#cw: forced impregnation

[bunny-jpeg]

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked. he knew the years were catching up to him. he knew that wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't pass on the price genes.

he felt bad when he masturbated, felt like he was wasting his boys. spurts of hot cum down his large shaft wishing that it was inside a pretty little things smaller cunt. his hand was too rough even with lubrication. he needed something with supple flesh that he could sink his teeth into and a wet pussy to stuff full. he wanted to feel himself impregnating someone.

that was where you came in.

you felt amazing, sex with you was something else. the way you were like a bunny when you rode his cock. you bounced on him, not slowing down until he wrung at least three orgasms out of you. he found it endearing that you could take him. and while cowgirl was fun and missionary felt classic.

if price wanted to get you pregnant then, he knew that doggy style would be the best course of action. sadly, that position was a little more difficult given your size difference. price the bear and his little cub, those weren't just terms of endearment. he was burly, hairy, but you were so much shorter that he couldn't easily slip into you. but things could always be modified.

he smothered you under him as you laid on the bed with your legs spread and price was on top of you with his cock invading your slick entrance. the feeling was different and the weight on top of you only added to the pleasure.

his mind was focused, as he worked himself into you. he slid in easily, little resistance from you. your pussy was greedy for him, not that price could blame you. you were just so perfect for him. he shaped you into the perfect thing for him. you were his angel, the sweetest fruit, the woman he wanted to carry his child. if you liked it or not.

thoughts of you dark puffy nipples, the waddle in your step, the complaints of back pain. how your body changed because of him, he marked you in a way that no other man could. price boys grew strong and were a handful both in the womb and out. hungry boys too, but price would happily massage your fat tits to make sure there was more than enough milk for his boys. might have a little taste himself, see what all the fuss was. the heavy milk on his tongue as he fucked his pretty wife.

no need to go out and find a job. price's got enough to make sure that your wallet and your womb were packed full. no need to worry your little head, just make sure the babies are taken care of and price will do all the thinking in the relationship. he knew your dream was to see your diploma on the wall, but he thought that a family photo would be much better.

hard to complete your degree when your pregnant belly doesn't fit in the lecture hall seat or it was feeding time for john jr. there was nowhere for you to nurse his hefty son and you'd in the end miss too much class because price would be keeping you at home to start on the next one.

"that's it, doll. that's my girl. she suckin' me right in. she know what she wants and she's takin' it. made just for, huh, petal?" he growled as he pressed into you further, his cock didn't slip out. he fucked you feverishly.

he felt you tremble as you came not once, but twice, back to back. price continued to fuck you, ruin your pretty little folds and let him feel as much as he could of your sweet sex. you felt amazing, only pussy price would want. he fucked you roughly with his hands pressed into the covers on either side of your head. you were too blissed out by the time he finished inside of you that you didn't even ask for him to pull out.

a good wife took every drop.

he soon after pulled his cock out, the sight of his cum sticking to your slick pussy lips with most of his seed inside of you. made his cock peek at attention once more. "there she is." he purred, "messy girl." he tipped your hips up and held them in his large hands. he dipped between your legs and played with your pussy. something to distract you while his cum slid into the back of your pussy.

now be good, and get pregnant <3

a/n: i don't know what came over me... i'm sorry

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 9: Farm Work

Find the rest of the stories here!

CWs: Noncon; kidnap; lactation play; transformation; restraints; corruption; forced impregnation; forced tf; bondage; probably a dozen things I've missed

Author's note: I'm really not kidding when I say you can help by giving me ideas! Want me to write about something? Drop me an ask or a DM! I'll probably get around to it in the next 350+ days!

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Maybe you stayed out a little late? Maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? All you know is you got jumped.

It was on the way home after work, you hadn't noticed them get off the train behind you, hadn't heard them gaining on you. You only noticed them when the chemical-smelling rag was pressed against your face, and the world went dark.

You woke up already naked and sweaty. Your arms were bound down your back, forcing your chest to push out, showing off your tits in the half-light. You could hear shouting in the next room, then everyone went quiet quiet as a voice called out 

"Next is lot 35, female, mid 20's, recently acquired"

They pushed you forwards and you stumbled, your ankles tied so you could only take small, hobbling steps, your bare feet numb on the cold concrete floor.

You emerged through the door into a spotlight. Blinking against the light you could see the room was full of people but you couldn't see any faces. 

Everyone could see you, bare, glistening, unable to cover yourself. You cowered away from their gaze, and yelped when a man hit you across the buttocks with a cane.

The auctioneer started the bidding, calling out numbers and taking bids faster than your addled, panicking brain could follow them. All the while, the man with the cane was watching. If you slouched? Whack. If you looked down? Whack. If you tried to hide any part of you? Whack.

The gavel went down. You're not sure how much you sold for. You were led off into another room, then into the back of a van.

You weren't sure how long you were in there, gradually coming down from whatever they used to knock you out. When they opened the doors you were somewhere else.

A large man, bald and scarred, manhandled you up and tightened a collar around your neck. He attached a long pole to it and started to manoeuvre you out. You were pulled through a maze of corridors, into a room with dozens of other women restrained to the floor and groaning. A smaller man waited, dressed in riding gear and carrying a crop.

"Ah, the new arrival." He pulled out a torch and examined you by the light, prodding and poking, feeling your tits and forcing open your mouth to see inside "All her own teeth, reasonable build, looks perfectly adequate. Get her settled." He left the room by the door you came in. 

The large man pushed you to a space between two other women and attached your collar to the floor with a short length of chain before going behind you and connecting your ankles to the floor. 

You were stuck there, knelt down with your naked ass in the air, face inches from the floor. 

That's when you heard it. Something was being led up behind you. Something huge and snarling. You could feel it's breath on your behind as it got to you. It was smelling you. Then it was upon you. 

It was heavy on your back, driving your face and chest into the floor as it thrust it's cock over your ass. It felt huge on your back, already oozing fluids. You cried out as it found its mark and started pressing against your pussy. It slid off again and again as it thrust madly, over and under you, until it didn't.

The pain almost made you black out. It was bigger than anything you'd had down there, and it wasn't letting up. Again and again it pounded into you until you couldn't see for tears and your screams turned to hoarse whispers.

Only then did it slow. One. Two. Three last mighty pumps into your quivering, punished pussy before it held in its throbbing cock. How breath on the back of your neck, stale and damp. You could feel the cum filling you up, pooling in your womb. It pulled out, your pose stopping any from spilling out despite your loosened hole. Whatever it was was being pulled away from you. Drawn sullenly back to wherever it was kept. 

You didn't move for the rest of the day. Not that you had much choice.

You woke to a bowl in front of you, filled with a tasteless beige slop. You tried not to eat, the food making your stomach turn. You weren't given a choice. You had your face pushed down into it, forced to eat just to make enough space to breathe.

This continued for weeks.

You thought it was just the food at first, making you sick when you woke up. Then you realised you hadn't had a period yet. Then you felt yourself start to grow. Your belly and your tits both getting larger. You couldn't not notice it. They couldn't either.

You woke to someone hefting your tits. They were manhandling them into plastic cups, suctioned on around your growing nipples. Then they turned the machine on.

You groaned. The machine was suckling you. Gently pulsing the suction up and down to start milking your tits. It lasted for hours. Days. Eventually you felt yourself starting to give milk, you saw it flowing down the tubes leading from your body. 

The food changed. It wasn't just flavourless any more. Now there was something different about it, something strange that made your tits and clit tingle and throb. 

It didn't stop. All day and all night the machine would pump out milk, more and more as the drugs and your own body did their work. You felt something else as well. Your clit kept tingling and buzzing, the drugs and the unending stimulation keeping you on edge, always ready to orgasm at any moment. But the moment never came.

The handlers don't touch you now. You hadn't had the creature since the first night. You're nothing but a whimpering cow, mooing and braying on the machines.

Until you aren't.

The handlers are taking notice of you again. You're hearing them talking about you. You're almost ready. 

You wake to someone behind you. You wiggle your ass to get some attention, and feel something strange between your thighs. Your clit feels big and hard against your legs. It must be at least an inch long after all the drugs and the edging. You feel it. Another tube suctioned over your clit. You hear a button clicking on the machine milking you. The cup on your clit starts pulsing in time with the others.

It's too much.

You cum immediately, the orgasm causing your swollen pussy to contract and throb, begging to be filled with something, anything. You moaned and begged for the man behind you to just fuck you already, you didn't care any more, you just wanted him inside you. 

He walked away. 

You don't know how long the orgasm lasts. By the time you can think straight again you're face down in a puddle of drool, your hips still bucking in time with the suckling on your tits and your swollen clit.

The strange taste is still in your food. It feels like every few days your tits grow another size, your clit another inch. 

Then it happens. You can feel something welling up from within you, pulsing through you. It feels like something is travelling up the length of your distended clit, coming closer and closer until inch by tortuous inch it starts.

You cum. Your pussy cleanches and squirts, your body convulses and you thrust your hips forward reflexively.

You can feel something coming out of your clit. Thick, hot cum is flowing out of you in a steady stream, each pulse makes you cry out in ecstasy. 

The drugs, the humiliating position you'd been stuck in for months, the beast growing in your belly, all forgotten.

This is all you want. To kneel here. To be milked for everything you have. To be knocked back up whenever you finally give birth to whatever it is in your belly.

You won't leave here, not for anything

[daddyfromhell23]

What she was meant for (TW: Detrans, Mis0gny, degredation)

Inspired by @ezrasbedroom their post here

It started subtly.

He never pushed too hard, not at first. Just small comments. Little seeds planted in her mind.

“You just look so beautiful when you let your hair down like that.” “I miss seeing your natural curves.” “You were always so soft… softer than any man should be.”

Weeks passed. Then months. The compliments grew bolder, slowly eroding her confidence, reshaping her identity with every whisper.

“Don’t you think you were always a little better as a girl, sweetheart? More natural. More feminine.”

She fought it at first. She insisted she was still him. That the testosterone defined her. That her identity was solid. But deep inside, his voice was louder. His hands gentler. His praise, a drug. More addictive each time.

Until one day, after a particularly long night in his arms, she stopped taking her T.

Just for a while, she told herself.

Her skin softened again. Her features brightened as if she were still 18. The scent of her body shifted, betraying her slow collapse. He noticed immediately.

“You’re glowing, baby. Like you should be.”

Her chest began to ache as the small buds of breast tissue returned. The binder felt tighter, more uncomfortable, suffocating. And when he finally encouraged her to take it off — she did.

“You don’t need to hide anymore, doll.”

Makeup returned to her routine. Light at first. Then heavier. Lip gloss. Eyeliner. The same routine she had once fought so hard to escape. His praise was intoxicating every step of the way. She even started going out of her way to ask him how the new look was. Ask a Man's opinion on her body. The thoughts themselves made her gasp internally.

