woulddo-youwouldtoo

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

[monsters] Sweetheart

monsters x human!Reader Good to know: It's mostly panther rakshasa and goblin (separately), but there are some other monsters too. It's porn without plot; public sex, fingering, p in v, free use too (I'm not sure if it counts as one, but, hey, worth mentioning it).

Summary: The town loves you, and they are more than happy to show their appreciation.

Main Masterlist // More monsters on my Patreon

You are a ray of sunshine. A warm, golden light in a town that often seems caught halfway between memory and myth. Beloved. Bright. You are the first one to show up when needed, always armed with a kind word or a laugh that makes even the grumpiest crack a grin. Whether it's organizing something for Grimbrook or staying long after the others have gone home to clean up, you are there. Always there. Steady, dependable, and full of quiet joy.

You are the town's darling. Their lovely one. Their sweetheart.

And they do not hesitate to show it.

You are at the entrance of the pub. One of your hands is braced against the old door to keep it from slamming shut in front of you. The night air, smelling like approaching summer, is still fresh on your skin when the unmistakable bulk of one of the bikers steps into view. He looks like sin craved in leather and arrogance.

He is a mountain of smoke and swagger, grinning as he prowls towards you. "Darling," he croons. The velvety purr of his voice brushes over your skin, and before you can even catch your breath, a large, calloused hand cups your face. Its warmth floods you, and then, a second later, his mouth captures yours instantly, stealing the ground from under your feet. The kiss is easy and thoughtless. His tongue slides against yours, tasting and teasing, but just as your eyes flutter closed, the demon pulls away, his smile is smug and dangerous.

"Go on in," he says, nodding toward the pub as he keeps the door open for you. "Before I drag you home instead."

"You’re not staying?" you manage to ask, still blinking up at him, dazed and tingling all over.

"Not tonight," he replies, one leg already out of the door. "Have fun, though."

And just like that, he is gone, swallowed up by the night, leaving you under the dim buzz of bare bulbs and the heat of his kiss still burning on your lips.

Inside, the pub is alive with the easy thrum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. Familiar faces turn toward you, lighting up with welcoming smiles, and warm greetings trail in your wake as you weave through the tables while Vellar is already waiting for you at your usual spot at the bar.

The naga leans forward at your arrival, his hands splayed on the wooden surface of the counter. "Good to see you, Y/N," he says. "The usual?"

You nod, mirroring his smile. "Yes, please. How was the book club?"

"We missed you," Vellar replies warmly, reaching under the bar for a fresh glass. "I’ll get you a copy of the next read. Mrs. Ackers swears it’s the best detective story she’s ever laid her hands on."

"Better than Agatha Christie?" you ask, raising a playful brow.

The male chuckles, rich and easy. "I said the same thing."

You had invited Vellar to the library book club months ago after he had confessed how hard it was for him to make real friends. The pub offered plenty of fleeting company and pleasure, but connection? It's more difficult to build when you are new in town, and you wanted to help him.

"I mean, she is a vampire," you reason. "She probably knows things."

"Vampire? Who knows what?" Eva's voice cuts in as she slides up behind you. A tray is balanced effortlessly on one hand while her free arm wraps around your shoulders in a casual, affectionate hug. You grin at the vampire woman, then tilt your head just enough for her to press a lipstick-red kiss to your cheek.

"Mrs. Ackers," you explain.

Eva gives a nod. "Oh, she is old. She knows everything." And with that, before you can even think of an answer, she is on her way to the tables, leaving you with Vellar, but only just for a moment because a second later, a familiar figure slides into the space beside you.

Rust leans in, elbow brushing yours as he orders another round for his table, then turns to you with a grin already tugging at his lips. "How’s your little bicycle?"

You huff, pretending to be annoyed, but you can’t help smiling at him. "It’s fine. Thanks to you."

It was the goblin who had helped you a few days ago when your chain slipped. He grumbled the whole time but fixed it anyway.

"You know," he says, dropping his voice as he leans closer, "you’d look better on a real bike."

"Don’t listen to him, darling," a low hum slides in from behind you, and then a large hand wraps around your throat, firm but careful. Your breath catches deliciously as you are pulled back against a solid chest, Riel's body heat soaking into you. He tilts your head up and catches your mouth in a brief kiss that tastes like whiskey and smoke. "You look perfect on your bicycle."

