dripping my transfluid for days.”
“Bee!” You cried arching your hips to try and get his spike inside you. All of his dirty talk was making you go insane. Bumblebee revved his engine sending a delightful vibration through his spike and to your core.
Your daydream of memories was interrupted when Twitch landed face down next to your picnic blanket with Thrash’s shield bouncing off of her. Your startled expression turned to amusement when you heard her determined grumble and saw her climb to her knees.
“You almost got him!” You cheered.
“Yeah well I’m actually going to get him this time!” Twitch promised switching back into her alt mode and taking off back towards Bumblebee and Thrash.
That damn mech had the audacity to wink at you when he saw your attention turn to him. How dare he playfully wink at you like he wasn’t rearranging your insides just two hours earlier! Bumblebee was going to be the death of you.
Your pelvis still ached from how he shoved his hips into yours. You remembered how his servo pushed down on your stomach so you could feel exactly where his spike was inside of you.
“You feel that?” Bee purred. “That’s your soft little body making room for me.” You could feel every hot inch of his robotic cock sliding out of you before pushing back inside. You clenched down making Bumblebee’s frame shiver and his hips buck.
“You’re takin’ it like a champ,” Bee groaned while stroking your hair. “This hole was made to be fucked, made to be filled with my spike.”
Bee’s dirty talk always did you in. He spoke enough for both of you every time he had you in his berth. The way he’d praise how good you felt, how beautiful you looked, and how much he loved you was the reason it took so little effort for him to make you cum.
You clenched your thighs together remembering how Bee’s intake felt moving against your sopping folds. How he ran his glossa through the mixture of your slick and his transfluid. Your legs felt weak at the memory of him eating his own release out of your pussy then pushing the mixture of your live making into your own mouth when he went to kiss you.
“Tastes so good on your lips,” Bee moaned between kisses.
You were sure one of these days you were going to die at the hands of Bee mid orgasm but what a way to go.
plsssss plsss make another earthspark bumble x reader GN smut Im begging on my knees 🙏🙏, lowkey idk I like the eye contact one u made, but like maybe make it with a more breeding kink 👀👀 THANK U 🩷
Everytime i get an anon asking me to write I start giggling and kicking my feet and I also feel like that one picture of Bugs Bunny dressed as a king. Like abdhfbbahsbdhf I never thought my writing would get so much attention and it makes me feel so happy that y’all like it so much!!!
Gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, breeding kink, dirty talk, size difference, Dom Bumblebee and sub reader, pregnancy talk, lactation mention
You straddled his hips, his massive spike sitting against your stomach leaking transfluid onto your skin. It can be easy to forget just how much bigger Bumblebee is when comparing him to Optimus or Megatron but you could barely touch his berth below you with your tiptoes as you sat on him. His massive servos engulfed your thighs in a loving grip as he smirked up at you.
“You’re so cute,” Bumblebee purred running his servos up your thighs to hold your hips. “I can’t believe you were getting all hot and bothered watching me train.”
You whined and grabbed his servos. You wanted nothing more than to slobber on his spike or grab the fat girth of his shaft and work him until he painted you with his overload. Yet you knew better than to grab him without his permission. You know you’d be in for a night of Bee either edging you then leaving you high and dry for days on end or him overstimulating you until you couldn’t move and could only sob out his name. While the latter sounded lovely, you knew he’d most likely resort to the first option just to see how long it takes for you to pounce on him once again so he can bend you over his thigh and leave your poor rear sore with his servo.
Bumblebee was usually such a softy but having you here in his berth, nude and willing, made something switch in his circuits.
“I really turned you into a desperate little slut, huh?” Bee laughed pulling your hips forward so you’d rub your wet heat against his spike. You moaned out his name in a shaky voice as your clit bumped against the hot metal plating that stood so proudly against you.
“There you go,” Bumblebee cooed while guiding your hips. “Keep sounding like that and I’ll take good care of you, babe.”
You angled your hips in his grasp so your folds could better glide over his shaft. Bee let out a low rumble of his engine watching how you sought out his spike for your pleasure. He pulled you further along his spike so you were seated along the length of it. Your folds effectively holding him between the lips of your pussy. You could feel the heat of the energon running through him as his biolights pulsed in bliss.
“You wanna bounce on it? Have your cute little, squishy valve spread open and fucked?” Bumblebee couldn’t hide the shaky excitement in his voice as you slid along his length. “Primus, I wanna be inside you so bad. Make you go stupid with pleasure. You want that, baby?”
You nodded eagerly as you gyrated your hips against Bee’s spike in time with how his servos guided you. “Please!” You begged practically panting in excitement. “Bee, I want you to fuck me so bad!”
Bumblebee rolled his helm back releasing a slew of curses in Cybertronian. “I should just have you strapped to my spike,” Bee moaned pushing his hips up against you. “Can’t go one click without needing to be in this pussy.”
You whined grabbing onto his servos like they were your only tether to his world. Bumblebee was going to be the death of you. He had absolutely ruined you for anyone else with how he fucked you. Tender love making mixed with brutal fucking like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use and all the while he’s telling you how good you feel, how cute you look, and how he can’t wait to fuck you again after he overloads deep inside of you.
You tilted your hips forward hoping to angle your hole towards his spike’s tip in order to try to get him inside you as soon as possible.
“Always so eager,” Bee teased lifting your body with ease. He angled his hips towards yours, the length of his spike sliding along your slick folds until the tip slapped against your clit. You frantically reached down to grab him and assist his throbbing cable towards your entrance.
You could feel the tip of his spike kiss your entrance. Bumblebee was so tantalizingly close to stuffing you full. “My good little spike sleeve,” Bumblebee moaned as he pushed his hips up towards you pushing the head of his spike into your wet pussy with a satisfying pop. You threw your head back and moaned out his name.
Bee guided your body down his spike letting you feel every ridge, bump, and curve of him as he filled up your needy hole. You whined his name when your clit finally made contact with the heated metal of his pelvis. You could feel him rearranging your insides with just the sheer size of his cock. You felt incredibly full and speared on his phallic cable. No matter how you moved the sheer size and weight of him stayed prominent inside you.
“Feel good?” Bee teased giving you a gentle roll of his hips that had you crying out in pleasure. “Cute little thing all desperate to get fucked,” he moaned giving you a sharp thrust that had tears rolling down your cheeks. “Primus you feel so good. I wanna pump this pussy full of my overload.”
You cried out for him, your hands gripping his servos tightly. “Please!” You mewed trying to bounce yourself on his spike despite the firm grip he had on your hips. “Knock me up! Put a baby in me!”
The rumble and vibrations of Bee’s revving engine jittered your bones and only served to make you wetter around his spike. “Yeah?” He said breathlessly. “You want me to fuck a sparkling into you?”
You nodded and threw your head back when Bee finally started moving his hips in a steady rhythm. The wet slapping of skin against metal echoed throughout his habsuite as he pulled you up with his servos then pushed you down in time with his thrusts.
“Humans get all cute and round when you’re knocked up,” Bee groaned imagining you so cutely swollen with his sparkling. So clumsy getting used to how big your stomach had gotten to grow another being deep in your womb; how you’d rely on him to take care of you. Bumblebee’s pace quickened when he thought about how big your tummy would get trying to accommodate a Cybertronian. Your soft, little human body pushed to its limits after he knocked you up.
You whimpered feeling his metal digits slide up your body and run over your nipples. “You start making milk too, huh?” Bee moaned as his cooling fans worked in overtime. He pinched your nipple and gave it a tug as your body spasmed. Your eyes shot open as the premature orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. Bee watched you shiver and struggle through your bliss in both awe and amusement. Your poor body absolutely wrecked with pleasure and yet he continued fucking you through your orgasm as if nothing had happened. Deep rolling thrusts parting your walls as you clamped down on him like a vice. He continued lifting and lowering your body with ease to meet each one of his powerful thrusts.
“That good?” Bee teased as you started to struggle in his grip. The overstimulation started settling in as he continued his pace from before. Your pussy stung in a way that made it impossible to ask Bee to stop. His spike tormented your pussy yet felt so amazing fucking deep into you that you couldn’t bear to have him stop.
“Bee!” You slurred trying to find any bearing to this mortal plane; anyway to ground yourself as he fucked you.
“I’m right here, baby,” Bee cooed giving your nipple another pinch and tug. “I’m right here.”
You sobbed feeling so pleasured beyond what your mind could grasp. “I love you!” You cried holding onto his servos as your only life line.