“You’ve always been prettier than most girls.”

That moment, her pussy finally went moist to the idea.

When her period returned, she cried. But not from sadness. From something more twisted. A terrifying, shameful sense of belonging.

He changed her pronouns one day without asking.

“She’ll be ready soon.” “She’s really blossoming again.”

And she said nothing. She couldn’t.

The wardrobe shifted next. No more loose clothing. Dresses that hugged her hips. Soft, clinging fabrics that showcased everything she once tried to erase.

And he never let her forget who was responsible.

“You look like you’re made to be fucked now. You’re perfect.” "I'm glad you finally started to listen, babe."

The degradation came slowly, too, always hidden behind his loving praise.

“Such a pretty little thing. A good hole for me. You were never built to be a boy.” “My little cumdump.” “My sweet, dumb girl who just needs to be filled.”

She soaked through her panties at every word.

The final collapse came when the pregnancy test turned positive.

Her belly swelled quickly, a physical monument to her surrender. The evidence was undeniable now — the weight of his seed growing inside her, reshaping her entirely.

He loved taking her out in public, one hand always resting on her bump, proudly showing off his creation.

The humiliation was always there. She could feel every pair of eyes on her — strangers immediately understanding who and what she was now. His girlfriend. The one he knocked up. The one who fucking took it. Doing her biological duty.

And sometimes, she knew they thought even worse.

That she was a filthy slut who let a Man reset her to factory settings. That she let him breed her raw like any brainless whore.

There was no hiding it anymore.

Her body had surrendered. Her mind followed.

And every time he whispered in her ear— “My perfect little baby maker. My girl. My breeding bitch.”

—She simply blushed, smiled, and whispered back: “Yes, daddy.”

[tempfrangit]

what's a bad miracle?; 2/2

John Price x F!Reader, 9.6k count, 18+ summary: this is forever chapter 2 of bad miracle. content: ex-wife!reader, possessive behavior, drugged sex, non-consensual somnophilia, breeding kink, forced orgasm, forced impregnation, forced cheating, physical punishment on reader, rape, dead dove: do not eat banners by @/cafekitsune

John had held you close against him while he snored beside you. You'd tried to slide out from beneath his arm when his breathing had steadied the first time, unable to sleep as you lay beside your ex-husband, feeling his cum dribbling out of you, following older paths down your thighs, but his fingers dug into the plush flesh of your hip, pulled you flush against him. You'd frozen, unsure and then sickened with yourself. Faced with the reality that you were trapped in the bed you used to share, you stare up at the slats of the ceiling, try to count them to force your brain to focus on anything else.

Horror was still icy tendrils in the back of your neck, down your spine, in the center of your chest as your thoughts rabbit through your head as fast as your heart, twisting with your guts. You know what's happened, you were there, but part of you feels different, detached in a way that you're afraid you may never fully recover from. Unable to fully come to terms with the fact that – that John had raped you that John had forced himself in you on you.

Even though it feels like every ounce of hydration in your body's been used up already, you find yourself sobbing. Silent, unable to even make the sounds with how hoarse you feel, but shaking as you gasp and cry. You’re so cold despite the burning heat of John’s overwhelming presence — beside you, around you, inside you.

You can’t even call what you do dozing, because it seems as if the moment you’re about to slip under the heavy blanket of exhausted rest your brain panics, forcing you to relive your night. A horrible, traitorous part of you is willing to blame his TBI, to point at something that isn’t your ex-husband despite the rather glaring willingness on his part, the look in his eyes after he'd made you face him, as if he’d been claiming you.

Every thought becomes a new exercise in self-reflection. You should have set clearer boundaries with him once he'd been dropped off, then he would never have done this. You should have just told him about Neil the moment he’d been brought back, there was no way he'd-

You should have stopped him when he'd touched you so familiarly, should have reminded him that you were divorced.

(Like he'd forgotten.)

You never should have said yes to taking care of him.

It’s too warm. 

The waves are lulling you to sleep, though.

He’d put the promise of a trip together off for months but you were okay with it. You were okay with it, even if he’d only suggested it after you’d sighed when a coworker got married, took two weeks off to enjoy hiking through Europe with her new wife. It had seemed like such a lovely time even though your ankles would ache. John dropped the tickets to Hawaii on your lap after he’d come home from a brief deployment, startling you out of your book. Thought it was a joke, before he flashed you that smile and told you not to worry about packing, he'd get you whatever you wanted there. When you had felt like you hadn't seen John in months, works making your time together short. It had been the spark you'd been missing.

You'd been so lonely.

It was so humid but so lovely. Like your skin would never be better in your life, as you laid beneath a beach tent John had rented, new swimsuit beneath a cover, a little embarrassed by the skin it showed. (But John's eyes had darkened when you asked his opinion.) Kids were screeching happily in the waves. You couldn’t wait to have start your family… Well… Soon, you told yourself. It had only been two years. And with John’s work you wanted him to have time, had been told by Pam that it was important your husband be around.

You don’t remember getting on the boat but you must have dozed. 

The water was so pretty, clear. 

Maybe a touch too warm for you, just got the sun baring down on you. 

Too warm.

Your guts hurt.

Seasick?

Hot breath fanning against the sweat on your neck. 

It’s with a start that you find yourself staring into John’s blue eyes, brain sluggishly turning over in your skull.

Trying to understand. 

He thrust his entire length into you, grunting as he buried himself, pain like a shock as your burning vulva was abused further. Tears welling in your eyes as the full extent of pain rushed through you, what had felt like pain last night twisted without the numbing of the drugs he’d given you. A sob hiccuped out from between your lips as you tried to push yourself away, heels pressing into the sheets for leverage. And he groaned before baring down, hips snapping faster. It was like he was fucking your cervix and each press against it was trying to batter you open.

You can’t stop yourself from crying at the pain, but if John noticed he says nothing, face red with exertion as his hips met yours. 

A cry slips out, as his hands slide down your calfs to grab your ankles, to wrap your legs around his waist despite what you might want. 

It’s too close.

He’s too hot.

It hurts.

His tongue laps up your tears as he works himself into you faster, harder, groaning into your ear when he pulls away from your face to bury himself against your neck, to pant into the hallow of your throat as his hips snapped faster.

It felt like a horrible joke that you knew he was close by the way his movement stuttered while he was rending you open.

His moan is deep, teeth burying into your throat as he cums inside of you, hot spurts bathing your insides. 

It wasn’t fair that he could do this to you, that he could climax while he used you. While you hurt.

He pants atop you, finally loosening his hold on you and letting your legs free, still inside you even though he was softening.

You used to love when he held you afterwards. 

You needed to get him off of you, your stomach churning.

“‘s wrong, luv?” His smoky voice is thick with sleep returning to it, like honey tipped over and seeping out of the jar.

You force your breathing even as you turn to look at John, to meet his drowsy, curious gaze despite the way your stomach twists into knots. “I have to pee, John,” the whisper sounds properly embarrassed, as close as you can get as you pray to whatever higher power exists that he'll believe you. Let you go.

John raises his arm, the iron bar keeping you weighed down, and you throw yourself out of the bed the moment you can. Freedom was too inticing. You even swallow down the cry that immediately starts in your throat as your cunt aches at the movement, feet touching the ground and sending a shock through your core. He groans as he settles back into bed but you don’t dare turn back.

Each step sparks the aching flame of pain between your thighs, the further exertion, but you make it to the bathroom, shivering as your bare feet carried you across the cold wood. You hadn't even thought to grab something to cover yourself with. It was such a silly thing to feel ashamed about, you know that, but you can't stop yourself, each new shame another rock piling in your gut.

When you close the door behind you, as softly as you can while every sound seems so painfully heightened to your frayed nerves. Only then can you take a moment, breathe.

Lock the door behind you, as you lean against the smooth wood.

Breathe.

Shuffling to the toilet, you have the sudden realization that your wedding ring was missing. The thin band had been on your finger since the moment you'd said 'I do,' all over again, the small oval ruby you'd chosen specifically when Neil had nervously said he wanted it to be perfect for you. Tears prick your eyes, but the realization that he’d known is barely registered as you sit there. At least that would make what's to come a little easier. 

Your exhale is shaky as you brace for what's to come. In. And out. 

In. Out.

Good. 

You gently wipe, babying the tender flesh despite the sting of pain that follows.

Tacky cum was dried in your pubic hair.

A hiss escapes from between your clenched teeth, soft as you can as you slide your finger through the puffy rim of your entrance. You have to get it out. Even if some of it had been inside of you for hours. Teeth catch your lower lip as you force another inside. 

You're desperately trying to dig as much of his cum as you can out, swallowing down the whines building high in your chest as you crook your fingers to reach as far as you can and the scrape of your nails against your tender walls.

You have to get him out of you.

It feels like your teeth are grinding to dust in your mouth, tongue pressed firmly against the roof of your mouth.

Was it lemon juice and aloe vera that you could use? You'd skimmed an article once because you'd been curious when Pam had joked about it in passing. Could always mix up a bit of aloe and lemon juice, should clear ya out, my dear. Was there a lemon in the house? Could you use vinegar?

A heavy rap on the door pulls you out of your spiral of despair as you try to steady your breathing and blink back the tears welling in your eyes.

“Sorry, John, could you repeat that?” You know your voice wavers as you tilt your hips, grimacing at the muck covering your digits, digust filling your belly. It wasn't yours. It wasn't all from you.

(But some of it was.)

“Asked if you were alright,” his response is slow, drawn out as he must be trying to pull apart your words.

A sob is bubbling in your chest but you force yourself to nod, an affirmative hum leaving your lips. “'m fine, sorry for worrying you.”

The latch rattles against the plate, and you can't stop your breath from quickening.

“Luv, why's the door locked?” Despite the light tone you feel yourself shiver at the question, more aware of the chill than you'd been previously.

This time you don’t answer, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

You have to get him out of you.

The rattling continues only for a moment before a solid blow hits the door and this time you hiss, fear making the back of your neck feel like a frozen gust of wind had blown against it. Another follows, and you force your fingers as deep as you can reach, twist despite the pain, nails catching. A heavier sound is rattling the door and you hear John grunting, could already imagine his determined face, neck straining as he worked to open the door.

You were not a cheater.

There's a deep cracking as the wood near the handle gives away and John stands in the now open doorway, chest heaving and having not even bothered to pull a stitch of clothing on. His eyes darted around the room before they settle on your hands between your thighs, neck reddening as a dark look settled on his face, brows knitting together.

Even caught you try to get more out, even if it’s imaginary at this point.

“I do what you want 'n' this is the thanks I get?” The words are short, clipped, but his indignation is clear.

An unexpected squeak eeks out of you as you’re hauled to your feet, dragged along before being thrown against the basin of the sink. For a moment you don’t understand, brain still caught on what he’d said, trying to make sense of it. Then his hand strikes down against your bare right cheek, crack sounding like a whip through the tiled room.