Rust tuts at the half-orc's words while his hand tugs at the neckline of your dress. The fabric slips with ease, baring your breasts to the warm air and his hungry, and just as warm, gaze. "Imagine her in one of our jackets," he tells his friend, and without any hesitation, his mouth is on you, tongue curling, lips pulling, teeth scraping.

"Alright, alright, at least let her get her drink," Vellar cuts in, laughter threading through his voice while you sit caught between them with pleasure crackling along your spine.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pulling away from your nipple that shines with his saliva.

"Later, pretty girl," Riel sighs reluctantly, and when they leave, you can't help but sag against the bar, already dizzy and breathless.

Your dress is still slipping dangerously low, but you don't even bother fixing it. Instead, you grab your cocktail and hum with the straw between your lips. "It’s good. I bet Boss is glad he hired you."

And just like that-

"I heard my name."

"Oh hey," you chirp, twisting around to see the minotaur looming over you with a grin that is enough to make your knees weak all over again. "I just said you must be glad you hired Vellar. He makes the best drinks."

"Hey!" Eva yells from across the room, where an elven hand has already found its way under her skirt. "I heard that!"

Boss laughs. "The girls get distracted easily."

You hum, eyes skimming the crowd and catching a few women not-so-subtly eyeing Vellar like he is their next dessert. "Looks like Vellar’s got it good, too."

"No complaints," the naga chimes in with a wink a few steps away, cracking open another bottle.

Boss watches you for a few silent seconds before reaching out to cup your jaw. "Wish I could stay," he mutters while his thumb brushes over your swollen bottom lip, and your mouth opens just enough to let him slide the thick finger against your tongue.

"Then do." You pout when he pulls away, but he only presses a quick kiss to your lips, already regretting his decision.

"Paperwork," he explains. "Be good."

"You should hire someone," you call after him as he turns. "I could help with that!"

"I’ll think about it," Boss replies with one last glance over his shoulder.

And then, you are left there at the bar, drink in hand, throat kissed, tits still bare, and the ghost of half a dozen touches still tingling on your skin.

For a while, it's just you and Vellar at the bar. Well, whenever the naga has time for you while gliding up and down behind the counter, mixing drinks and handing them off with a nod, a wink, or, every now and again, a sly brush of his tail.

Drink in hand, lips still tingling from the earlier attention, you let your eyes roam over the slowly unraveling night. Rust has his waitress bent over a table. The wet slap of skin on skin is barely masked by the low thrum of music. On the other side of the room, Eva doesn’t even bother dragging her meal somewhere private. She just pulls the girl close with a purr, her fangs sinking into her neck while her fingers work in a restless rhythm between her partner's thighs. Even Vellar starts getting busier. One of the girls from the earlier group is now hanging over the bar, whispering filth into his ear, daring fingers trailing down his chest.

And there you are. Still perched on your stool, legs pressed together like it might keep your need at bay.

But it doesn’t.

By the time you catch the gleam of familiar amber eyes across the room, watching and waiting, you are already squirming in your seat, desperate for a familiar touch.

"Anar!" you call out, the ache in your core forgotten the moment you see him.

The rakshasa welcomes you with open arms when you reach his table, gathering you up and lifting you effortlessly into his lap. His muzzle buries against your neck and breathes you in like it’s been weeks. It probably has.

"Sweetheart," he rumbles. "Been too long." His big, warm paws roam your body, holding you close. His touch is hungry, skimming over your sides, your hips, brushing over your still-sensitive breasts with a teasing graze of his thumb that makes you shiver.

"Staying long?" you manage to ask, breath hitching as he circles your nipple.

"A few days," he murmurs, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. "You free tomorrow?"

You nod, nuzzling closer, your nose brushing the soft fur at his throat. "I have a new cake recipe. You’ll be my taste tester.”

He chuckles, and you can already imagine the lazy mornings, the way he will lounge in your kitchen and steal spoonfuls before they are ready. It's nothing new in your friendship. The back panther is a truck driver, always on the road, yet still visiting you whenever he is in town.

"Hey, love." A familiar rough voice cuts in, causing you to lift your head and grin at the wolf-shifter who is already palming his cock in one hand.

"Bessi," you laugh, still curled up on Anar’s lap but straightening to meet the wolf's heated gaze. "Couldn't find the right one?"

"No time," he says. His voice is barely more than a growl of need. "And you..." He gestures to his cock, already hard and pulsing in his grip. "You always take such good care of me."