“Frag,” Bee moaned worrying his lower derma between his dentas. “I love you so much. I love how this pussy takes me so well. You’re so beautiful! Gonna knock you up real good, make you fucking pregnant!” Bumblebee’s thrusting became frantic as he focused on his goal. His sweet sparkmate round with his sparkling. No one would doubt that you were claimed by him when they saw how round you were carrying evidence of how well he fucked you. Any wandering eyes gawking at your beautiful form would be reminded that you were stuffed full of his transfluid the second they see your swelling stomach.
“Bee!!” You wailed as a jet of squirt erupted from your pussy and coated his metal plating. The slick, juicy noises made by your combined bodies became even louder with the added lubrication that jolted out of your body.
“Take it!” Bee cried feeling his overload moving through his body. “Take it all and get fucking pregnant!” He cried through gritted dentas. He pulled you down so your hips were tightly pressed against his as he orgasm raked through him. You could feel your body swell trying to make room for the amount of transfluid Bumblebee pumped into you. Your whole body shivered in delight feeling your womb be packed full of Bumblebee’s hot overload.
“So good,” Bee whined with a shiver. “You always feel so good.”
You groaned letting yourself fall forward onto his plating when his servos lightened their grip on you. Bee ran one of his servos up your back soothingly as you rested your head against his metal body. “You did so good,” Bee praised basking in the afterglow of both of your orgasms. “You always do so good taking me.”
You pecked soft kisses against his abdomen plating making Bee hum in contentment. “Give me a moment and I should be able to go again in about an hour,” you purred running your hands along his transformation seems.
“Frag,” Bee groaned. “You and your pussy are gonna be the death of me.”
-> I chose to do kink hcs for this because yeah. This is intended to be written as gender neutral, save for one mention of period sex. Do enjoy dear anon! :]
This is somehow above 1k words. Kill me now. Might be a little ooc also? It is a little hard to imagine the actual embodiment of death fucking someone LMAO
Marking -> Now Muerte isn’t really possessive, at least not beyond the base possessiveness of being a wolf, so marking with him is less about letting others know you’re his and more about personal satisfaction. It’s like a confirmation of sorts, not that that’s really needed at all, but is still nice. He also just thinks you look gorgeous marked too, so there’s that.
There are two ways Muerte likes to mark you, with the first and most prominent one being through biting. In general Muerte likes using his teeth on you; sinking them into your shoulder, dragging them down your torso, leaving light bites on your inner thigh, you get the picture. Though his favourite one [and this isn’t really biting] is having his jaw wrapped around your throat as he fucks you. The slight smell of fear, the utter display of trust, there are many reasons it appeals to him. He drools a lot during it too, with it leaking onto the mattress as he traces his tongue along your trachea. He may clamp down on your throat a little, enough for you to feel his teeth, but don’t worry - he’s not taking you like that yet.
The second way he likes to mark you is through scratching. This is more teasing than with biting, and is actually unintentional a lot of the time. His claws are long and sharp, and sometimes even just holding down your hips results in claw marks and pinpricks of blood. Muerte isn’t entirely unaware of it, but he can get very lost in the pleasure of fucking you and it just doesn’t occur to him. Always a pleasant surprise afterwards.
Knife/Blood play -> Using his shotels on you is a guilty pleasure of his. Loves dragging the blade along your skin, have it just barely grazing you, seeing the fear in your eyes and smelling it. Muerte is especially fond of tilting your head up with the end of the blade or using it to spread your legs. There’s also the factor of trust in this that makes it so appealing too. He’s incredibly endeared by how much trust you have in him, how much you’re willing to place your life in his paws [hands?], and it warms his heart.
All of those former ones also tie in heavily with blood play. The sight of you fucked out, marked, and bleeding [albeit lightly] always does wonders to him, including the smell of it. The smell of blood has never really done anything to him before, neither has the sight of it, but with you? He’s almost feral, snarling and growling as he laps up your blood like a beast starved.
Don’t worry though! Muerte always takes the time to patch you up afterwards and is sure not to cross any boundaries. Your safety and wellbeing is important to him after all.
Period sex -> For the same reason as above with blood play, with the added benefit of him not having to hurt you to see you bleed, so it eliminates all worry.
Prey/predator -> This one is obvious perhaps, but Muerte likes playing with his food before he eats it. He doesn’t go to extremes for this one, there’s no actively hunting you down, but he certainly uses his stature and nature to make you feel weak and small, like you’re about to be devoured at any given moment. Not that he ever would of course, and like before the trust involved in it makes it all the more enjoyable. He just likes toying with you, getting you all worked up and scared [within reason].
Praise -> Praise actually goes both ways with Muerte! Despite everything Muerte is very soft at times, and even when he’s being rough he likes to keep things intimate and finds praise to be a good way to do that. Most praise is said in Spanish and accompanied by pet names, such as love, dear, or if he’s feeling teasing “little lamb”. You are incredibly important to him, special, and he has no qualms in telling you this. Wants you to know how good you’re doing for him, how well you’re taking him.
Now he won’t admit it, please don’t make him admit it, but he likes being called your “good boy”. Like, really likes it. If he was capable of blushing he probably would and he knows it too, which is why he gets somewhat defensive when you call him that the first few times. Not that the denial works at all mind you, his tail is very clearly wagging.
Cockwarming -> I’m not sure if this counts as a kink but Muerte is a big fan of cockwarming! He likes having you sat pretty on his lap and keeping him warm as he reads or goes over lists or so on. The way you whine and try to get some sort of friction is adorable to him, especially due to how easy it is to just hold you down and keep you there.
Though Muerte also likes the intimacy of it and a lot of quiet mornings and nights will be spent cuddled up together cockwarming. He doesn’t get much time with you due to his job, so stolen moments like this are simply lovely to him. Litters kisses on whatever skin he can reach and will mutter praise and confession of love into your ear. Do the same to him, he all but melts when you do.
Breeding -> Now Muerte wasn’t even aware he had a breeding kink until he met you and started getting ruts, and honestly I don’t think Muerte even wants kids, just wants to fuck you and stuff you so full of his cum that you can’t think. Likes watching it drip out of you and onto the mattress, and honestly he might scoop some of it up on his fingers and shove them in your mouth. Always calls you his lovely little mate as he stuffs you full too, saying you can surely take more. And you will, even if you think you can’t you will.
Going off this Muerte particularly likes knotting you. His knots usually last for half an hour, and during that time he likes just holding you close. Will often spoon with you and honestly he might not even pull out once his knot’s gone down, leading to cockwarming or another round. Cums a lot while knotting you too, like a slow steady stream, though it doesn’t last the whole duration of the knot.
Something about a feral not quite sapient werewolf really does it for me. Can't even talk to you, doesn't think, only knows: "Pussy makes knot feel so good" so he just humps and humps and whines and keens, hoping the burning ache in his cock will end. He's an animal hunting for pleasure
tw: heavy dub-con
Imagine finding a werewolf in the woods. You are just walking around, trying to get some fresh air after being inside for too long. You hear him before you see him, your whole body tensing while you try to process exactly what the sound is. The whining and the tiny grunts sound like a wounded animal, and your heart is just too big not to try to find it.
You find the werewolf trapped between two big trees, his body struggling against some kind of trap that probably some hunters set up. He's struggling, his whole body tense when he whines. Poor thing can't escape the ropes, but when you approach, you realize that's not why he's struggling so much. His hands are trapped above his head, and his dick is so hard and leaking so profusely there's a tiny puddle under him. You approach carefully, talking softly to him.
The second your smell hits his nose, you know you are in trouble. The roar that escapes his throat is nothing but a predator alerting his prey. You only have time to gasp before the ropes around him give up and he jumps to the ground. You turn around in a rush, determined to run away, but you don't have time for that. You don't have time for anything before his big body collides with yours.
Your body propells forward, but his big hand catches your head before you hit the ground. His body covers yours completely, so big and warm and relentless in his way to pull on your clothes. You try to soothe him with little shushing sounds, but with each movement it's clearer and clearer that what he wants to do to you, the reminder of his hard leaking dick pressing against your lower back while he ruts into your body.
You try to act proper, but the movement and his whimpering and groaning are doing something for you. Your body is heating, your pussy is clenching, and to your embarrassment... you want him. You open your legs a bit, and he falls between them, his dick finally positioned close to your pussy. You arch your back as much as you can, offering yoruself to him. That only makes him more feral, his roar shaking the trees around you when his claws finally rip the last piece of clothes off your body, the tip of his dick connecting with your core.