You shriek, buck against the porcelain as you try to flail free. But a firm hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you bent over, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw. You can feel the brush of his thighs against the backs of yours, feet on either side of you to keep you inh place. Tears are welling as your breath quickens, grasping the edge as tightly as you can before trying to push yourself up.

Another crack as he brings his free hand down onto your left. It's instinctive that you cry out again, the blow sending shocks of stinging pain, and again you struggle to free yourself. But he' keeps you pinned.

”None of that, luv,” John growls down at you, heavy hand sliding up your spine until his thumb gently stroked the edge of your jaw as he takes a firm hold of your neck with his remaining fingers, “ten seems reasonable, won’t even make you count.”

Like it was a kindness.

You grit your teeth, brace for the pain and try to force your mind somewhere else. 

You count, in your head, willing the time to pass faster so you focus on your goal of going home.

When the strikes continue, you can’t stop the way you’re breathing doesn’t seem to fill your lungs, quickly beginning to hyperventilate as you try to keep yourself from panting for air and to hold yourself as still as possible at the same time. The edge of counter top is digging painfully into your hips, silent tears streaming down your face as it feels like the bones were being bruised. 

Of course he’d meant ten each side.

It feels like an eternity before John finishes.

“I’m sorry, luv,” his rough palm soothed against your burning flesh, thumb rubbing gentle circles against your jaw, making you whine softly as you lay in your tears trying to remember how breathing worked when your lungs weren't on fire.

When you feel the brush of his mustache against the sensitive skin above your shoulder blades, a shiver runs through you. In your ear his breath hitches, hips bucking against your sore ass.

Instantly, you freeze, limbs feeling heavy as lead as you go limp in shock.

“There’s my good girl,” he kisses a trail up your neck, “just needed a little reminder, and that’s alright, luv, we all make mistakes.”

You couldn't even begin to wonder what he meant by that. Mistakes. This had all been a mistake, hadn't it?

John's words lull against your temple, lips grazing against the skin so gently, the tickle of his beard making you shudder with each touch. “Stay just like that, and I’ll fix everything.”

He’s nudging your knees further apart, hand sliding down your neck to the base, where his palm lays firmly across your spine and shoulders like the overly snug collar of a dog. You can feel the tip of his cock nudge against the sore rim of your cunt, inflamed muscle protesting but being unable to reject the thick head.

No.

You don’t even realize the word has left your lips until the gentle push stops entirely.

The air is oppressive as you stare at the faucet, heart rabbiting in your chest as you desperately wish you could swallow the word back, gasping for air as tears begin to well.

A grunt echoes, as your air is forced from your lungs, inner walls burning at the length that had been unceremoniously shoved inside you to the base, stretching you open, ass hot and aching from where his pelvis snapped against it.

“I know, luv, poor girl’s been so lonely without me,” as he eases himself back out before just as suddenly fucking back into you, “but I’ll fix her right up.”

You try to grit your teeth and bear it, to tell yourself you’re going to leave once he’s back asleep. No need to bother packing, just had to get dressed and get out. Once you have your ring and your keys. You just have to get through this. 

Just this moment and then you get to leave.

You repeat the thought like a prayer, mind spinning through ideas as he pulls almost all the way out before his hips slap against your sore ass, edge digging into the soft flesh of your belly painfully.

John chants into your hair, weight keeping you pinned down as he fucks into your aching cunt, pain and discomfort tangling into something else as his rough fingers slide against your folds, searching.

A whine ekes out of you as he finds what he's looking for.

Your climax floods you with a special brand of self-loathing, a hatred that you could do nothing as your walls squeeze him.

When he continues to strum your clit, like you hadn’t just spasmed on his cock, you desperately wish there was something you could do to stop him. Anything, because it’s too much. You’re overwhelmed, overfull, overstimulated. He’s fucking you harder into the counter top. Edge biting.

Everything hurts.

“Stop! Please stop, John!” You can hear your begging echo through the room, and he finally listens to you.

It takes you only that instant before you realize your mistake.

“I’m not good enough ‘s that it? I’m not fucking good enough to knock this cunt up anymore? You want that prissy little senior benefits analyst with a limp cock between his legs?” John snarls, hips snapping at a brutal, punishing pace as he fucks into you.

A sob tears free from you but you nod affirmative frantically, ignoring the wet sounds that followed each thrust.

“And you think he’s gonna still want you? After you cheated on him? Whored yourself to your ex-husband? Got yourself knocked up, bent over the sink like a dirty, fuckin' slag?“ The venom in his words stings, only made worse by his fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back roughly. He jerks your locks cruelly until you open your eyes, trying to grab onto anything to keep yourself grounded.

You don’t recognize the man in the mirror, teeth bared, scars red as he snarls down at you. Thankfully your tears cloud your vision, leaving you only with his words. 

“He ever even heard your pussy when it sounds like this, all sloppy and fucked out?” This time he forces you to shake your head, making your teeth clack together in your mouth before you force your molars together. “No, didn’t think so. Shall we make him a little home video so he knows how you like it?”

All you can focus on to tune out the horrible words he’s saying is the way the edge of the basin is digging into your belly. You can already see how the mottled bruises will look in your mind, edge a sharp line, surrounded by a halo of discoloration.

When his other hand comes down on the fat of your ass you’re thrown back into the moment, already tender flesh burning with continued abuse. A shriek echos in the small room, vibrating off the glass door of the bath.

Another shake of your head knocks your unshed tears loose, facing you with the man you'd married once upon a time. 

John't teeth are gnashed together as his lips pull back like a snarl, brows furrowed as he glares down at you. His thrusts become quicker, no longer bothering to pull more than an inch out to fuck against your gummy insides. You hate that you immediately know he's close, that you're relieved for that. “Fuck, love you, darlin'.”

Now each slap of his thighs against the sore flesh of your ass has you whimpering

“Say you love me.”

You must have misheard him, your brain must have been scrambled by his force of his shakes.

“Say it.” It’s a plea, tinged in a fevered desperation as John cants his hips faster.

You don’t want to say it. Part of you wanted him to fester in the pit he’d dug himself and dragged you into with him.

Your head lulls when he releases your hair, cool porcelain against your sweaty flesh as you gasp, catching yourself despite how boneless you feel.

”Darlin’.” It’s sloppy, begging, his weight bearing down across your back as his breath tickles the back of your neck, your ear.

John's hand settles on your jaw, heavy where his fingers rest across your throat. The pressure is immediate, force making the bones ache as he thumb presses. 

Any attempts to alleviate the stress only has his digits digging further in. 

Like he was going to break a molar with his grip. 

”Love you!” It’s a sob, pressure instantly released as he bellows into your ear, warm cum deep inside you, like a rot. 

You hate the woman staring back at you, the beast slumped bonelessly over her, heaving as he pants hotly. You want to break the mirror so you never have to look into it again.

This time after he’s caught his breath, he soothes his hands down your sides, lips tracing across your spine. Your mind likens it to trying to calm a spooked horse. 

You don’t have the energy to fight his touch, still so sure and steady despite the fact that he’d just fucked you to exhaustion. His words are soft as he brings you into the shower’s warm stream. Though you can’t stop yourself from flinching as you try to relax. 

As John’s calloused hands smooth over your body, gently scrub as your arms, back, sides, cup your breasts and hold you firm against him when you start. 

You focus on your ring and keys, as the cold water sluices down your form, John’s fingers in your hair.

He had the decency to dress you in a shirt of his, smelling so strongly of him you couldn’t help but search your memory to try and determine if this had been the shirt he was wearing last night. With nothing beneath it. 

You don’t care that his sweats are cozy, pulling them up your thighs and over your bare skin, before blindly pulling on a shirt that’d been folded neatly into the drawer above it. You don’t bother to grab more than your wallet, knowing you’d left your keys on your jacket and — and slowly swallowing as you realize you don’t know where John is, and if that’s changed. 

It was now or never.

You have to get out of this house.

You’re careful with your steps across the hall, into the room you’d been staying in. You must have left it on the bedside table. 

But no.

The only thing on the nightstand is a small lamp, you'd chosen for the guest room after you'd decided to change the set up one summer evening during your first year of marriage.

If you were John, where would you put your ring?

He’d always liked to keep things in their logical place, a place for everything and everything in its place. Just like his parents had hammered into him. 

Important documents belonged in the home office. 

His office.

Stepping over the squeaky stair, feet as light down the steps as you can will yourself in your descent, like that will keep your secret. It feels like your heart is in your throat, your skin tingling as if you'd touched a livewire.

When you reach the landing you almost wonder if this is real, if you'd truly made it down the staircase. It wasn't going to alert him of your intention. Of course you don't let yourself celebrate the victory. One sigh and you move, sliding down the hallway as you tried to listen for any sound. But there was… nothing.

It seemed wrong, a nagging part of your brain couldn't explain why, but that didn't matter.

You could accept that.

You had to.

His office is… spotless, everything in order. All you had to do was get your ring and leave.

The safe was exactly where you remember it.

Punching in the numbers, you hold your breath as turn the handle… and it gives.

The papers are neatly stacked, thin boxes atop. Everything in its place.

There is a ring box shoved into the back corner and your breath catches. Relief rushes over like a flood, and makes you painfully aware of how your everything aches. But there is a fluttering comfort at the reassurance your ring brings.

It's so easy to take the box, the solace practically palatable —

The gold is still freshly polish shined. Diamond still perfectly set on its bed of gold. Cushion cut, the girls at the office had sighed when you showed them.

His grandmother's wedding ring.

"Find what you were looking for, darling?"

It should have made you jump but all you could think of was your ring.

You clench your hands into fists as you stand your ground, fixing him with as hard a look as you can as you square your shoulders, ignoring the shaking of your body. “Give it back, John.”

“Give what back, luv?” His dark voice sends a chill down your spine, the urge to flee briefly flashing warning in your hindbrain.

But you will not be cowed.

Not about this.

“Give me back my ring, John.” You force out, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

His steps across the floor echo in the small room. Still you glare.

“I will,” he agreed slowly, leaning so close you swore his lips touched your ear, “when you've earned it.”

All you can hear is the sudden ringing in your ears as you stare up at him. 

The ring is so light in your hand, so different than how you remember it at the end, keeping you tied to him as you stared out the kitchen window. Alone. As you twisted it on your finger when you'd hesitantly brought up the topic of children. A baby.

When he cited his work.

Waved you off.

He smooths down your arms before placing his hands on your shoulders. His smile, like he was as explaining something to a person he thought of as an idiot.

Your pulse ticks hot in your forehead.

"Fuck!"

The prongs that held the diamond dig into his cheek with ease, instinct has him release you as he pulls away, both hands coming up to the wound. Staunch it? You don't care.