There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, eager and unashamed, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Bessi’s hips stutter at the first hot, wet pull of your lips. His hand finds your hair, threading through it gently, guiding you but never forcing. He watches and groans deep in his chest as your tongue swirls and your cheeks hollow around him. The taste of salt and musk fills your mouth, thick and heavy, and you can't help but moan. The vibration running across his spine makes him shudder with another growl.

Behind you, Anar’s paws never still. He strokes your sides, your waist, one hand fondling your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he watches you pleasure the other male.

"She spoils you too, huh?" Anar rumbles.

"Fuck yes," Bessi pants, his grip tightening on you for a heartbeat. "Takes it like a fucking dream."

You hum around him, pride and lust mixing in your veins while your tongue traces the head of his erection.

"Can I-?" the shifter chokes out, raw and clearly on edge.

He only needs your nod and the press of your lips to spill into your mouth with a broken moan. His hips jerk helplessly as you swallow him down eagerly, enjoying every twitch of his cock on your tongue.

When you finally pull away, lips slick, Bessi leans down. He cups your cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb across your damp bottom lip, and steals a soft, lingering kiss.

"You're coming to the next horror night," he murmurs. "I'm not watching that trash without you."

"Heard it's so bad it’s good."

"Will text you about it tomorrow," the shifter says after one more kiss as a goodbye, leaving you cradled on Anar’s lap.

The rakshasa doesn't miss a beat. One paw stays splayed possessively over your chest, kneading and teasing, while the other slides lower, parting your thighs without ceremony. His touch is hot, sure, and greedy.

"What movie?" he asks, voice lazy against your ear.

"Remake," you pant, hips twitching as Anar’s fingers trace the damp outline of your panties. The thin fabric clings to your folds like a second skin, utterly soaked through. "Shitty one," you manage to add.

Anar's nose brushes along your neck, inhaling the scent of you, of sweat and sex and need. "You’re fucking soaked."

You nod, biting your lip to hold back a whimper as he drags two fingers up and down your slit through the drenched cloth. Your legs kick uselessly, followed by a desperate little wiggle of your hips as your body tries to chase his touch.

"You gonna let me fix that?" the male asks, nipping on the soft skin of your neck while your fingers rake through his thick, black fur wherever you can touch him.

"Please," you breathe, aching and impatient.

Anar hums approvingly, nosing at your temple as his fingers trail along the seam of your panties, pushing the fabric aside until he can press right into your dripping center. "Look at this mess," he croons. "Greedy little thing," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. "Always so sweet for me. Just the way I like you."

And then, he slides a thick finger inside.

The stretch punches a gasp out of you, your thighs clenching around his hand as he sinks deep with a delicious, unhurried pressure. You clutch at his arm, at his shirt, at anything you can grab as your body trembles.

"Gods," Anar groans into your ear, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit as he bottoms out. "Tight as ever. Like your sweet little cunt missed me."

Your walls flutter and pulse around him in answer, and he grins into your neck, dragging his rough tongue up the side of your throat like he is savoring every tiny tremor.

"She did, didn’t she?" he purrs.

You can’t answer. Not when he curls that finger just right, nudging against that spot that makes your toes curl and your vision blurs at the edges. Your body jerks on its own, hips grinding down on his hand, desperate.

"That's it, baby. Take it," he murmurs, slipping in a second finger with agonizing slowness.

Around you, the room sways and hums. Among the sounds of fucking and laughing, you are just another beautiful ruin lost in the noise.

"You hear yourself, sweetheart?" Anar growls. "Those filthy little sounds you're making... Fuck. I could sit here all night just listening to you fall apart for me." He scissors his fingers, opening you up while you tremble and moan in his arms, lost in your own pleasure and the restless rhythm of his thrust into your fluttering pussy. "And there it is," he chuckles. "That little twitch. You're gonna cum for me, aren’t you?" He curls and grinds mercilessly against your sweet spot, thumb circling your clit in tight, dizzying flicks.

"Yes-" Your orgasm shatters through you, making your hips buck wildly against his hand, riding every wave of release as you cry out while the panther holds you through it, murmuring low praise into your hair, coaxing every last pulse and flutter from your clenching cunt.

"That’s it," he purrs, kissing your flushed cheek, your ear, your temple. "That’s my good girl. So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me."

You sag back against him, and he eases his fingers out of your wet heat only to lick them clean, savoring your taste with a hum deep from his chest. "Tastes like heaven," he says. "Gonna need to get my mouth on you later, sweetheart. Properly." You shiver at the promise, but before you can even catch your breath, Anar’s attention flicks to the side. "But I think someone is waiting for his turn too."