He doesn't wait for a word, he plunges forward while you let out a silent scream that turns into broken vowels and half-yips while he pounds into you with the whole force of his body. It's intoxicating, brain-melting, and you can barely contain the pleasure that mixes with a hint of pain. He's rutting into you like a desperate creature, mumbling words that make no sense, but not stopping for even a second.
Much to your humiliation, you come on the werewolf dick, screaming at the top of your lungs as your body seizes around him. His responding roar is accompanied by a feeling of fullness, your pussy stretching so widely you can barely breathe when his knot expands inside of you completely. You stop thinking, the only feeling is the one of your pussy clenching over his knot, of the fullness of him inside of you. And meanwhile, he comes and comes and comes, the only sounds out of his mouth are broken words, something about "knot", something about "pussy", something about "mate".
You find him half-dead on the side of the road; one look at him and you know he isn't human. You take care of him for a while, but he starts exhibiting strange behavior. He takes a strong liking to you and begins to get restless. You come to realize that no matter how obedient or quiet he is, he really is just a needy feral beast.
Werewolf hybrid x BlackFem!Reader
°ໂ2.5k+ words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), domestic, mimicking behavior, handjob->blow job, dry humping, he's kind of pathetic, light humiliation, degradation, reader is stern but indulgent, doggystyle, knotting, no condom(wrap it!), pet names, plot(kinda), dubcon(just to be safe), etc.ໂ°
It had rained the night before. The trail was slick with rotting leaves, branches heavy and dripping above your head. Your boots sunk with every step, mud swallowing the soles like a warning. You almost didn’t see him.
At first, you thought it was a dead animal. Still, tangled in bush, half-covered in muck and pine needles. But then the shape registered—arms, legs, a human torso curled on its side like a child, one shoulder scraped raw where the skin met gravel.
You stopped mid-step. Heart thudding. Reached for the small knife clipped to your belt.
Then he moved.
A twitch—fingers flexing, clawing weakly at the earth. He turned his face up toward you, and your breath caught.
Not quite human. His eyes glowed faintly, the color of swamp water. His lips were split, dry and bloodied. Hair long and matted. Strips of cloth clung to his hips, barely covering him. There were gashes on his back. Deep ones.
"Shit," you muttered.
He made a noise—low, rasping. His eyes stayed locked on you. Wide, unblinking, wild with pain and something else. Something needy.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you said slowly, crouching.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch either. Just watched you with an expression like you're the first warm thing he’d seen in years.
You pulled your jacket off and draped it over him. He let out a soft sound—almost like a sob—but didn’t move away.
His body was burning up under the cold fabric. Feverish.
“You’re gonna die out here,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Stupid choice.”
Still no words. But his fingers twitched again—toward you. You paused. Then reached down, curling your hand around his wrist.
He sighed like he’d been waiting for that touch forever.
⋆ ˚
He didn’t weigh much.
You expected him to be heavier, but his limbs were all wiry muscle and sharp bones under skin too thin, too warm. Carrying him was awkward, not hard—he clung to you without making a sound, breath hot against your throat, chest heaving shallowly as you hiked back toward the cabin.
The whole way, he didn’t say a word.
Didn’t ask where you were going. Didn’t beg or resist. Just held on. Like a dying thing too tired to fight anymore.
The cabin door creaked open with a groan. You nudged it with your boot and stepped inside, the cold snapping off the back of your neck. The woodstove was out. You set him down on the couch, still wrapped in your jacket, and went straight for the firewood.
He watched you.
Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just followed you with those swamp-green eyes like he needed you in his line of sight at all times or he’d stop breathing.
Once the fire was lit and crackling, you knelt beside him.
“I need to clean you up,” you said, voice low. “You’re bleeding all over my damn blanket.”
Again, no answer. Just that stare.
You peeled the soaked jacket off and winced. His chest and stomach were a mess of bruises and lacerations. Something had really done him in. The slashes weren’t clean—some looked like claws, others like bites. Not animal. Not human, either.
You got a bowl of warm water and some rags. Peroxide. Thread and needle. Sat down beside him and got to work.
He didn’t flinch when you touched him. Didn’t wince at the sting of antiseptic. Just watched you, lips parted, eyes tracking every movement of your hands like your care was a language he didn’t understand but wanted to memorize.
“You’re a quiet one,” you muttered, dabbing blood from his collarbone. “Probably how you ended up half-dead on a trail. Quiet and stupid.”
A soft breath escaped him. Not a laugh. Not quite. But close.
You looked up. His eyes were glistening. Not from pain.
“Don’t cry,” you said, sharper than you meant to. “Not like I’m doing this for you. I don’t need a corpse in my woods.”
His lips moved then. Barely.
“…you smell good.”
You stilled.
“What?”
He blinked slowly. “Warm.”
Your fingers flexed on the rag. You exhaled and turned back to the wound on his side.
“Don’t get weird,” you muttered. “You’re not staying long.”
But he just watched, quiet and pliant as you sewed his skin shut—like even your insults were holy. Like every second near you was a gift he didn’t deserve.
—
The storm had rolled in overnight. Thick fog clung to the windows like breath, and the trees outside groaned under the weight of cold rain. Inside the cabin, it was quiet—just the crackle of fire and the occasional creak of settling wood.
You stood at the stove, frying pan in hand, flipping eggs and watching the yolks settle. Bacon sizzled beside them, curling at the edges.
You could feel him watching behind you.
He sat at the little table by the window, knees drawn up, blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Bare-chested. Bruises fading, skin still too pale. Hair damp from the wash you'd forced him to take that morning. He hadn’t said much—he rarely did—but his eyes followed you like always.
Hungry. Not just for food.
“Smells good,” he murmured.
His voice was always like that now—low, hoarse, careful. Like every word had weight. Like he didn’t want to speak unless you earned it.
You set the plate in front of him and handed him a fork.
He didn’t move to take it.
Instead, he looked up at you like he didn’t know what to do. Like the offering was too much. Hands curled in his lap, knuckles strained.
“You are gonna eat, right?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“…if you feed me.”
You raised a brow.
“Don’t push it.”
His eyes dropped instantly. “Sorry.”
That got you. That quiet apology, small and raw and not manipulative—just true. It sat heavy in your chest.
You sighed, pulled the chair out beside him, and sat down.
“Fine. But this is the first and last time.”
You picked up the fork and speared a bite of egg, holding it up. He leaned forward without hesitation—mouth open, slow, careful. His lips brushed the fork, and he hummed softly when he chewed.
You watched him swallow. Watched his lashes flutter.
“Good?”
He nodded.
You fed him another bite. Then another. He never looked away from your face. Even when you weren't looking directly at him, his gaze never wavered—like the food was just a means to stay close.
“Why do you look at me like that?” you asked softly, feeding him a piece of bacon.
He blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m gonna disappear.”
He chewed slowly. Licked a bit of yolk from his lip.
“…because you could.”
Your throat tightened. You shoved the last bite toward his mouth more roughly than necessary.
“Eat.”
He did. But when you set the fork down and stood to grab another plate for yourself, his hand caught your wrist.
Not hard. Not demanding. Just… asking.
“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes wide. “For helping me.”
You stared down at him, heartbeat slow and heavy.
“Don’t make me regret it,” you said flatly.
But you didn’t pull away.
⋆ ˚
You woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t yours.
Shallow. Close.
Your fingers curled around the knife under your pillow out of habit before your brain caught up with the familiarity of it. The warmth near your leg. The slow, anxious inhale.
You turned your head.
He was on the floor beside the bed, curled up on a blanket like some half-starved dog. Watching you.
Not asleep.
Just watching.
Again.
“How long have you been there?” you asked, voice flat.
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to memorize it in the dark.
“…Since you came to bed.”
You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Boy, you have your own damn couch.”
“You’re safer this way,” he said. “I can tell if something comes for you.”
There was no reasoning with that. Not the way he said it. Like he really believed there was something coming—something worse than him.
You sat up, blanket falling from your chest. His gaze dropped for a moment, but not with lust. With reverence.
You could almost feel the weight of his stare on your collarbone.
“Get back on the couch,” you muttered.
He didn’t move.
Instead, he whispered, “I like being close.”
Your jaw tensed.
But you didn’t force him. Not this time.
You laid back down, turned your body away from him, and tried to ignore the way his breathing steadied as soon as you did. How the air shifted—less like fear, more like worship.
⋆ ˚
A few days passed like that.
He was good. Quiet. Obedient. He followed your rules—washed when you told him to, ate everything you fed him, stayed inside even when the woods called to him through the windows. He stayed close. Always close.
Until one afternoon, when you came back from town.