The hall wall slams into you as you fly out of the room, barely registering that you'd pulled the knob after you. But you swear you could feel his hands reach out, touch the back of his shirt. You don't care. You have to get out.

It's a mad dash to the entry, pulling on your coat with no further care as you shove your feet into John's boots.

He was close.

You didn't need to turn around.

You slam the door behind you, sure you can hear the stream of cursing that flows out of him.

Outside you can breath, despite the cold air immediately chilling the sweat on your brow. You should have had the bastard shovel.

Your steps are shaky, but of course his stupid bloody boots are heavy. Again, the promise of leaving is too strong to allow yourself to care about anything else. You were so close.

Just to the car.

You just had to get to your car and this would be over.

You chilling hands reach for the keys you'd always left in your pocket. You'd go to corner store, clinic, you'd tell N-

("You shouldn't get so comfortable in routine, darling, best to remember to add variety, just in case.")

The clatter of the door being thrown open kickstarts your brain.

You don't even realize you've started running towards the road until you've passed your car, swerving to go around John's truck.

The snow rushes up to meet you, and you shriek at the impact, the weight suddenly weighing you down. Your heart was in your throat as you continued to screech, flail. You can feel his boot begin to slide free and you slam your foot down in your one rational thought, a groan following the connection.

Of course it's John, the part of you that can think knows this to be true, and that makes you struggle hard to free yourself from his hold.

His hand knots itself into your hair as it forces your head down, neck aching and body going slack in an attempt to remedy the strain. Panting through your nose fills your airways with the freezing air that you'd begun to feel stinging the slivers of your bare skin, but you won't let yourself stop breathing.

He continues to snarl down at you, before taking hold of you and physically forcing you onto your back, and when your hands tried to grab at his wrists, you found yourself pinned again. A flash of panic beginning in your brain.

The scar on his temple is red.

The red is high up his neck, through his cheeks, as fog panted through his teeth and nose down at you. There's saliva shining in the light off his teeth, and it takes you a moment to realize he's saying something to you.

When his hands take hold of your shoulders, you can't stop the shriek, your attempt to recoil. He holds you steady, bones grinding beneath your skin as he gives you a firm shake.

"The fuck's gotten into you?" John's face is so close to yours as he snarls, teeth clacking too close to your nose. His teeth turn to a grind when you attempt to pull away from him, when he shakes you again, and your fingers dig into the snow. "This is what you want-"

"No!" You didn't think the hissed word would have any effect on him, if you were being honest. To see him still, eyes darting across your face, as if trying to translate a language he didn't speak.

You noticed this moment for something else, though.

An opening.

John must have realized the same moment you had, because the moment you rear back, preparing to smash his nose with your forehead, he jerks away from you.

You make contact with his chin, hissing pain between your teeth like a cat as you recoil.

Always bullheaded, even in the literal term. 

You try to twist, but he’s back the moment the blow landed incorrectly, knee pinning yours to the snow, larger body encompassing you, and your air catches in your lungs. 

Part of you had never fully grasped claustrophobia, never eager to enter a cave or too aware of your body to assume you might just be able to squeeze through spaces when they were open. But now your brain understood, some primal part that had laid dormant until this moment. 

Panic poured through your veins, heart stuttering out a frantic beat as you… froze, limbs like lead, eyes unable to focus, trying to find something to put your attention on, something to make your stomach stop roiling and heart pounding.  There’s a rumble against your throat. Bile is rising to meet it, burning in its ascent. There is only the rush of your blood in your ears.

You thrash, instinctively, your need to be free overwriting all other potential thoughts that could worm their way into your head. Fingers curl in the packed snow, clawing through the freezing cold as your foot finally finds purchase and you push off.

If asked, it felt like time had slowed, your freedom etched into your understanding of the moment. You were going home.

The horrible, wretched thing, however, was that when time slowed, it had the unfortunate consequences of slamming into the present without fanfare.

In an instant.

There's a sound like a gunshot.

You can’t stop the screech that leaves you, desperately trying to jerk your leg free from his grasp and only succeeding in making the barely forgotten pain to flare to life and burn like touching a white hot poker. You couldn’t repeat the flailing struggle that briefly let you escape him, the pain alone was enough to tell you that you couldn't run.

That you were here.

Like fox caught in a bear trap, unable to gnaw its leg off.

Your breaths are shuddering, fragile hope dashed into nothing just like that. Everything simply too much in that moment.

A scream erupted from you at the futility of your attempt, at the pain you were, your anger at yourself.

It seemed as if the snowy landscape swallowed it all down,

There's a rumble, like thunder.

John's hands startle you, taking hold of your arms to turn you how he wants, twisting you onto his lap. The rumbling is louder, against your spine as you finally realize he's speaking to you. There is a rhythm to what's being said, even if you don't understand.

You hate how your breath evens, how his words begin to soothe you as his thick arms hold you firmly. 

“We’ve gotta get ya back into the house and check, that, luv, ‘m sorry,” you can feel the heat of his words against your temple, immediately sending tingles as you could feel your sweat hit the cold air.

But of course he was right, and if anyone could help you in this situation, it was John.

Your sob is instinctual as you consent to him carrying you back inside.

Why did you always let him push your boundaries?

“Alright, luv, wiggle yer toes for me.” You glare at him, gritting your teeth as you focus all your rage and pain into the instruction, but John isn’t even looking at your face. His gaze is focused on your foot, gentle in how his large hand easily tilts your ankle, pulling a shriek from you as you continue your attempt at movement.

“C'mon, just wiggle your toes.”

The hot pricking tears of anger slipping free, but you force yourself to try and do as he says. It hurts, you can’t stop the sounds building in you.Part of you worries that you're going to break a tooth as you clench them, trying to force your body to move. Despite this confirmation that the motion is lost on you, you repeat the attempt at movement, swallowing back your sudden wheeze of pain when you try to flex your ankle again. To move your toes.

John tuts, hand like a manacle to stop any further testing, and pulling a whimper from you.

Finally, he looks back up at you, blue eyes unreadable.

A warning bell goes off in your head. You try and blink the tears out of your eyes, fear like a shock down your spine. You open your mouth to beg, to placate, t-

The pull startles you, but John’s arms keep you firmly against him, enveloped by him so suddenly part of you feels dizzy.

“Don’t scare me like that, luv,” his lips press against your temple so gently, urgently, like he was saying a prayer against your skin. "I can fix this."

It was so gentle and loving.

It was suffocating.

Let me go, John.

He's fed you some pills with water that made the world hazy, your stomach churn, but your pains went away. Was that worth it? You accepted them at the offer of relief.

Relief.

But the haze came with the cost of making the world a blur.

I'm sorry, darling, I'm sorry, I'll make it better, luv. Let me make it better. I'm sorry, please, darling.

Thumbs brush away your tears.

Were you crying?

Lips brush against yours but your eyelids are so heavy.

You can’t stop the way you gasp, air forced from your lungs each time John bears down on you, as your mind briefly emerges, rocking you further up the mattress with the force of his thrusts. 

Your nails slide along his arms, desperate to dig in and repulse him with the pain. His sweat and yours hamper your attempts. Your grip slips easily and the loss leads you to be speared further.

His mustache tickles your neck and you whine.

Fuck. Fuckin' hell, luv, almost there.

There's a ringing that you try to squirm away from.

Heavy hands clamp on your hips.

A heat envelopes you as your mind drifts back into the depth.

You wanted The Bear Under the Stairs for the shelf. William, and Paddington, and Winnie the Pooh.

Why were the best children's stories all bears?

You were being devoured.

The muffled conversation makes no sense to you. They’re not words you understand, you think dully, trying to find a rhythm in the speech. Some semblance of  reality. Everything that had so soothingly become a slurry since the pain was beginning to become sensical again.

"-just set it quick, then you can give 'er the pills-"

Pills?

Your head feels stuffed with feathers, and your mouth is like cotton.

Get out, a remembered thought screams, get out, get out, getout, ge-

There's a man like a nightmare at the foot of the bed. Your blood rushes as you try to sit, to get away. Stop-

Your ankle is straightened with two pops, gloved hands pressing pieces together until finally they join.

Pain burns through your mind like lightning, igniting every receptor in your brain as you find yourself screeching. But his hold doesn't give, the pressure continues as you feel movement inside your skin, the shifting of bone. Arms are wrapped around you, keeping you from thrashing in your newest attempt at escape.

"Shh, shh, shh, darling, it's okay-"

But this wasn't okay, you hurt, something was wrong. Why were you in John's bed?

Another attempt to wrench yourself free is answered by an annoyed growl, the arms tighten. Your leg is pulled again and the cry of pain is high in your throat, thick under your tongue.

You can do nothing but cry, as the men talk above your head.

Pills are offered to you, and you can only shake your head vehemently as you try to force your breathing steady, to take stock of the situation.

And there is a sigh like you are an insolent child, like you were causing a problem.

"I wanna go home, John," the words rattling in your chest.

"You are home," his own response is short and dry, fingers winding in your hair to pull your head back, your mouth falling open to gasp as he forced the colorful handful inside. He grips your jaw with enough pressure you know you can't reject them.

Acrid fragments slide down your esophagus, dry and wretched.

Once you swallow, he prys your mouth open, fingers shoved against your gums, under your tongue, before a glass of water is offered.

This time you guzzle it greedily, desperately needing a reprieve from the taste.

Still it burns in the back of your throat.

They're talking again. But the world was quickly losing color. Your eyelids can no longer stay open.

There's no pain while you sleep.

Just nothingness.

You always loved lazy mornings in, nothing to do on the weekend but be together. And your husband loved your company. His thumb circles your clit and you whine, hips stuttering up to meet the touch. When his lips traced your throat you let yourself moan, eyelids fluttering.

The blue of his eyes was wrong.

Neil?

Pain shocks through you, fireworks bursting behind your eyelids and across your every pore connected with. Spots dance in your vision as you stare up at your ex-husband.

"Don't you dare fucking call me that," the venom is accompanied by another strike, and you cry out, attempting to twist away before a blinding pain burns through you.

His hand tightens on your ankle, pulling until a sob wretches free from your chest.

"Do you hear me?" His snarl is accompanied by more pressure, tears breaking free to stream down your face as you frantically nod.

"I asked if you heard me." Firm and unforgiving, his calloused thumb presses into the bandaged dip.

"Yes! 'm sorry!" You sob for extra measure, happy to show you belly if it would make him stop. "Please, John, I'm sorry!"

After another moment, your soft crying the only sound in the room, he sighs.

"You have to stop making me hurt you, darling, why can't you just let me be good to you?" His thumbs are so gentle as he brushes away your tears. "Please be good for me, luv, you can do that."

This time it wasn't a question but you nod again, as much as his grip will let you. "Yes, John."

He sighs, shoves off the bed, not saying another word as he leaves the room.