You follow Anar’s gaze, breath still shaky, and find yourself locking eyes with the familiar figure of your goblin neighbor.

Barbatok sits comfortably just a few tables away. His lips glisten, wet with the taste of another woman, while the girl gets tugged away by a giggling friend.

“Come back when you’re done,” Anar murmurs into your ear before releasing you with a final squeeze to your ass. His fingers linger for just a second longer as he tugs your panties down on your legs, slipping the drenched fabric into his pocket without you even batting an eye. "I’ll take you home."

You nod, cheeks flushed, heart skipping as you slip from the panther's lap.

"Hey, darling," Barbatok greets you, hands already reaching to steady you as you climb into his lap. "Knew I’d see you tonight."

You grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle atop him, causing both of you to groan the moment your soaked heat drags against his cock. You roll your hips in a slow grind, teasing him and teasing yourself.

"Did you?" you purr, shifting just enough to feel the blunt head of him nudge against your entrance.

"Saw you in the garden the other day," he murmurs, one hand trailing up your spine, the other gripping your hip with rough, affectionate possession. "Those little shorts you had on... damn near dropped the watering can. Couldn’t take my eyes off that ass."

The goblin had come to Grimbrook after his divorce, quiet, reserved, and a little rough around the edges. You coaxed him open slowly, and you were the first to introduce him to Boss's bar.

With a sly smile, you slide your dress up, flashing him the slick, bare heat between your thighs. "Not shorts," you say, voice low and wicked, "but will this do?"

Barbatok's breath shudders out of him. "Always so fucking pretty for me," he groans, voice gravelly with want. His hand slides between your thighs, spreading you open while the other wraps around his cock, guiding you down onto him.

"Fuck," you both groan at once.

"Every damn time," he grits out, "feels like the first."

The room around you dissolves into a blurred hum of bodies and pleasure while your world narrows down to him. To the way his cock rubs every sensitive place inside you, and his hands map your body without pausing even for a second.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pants, slipping a hand between you to circle your clit with his thumb, rough and perfect.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders as you start to move faster, hips snapping down in quick, desperate rolls. Every thrust grinds your clit against the rough press of his finger, every bounce drives him deeper, hotter, harder inside you.

"That's it," he growls, deep and rough. "Just like that, ride me, sweetheart. Ride me nice and deep."

And you do, chasing the heat that coils tighter and tighter in your belly. The wet, filthy sounds of your cunt sucking him in echo between your bodies, drowned out only by the low, broken noises he drags from your throat.

"Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight," he groans, forehead pressed hard against yours. "Cum for me. Wanna feel you pulse around me. Wanna feel you make a mess on my cock. That’s it. That’s my good girl."

You nod frantically, tears stinging your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, your body frantic and greedy.

"Come on, baby," he pants, thrusting up into you, meeting every bounce with a hungry grind of his hips. "Wanna feel you soak me- Wanna feel you cum all over this cock. Give it to me."

And you fall.

Your second orgasm rips through you, brutal and breathtaking. Your whole body locks up before shuddering apart in pleasure. You sob his name into his skin as you clamp down on him, clenching and fluttering wildly around his cock.

"Fuck, that’s it," Barbatok groans, gripping your hips hard as he bucks up into you once, twice-

-and then he is cumming too, spilling deep inside you with a broken, wrecked sound muffled against your neck, his crooked nose brushing along the soft curve.

For a while, you cling to him while he holds you close. Satisfaction and exhaustion settle deep in your body, and you are sure that in a few minutes, you could fall asleep despite all the noises around you.

"Go home, sweet thing," he says eventually, voice low and coaxing. "Need me to walk you?"

You sigh, stretching a little, feeling the night catch up with you. When you stand up, his cock slips from your wet heat, and you feel his release trickle slowly down your thigh.

"No," you murmur with a sleepy smile. "Anar already offered."

Barbatok nods. "Good. Sweet dreams, darling."

"You too," you whisper, pressing a quick, genuine kiss to his lips before turning your attention back to the rakshasa already waiting for you.

He stands at his table, arms folded in front of his chest, and his golden eyes locked on you the whole time you find your way back to him.

As soon as you step into his space, he tugs you close, wrapping you into the warmth of his embrace. "Ready to go home?"

"Yes, please," you whisper, curling into him some more. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Booked a room already."

"You could stay with me," you offer. "I bought a new bed for my guestroom, I know it would do some good to you back."