You dropped your pack by the door. The cabin was too quiet. The fire was low.
“Hey,” you called, stepping inside. “You better not be bleeding on the rug again.”
No answer.
Then you heard the floorboard creak—just past the kitchen.
You moved slowly. Quiet. The air felt wrong.
When you turned the corner, you stopped cold.
He was standing by the sink. Wearing one of your shirts.
It hung loose on him, neck stretched, sleeves too short. He was barefoot. Damp—like he’d just showered. His hair was combed down, parted like yours. His expression blank, but his eyes—
His eyes were glowing.
You didn’t speak. Just stared.
His lips moved, mimicking the way yours had curled that morning when you tied your boots.
“I wanted to see,” he murmured. “What it felt like. Being you.”
Your pulse climbed.
“You think that’s normal?” you said, voice like ice. “Digging through my clothes? Copying me?”
His fingers clenched at his sides. He looked ashamed. Or scared. You couldn’t tell which.
“…I want to understand you,” he said. “If I can be more like you, maybe you’ll keep me.”
That last part?
It didn’t sound pathetic.
It sounded sad.
He wasn’t trying to scare you. He didn’t even seem aware of how disturbing it was.
He just wanted to stay.
Even if it meant becoming you.
It didn't get any better. He stopped asking before following you from room to room. You’d shift in your chair—he’d shift too. You’d open a drawer—his eyes would follow your hands like they were divine. You’d sigh, and he’d mimic it seconds later like he could feel what you felt, even when you didn’t say a word.
But tonight—it snapped.
You had just stepped out of the bathroom, towel clutched to your chest, steam curling around your shoulders. You were tired. The hot water had done nothing to ease the tension that built up from his staring, his watching, the constant pressure of his presence brushing too close, too often.
He was in your bedroom again.
Sitting on the edge of your bed like he belonged there.
“Get out,” you said without looking at him. “I’m not in the mood.”
But he didn’t move.
You felt him rise behind you as you dug through your drawer. The heat of him at your back, chest bare, breath unsteady.
“I am,” he whispered.
You froze.
His hand touched your shoulder—light, trembling. Like he didn’t know whether to worship you or break you open just to crawl inside.
“I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you. I do everything you ask. I sit by your bed like a dog, I eat when you feed me, I let you touch me when you clean my wounds—”
“You let me?” you snapped, whipping around, eyes hard.
He flinched, but didn’t back away.
“I need you,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t get it—I don’t know who I am anymore if I’m not touching something that belongs to you.”
You shoved past him, heart racing.
He grabbed your wrist.
Not hard—but with intent. His fingers curled, grounding himself on your skin.
“Please,” he whispered. “I won’t ask again. Just—just let me have something. Let me touch you. Let me show you that I can be what you need too.”
You stared at him.
Wild, half-naked, shaking.
His jaw trembled. “You belong to me, don’t you? Just a little?”
You didn’t flinch.
You didn’t soften either.
He looked wrecked—eyes glassy, lips parted, hand still trembling around your wrist like you were his only lifeline. He didn’t know how to hide anything. His need sat open on his face like a wound.
You stepped into him.
And kissed him.
Just once.
Quick. Firm. Your hand at his jaw, mouth warm but unyielding, like you were closing a circuit instead of offering comfort.
When you pulled back, his mouth chased yours.
You stopped him with a look.
“Go to bed,” you said.
He blinked, dazed.
You stepped back and watched him swallow it. Watched him obey.
Barely.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The woods behind the cabin were overgrown and quiet. You made him chase you through tall grass and loose trails, laughing as he stumbled, panting like a beast that hadn’t tasted meat in days.
He was fast—stronger now—but never caught you unless you let him. And sometimes you did. Just enough for him to grab your arm, breathe hard against your throat.
Then you’d twist away.
“Down, boy,” you’d mutter.
He’d drop to one knee like he couldn’t help it.
Like his body was wired to obey you even when his hunger told him to tear your clothes off.
⋆ ˚
You went straight to the shower when you came back—sweaty, flushed, loose with adrenaline. He tried to follow you in, but one look was enough to send him sulking back down the hall.
When you opened your bedroom door, he was waiting again.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.
“I need you,” he said.
It wasn’t a whisper this time.
“I need you. Now. I’ve done everything. I’ve waited—I’ve let you tease me. You kissed me, you let me sleep in your bed, you call me names like you don’t know what it does to me—”
You raised a hand and he stopped.
Stewing in the silence.
You walked right past him. Grabbed a fresh shirt from your dresser. Looked over your shoulder once, and said:
“No.”
Then left him there. Hard, desperate, too strung out on want to move.
He didn’t talk to you for an hour.
Didn’t look at you either.
Just stayed curled up in the corner of the room like a pet thrown outside.
You waited until it was dark before you got up and went to him. Watched the way he tried not to lift his head. The way his throat bobbed when he heard your steps.
You ruffled his hair. No apology.
Then started cooking.
His favorite. The only thing he ever asked for more than once.
You didn’t have to look when you heard him get up.
Didn’t even blink when he appeared in the doorway, standing there with bare feet and glassy eyes, watching like he couldn’t decide whether to bite you or beg.
His voice was low, rough around the edges. “You’re not mad?”
You stirred the pot.
“No.”
“But you left.”
“You needed to cool off.”
“I need you,” he bit, hands fisting at his sides. “You don’t get it—I can’t—you’re all I think about, you smell so good, you taste—”
You turned your head just enough to see him, lifting a brow.
That shut him up fast.
But he didn’t leave.
He came in slow, circling behind you. No more talk. Just breath—hot, wet, frantic—against the back of your neck. You felt the shift before he touched you. The way his body lost its rhythm, gave into instinct.
Then—
His hips pressed flush to your ass.
His dick was already hard, straining through his pants.
He thrust once. Slow.
Twice. A little harder.
You didn’t stop him.
Didn’t help him either.
He grabbed your hips, fingers trembling, and started grinding in earnest. Ragged, animalistic, dragging his clothed dick up against you again and again like his brain had short-circuited.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Feels—feels s’good—oh my god—please. Please just let me, I—I can’t—”
You rolled your eyes.
“You really can’t control yourself for five minutes, can you?” you muttered, letting him use you, body staying still as he rutted into your backside with frantic, shallow thrusts.
He whined. Actually whined.
You smirked.
“You really are just an animal, huh?”
A low, ragged groan vibrated from his chest. He rutted harder—slow, desperate. His head came down and layed on your shoulder, breath heavy and hot against your neck.
“You’d fuck me right here if I let you.”
"Mhmm," he managed to hum, still grinding into you.
He started to pant.
“You wouldn’t even last a minute, would you?”
You turned your head, barely glancing at him. “You’re so filthy. I thought you were a good boy, baby.”
He growled at you words, grip tightened at your waist.
Hips stuttering, breath catching, face probably twisted into something obscene behind you.
“Fuuuuck—fuck—oh my god—thank you, thank you, I needed—”
You felt him start to shake.
And then he came.
Hard.
Hot through his pants, his whole body curling around yours, pressing tighter as he spilled in his clothes with a broken, needy sob.
You didn’t turn around.
You just stirred the food, like he hadn’t just humped you like a dog and made a mess of himself on your ass.
“Dirty boy,” you said, calm, low. “Go clean yourself up.”
You heard him whimper.
“Then come eat.”
⋆ ˚
He came back ten minutes later.
Showered. Damp hair. Clean clothes.
But his face was still flushed, eyes holding so many mixed emotions, hands slightly shaking like the shame hadn’t washed off. He sat down at the table across from you, eyes flicking up, then down, then up again—starving, but not just for food.
You placed the bowl in front of him, slow and steady.
He didn’t say a word like he hadn’t just stained himself moaning your name under his breath.
But you watched him.
You watched the way his hand trembled slightly as he reached for the spoon.
The way he kept stealing glances at you, hungry and anxious, like he thought you might still be mad—or worse, like you might do nothing at all.
“You always eat so fast,” you said, voice smooth as cream.
He froze.
Chewed slow.
Swallowed.
“…sorry.”
“I didn’t say stop,” you added. “It’s cute. Like you’re afraid I’ll take it away.”
He blinked. A small sound caught in his throat.
You leaned your elbow on the table, resting your cheek in your palm.
“And earlier? That was cute too.”
His entire face shifted.
You tilted your head. “Making a mess in your pants like that. Just from a little pressure.”
He put his utensil down, hands balling into fists in his lap.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Oh? Is that too much for your dirty little brain?” you murmured. “You hump me like an animal and now you want to pretend you’re shy?”