Alone, you're paintfully aware of the ache at the end of your leg, how your attempts to move spark pain. A groan leaves you as you try to find a position that's comfortable.

Again you start as weight shifts on the mattress, unsure when you'd dozed off.

The scent of freshly toasted bread has your stomach grumbling, suddenly horribly aware of how hungry you are. Blinking up at him, John raises a brow at you expectantly. You force yourself to sit up against the headboard, groan in your throat at the shift of your ankle as you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Strawberry jam is smeared across the toast and again your hunger sounds. A smirk briefly flashes on his face, before he raises a slice. There's a moment where you think of saying you can feed yourself, but there's something in his eyes.

“‘m sorry, luv,” John coos, as he slides the slice into your mouth and you chew instinctively, too tired to deny this gentleness from a man you used to love.

His breath hitches as your tongue darts after the sticky jam on the edge of your lip.

You freeze once you realize. The back of your neck tingled.

"'s okay, John," you swallow, mouth opening as his hand remains raised, if only to bring this to a close.

What had been a fleeting moment of relief and little joy, had turned to ash, and you forced yourself to continue chewing. When the dry feeling was too much, part of you was relieved when he offered you a mug of tea. It's a task to finish the tray set before you, but you know you have to clear it.

He's voice is too melodic, your eyelids feel heavy as you reply to his questions. To the best of your ability.

Shame is burning you as John carries you to the toilet, as he helps you while you try not to look at him when he doesn't leave the room. You focus on the broken latch, splintered wood.

He helps you wash your hands, and you don't want to think about the last time you'd been at this sink together. There's a twisting discomfort growing in your core, as at the ease he supports you with.

The world feels a little hazy and you can't snap yourself out of that feeling.

Did you drug me? You'd ask him that, if you could make your mouth work right, to form words instead of the soft sounds you can just barely recognize as yourself.

"Easier if you let me fix things, luv, you'll see." With a puff of laughter, even.

I don’t like you, though your tongue is too thick and heavy in your mouth. 

His huff fans his hot breath across your neck, your chest, sending a curious twist in your stomach that makes you whine. It was traitorous how he made you feel. How you felt about him.

Beneath the heavy duvet, you shift to turn away, to burrow deeper, the perfect little cocoon to keep you safe and warm.  A heavy hand grasps your hip, keeps you still before ever so gently rolling you to lay flat on your back. 

His words are a deep rumble in your blood, like a distant clap of thunder. 

Your lids are too heavy.

Dream’s gentle embrace takes you, honey sweet, holds you so lovingly that to wake is disorienting. 

Love you, love you, love you. 

Panic weaves its cold fingertips through your hair as John’s body keeps you firmly against the mattress, held closely in the crook of your hips, tilted to offer him a perfect little vessel, seed kept firmly inside by his soft cock.  

The knee that had been resting gently at the crook of your legs begins to press, separating your knees as he loops your leg up and over his. Your pussy throbs and a hiss slips between your lips as you try to shift your hips to ease the ache. His hardening cock nudging against the swollen rim of your cunt’s opening.

“N-no, John,” you try to plead your case, tears already welling in your eyes because you can’t imagine him fucking you again and it not hurting.

“And ‘m sorry for that, love, I know,” his deep voice rumbles, but he’s still notching his cock against the aching rim of your pussy, “we’ll just use the tip, promise, just to make sure you get a good fresh load in you so we can’t say we missed any opportunity to get you pregnant.”

You can’t help but cinch your eyes shut in a brace for pain as he begins to ease himself back inside of you, accepting that he won’t listen faster than you want to let your brain dwell on. A hiss slips past your lips as his fat cockhead begins to bully its way inside. Back when you’d started dating, when you finally got him in bed, you’d babbled that there was no way he was going to fit and he’d chuckled, obviously puffed up by your comment, before he’d eaten you out, using his beautiful thick fingers to prep you while he made you see stars.

There was none of that reverential preparation this morning, but John’s good on his word, stopping once he’s gotten the whole mushroom head tip of his cock into you, before the tell-tale sound of skin on skin begins.

You try to will your mind onto something else, to sleep.

“Feel so good, please, luv” his breath pants against your ear, cock sliding just an inch further into you before he starts to pull back.

You whine is cut of by his hand, and you to shake your head, to remind him that you ache, that he promised.

And after everything he’d done to you, why had you believed him?

A grunt slips through his fingers as it feels like the air has been pushed out of your lungs. Tears stinging at your eyes as you're forced open again. He's careful not to apply pressure to your nose. You wish he would. You wish he'd at least have given you something.

Between his pants and moans, John tells you how much he loves you. So clear in your mind, the words sear as his thrusts become erratic.

You couldn’t figure out why this blow had been so low, John had thrown your choice out the window the moment he’d done what he’d done, when he kept fucking you even though you’d begged him to stop, when he hadn’t let you go home. A sob was quivering in your chest, each rapid breath accompanied by the horrid realization that this was going to change everything, and you’d really never have an ounce of fondness for him again, betrayal too far, the pressure was too much.

It felt like your heart was breaking.

“You’re hurting me, John,” your entire body was trembling as the words left your lips, tears leaking free. Despite the sweat coating your flesh, you were freezing, chill running violently up and down your spine as you found yourself sobbing.

His hands smooth up your sides, cradle your face as his rough thumbs brush your tears away.  John coos soft words into your ear until you can breathe again, held close to his chest. 

It’s…nice. 

The trimmed hair of his mustache tickles your temple as your breathing steadies, eyelids heavy. 

You couldn’t begin to guess when you slipped from consciousness.

The wind is like wail across the house, startling you into wakefullness.

As your heart thunders, John pulls you back to him, instinct causing you to flail, attempt to jerk away, but there is no give. His arms wrap around you to keep you flush against his chest.

He keeps you still as your breathing evens, body relaxing enough only for the exhaustion to crash back down into you like a wave.

It was a relief to wake up, safely held. For the first time in a long time, you didn't feel stressed, still tired (despite getting the appropriate amount of sleep), or even with an already strong drive to not do anything today that might take more than the minimum effort required.

Of course it only lasts the moments your brain takes to wake up, to note the arm across your ribs and the scar stretched over the span of forearm. For discomfort to begin to knot coils low in your belly.

Your attempt to shift is rewarded, but the confusion that follows leaves you half-turned, hand splaying under your breast.

John groans in his throat behind you, lax hold remaining as you listen to the telltale signs of him waking up.

It's a strange feeling, to not have your heart hammering in your chest.

When he asks if you're up, you do nothing to hide the fact, murming an affirmative.

"'ll get breakfast started then, eh, luv?" The words are still tinged with sleep, as you push yourself up to sit, blinking your own sleep away as you nod, unsure what else to say.

His lips land on your pulse, and this time it races.

"Meds first, don't worry, didn't forget."

With a little more understanding, you stare at the pills when he returns with a glass of water. Yours, cradled in the palm of his hand with the bottle you'd picked up for him.

If you had to guess, you hadn't missed a day.

John's beard scratches against the tender flesh of your collarbone, hands smoothing down to your hips when you whine. "'s okay, luv, doing so good for me."

Finally, you grasp the headboard, nails briefly dragging across the wood, pulling a hiss from you. You leverage yourself a little higher, so John's hold on your hips as he uses you like an fleshlight doesn't continue to bash the head of his cock into your cervix every time he pulls you down it.

The first time John had done this to you in bed, you'd moaned yourself hoarse. Always thought yourself a bit too thick for any guy to be able to do that to you. This time it was like being fucked past the point of overstimulation. John's beard burns each time it rubs against your neck.

You try to pull yourself higher.

Only to be forced down so hard you lose your grip.

“That's it, love, gimme a ride.” He growls before leaning down to suck your right nipple into his mouth.

Immediately, he’s laving his tongue against the sensitive flesh, sucking greedily and you can’t help yourself. A moan rips free from your mouth as you grab his head, scratch your fingers against his scalp as you buck your hips against his. His rough thumb slides against your clit in the same instant his upwards thrust rubs against that sweet spot it seemed like only he had ever found in you. 

“Oh god, there, John!” Your own voice is ringing in your ears. You’re meeting his movements greedily, knees pressing firmly against his outer thighs, like you’re trying to keep him in place despite the fact that both of you were moving.

“So fucking good for me, luv, taking my cock so good, gonna knock you up," he pants into you throat before his teeth press firmer into your flesh.

The flash of pain is what pushes you over.

You slump against him, orgasm snapping through you so fast you only feel disgusted with yourself. It would be easy to blame your medication, your cycle, anything, but you feel so sickened by yourself, climaxing on John’s cock like it was nothing.

The gnawing need to flee fills your chest, your belly, your bones, but any attempt to rise off John’s lap is squashed by his thick arms wrapped around you and keeping you chest to chest.

"Love you," as his lips begin their climb.

"Love you."

The instantaneity of your response, twists in you, as John's lips find yours.

Restlessness had begun to set in, unable to do much on your feet that might busy you. You return to reading, mind occupied with something other than the confusion of your life. What your life had become, seemingly overnight. Sharing a bed with your ex-husband John. Comfort.

Something is set down on the end table beside your cup of tea, pulling your attention away from the thick novel you’d buried yourself in. John stands, expectantly.

The box is so unassuming, despite the fact that your lungs feel like there's a weight on your chest. Your head feels so light it's like its a balloon is tied to it, keeping you afloat.

"I don't-" your tongue is so heavy, as tears pool, threatening to breach.

"Don't worry, luv," he soothes, "of course, 'll help you."

As if your growing distress was from your ankle — the ankle that had landed you in this position — and your inability to do anything on your own. Not the dread that your dream might be coming true in the form of a nightmare.

When you meet John's eyes, the plea on the tip of your tongue dies.

The door's been repaired, no longer sporting a lock.

You read the instructions together, a smile ticking the edge of John's lip up as he passed you the test. Set a timer.

Your stomach is in your throat.

"One to three minutes, but everything looks right, luv."

You didn't want to be here.

The second line appears.

You don’t fully remember what happens after that. You think you started screaming.

There are multiple people in the house.

Heavy footsteps move through John’s home, but never outside the door of his room, where you’re still in bed. You try and will yourself back to sleep, to control your breathing as you curl up tightly around yourself. You can hear John’s voice, two — no, three others, chatting somewhat idly as they move around. You hadn’t thought this was a rescue but the reality that it wasn’t leaves you feeling exhausted.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep.

When you wake up again, John’s back in bed with you, pawing gently at your breasts from atop your pajama top. A strange scent is in the air but when he orders you to go back to bed, you don't fight him.

You're able to walk unattended, and what does it say that you asked John to put extra honey in your tea.