Anar laughs, his arms tightening around you just slightly. "You are the sweetest fucking thing ever."

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

“You’re still open for me,” Caleb whispers, brushing his fingers between your thighs. His voice is so calm, so quiet — like he’s not watching his cum drip out of you and onto the sheets.

He spreads you lazily, thumb pressing right against your swollen entrance. “I didn’t even stretch you that long this time, sweetheart. You take me so easily now…”

You twitch when he slides in again without warning—your body already too sensitive, too full— and he kisses your shoulder like he’s soothing you, even as his cock presses impossibly deep.

“That’s it. Shh… I know, baby,” he coos, pace slow but brutal. “You’re shaking so much. You want me to stop?”

You don’t answer. Can’t answer. So he fucks into you again, harder.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmurs, nuzzling against your cheek. “You just want me to fill you up, hm?”

Your moans are broken now — high-pitched and helpless as he fucks you through it again, his hand warm on your stomach, pressing down just to feel himself inside you.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you, love,” he says softly. “And when it leaks out again, I’ll put it right back in. Over and over. Until it stays.”

His lips find yours—gentle, devoted—even while his thrusts grow messier, more desperate.

“You’ll look so pretty like that. All mine. All round and aching for me.”

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

*insane screams in the background*

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

Hehe cows

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

He can hold you and shake you

Tip jar

Don't tag your own ocs/characters thanks!

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

⤷How they react when you squirt for the first time

Caleb

You soak him mid-thrust—your slick gushing out suddenly, dripping between your thighs and down his stomach. Caleb stills for a moment, eyes locked on the mess pooling beneath you both, then lets out a sharp exhale like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Holy fuck… you just squirted all over my cock.” His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts up—deep and rough, chasing it again. "That’s it, baby. Make a mess. I want you to keep doing that—over and over until the whole bed’s drenched.” He thumbs your clit while he pounds into you, voice tight and desperate. “You can’t even stop now, can you? Look at you—so fucked out, still leaking. That’s mine. All of it. ”You squirt out suddenly around his fingers and he freezes, eyes locked between your legs, watching the flood of slick that coats his palm and thighs.

Rafayel

Then he smiles. Slowly. Darkly. “You’ve been holding out on me.” He pushes two fingers back in without warning, pressing against that same spongy spot, curling just right—and when you jolt from overstimulation, he laughs softly, voice syrup-smooth. “Aww, what’s wrong? Too much now?” “No, no. You’re not tapping out yet. Not when I just got to the good part.” He leans close, his forehead resting against yours as he whispers: “Be a good girl and squirt again for me. I want this whole room smelling like you.”

Xavier

You squirt mid-ride, and his entire body jerks—like it physically startled him, only to be followed by the dirtiest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “No fuckin’ way. You just made a goddamn mess.” He grabs your waist and starts fucking up into you from below, rough, wet slaps echoing in the room.“Soaked me, baby. Look at you—dripping, shaking, moaning like a fuckin’ pornstar.” He thumbs your clit with no mercy, lips brushing your ear: “We’re not done. I’m not stopping until you squirt again. And again. Let’s see how wrecked I can get you.”

Sylus

You squirt across his face the moment his tongue flattens against your clit, and he moans, messy and loud, as your slick covers his chin, lips, even his neck. He doesn’t move away. If anything, he grips your thighs tighter, licking through the mess like it’s his last meal. “Ohh, fuck yes… that’s it, pretty girl.” “So wet for me. You gonna do it again while I’m sucking on this sweet little pussy? ”He sucks your clit harder, tongue dragging in tight circles, fingers fucking into you from below. You’re twitching, whimpering—and he’s groaning like he’s in heaven. “C’mon, give it to me again. I wanna drown in it.”

Zayne

Your thighs jerk, body tight, and then your slick gushes out—warm and sudden, drenching his wrist and soaking the sheets beneath you. For a moment, Zayne goes still. His gaze drops to where his fingers are buried inside you, now coated and dripping. The soft sound of your breathing fills the room, ragged and ruined. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t flinch. He just stares, almost fascinated. “You lost control,” he murmurs. “Completely.” He slowly withdraws his hand, watching the slick stretch between your folds and his fingers. A quiet pause. Then he drags his fingers across your inner thigh, spreading the mess without a hint of shame, eyes never leaving your face. “So reactive. And yet you haven’t even reached your limits.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you with clinical slowness—not for show, but to commit the moment to memory. Then, without warning, he slides two fingers back in, deeper this time, curling with meticulous precision. “You’re going to do that again.” “I’ll make sure of it. His voice stays soft, composed—but the weight behind it is devastating. “Don’t hold back. I want everything.”