“I said stop,” he snapped, low and trembling.
You smiled, slow and sharp.
Silence stretched between you. His jaw clenched. His breath was shallow, like he didn’t know if he wanted to scream or fall to his knees.
Then—
You asked it.
Calm. Quiet.
Like it was nothing.
“What are you?”
His eyes shot to yours. “What…?”
You didn’t blink, just stared for a second longer than usual. “You heard me.”
He stared at you, frozen. Something in him recoiled—but something else thrummed. Deep. Dark. Animal.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, voice cracking.
You leaned in just a little, watching his pupils swell.
“You’re not human.”
“No.”
“But you’re not just some beast either.”
He shook his head slowly, lips parted, like the words had nowhere to go.
“I’m yours,” he said finally. “That’s all I know.
The words hung in the space between you.
“I’m yours.”
You let them sit. Heavy. Undeniable.
He was trembling, barely breathing—waiting to see if you’d reject it. Laugh. Walk away.
You didn’t.
You sat back in your chair, eyes never leaving his face. And softer now, more curious than cruel, you asked: “…Is that all you want to be?”
He blinked, chest rising and falling faster now. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first.
Then: “I don’t know what else I can be.”
You watched him carefully. He wasn’t lying.
“Do you remember anything? Before I found you?”
His jaw tensed. Shoulders too.
“I remember pain,” he said. “I remember running. Hunger. And hands—people—trying to cut something out of me. Like I wasn’t supposed to have it.”
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know. Something inside. Something that made me wrong.”
That quiet hung between you again. Thicker this time.
You took a slow breath, eyes drifting over his features—how human they seemed, and how they weren’t. The eyes were too still. The mouth too soft when he looked at you like that, worshipful and wrecked all at once.
You stood.
He flinched slightly like he thought you might leave again. But you didn’t.
You moved around the table and stood beside his chair, fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to be nothing,” you said. “Even if you think you’re mine.”
He tilted his head back to look at you. His eyes were glassy again—but not just from need.
“…Then what do you want me to be?”
You didn’t answer right away.
You just stared at him, slow and searching, like maybe there was something hiding behind his ribs that you hadn’t noticed before.
“Something real,” you said at last. “Something more than just needy and obedient.”
You leaned down.
Brushed a hand over his hair.
“I think whatever they tried to take from you… it’s still in there.”
He exhaled, sharp and shaky, like the words hurt somewhere deep.
Like they freed something too.
“Are you going to help me find it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
You straightened. That same calm edge in your voice returned—but softer, tempered by something else. “I already started.”
⋆ ˚
The rest of dinner passed in a strange hush.
He kept glancing at you like he was trying to memorize the air between you. Like he didn’t quite trust that the moment was real—him, fed and wanted, not punished for needing more.
He finished the last bite slowly, his breathing still a little uneven. And when you stood to clear the plates, he followed with those same shadow-smooth movements, always one step behind, silent.
When you turned to face him in the doorway of the kitchen, he froze.
You studied him—warm and glowing under the low light, but his eyes looked wrong. Glossy. Dilated. His skin flushed, like the warmth was under his flesh and leaking out.
You reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm.
He leaned into it instantly.
"Come to bed with me," you said, voice low, calm.
His breath caught. His knees nearly did too.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was hot—too hot.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded.
⋆ ˚
Later, you woke in the dark.
Your chest ached slightly—something heavy pressing you down.
You shifted.
Something moved.
There was a sound. A low, needy moan.
You blinked awake to find him curled between your thighs, head resting on your lower belly, arms caging your hips.
Sweat dampened his hair. His shirt clung to his back, soaked. His whole body trembled—small, helpless, uncontrollable tremors like something was trying to crawl out of his skin.
"H-Hey," you murmured, pushing your hand into his hair. "You okay?"
He groaned.
Not in pain.
It was… needy.
He rocked into you subtly, hips twitching against the mattress, breath coming in ragged bursts.
"You're burning up," you whispered, concern creeping in. "You might have a fever—"
"No," he choked out.
Your fingers stilled in his hair.
He shook his head against your body, breath hot where it hit the inside of your thigh.
“It’s not— I’m not sick. It’s heat. I know what it is now.”
You tensed slightly, confused. “Heat?”
He whimpered, the sound pitiful, but his body was grinding.
"I thought it was just obsession—just you—but it's in my blood. My skin. I need," he panted, teeth gritted.
“You should’ve told me,” you said, hand sliding to his shoulder. “Before it got this bad.”
“I didn’t know,” he snapped, but it was breathless, wet. “Didn’t know it would feel like this. Like—like I’m going to split open just to crawl into you.”
The silence between you stretched again, hot and trembling.
Then you whispered: “Get up.”
He froze.
You guided him up your body with firm hands until his face hovered above yours, wild and flushed and desperate.
“Let’s cool you down,” you said. “Before you burn a hole through me.”
You didn’t tell him what you were about to do.
You just slipped your hand between your bodies, your palm warm and steady against the thick, pulsing heat straining in his pants.
He choked out a sound—half whimper, half sob—and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his breath catch, his body go stiff.
“Shhh,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You rubbed him through the fabric first, slow circles that had his hips twitching, his teeth sinking into your skin like he was trying not to fall apart. The bulge was hot—unnaturally so—and soaked at the tip where his arousal leaked freely.
“I can’t—” he rasped, but you cut him off with a shush again, stroking him now, firm and sure.
“Yes, you can. Just relax.”
He whimpered again and rocked his hips up, greedy. Needy.
“Please,” he panted. “Please touch it—please, I’ll be good, I’ll—”
You slipped your hand under the waistband.
He cried out.
Not loud, but broken. Like it hurt to be given this.
You wrapped your fingers around him and started to pump, slow and tight. He was thick, flushed hot, every vein pulsing against your grip.
“I'm not gonna let you fuck me,” you murmured against his ear, lips brushing the shell. “But I’ll help you. Just this once.”
He was trembling. Writhing. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, too far gone to speak now.
You shifted down and dragged his pants down with one hand. His dick sprung free, slick and twitching.
“Stay still,” you said, and he whimpered again, so obedient, even now.
You leaned in and took him into your mouth.
He nearly screamed.
His hands scrabbled for something to hold, finally settling in your hair, but he didn’t pull—he just trembled, lips mouthing your name over and over like a prayer.
You bobbed your head slowly, letting your hand do most of the work, saliva and precum making the slide wet and easy. He was panting, gasping, and when he got too close, too wild, you pressed your palm against his lower belly and held him down.
He jerked—twitched—then came with a broken moan, hips bucking helplessly, spilling down your throat with so much heat it almost burned.
You stayed there a second longer, swallowing him down, soft and calm, until he stopped shaking.
Then you pulled away.
“Dirty boy,” you murmured, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you looked up at him.
He blinked at you, dazed, wrecked, tears drying in the corners of his eyes.
You leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Go clean yourself up,”
Two days pass.
You try to keep things normal—whatever that means, with a creature like him under your roof, one who pants when you touch his arm and whines when you leave the room. But his restraint is slipping. Badly.
He follows you everywhere now.
Not just quietly like before. Not just waiting in the doorway or sitting nearby.
No—he’s pressed to you, constantly.
When you fold laundry, he’s behind you, rubbing himself against your ass with soft, desperate ruts. When you sit on the couch, he climbs into your lap and noses at your neck, whimpering like you’re the only air he can breathe.
The worst is when you cook. Something about seeing you over the stove drives him mad—he paws at you, breathing heavy, rutting his hips against your thigh until you shove him off with a sharp, “Down.”
And still he stares at you with wet eyes like a scolded dog in heat, leaking into his boxers, throbbing with the weight of it.
You try to hold the line.
But his need is growing.
Worse, it’s mutating into something more feral.
At the store, it becomes undeniable.
He walks behind you, head low, hoodie pulled up, his steps wrong—off-balance and twitchy like his body can’t decide what to do with itself.
He breathes through his mouth, short and fast, and stares at everyone like they’re a threat.
Or a witness.
You catch him staring at your legs. Then your hips. Then the slope of your throat when you tilt your head to grab a jar from the shelf.
His eyes go black.
"You're sweating," you mutter under your breath, touching his arm. "You okay?"
He leans into your touch like he’s starving. “Can we go home? Please.”
You check out fast.
⋆ ˚
The second the door closes behind you, he snaps.
You don’t even get your shoes off.
He lunges—no hesitation—grabs your waist and slams you into the nearest wall with a desperate growl muffled into your shoulder.
“Hey—!” you gasp, startled.