The door to the room that had been your office is ajar. Your curiosity gets the best of you, or maybe it’s a nostalgic hope of the cozy home you’d made for yourself when you’d been married, seeing the warm teal walls that had reminded you of your honeymoon in Seville, the lovely built-in bookshelf that had taken your breath away when John had shown you for the first time. A different time to soothe the tumultuous slurry inside of you at your current circumstances.

You nudge the door open further before slipping inside, careful to not make a noise.

Any hopes of comfort die as a chill settles through you.

The walls have been repainted a soft lavender. A beautiful dark wood crib is slotted against the opposite wall of the shelves, already lined with the books you and Neil had made a list of wanting to read to your baby, books that parent bloggers swore by as essential for early childhood development. A rocking chair is settled in the corner like it had always been there. Bile is rising in your throat and you force it back down.

Turning to flee brings you straight into a barrel chest, warm hands steadying you so you don’t lose your footing as he turns you back around, slotting himself behind you like he belongs there. You feel like a marionette with its strings cut and John keeps you grounded, against him, despite your wishes.

“Wanted to make sure the surprise wasn’t ruined beforehand, but it’s just what you wanted, innit?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, as he raises your right hand. And you drop your gaze to watch with a dull curiosity. Anything to look away from the nursery of your dreams.

The ring slid onto your finger is familiar. His grandmother’s. You’d worn it every day of your marriage and given back without a fuss with your divorce. On a lower prong, blood was dried in the crease.

“John, I’m — I’m already married…” but the words are hallow, small even to yourself as he wraps himself around you.

He hums, amusement high as his mustache tickles the sensitive skin on your temples, lips tenderly following. “Of course you are. You’re my wife, and we’re finally gonna start our family, just like you wanted.”

Tears slip free from your eyes as you swallow down your scream.

His heavy hands settle low on your belly, firm but gentle as he nuzzles against the crown of your head. “I know, luv, I know, ‘m sorry it took me so long to realize you were right all along. Now that you’re home we won’t waste any more time. You ‘n’ me ‘n’ baby makes three.”

[mushroomnoodlez]

Does Prismo knows about Simon's pregnancy? If do, what was his reaction to it?

sure does!

cw/tw for sfw and non fetish mpreg. also simon is choking

turns out it wasnt a dream after all.

[bunny-jpeg]

vegetable patch

hybrid!simon 'ghost' riley

cw: hybrid!au, pwp/smut, breeding, guard dog!simon, bunny!reader, dub-con, outdoor sex

a word from bunny: happy easter! if you like the fic, suggest your own! if you really like the fic, leave a comment! reblogs are always appreciated!

part. 2

what you knew about price's farm was that it had the most lovely heads of lettuce you've ever seen. you also knew that he had two guard dogs who made sure bunnies like you didn't get into the vegetable patch.

but what the farmer grew was much nicer than whatever you could find in the forest. so it was worth it to slip through the fence to get to the bounty of vegetables.

farmer price had two guard dog hybrids. john, also known as soap. and simon, also known as ghost. while john had a louder bark, simon was the one to watch out for.

you had slipped through the fence and kept an eye out for the dogs. with careful steps you did you best to not make footprints in the dirt. you kept your ears low to your head to keep you from being spotted.

"bunny." you heard, a low rumbled of a voice. you looked over and saw the blond. his arms across his chest and his dark eyes gazing down at you.

you swallowed, "hello." you tried to take a step away from him. but ended up face first in the dirt as you tripped over a head of lettuce. you whimpered.

he chuckled, "i can't have you be eatin' that. it's not yours."

you looked up at him, your ears low as you frowned, "you can at least share." but made a sharp noise when simon invaded your space.

he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, "it'll cost ya." he said in a low voice.

the guard dog had the luxury of clothes, while you were naked. you tried to squirm out of his grasp but you felt his erection up against your ass. he grunted when you accidentally rubbed yourself up against him.

"stay still, bunny." he said as he pushed your further into the dirt, "be good, or i'll have your throat between my teeth."

you whimpered as he got himself undressed. your ears laid flat against your hear out of fear as you felt him push his cock into you. he had you pinned to the dirt as he started to rut against you.

his cock felt huge and like it took up the entirety of your pussy. you moaned and whimpered, your tail twitched as you felt him move his heavy cock in and out of you.

"good little bunny." he growled as he continued to thrust.

you had no defense mechanism, you were a bunny! you felt his heavy balls slap against your ass as he moved. you tried to grip onto him but he kept you under his larger body.

"sweet little bunny." he purred, "perfect for me." his cock throbbed inside of you as you pushed back against him to meet his thrusts.

your head felt like a blur as he fucked you. your back arched as you felt the pleasure in your body from his heavy thrusts. your face was pressed into the soil as he feverishly moved against you.

his cock felt like it was up in your womb, hitting the edge of it. you panted and whimpered like a good bunny and let the dog hybrid pump you full of hot seed.

your pussy clenched around his length and you squirmed a little underneath him. he grumbled something that you didn't pick up but knew it didn't sound good. so you laid there limp to let him do what he wanted.

he gave you a little bit of praise for being such a good girl for him, such a sweet wholesome bunny to let him use your pussy like that. maybe that would teach you not to be sniffing around vegetable patches again.

"ah, please!" you whimpered

"i love the sound of your struggle, bunny." he let go of one of your wrists and tugged on your ears for a moment.

he pulled them back like reigns on a sled and used it as leverage to thrust deeper into of you. you whined and moaned from the feeling as he pushed as deep as he could get inside of you.

it felt like his cock was in your stomach.

it wasn't long before simon's pace started to stutter, you whined into the dirt and arched your back further. you felt sore but yearned for his cock. with another hard thrust, he shoved his cock as far as it would go and finished inside of you.

your mind went blank afterwards.

but soon your heard, "simon what in the hell" farmer price sighed as he saw you in a heap in the soil with your ass up and your little cottontail in the air.

simon looked almost proud of himself as he licked your cum-filled pussy. his hands on the back of your thighs. he then looked to his owner as his tail wagged.

the farmer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "i guess we're keepin' a bunny then." then got off the porch to see the damage the hybrid had done.

you moaned a little when simon got ready to fuck you once more. your little tail wiggled at the anticipation. you moaned when he slid his cock in once more.

price grumbled to himself, "jesus christ, simon. at least get the girl inside the house!"

-

months later you'd find yourself curled up with the guard dog in front of the television on the floor. your belly had filled out with pups, something that left simon quite protective of you. you lived a lavish life for a bunny who was out in the woods.

But now you were inside the house, and you got all the lettuce you wanted. <3

part. 2

[kabr0ztrousers]

if you're taking requests then how about pregnancy and tentacles together? the darker, the better

Ask and you shall receive, dear Anon! Hope this scratches your itch, and serves as a beacon to the rest of you wallflowers. I don't bite, and I don't judge. I just write porn

Kabr0z Writes episode 21: The Lake

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes Anthology here!

CWs: tentacles; impregnation; noncon; dubcon; emeto; all-the-way-through; kidnap;

####################################

The lake was always beautiful this time of year. The late-June sunset casting the forest in gold. Plus, with the closest other person an hour's drive away, you didn't even need a swimsuit. There was that one time a hiker nearly caught you, but that was pretty hot so you're not about to complain.

You slipped out of your clothes, and slipped into the cool water. It wasn't a long swim until the water was too deep to reach the bottom. Nothing but dark water below, nothing but sky above. Watching the sunset, floating on your back was always one of your favourite things to do this time of year.

Something brushed against you, probably a plant.

You went back to lounging in the fading light, allowing yourself to drift further to the centre of the lake. You didn't think anything of it until you started to tangle up. Not a big deal, you thought, it's hardly the first time you've had a foot get stuck. You reached down, damn this plant was tenacious. And thick. And had... Suckers?

The fuck?

Another tendril grabbed your wrist. This might not be a plant, after all.

It pulled you under.

The water blurred your vision, but you could still see the great coming up from the depths. Pulling you down. It didn't matter how much you pulled on the tentacles on your wrist or your ankle, the grip was too strong. Your lungs were burning. The surface getting further and further away.

Your vision went dark.

When you awoke, you were in a cave. Luminous lichen clinging to the walls, that's probably how there's air in here. Shallow pools of water dotted the room, reflecting the pale light. Something moved in the corner of your vision. You turned to look. Too late.

Tentacles shot out at you, grabbing your wrists, your ankles, around your waist. The suckers holding fast to your skin. You twisted and turned, to no avail. Every move allowed more limbs to grab at you, further limiting your movement.

More approached you, moving slowly now. Your legs were forced open as they went for your crotch. The first pushed in at your ass, slimy and dextrous. You screamed and thrashed, pulling in vain as the thick tentacle entered you. You could feel every one of the suckers as they pushed through your tight hole and as the limb fucked its way deeper and deeper.

Another went for your pussy, the assault on your asshole had got you wet and ready, even as you willed yourself to resist it. It slid in without a fight, filling you up immediately before exploring the inside of you. Suckers stimulating your clit as it stuffed more and more of itself into you, bringing you to a screaming, tearful orgasm. Your body was betraying you, quivering and bucking against the relentless thing pushing inside you.

The one in your ass wasn't stopping. You could feel it squirming around, emboldened by the movement and your screams of orgasm and horror. You could feel it pushing until it reached your stomach, then onwards.

It was coming up your throat.

You retched. Your gag reflex being triggered from the other end. Your pussy clamping down on its occupant as the one now in your throat was making its way up to your mouth, then poked out. It looked almost like a tongue, lewdly extended, end lolling in time with the other tentacle fucking you.

You couldn't scream now. It was all you could do to sneak air past the protuberance in your throat as it moved around in you.

The movement stopped. The tentacles tensed up inside you, then started to throb, getting wider. Your vision started to darken again as you felt fluid course through them. The one coming out of your mouth started spurting a thick, strong smelling liquid over you. You could feel the other one filling your cunt. Only one thing smelled like that. It was filling you with cum. Obscene quantities of it poured out onto your skin and into your womb. You could almost feel it knocking you up as darkness took over and it withdrew itself from you.

You don't know how long you've been here.

Trying to swim out just ends with those tentacles grabbing you and fucking you until you pass out again, plugging your throat so you don't drown. The water is drinkable, if a little stagnant. The lichen is edible, though the less said about its flavour the better.

The only way to know the passage of time is your belly, swollen and heavy from the beasts young growing inside you. You can feel it in your thoughts, trying to keep you here. Keep you from trying to escape.