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

clark kent who… | size kink blurbs.

clark kent who accidentally bumps into you in the office hallway and immediately grips your waist to steady you—his hand nearly spanning your whole side—and says, “sorry, didn’t see you there,” even though you’re literally half his size.

clark kent who always hands you your coffee with his fingers brushing yours, making you feel how comically large his hands are compared to yours. one time, you wrapped both hands around his wrist just to feel the difference, and he stopped breathing.

clark kent who stands behind you during meetings, and when he leans down to whisper something, his voice rumbles in your chest and his body completely eclipses yours.

clark kent who always crouches a little when talking to you, murmuring things like “this better?” with a crooked smile, and you hate how flustered it makes you feel standing next to his massive frame.

clark kent who picks you up by the waist like it’s nothing—to move you out of the way, to set you on a counter, to carry you over puddles—and always murmurs, “you’re light as a feather,” like it’s your fault he’s built like a god.

clark kent who slips his jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold and doesn’t say a word when it falls to your knees, swallowing you whole. he just watches you wear it with this unreadable, hungry look in his eyes.

clark kent who brushes a hand down your back and spans your whole spine in one pass. you shiver. he feels it. “sorry,” he murmurs. “too much?”

clark kent who can’t help groaning the first time you palm him through his slacks, because your hand looks tiny on him and you’re barely covering half of what’s there. “sweetheart,” he pants, “you sure about this?”

clark kent who lifts you like a doll and sets you down on his bed, spreading your legs with those thick, calloused hands like he’s opening a present. “look at you,” he whispers. “so soft. so small.”

clark kent who holds your wrists above your head with one hand and uses the other to tease you until you’re gasping, squirming, begging—his voice wrecked as he says, “need both hands to touch me, but i only need one to ruin you.”

clark kent who goes down on you slow and reverent, holding your thighs open with ease while he eats like a man possessed. when you cry out, overwhelmed, he just groans, “let me. i can take it. i want all of you.”

clark kent who whispers, “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart,” as he stretches you open on his cock—thick and massive, taking everything in you not to break. “almost there, baby,” he coos, kissing your neck. “just a little more. you can take it. be good for me.”

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

Omg all the overstim in your sylus and raf works 😫🤤 makes me wonder if you have headcannons about how the other boys would be 🫣

can I make you lose your mind? (caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne)

♱⋅── nearly 7k of the lads boys just losing their minds (and their control) when it comes to you. art by @/osk_purinnumee on x

♱⋅── WARNINGS: mdni, overstimulation, oral, pussy drunk boys, daddy kink (caleb), bicep choking (caleb), "just the tip" (sylus), size kink (sylus), cunnilingus (xavier), Lemurian heat (rafayel), orgasm denial (rafayel), breeding kink (rafayel), slight exhibisionism (zayne)

Caleb ♱⋅ ── the bully

How could Caleb deny you? 

How could he when you come to him crying big crocodile tears, sobbing how no matter what you do you can’t seem to cum, how you think you must be broken, how no one would ever want such a hard-to-please woman in their bed. 

As if he hasn’t spent years watching you, waiting for you, knowing damn well that the problem isn’t you.

So of course Caleb, being such a kind and thoughtful gege, has to prove you wrong, right?

He does. Over. And over. And over again. That is, until you’re crying in overstimulation, writhing away from his punishing thrusts, clawing against the sheets as you try to run from the pleasure-turned-pain.

Or, tried to.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?”

You’re running? No, no you can’t run away, not when he’s already spent his entire fucking life chasing you. 

Caleb’s voice is teasing, raspy and sweet, but there’s nothing playful about the way his Evol surges to life with a mere crook of his finger, dragging you back along the mattress and pinning you down as he takes his sweet time crawling back to you. 

Trapped, your breath hitches as you feel the weight of him settle over you, his intimidating frame caging you in, tracing featherlight kisses along your spine in such a stark contrast to how ruthlessly he was fucking you earlier. His hands roam, slow and deliberate, kneading your ass as he repositions himself behind you.

"If I let you go," he murmurs, "you promise not to run?"

Run? Why did you even want to run? You can’t remember now, not as you viciously nodding your head as much as is allowed under the control of his Evol, already arching your back into his touch as Caleb nips and marks your sticky inner thighs. 