But he’s already rutting against you—grinding with the force of a man drowning.
“Need you,” he pants. “Please—I can’t—I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been so good—”
You shove at his shoulders, but he’s bigger than you, heavier, and right now he’s stronger too. Not hurting you—just wild.
“Calm down,” you hiss.
“I can’t,” he moans. “Smell you—touched you all day—I need—”
He grabs your face, kissing you hard—sloppy, wet, messy—and you taste the frustration on his tongue, the days of aching and whining and trembling.
You break the kiss, panting. His dick is grinding against your stomach through his sweats, thick and leaking.
“Animal,” you mutter.
He nods.
“Yours,” he whines, breath shaking. “Please let me—please—”
Your grip tightens in his hair.
And for a second, you consider it.
You shove him back, hard. Not enough to hurt—but enough to tell him: no.
And that does it.
His eyes widen, something unhinges in his chest—and he breaks.
With a snarl, he lunges forward, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and starts toward the bedroom with a single, choked, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I can't—"
"Put me—down!" you snap, but your body’s already reacting—heat flooding your thighs, breath caught behind your teeth. Because you've never seen him like this. Not completely.
Not gone.
He kicks the door open.
Throws you on the bed.
You're scrambling up on your elbows to shout at him again when he grabs your legs and drags you back down to the edge of the mattress. His strength is brutal. He flips you over like you're nothing and shoves your hips up until you're on your knees, spine arched, face pressed into the blanket.
“Don’t think you can act like that,” he pants, “push me away—smell like that—and expect me not to—”
He tears your bottoms down. Snaps the waistband in his rush. You try to turn your head, say something—anything—but he’s already there.
Behind you.
Hot, flushed, leaking.
You feel the weight of it on your ass, thick and heavy, dragging over your skin.
“F-fuck—‘s too much—” he groans.
You flinch as his dick—not just long, but wide, too wide—grinds against your entrance. Wet with slick and precum. Hot like a fever.
You reach back blindly, touch his hip. “You’re gonna stretch me too much—”
“I know,” he whimpers, voice ragged with guilt and craving. “I’ll go slow—I’ll—fuck, I can’t—I’m sorry—sorry—”
He doesn’t go slow.
He grabs your hips and thrusts in hard, stuffing the tip past your entrance, and your breath leaves you.
"Shit—!" you cry, fingers clawing at the blanket as your body stretches wide to accommodate him. It hurts—but good, deep, sharp, searing with pressure.
He keeps moving.
Not all the way in—just these shallow, frantic thrusts, rutting at your entrance like an animal trying not to break its toy.
His voice is cracked and frantic.
“I missed it—I missed your heat—I missed your smell—don’t tell me no again—please—”
His teeth found your neck, biting, sucking, leaving bruises blooming like dark flowers under your skin.
You’re dripping.
His size swallowed you whole, filled every inch until you thought you’d cry from the stretch.
He slams forward again—deeper this time—and you swear the breath gets knocked right out of your lungs.
"You're—so big—" you gasp.
"Yeah?" he pants, delirious. "Too much? H-hurts, doesn't it? You're too small—fuck, you’re perfect—"
He’s shaking.
Your legs tremble from how deep he’s hitting. Your pussy flutters around him, trying to mold to the impossible stretch.
"H-hey, slow down" you rasp.
He didn’t listen. His hips snapped into you fast and brutal, driving inside you with a hunger that knocked the breath out of your lungs. The room smelled like sweat and something bittersweet and him—feral, real, and alive.
His hands slammed down on either side of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. The force pinned you to the bed.
You swallowed hard, chest heaving, legs spreading wide for him.
He slammed into you faster—deeper. The stretch burned, the fullness screamed, but you clenched tight around him, dragging out his groans like prayers.
He pulled you back by your hair and kissed you then—hard, wild—tongue sliding over your lips, teeth grazing your jaw.
Then—
You feel it.
The swell.
Thick and round, nudging the edge of your cunt, threatening to lock you together.
He groans into your back. “Let me—let me knot you—need it—need to stay.”
You jerk away. "You knot me, and you’re gonna rip me."
He moans like your voice is pleasure, grinding harder, chasing it anyway.
His hands roamed your body, claws scraping skin as he fucked you with a desperate, filthy worship that made you feel like a goddess—and like prey all at once.
He spoke, voice broken, “please—please let me cum inside you.”
You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, chest tight. “Cum for me.”
His dick throbs. He’s leaking inside you, dripping down your thighs. His forehead presses into your shoulder blade. He huffs, shudders
Then snaps his hips forward once, hard—and goes still.
You feel it.
Heat floods inside you. You gasp as his load pours in—thick, heavy, and never-ending—while his body trembles above yours.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he groans, humping in place, locked against you with a needy whimper.
You glance back, breathless, flushed, and say coolly: “Tch, unbelievable.”
He flinches like it hit.
You reach back and give his hair a tug. “Go clean yourself up.”
The sun had climbed high, but time meant nothing. I was faced down in the forest dirt, ass up, trembling and exposed. The wolf’s knot was still locked deep inside me—fat, swollen, pulsing so hard I swore I could feel it bulging through my tummy.
Every little grind of his hips made me cry out, not even words anymore… Just squeaks, sobs, broken whimpers spilling into the grovel. The slick between us was endless, soaking my thighs, dripping down to the ground. Every move made a sticky, obscene squelch, as though our bodies weren’t separate anymore, but fusing together at the knot.
The beast leaned over me, heavy, scenting the top of my head like I was already marked. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re gone, aren’t you? My pretty bunny’s brain all melted from knot.”
I twitched, back arching as another orgasm ripped through me without warning, my body clenching and fluttering around him, milking him harder. My cotton tail quivered against his stomach, twitching helplessly as more slick gushed out, making the sounds between us wetter, filthier.
“You keep leaking, keep milking me,” he growled, claws pressing into my hips until I squealed. “Pathetic little thing can’t stop, can’t help yourself. You’ll take every rut I’ve got until you can’t even breathe without my knot keeping you open.”
I whimpered, tears streaking down my cheeks, my body shuddering violently in overstimulation. I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t beg—just twitch and squeak while he kept grinding inside me.
“Good prey,” he whispered, his tone almost tender in its cruelty. “Stay knotted. Stay ruined. You’re mine until I decide you’re empty.”
And as the squelching rhythm dragged on—wet, sticky, endless—I realized he meant it... I wasn’t going anywhere. Not until the scary werewolf was finished breaking me apart.
👥﹐𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ﹒stepson!barely legal!Sam Monroe x stepmom!milf!reader﹒
📺﹐𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 ﹒Laundry day is Sam's favorite day of the week. The day where he can bitch and complain while mommy washes his clothes for him, where he can watch with disgusting excitement as she wanders about his room for dirty clothes and finds his jizzed-on shirts and sticky porno mags.﹒
♰﹐𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ﹒stepcest, panty stealing, panty sniffing Sam calls you mommy, bitchboy Sam (best Sam)﹒
ਏਓ 𝒃𝒏𝒖𝒖𝒚'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 : based off a chat with my j.ai bot // MY KO-FI
⠀★⠀⠀─⠀⠀WRITTEN BY EROSMUTT 24.12.13
A heavy sigh leaves you as you tug the fitted sheet off of Sam's bed, trying to avoid the smears of dried cum. This is absolutely ridiculous; every Sunday you do laundry, his bed is nastier, like he's trying to make it that way.
Sam looks up at you, plush lips fixed into a smirk as he watches, his pet tarantula, Lucifer, crawling across his pale thigh, making him have to suppress a giggle from the ticklish feeling. Initially, you and his dad didn't care for it, but have grown fond of the arachnid.
"Fucks sake," you hiss, picking up a crusty cum-filled sock. Sam looks up at you from his spot on the floor, eyes narrowing. "Fuck off, you aren't the boss of me," he crosses his arms over his chest defensively. "It isn't even that dirty, I was gonna wash it later." Lies. He knows good and well he had no such intentions.
Lucifer scampers away and Sam watches, still glaring like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. "Watch it before you kill that thing." You warn, side stepping the spider's escape route. "Don't tell me what to do with my own pet," his says angrily. He gets up and storms over, snatching the basket from your hands, cobalt blue eyes boring into yours and black polished fingernails picking at the woven pattern of the basket.
You step back with your hands up in faux surrender before you bend over to retrieve Lucifer. "Poor baby," you murmur, coaxing him onto your palm. Sam's eyes widen as he watches you bend over, his teenage hormones a flurry in his body, sending blood to his cock. "Don't fucking touch my spider," he growls, but his voice lacks any real threat - he's so focused on your ass, hugged by your skinny jeans. "Fuck... I said don't touch it," he repeats in a weak, breathy voice. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, chains on his cargo shorts jingling.