It wants you to stay here and mother its children

Forever

[daddyfromhell23]

You think you're a boy? a short story (Detrans, breeding)

You poor, confused little thing. You thought you could play at boyish charm and pretend to be one long enough. Sobbing “no” like it means something... but your hips betray you, grinding against me as I force orgasms from your pathetic form, humililating you to a worthless cum-dump. I just continue fucking you raw, filling your womb until it does it's natural duty, every drop a reminder of the consent you gave me to ruin you. Your whimpers just make me want to breed you harder, until you’re nothing but my claimed mess. You're going to make a great mom, love ♡

[i-like-loserz]

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), needy/whiny!san, cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

[bunny-jpeg]

the father who stepped up

cw: age gap, step-cest, dub-con, forced impregnation, breeding, daddy kink, degradation, graves sucks as a step-father, dead dove-don't eat

well, weren't you just a beauty? graves could understand why he simply couldn't control himself around you. it was an obsession. that was why he hated when you left for the new school year. summer was coming to an end, which meant he didn't see you for many weeks while you were out of town for school. it honestly broke his heart.

he didn't hate your mother, after all he did marry her. but he wanted a newer model. and that was where you came in. at home for the summer. it started out slow, when your mother was out of the house he'd put kisses all over you. then he groped your breasts and ass. until finally you crumbled into him.

then the true fun began. almost every night in your childhood bedroom he rammed his hard cock into you. he watched your breasts bounce with the force of his fucking. he often had to put a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud.

you weren't even in your mid-twenties and he was having thoughts about leaving your mother and marrying you. he hoped by that point you had a sweet little belly. a sign that he was the only man who ever got to seed you. the thoughts raced in his mind often, even when he wasn't fucking you into the double mattress.

he hated that you had to leave soon, but if anything it made him want to get you pregnant faster. his voice was a low purr in your ear as he said, "you like that, sugar? you like when daddy fucks you nice and good?" then gave you a hard slap on the ass. the house was empty expect for the two of you.

he currently had you on your elbows and knees with your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air. your tight heat was constricting his cock while made him feel hot all over. he got rougher when he was drinking, the drive to impregnate his step-daughter only became more intense after a few drinks in him.

and after all, you two were home alone so he could finish in you as many times as he wanted or needed. you were on cloud nine with the feeling of his cock stretching your more intimate area in a position that left you vulnerable to pregnancy.

"yeah, daddy wants a full house. and you got a lot of time left to give me all the kids i want. leave school and be my bride, sweetheart." he purred.

you whimpered, "I can't, it's my last year." you wiggled a little but it only enticed him more. you moaned into the covers and arched your back further as he got more aggressive with his thrusts.

he yanked your hair and pulled your head up, he leaned forward to your ear and said, "see, that's the problem. you don't get a say. you're mine, and nothing is going to stop me from breeding that sweet little cunt of yours." he said matter of factly.

you gripped onto the covers and felt butterflies in your stomach. the bed creaked with each of his movements and his heavy breathing was hot in your ear.

he chuckled and gripped your strands closer to the scalp, "you're mine, and once biology works its magic and you end up saddled with a few of my kids you'll see it my way. this is better for you than any degree." he then pushed your head back into the pillow and kept you there by your neck as he continued to ram his cock into you.

it felt like heaven, like the sweetest euphoria he could ever have. he never had it when he fucked your mother. only your sweet pussy left him yearning for more. he knew he'd still want it, even after a little wear and tear from having his big babies.

he continued to thrust in and out of you. he held you down and had his way with you. he was glad you were slowly seeing the picture. he let go of your neck, assured you were going to stay down and his hand trailed along your stomach.

he got aroused further by the idea of you being the most perfect wife for him. he'd cut up your credit card, burn all your shoes and keep that belly nice and full. you only had to rely on him. he was a traditional man and he'd take care of what was his. most times he would consider himself a gentleman, but it was hard to argue for it when he has your back arched and your pussy full. his cock bullied your cervix.

you whimpered and moaned, you clawed at the bed as it hit against the wall. such a sweet symphony. graves' cock twitched inside of you at the idea of you wearing his shirts to cover your swollen middle.

in all fairness you could be nude in your shared home, no one would see you. there wouldn't be a neighbor for miles. whatever his little wife felt comfortable in.

with a few more hard thrusts he finished inside of you, then laid his chest against your back, smothering you. he reached for your pussy and played with your clit as your hole contracted around his still hard cock.

you flailed and tried to move away but he kept you pinned down as he placed with your nub. eventually orgasm crashed down on you like rain and your felt a moan be pulled from your mouth before you felt the energy leave you.

you laid on the bed, soft and limp. but graves wasn't done. your mother would be home in an hour, he thought he could get at least two more orgasms in before he felt content with his breeding.

he slapped your ass once more and growled in your ear, "look alive, sugar, i ain't done with you."

-

you came back that winter break with a slight slope in your belly. all graves could do was smile by the rim of his scotch glass. he could feel the twitch in his pants, especially when your hand went to the bump. he knew, no words needed to be spoken.

he had planted his seed in his step-daughter, and soon he'll suggest that you take some time off school to raise that little baby. after all his brats weren't going to be raised without a mother.

xoxo, bunny

[kabr0ztrousers]

a fem!reader getting captured in a cave by a well endowed male lamia (with two cocks of course), using his immense strength to keep her bound up while he uses her like a fleshlight for who knows how long (it’s real dark in the cave so when she’s drifting in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion, she has no way of knowing how much time has passed)

Kabr0z Writes Episode 75: Snakes in a Cave

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; breeding; kidnap; imprisonment; bondage; intox; envenomation; impregnation

A/N: You mightn't have thought this was going to be yesterday's bonus, but has been giving me such difficulty!

##########################################

You'd never been caving before. You much preferred the open sky above you, but your friends had managed to cajole you into following them to their subterranean hobby. Of course, when your body includes seven feet of undulating tail dragging behind you, getting gear that fits is a bit of a pain. Nevertheless, they managed and so you descended with them. Headlamp and helmet strapped tightly under your chin, you negotiated your long, sinusoidal body down the narrow cave. It felt a shame to hide your emerald scales from the sunlight, but your body was well adapted for the dark tunnels under the earth.

You remembered stories your grandmother told you as a girl, how hundreds of years ago Nagas ruled the caves beneath mankind, first emerging some decades after magic started returning to the surface, joining the minotaurs, the catmen, and the werewolves. It fed into the stories everyone learns at school; one part myth, one part history, detailing the first appearances of what modern society would refer to as "variants" - though the term encompasses everyone with human intellect but not-entirely-human physiology, an umbrella so large as to be functionally useless.

You were last into the cave, your tail made it almost impractical for anyone to follow you. Thankfully, you're a strong climber as it turns out. Your body moved so easily through the caves it was hard not to believe this is what you were built for. You slid this way and that, following the man in front of you.

You yelped. A spider the size of your open hand had shot between you and your friend. It only took a moment to carry on its way, but it was long enough that you lost sight of the boots in front of you as they disappeared into the gloom. You listened out, able to hear the scrambling men in front of you. Following on was simple enough, right? You sure hoped so as you slithered on, flat chest held against the rockface as you slid through gaps just wide enough to fit through, the cold rock pressing in to you on both sides.

It never occurred to you that the men you were supposedly following were both quite substantially broader than you, nor how they said they were following an introductory route, with no tight squeezes. This became all too clear when the tunnel spat you out into a wider opening, tumbling down to the bottom of a cavern. You landed on your back, tail lay out, staring at the hole in the ceiling that dropped you here.

You looked around, the cave walls were bare. The only light was coming from your headlamp, anemic and yellow-tinged. You got up, slowly moving around the perimeter of the room. There were a couple of ways onwards from here, but you felt it's a better idea to stay put. The thought of being lost down here chilled you, even more than the cool stone under you. Hopefully staying put and not getting more lost would help.

You gave up staring down the crevice, turning back to the centre of the room.

You screamed.

A naga stood at the other end of the room. Tall and pale, his wide eyes milky white, forked tongue tasting the air. He could sense you, even without sight, sliding towards you, in no hurry to close the gap. You tried to squeeze into then gap, making a little progress before he grabbed your tail, yanking you backwards as your nails scraped the sides. Inch by inch you slid back into the cavern. The pale serpent gripped you tight, claws digging in to you. He drew you into his grasp, wrapping you in his tail as you struggled in vain against the muscular body intertwining yours. He bit your shoulder, cold numbness radiating from the site as his paralytic venom took hold. Your arm went to sleep, then your neck started to ache, followed by the other arm, then your tail began to shut down, losing control over its movements as the toxin shut down your motor neurons. You felt the naga holding you, almost gently as he wrapped himself tighter around your body.

He was stripping off your clothes, little by little, starting by revealing your body, then the form-fitting skirt around your hips, revealing your genital slit as the twin shafts of his cock stood to meet it.

His hand strayed to your slit, gently parting the lips, testing the supple flesh within. Was it the venom making you wet? You hoped so. Either way, you could feel him pressing two fingers into you with ease, rubbing your moisture around your opening, readying you for him. His body moved around yours, pressing the double-shafted cock against you.

The shafts slid into your welcoming body, fitting like a jigsaw piece. You gasped a little as it filled you, better than your baseliner boyfriend ever could, the twin shafts finding their marks inside you. Just because your body wasn't listening to you, didn't mean it wasn't sending sensation back. You felt every inch of the ribbed, tapering hemipene as he gyrated next to you, sliding it in and out, unhurried in all things. You aren't going anywhere, after all.

His cocks felt amazing, pressing and probing in ways you'd never felt before. It was like you were made for him. Your eyes rolled in your head, your tail twitching as you approached your peak, cunt squeezing against him as you came around him. You felt his cocks spasm inside, starting to fill you with his seed. He bit you again, more venom flowing into your body, knocking you out.

You woke up, he was still around you, soft cocks still inside you. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but only succeeded in waking the sleeping snake. He dosed you again with his fangs, needling into the meat of your shoulder again as the familiar numbness took you again. Again, he started slowly thrusting in and out, picking up speed at the grunts and moans that escaped you as your breath caught and your body responded to his. Again, you spasmed and shook as orgasm took you over, milking him into you as he gave you more of his venom, putting you out for another spell.

Again and again the cycle repeated, each time you woke he'd stir again, or already be midway through having his way with you. The light on your helmet long since went out.

Every so often he wouldn't be there when you woke, only to return some hours later with some variety of rat or other cave-dwelling rodent he'd swallow down, before tossing the other paralysed creature to you. Eventually he stopped biting you before having his way. Eventually you started to let him.

And so time went on, fucktoy for a blind, almost feral naga. You could feel the eggs moving inside you, fertile with your brood.

This is your life now

########################################

Yeah, yeah, this should've gone up like 7 hours ago, but I literally fell asleep after finishing it

Expect tonight's episode tonight, I guess?

[daddyfromhell23]

I'm a lesbian but I can't stop thinking about dick. I thought that it's just because I'm a virgin so I want strap but everytime I put fingers in me or makeshift dildos I just feel so pathetic and I just want to feel something real in me and it hurts so much. But I'm not emotionally attracted to men and I just feel like something's really wrong with me.