“Good girl.” The pressure disappears. 

Immediately, Caleb replaces it, his entire body pressing you down before you can so much as take a proper breath. His arm snakes around your throat, flexing just enough to remind you who’s in control, the bulging, thick mass of his bicep choking you deliciously when you attempt to squirm or beg.

He’s got you in a headlock, the rest of his corded body pressing down atop you until your chest is squished to the mattress, ass pressed against Caleb’s pelvis, the combined pressure enough for you to be seeing stars. A drooling, overstimulated mess.

It doesn’t help that he’s practically panting like a dog in your ear, whining as he already begins thrusting himself back into your cunt, delirious moans of your name and filthy praises cooed right into your ear, words barely distinguishable with how hard he’s breathing. 

“Aww p-poor thing.” Caleb pants, voice wrecked, whiny with need as he grinds himself against you. His pace is already brutal, his thrusts sharp and unforgiving, every desperate snap of his hips forcing a cry from your throat as his grip tightens, choking you deliciously every time you so much as try to squirm.“Can you be good for me? Be my sweet little girl and cum for daddy.”

It shouldn’t be hot, Caleb, your gege, calling himself daddy, it shouldn’t have you sobbing out an unintelligible plea as another orgasm builds, seizing up your body in tight, aching waves. And yet here you are, loosing your fucking mind at it.

“Please,” you gasp, voice muffled as you sink your teeth into his bicep, embarrassed by the desperate sound of your own voice. “Please, daddy.”

For the first time in thirty minutes, you feel Caleb stop. 

He’s frozen entirely, dick hot and throbbing with need within you, each shaky breath hitting your ear as he pressed down closer, flattening, suffocating you into the mattress as you feel the growl come from his throat. You can hear the way his lips curl into a grin. 

“You wanna say that again, princess?”

Whining, you try and arch your back further, wiggling your hips up as you try and bait Caleb into continuing, into giving you that release that was only just out of reach. But he wasn’t having any of that bratty attitude tonight. 

“Behave.” Caleb’s arm tightens, and your vision swims. ”I asked you a question. You need daddy to—ah shit you tightened, dirty girl— fuck you nice and full, hmm? Fuck you stupid?” 

A fresh wave of humiliation burns down your spine, but it doesn't matter. You’ll say whatever he wants if it means he moves, if it means he chokes you more, if it means he finally gives you what you need one more time. 

“Yes, m’close, please daddy! Please—ah—let me cum one more time.” 

Caleb just snaps.

His grip tightens instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it, enough to make your breath stutter, your body jolt like the sweet little thing you are under his grasp. His entire frame tenses above you, muscles coiling so tightly it’s like he’s holding himself together with sheer willpower alone. But it’s already slipping.

"Fucking," His voice breaks, dissolving into a strangled groan as he buries his face against your neck, breathing you in like a man starved. "Fuck that shouldn’t be so hot, it really shouldn’t—"

Like you haven't already wrecked him beyond repair.

Caleb’s Evol comes back full force, pushing you prone against the mattress so you can’t feel anything but him, the arm around your throat dropping so his hand can press against your belly instead, pinning you down as he fucks into you so deep, so hard, you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to smash onto yours, sloppy, desperate, sucking at your bottom lip as the two of you jolt with each thrust. 

"You have no fucking idea," Caleb laughs against your lips, the words a feverish, choked-out confession, "how long I've wanted to do this to you."

It’s almost like he’s hammering that truth into you, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin nearly drowned out by your own sobs of pleasure.

"Caleb—"

"Say it again," he demands, not even trying to keep his composure anymore. "Say it for me, princess. Say it like you mean it."

"Daddy—"

"Fuck."

Caleb really didn't need another kink, he really didn't need to imagine you calling him all these filthy things on top of every other sinful thing he's already imagined you doing. It must be divine punishment, because god was he into it.

Practically collapsing on top of you, Caleb's barely pulling out before grinding right back in as deep as he can get, like he can barely think to part from you even for a moment, like he needs to feel every twitch, every squeeze, every shudder of your overstimulated body. His hands roam wildly, equally greedy, kneading and groping every tender curve like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he’s claiming you in ways he’s never let himself before. And fuck, you’re close. 

Caleb notices, of course he notices, nibbling the shell of your ear as the arm around your throat tightens, the other going right back to abusing your clit as you squirt all over him with a scream. 

“Aw that’s it, keep cumming sweet thing.” Caleb’s voice is the only thing grounding you, your entire body, your vision trembling as you begin to lose consciousness. The only thing you can think of is Caleb. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!