"Just listen, Sam, listen!" You yell over him as he starts arguing. "You're upsetting the poor thing. Take him, gently," you show him Lucifer, who's sitting in your hands facing away from Sam. He takes him, swallowing nervously. "There, look." You smile as the small spider relaxes in Sam's hand.
"I... I wasn't yelling," he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He can't help but notice how soft and warm your hands felt, how close you are to him. His heart begins racing as he carefully sets Lucifer back in his habitat, trying to ignore the irritating throbbing between his legs. "Whatever, just leave me alone," he mumbles, stepping back to try and put some space between the two of you. His eyes dart to your lips, to your tits, to your hips. His fingers twitch - he needs to touch you.
"I know, now go do this load of clothes," you take the basket and push it into his hands. "I'm gonna go start on dinner. Cold water." You step forward and give him a kiss on the cheek like you did when he was little. Just like that, you're gone, making your way downstairs.
Sam looks down at the basket in his hands. Finally, you're gone. He dumps the clothes onto the floor and retrieves a dirty pair of your panties, then brings them to his face and moans at the scent. He starts shimmying out of his shorts, kicking them off. Once his cock is in his hand, he sits down on his bed and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed.
Slowly, he wraps the soft fabric of your panties around his cock, moaning at the sensation. Sam starts to stroke himself, hand moving up and down his shaft, the cloth giving just enough friction. "Fuck, mommy," he whispers, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he imagines you on your knees in front of him, lips wrapped around his cock.
Sam's strokes become faster, more urgent, his breathing ragged. He's nearly there, balls tightening as he gets closer and closer. "Oh god, 'm gonna cum," he pants, hips thrusting up into his hand. His back arches, dick throbbing as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your panties, staining the fabric. "Ughh," he groans, body shuddering. After gathering himself, he looks down at the mess and smirks with satisfaction.
"Fuck, that was good," he murmurs, still catching his breath. He carefully peels the sticky panties off his softening cock, bringing them to his face for another deep inhale. He can still smell you, now mixed with his musky seed. He exhales heavily before tossing the panties onto the floor and grabs his laptop, opening it and pulling up his favorite porn site.
"Sammy! Sam!" You yell up the stairs, making him freeze. "Fuck!" He hisses, slamming his laptop closed and shoving it under his pillow. He scrambles to pull his shorts up, heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah?!" He yells back, adjusting his cock. Plus you had asked him to start the laundry, and he hasn't. He takes a deep breath and calms himself down, wiping his hands off on his shorts. He hears your footsteps and snatches your panties off the floor then hides them underneath his pillow as well.
Once the door opens, you see Sam feeding Lucifer, and you're impressed - usually you have to remind him. "Hey, which do you want?" You hold up a bag of frozen shrimp and a package of chicken. "For alfredo." He blinks at you. "Shrimp," he says, voice a bit strained. "I don' want chicken." He murmurs childishly. "Alright, shrimp it is. Let me quick thaw it. Oh, can you grab my shirt off the bed to add to the clothes?" He nods. "Thank you Sam," you smile, turning and retreating down the hall and down the stairs.
uncle blaidd dick on mind again
part 2 here
he'd apologize for how it smells but otherwise wouldn't complain when you makeout with the lips of his puffy sheathe, stirring pre round the slimy tip of his cock where it'd nudge out and against the back of your throat when you get too lost in the heady taste of it
similarly gurranq is a rank old beast who's been caked in his own matted musk for what, years? probably hasn't left the sanctum in forever, nary a thought of self pleasure when he's so set on other particulars so imagine his utter shock when someone starts curiously looking under his robes
obviously you have no weapon drawn, so why does he feel so tense with someone so tiny scurrying between his legs? the skittering halt of a whimper stops short of a confused groan when you engulf his mast in a slurry of one sided affection, arms heaving down his sheathe to draw it back and forth
the steady wet crackling of his member weighs down your shoulder, growing in such a way it's aimed down at you, pouring globs of salty backed up pre in a wash of weak spurts when you go to lift it from where it's pinned you, you realize shortly that gurranq has taken matters into his own hands
with but an inquisitive thrust, his glide takes up the full front of your body- all you can do is hug around it as his breathing grows heavy, low rumblings incoherent fall from his lips as he lowers his stance, more feral, his shaft aims to sweep in short arcs, runny sprays jet across your torso
against the dampened cloth of your garments, you slide more easily with his heavy and throbbing mass. so he basically ends up humping the fuck out of your body full frontal covering you with cum since lets be fr there's no way he's gonna fit. BLAIDD on the other hand is gonna wanna fit
he may be boorish, maybe ignorant of what a risk it poses, but he's expectant that you'll be able to take him if you prepare well enough (partly because he wants you that bad so he's fooling himself into thinking it'll workout easily with time and effort.)
he'd go slow at first, stretching you open on him until he hears you wincing, then he'll soothe you with a few soft circles, maybe a lick along your neck with a soft utterance that you're doing well taking him then he'd slowly gyrate, opening you for the rest of his middle as he eases in
a soft moan would leave him, the warmth unbelievable, and you really are taking him better than he thought you would- he brought much more oil after all, though perhaps the prep was enough? he'd circled your rim and pried your hole with slick pumping as you kissed and felt one another's bodies...
the memory of how sloppy your insides felt with just a few fingers serves him well, he can't help but compare you to a whore- so eager to swallow his manhood up like this...you make him proud he hasn't had much experience with intimacy, but he figures he must be doing a good job if you're so messy
he comments as such, "so soft...ought to be the kind of hole a man should expect to enter, eh?" his hands grow possessive, sinking into the pliant flesh-meat bent under him, muscle soaked in shared fluids all flushed and he gives your flank a hearty spank when he gets well into it
he knows you can take it at this point, his panting grows thick with haste as do his lack of manners. chivalry dies against the pointed skewering of his thick cock slapping hard in wet thrusts- knot built up to bullying it's way like a hog into the lips of your hole, prying tight and pulling back
the distance of each hard bump grows shorter, then he's simply grinding- tongue out, drool like tar steaming down your back as he allows his weight to sink in...it's warm, pulsating, and he keeps you tied to him for moments too long, though you're safe enough under his bulk
what are the task force 141 men like in bed? (ft. nikolai) 🪽₊˚⊹⋆
ao3
masterlist
⤷ contains: mentions of breeding, creampie, pet play, bdsm, angst, and smut.
Johnathan Price
at first, simple observations would make you think that he was a love-making type of man. with the way he made everyone feel calmer, hand patting your back in support, assuring you when you were in doubt, and making sure everyone was well taken care of.
and you’re not fully wrong, he did love taking care of his people. especially you—such a sweet pliant thing. always so obedient to him and whatever he needed you to do.
but you were also such a brat sometimes, all pouty and squirming away from his grip as if his skin personally offended you. eyes rolling back and strutting around like he didn’t own you.
that’s where you were absolutely wrong.
he would always start off slow and gentle, giving you a false sense of security with his patience and kind praise. but the moment you break, whining for more with your hands tangled in his hair as he ate you out—the facade breaks.
the first time it happened was when you realized he was into bdsm. heavy on the bondage, degradation, and sadism—you filled the missing spot.
he may be quite older but it doesn’t affect him at all, his age and stamina coupled with experience is your downfall. sweet nothings in your ear as he bottoms out.
“calm down kid, just take it like a good little slut” he’ll chuckle dryly, the smell of pine and tobacco filling your senses as he bullies his thick cock into your stuffed hole.
the skimpy maid outfit barely covering your bent over form, tears streaming against the pillow as the rope pierced your delicate skin—turns out he was also into roleplay.
but as much as he was a mean bully, john never forgot about aftercare. rough hands contrasting with the gentle way he would wash you in the tub, rubbing your soft skin with expensive lotion as he plants a kiss on your temple.
cuddling you to sleep with an arm wrapped around you, breathing in your scent as you slept soundly.
john loves taming his little brat, but he’ll always love gentle mornings taking care of you more.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
although he is well known for his rough exterior and dry humour, he is quite the opposite in bed. something only you found out, years after knowing each other in service. working hand-in-hand during life or death situations.
simon will never admit it, but you make him feel safe. enough so that he lets you cuddle him to sleep, seeing him bare and vulnerable. the mask of ghost off as you helped simon with his nightmares.
it took years to build your relationship, nearly losing each other in your field of work. knowing the darkest parts of each other, and still loving it whole. and when your love became much too obvious, you ended up together.
because as he said, “if i don’t wake up tomorrow, at least i know that i slept safely with you by my side”.
and even then, it took months for him to even touch you romantically. soft taps turning into hugs, the occasional cuddle to sleep becoming a part of your daily routine throughout the day. it was comfortable, it was new, but both of you were happy that it was real.
it took a full year for you to talk about bedding each other, no longer able to deny the heat and want you had for each other.
and when you did, it felt like you had every right to be happy for the first time.
it was scary at first, seeing each other fully bare for the first time. vulnerable like the day you were born, still scared of hurting each other—knowing you’d rather die than do so.
rough hands gently holding the small of your back, hands around his neck as you moaned out his name.