There's nothing wrong with you. You just need to get the gold star fucked out of you. Someone to just bend you over and remind you what you were made for. Reminding you it's not wrong to deny yourself of pleasure. Making you realize how your own body finally reacts to a real cock. You don't have to love men. Hell, you don't have to even like them. You just need to get fucked by them. That'll fix the little itch in your virgin cunt. And once you're bred, you're never going to go back.

[konigsblog]

Forceful breeding with Perv!König (🌽 link)

CW; FORCED IMPREGNATION, BREEDING KINK, NON-CON/DUB-CON, AFAB!F!READER — MDNI 18+

König is looking out for himself. His oma and his mother are desperate for some children from König and have been pestering König as he ages. All könig thinks about is the soft giggles of a little baby, to hold his own child in his arms protectively, to care and look out for them like a father should.

Although, you're fearful of pregnancy. All the side effects and complications, the things that could possibly go wrong. Shame fills him when he thinks about what he could do to convince you, or get you pregnant, whether it was a consensual and conscious decision or not. König admires your drunken facial expressions, the smell of booze assaulting his nostrils when he takes in a deep breath beside you. Guilt leaves him conflicted, but inevitably, he chooses to take you. König knows it's wrong, but he wants it too much to bear.

You're too weak to fight against König, who quickly manhandles you into a position where you're vulnerable and powerless and unable to fight back. Even if you tried, your attempts would lead to wasted energy as König carries out with his sickening, distributing acts despite your pleas, all caused by his perversity, selfishness and corrupted perception of love. You don't react, or at least not until König is shoving himself inside to get this over and done with. The sound of your pained cries pulls at his heartstrings, but regardless, he ploughs into you with your legs pulled over his shoulders and your hands pinned to your sides, held in a fist as you dig your nails into your palms, choking on your sounds and sobs.

“I know, I know, it hurts, doesn't it? You're doing so, so well. You know this will benefit both of us, right? Just- a little bit longer, Suße...” He grunts out, working towards that desired release he's been dreaming about all day.

The impact of his hung balls slapping against your ass is excruciating. Your body contorts and trembles as you attempt to wriggle your way out of his firm grasp, useless as König begins to lean further into you, pushing all of his weight down onto you to slam into your ass. You gag at the feeling of König hitting deeper than before, right against your bruised cervix. It's obvious that König wants this, and he'll make sure not a drop leaves your hole.

Just think about how happy his mother will be, the excitement on his oma's face and the presents they'll bring you, little lamb...

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Prostitute Omega Reader Request

Male Alpha Yandere x Male Omega Reader CW: Noncon, kidnapping, anti-omega sexism/bigotry, drugging, knotting, breeding, biting, knotting, prostitution, general yandere behavior Word Count: 468 (A bit rushed and not my best work but it was a free request for an anon. Hope a few of y'all still like it.)

Your boss, Alek, was a bigot. He did not think omegas belonged in the workplace. No, as far as he was concerned an omega’s place was bouncing on an alpha’s knot or at home cleaning and raising the children. Safe and locked away except when their alpha wanted their company in public.

Unfortunately for you, you were an omega. But that was okay, you were a bit large for an omega male and you could even pass for a slightly smaller alpha. With some false scent patches you passed perfectly.

There were laws against discrimination against someone but they were pretty loosely enforced, especially against alphas. Society was changing, but it was a very slow change.

But as long as you could hide your omega qualities you were safe.

Your job didn’t really pay enough so you moonlighted as a prostitute. It was thrilling and you loved all the cock. You were always careful, keeping to a few trustworthy clients and horny friends who wanted to bang one out.

You recorded everything to your onlyfans so it all seemed like regular porn production. Between OF and your clients you made a decent supplement to your income. You didn’t need to hide being an omega since it was all private.

Or so you thought.

Someone had found it and sent a link to your boss.

The next day you were asked to report to Alek’s office at the end of the day.

You stepped in but he wasn’t at his desk. Suddenly muscled arms grabbed you from behind and put a rag over your face.

When you came to you were being fucked brutally, Alek staring down at you as he pounded into your slicked up ass.

“No more of that whore shit.”

You were still woozy from the drugging and couldn’t speak or do anything to resist.

You could only lay down and take it as he forced orgasm after orgasm from your weakened body.

“You’re mine now. Gonna knock up that womb. That’s what it’s made for. Made for me. Dumb bitch thinking you can pretend to be an alpha.”

He pounded you harder and faster with what was likely the largest cock you had ever taken, making you moan weakly under your breath.

“You’re going to have my kids, be my mate, be an honest omega for me.”

He bit you hard as he filled your insides with potent alpha spunk. If you hadn’t been dizzy from being drugged then you would be now from his pheromones.

His red hair tickled your neck as he nuzzled into it, affectionately licking the bite he had just given you.

His knot tied him to you, ensuring his seed would impregnate you.

Alek would have his way and there was nothing an omega like you could do about it.  

[tiramissyoucake]

Thinking of sinister Mark with a breeding kink, he’s so abrasive and rough what would that even look like ? Love your work. 💕

-🌻 anon 😭😭

Oh ya'll want that GROSS SHIT, I get it. Also may have gotten too into Sinister straight calling reader bitch😭

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI

CW: piv seggs, fem reader, breeding, cumming inside, mark sucks readers tongue at one point, a lot of 'bitch' usage, making you a mommy mention, mentions of breeding, pregnancy, daddy mention, not proof read

Another day, another night with your usual intruder. Mark had solidified himself as a nuisance in your life. At first, when you were still terrified of him, you thought you could fight him off; repulse him somehow, the worse that could happen is death. Now, you realise that Mark had grown... attached to you, in the same way a person comes back to feed a stray animal every once in a while.

You learned the hard way that not a lot of people said 'no' to him and he's used to getting whatever he wants, either with approval or to force you into submission. Nights where he'd want nothing but you were the worst, you're the one who had to be prepared, the one night he felt like fucking you- you forgot to take a pill or prepare a condom.

"Are you TRYING to get pregnant?" He grinned, clutching your jaw in his hand and jerking your head closer to him. "No pill, no condoms, you got too comfy sucking my dick the last few times, huh?"

Your jaw hurt, your gaze was hateful, but downturned, you knew better than to give him attitude. He cooed at you like you were a little animal in an unfortunate trap. "Y'know what that means, hmm?" That your jaw would hurt in the morning with your throat after he'd suffocate you with his cum? You were too familiar.

"... I'll.. get on my knees." You mumbled. Your tone of defeat made him harder than he already was. "Oooh, baby... as much as I love how much of a good slut you're being, no."

His hands clutched your shoulders and pinned you down to the bed, tugging your thighs so his groin was situated against your clothed pussy, the flimsy fabric of your panties barely providing any protection. "It just means we'll give this babies thing a try."

Eyes shooting wide open, you protested as he gripped your panties with both hands from two ends and ripped them apart. "Wait! Mark— please, I'm sure there's a condom or two, just let me-"

"Shut the fuck up, God." He huffed as he jerked his pants below his hips, hissing as his cock finally was freed, throbbing and excited at the idea of impregnating you. "All you do is complain and whine, be grateful you're getting some good dick." He stated it like it's a fact.

Whenever he kissed you, he always had a hand around your throat, it was always messy. He let's out a grown as he runs the tip of his cock up and down your folds with his free hand, pre-cum smearing and mixing with your wetness "Mmf- you're wet." He grins against your lips. "I think you want it, dirty bitch." He chuckled, biting your bottom lip.

He kissed you once more, swallowing your moan as he pushed his cock in, a groan reverberating from him as your pussy accepted him so quickly, he parted from your lips as he licked his own, his hands caging your head as he readjusted himself on his knees.

After making sure to push his cock as deep as he could, bottoming out. He pulled back and thrusted just as quickly. Again. And again. And again. Until he was sure he'd bottom out with every thrust. "Feel that? You like how deep my cock hits?" He coaxed, watching you whimper and shut your eyes tightly. "Can't stand the fact that this pussy wants my cum, huh? Open, c'mon slut..."

His hand swatted your thighs harshly, prompting you to obey him as his hips pistoned onto you, a harsh repetitive 'plap!' Echoing between the sheets as he relished in the feeling of your pussy, fucking you raw was the best. "C'mon, you nasty bitch.. take it.. you wanna be a mommy?" he encouraged you with a hard thrust, prompting a gasp from you.

"Oooh, felt you tighten." Mark noted with a hiss, tugging your hips impossibly close, your cunt sucking in his dick so desperately, wetness forming a creamy ring around him. "You like that, bitch? Want me to make you a mommy? Want my babies inside you?" His free hand clutched your jaw once more, slotting his mouth against yours as his tongue easily pushed its way in, as if to rub salt into the wound- he had the gall to suck on your tongue when he pulled away.

You let out moans and gasps against your will, you knew it would only motivate him to fuck you harder but who could stay quiet under him? Mark fucks like he kills, brutally and for his enjoyment. Amidst his groans, you could see him bite his bottom lip harshly or pant like a man possessed. You could've sworn you saw him drooling at the sight of you and the feeling of your warmth enveloping his dick, you were his perfect idea of an unofficial housewife waiting to get fucked by her psycho husband.

He let out an animalistic grunt as he felt your body start to squirm, cunt tightening further. "You gonna cum already, bitch?" He chuckled, the tip of his dick hitting every spot so perfectly, you would've enjoyed it if he wasn't planning to pump you full. "Give it to me. C'mon, I'm gonna get you fucking pregnant, bitch...!"

Your hands gripped his wrists as he clutched your hips to manhandle you as he fucked you, pussy pulsing with every wave as your orgasm washed over you and they were only intensified by his thrusting. "Yeah, that's it.." he licked his licks. "Cream my dick, bitch. I'll give you my babies in a sec." He promised.

Mark groaned in annoyance, watching you squirm again, damn it, not when he was so close. He tilted your hips upwards, moving so his entire upper body enveloped you. "God, can you fucking relax? Mm!" He thrusted into you at a new angle as broken moans were forced out of you. "'M so fucking close, don't you dare ruin this for me." He grunted as his cock throbbed with a vile need.

"C'mon." His balls slapped against you with every harsh thrust, grinning from ear to ear at the leverage he's got over you. "Just a little more, 'm gonna breed you, daddy's gonna pump you full..!! Oh fuck!" He grounded his knees to the bed, his weight crushing you.

Desperately thrusting and chasing his release, he hissed through his teeth. "You better make me a daddy, you fucking whore." He gritted. "You wanna be a mommy, hm? Well here it is, bitch so fucking take it...! Take it—!!" He almost grinded his teeth together as he pumped you full of his essence, white, hot and in abundance. He swiveled his hips to push the sudden spits deeper into your womb, huffing as he groaned.

"Oooh... babymaking sex hits different, huh?" He grinned down at you. Your eyes had just begun to tear up from the onslaught of pleasure and rising discomfort from your filled pussy. "We should do this more often. Way more often."