“need you si, you’re all i want” you whimper, tears welling in your eyes as he gently rubbed your clit. licking the slick off his fingers after you came down from your high.
tip sliding up and down your slit before slowly bottoming out, “fuck’ luv, you feel so good around me. been dreamin’ about this for years” he groans out, eyes teary as he stared at you.
you both cried at your first time, blissed out from pleasure and love. kissing each other hastily as you made love. it had felt like the whole world stopped and everything was okay. it was just peaceful, simon had found someone to call home. he was okay, and he was happy.
John "Soap" Mactavish
confusing lad he is, but at least he was funny. was your first thought meeting soap. his energetic personality and playful demeanor always made your day, reminding you of a dog with a ball.
and technically that’s what he was, a dog. needy and clingy, one hand either around your shoulder or your waist. hands always lingering while his mouth always latched on you. wet kisses and playful bites all around you.
feral mutt he is, always horny like a dog in heat. always bothering you with his constant messages, “need ya’ bonnie” “thinking about that tight cunt luv, what ya’ up to?”.
true to his word, he would be all over you the moment you got home. hands around your waist as he rubbed his hard on against your ass. planting needy kisses against your neck as he undid your bra.
rubbing against anything he can reach before latching his mouth onto your nipple, holding you in his arms as he carried you to the bedroom. rough hands gripping your thighs as he sucked on your supple chest.
“feeling good bonnie? yeh? m’ doing well luv?” he’ll whine hastily, gentle as he takes in the sight of you all sweaty and bare. slipping your underwear down before admiring the whole view.
kissing you sweetly as his hands played with your sensitive hole. before going down on you, long strides of his tongue on your sensitive bud. pressing on the tip before lapping down.
saliva and slick gushing around his mouth, and he’d stay like that until you’d cum at least twice on his face. tongue lapping quick and needy as his fingers scissored you open.
“so fuckin’ good for me luv, could never get sick of this sweet hole. makes me want to stuff you full to the brim” he’ll whimper, glossy eyed as he ruts into you.
whining louder when you ride him, letting you use him as you please. hands gripping his hair as you bounced on his thick cock. he loves serving you but watching you use him was just as good, if not better.
but on your lazy days, johnny prefers cockwarming as he cuddles you. spooning you from behind so he can suck and bite at your neck, licking the arch of your back and chuckling as you shiver against him. hearing you whine in protest before kissing you.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
kyle was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, his golden tan skin and those pretty eyes had you drawn to him from the start. the way his smile was contagious, a dimple present on his left cheek as his cheeks raised to his eyes.
such a gentleman as well, holding you softly and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. assuring you when you needed it the most, hands always steadying you by the hips. his eyes searching for you every time you were together.
obsessed with the way you’d tilt your head when listening to him, kissing your forehead and holding your hand every second of the day. you were his sweetheart, his everything. the one who let him feel like it was okay to be weak sometimes.
your lover boy who was so sweet and caring, always prioritizing your comfort and happiness over anything else. well, until you say those words. “kyle baby? use me please” you would moan out shyly. after that, it was a matter of surviving the night.
watching that pretty smile of his, pretty brown eyes admiring you lovingly as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
until his pace turns rough, your cheeks flushed as you pant. hands braced against his chest as you sob, whimpering out needily. drool falling from the side of your mouth as you stare at him.
slamming his thick cock into you, hitting all the right spots. laughing at your blissed out face as you mewl out his name, incoherent chants as he hits that sensitive little sweet spot of yours.
and it stays like that deep into the night, switching into different positions that makes his cock hit even deeper each time. sobbing out little pleas and whining for him.
cock hammering into you until you’re overstimulated, womb stuffed with his thick creamy cum and spent from 5 orgasms.
“my pretty girl, always so good for me” he’ll mumble gently, hands rubbing the side of your hips as his pace slows down. gentle languid strokes as he makes out with you.
kissing your neck down to your collarbone before slamming to the hilt. filling you up for the last time before pulling out, kissing your cheek before wiping you clean. laying down on the soft pillows, satisfied and exhausted as he runs a bubble bath for you.
as much as kyles thick cock and praise has you wrapped around his finger, the way he takes care of you and makes you feel loved the whole time makes you fall for him more each time.
Nikolai
meeting nikolai felt like a threat to your whole career. your way older boss who always had a hand on you, calling you pet names, and talking to you in that husky accent.
thick biceps bulging over his folded sleeves, his happy trail visible every time he slightly raises his muscular arms, thick thighs spread as he sits down, looking like such a welcoming chair.
so how could you deny him when his rough hand held your waist, guiding you to his office as his hand slowly drifted to the swell of your ass. hand cupping your sweet hole as his thumb rubbed your sensitive bud.
“so good for me malyskha” he’ll grumble, two thick fingers pumping in and out of your sloppy little hole. the sounds obscene as he laps at your wet slit. his hand spreading your hole out for him to suck as his other hand lands harshly on your plump ass.
laughing at your teary face as his thick cock bullies into you, his big hand around your neck as he pistons into you. thumb pushing your lips open until you instinctively stick your tongue out for him, spitting into your mouth and making you swallow before pressing his lips against yours into a french kiss.
“such a good pet, you make papochka so proud of you. let me stuff you full of cum malyshka, so sweet for me” he’ll chuckle.
hand rubbing at the small bulge in your stomach, making you mewl as you held onto him. hand squeezing your cheeks.
“cum for me malyshka” is all it takes for you to squirt on him, slick covering his beefy chest. his happy trail glistening as he stares at you proudly.
giving you a rough wet kiss before cleaning you up, “you’re coming home with me little one.”
lol can u guys tell who’s my favourite based on how i write them?:’3
kortac and the rest will be posted maybe tomorrow or overmorrow!
not proofread, i’m so nervous and excited for my game that i ended up writing this at midnight.
One thing that makes me go feral is when in the middle of fucking, one person gets overstimulated and tries to crawl and squirm away from the overstimulation, and the other person drags them back by the hips like "Where do you think you're going?" 😩 which of the guys do you think is most likely to do this?
(Can you tell I'm ovulating... 🫣)
ALL
cw: daddy kink adjacent stuff for Nik, as per usual. Just a hint of aggression, and marking dubcon just in case
Gaz is literally so sweet about it. Like you’re a little kitten about to walk off the edge of a table and he’s just redirecting you. “No, no, love— this way,” he coos as he puts his hand beneath your hips to cup you and pull you back.
Soap is about to lose his mind, it’s so hot to him— “Ah’m just givin’ it tae ye so good, huh, bonnie? Cannae take it anymore? Too bad,” he tuts, his fingers sunken into your soft flesh as he pins your kicking legs and tugs hard.
Ghost reacts with some real aggression. He’s not mad at you— he’s mad at the idea. The concept of you being separated from him. He’s bruising and yanking your body, manhandling you under his weight. “Don’t fuckin’ run from me, birdie— don’ wanna know what’ll happen if’m pulled outta this cunt—“
Price can’t help but smile. Such a sensitive little thing. “If you’re already in this state— doesn’t bode well for the rest of your night, darl’— cause I ain’t near finished with you.” He’s prepared to wait upon you like you’re his ailing, bedridden queen suffering from the consumption tomorrow, cause you’ll have about as much energy left when he’s done.
König is holding you too tight to let you even begin to squirm away— he can just feel the tense and strain of your muscles against his hands. It makes him kiss you as deep as he can manage— he just thinks it’s so cute, like you’re a little moth with wings beating against his cupped palms.
Nikolai laughs. He laughs at you. You’re just so silly— thinking papochka will show you mercy. He’s not a merciful man, malýshka. He’d best remind you of that— not that you’ll ever really learn. He wouldn’t want you to, really. He likes playing this little game with you. It’s like ballroom dancing to him— very romantic and sweet.