You don’t even realize you’re screaming his name over and over again as you squirt down both of your thighs, making a mess against the already ruined sweat-slicked sheets beneath the two of you. You’re so damn messy. He loves it.

Convulsing, walls fluttering around him like you’re made for him, a sweet temptation Caleb is so laughably weak against as he follows, humping against you like a mad dog as his breath shatters into desperate, shaky moans of your name, spilling inside you with a force that has you sobbing with pleasure.

“Oh, princess,” he rasped, his tongue tracing over the tear-streaked path down your cheek before pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your jaw. “Shh, it’s alright, don’t cry. Your gege is here, your daddy will take good care of you, promise.”

Rafayel ♱⋅ ── the desperate

You’re going to have to call in sick for the week. 

Every year with the return of the tide, with the return of ebb-and-flow day, Rafayel becomes insatiable. You’ve barely been able to be able to escape Rafayel’s grasp for long enough to go to the bathroom, let alone escape enough from his insatiable fucking to walk well enough to fight. 

It’s never been this bad. And it’s all your fault. Being back in your arms after eight hundred years, finally remembering the way your voice sounds when it says his name and the way you fit oh so perfectly in his arms. It’s borderline painful to spend even a minute in your absence. His very body violently rejects the notion of it as spasms of violent heat and need drives him right back into your arms again and again and again. 

“Please, please let me fuck you. I can’t come like this, you know that.”

Rafayel’s voice is muffled against your thigh, breath hot as he presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. His hands are clenched into the sheets beside him, trembling with the effort of keeping them off you, as you ordered. It’s the only rule you’ve given him tonight, and yet it’s breaking him.

"Rafayel," you warn, fingers buried between your thighs, working yourself open as his desperate, pleading gaze follows your every movement.

He whimpers, nodding frantically, his cock throbbing angrily where it rests against the mattress, one hand coming back to violently fist the swollen head as it leaks all over his palm and sheets.  "I know, I know," his voice cracks as he drags his hand around its base, rutting into his own palm like it’s not enough, like it hasn’t been enough for hours now. "But please I—fuck—I can’t."

“You can.” You spread your legs wider, letting him see, letting him watch your fingers disappear into your fluttering cunt with a slick, wet sound that has his jaw going slack, his own hips grind into the bed helplessly.  “I told you what would happen if you forgot to use a condom, again.”

Rafayel’s eyes plead up into yours, big fat tears slipping down his cheeks, his head shaking against your leg as he kisses the trembling flesh. "You don't understand," he sobs, nuzzling into the crook of your knee like he can smell the orgasm building inside you, like he can taste it on his tongue already. “I need- I need—”

"You need to learn control, Rafayel." 

Your voice is less strict than you’d like it to be, already embarrassingly close considering all the times you’ve come earlier today. And the way Rafayel’s looking up at you, begging, pleading, is really not helping. 

Tilting your hips slightly, you circle your clit in a way that makes your eyes roll back, making sure he sees the way your poor cunt flutters all empty, the way your body clenches, desperate for something more, something bigger.

Rafayel groans, his grip on himself tightening. Still, it’s useless, his Lemurian biology physically won’t let him cum unless it’s inside his pretty little mate, his cock swollen and weeping with how much he’s holding back, the pleasure that spikes through him now nothing but a cruel, agonizing echo of the real thing.

"My love," he chokes, head falling back against the mattress, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe past the desperate hunger clawing at his insides. "My muse, my sweet darling, please. Taste you, touch you, anything, please!”

You hum, considering, rolling your hips against your own fingers as he moans, watching with wild, fevered eyes. "You wanna clean me up?"

"Yes."

The word is instant, sharp, like Rafayel’s been waiting for you to say it since the moment he first laid his hands on you tonight. Before you can even think of teasing or denying him any further, his grip snaps—both arms wrapping around your thighs, dragging you down the mattress in one swift, fluid motion.

"Rafayel—"

Too late.

His mouth is on you before you can protest, his tongue filthy as he sucks at your clit, licking up everything you’ve given yourself, drinking in the mess between your thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Slapping your own hands away, Rafayel pauses briefly to suck them clean before diving right back into the source, moaning into your cunt, making your body seize with another orgasm before you can even process the first.

"Fuck, fuck," Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, but it only makes him groan, rutting against the mattress, his own pleasure reigniting just from the taste of you. 

You try to pull away, squirming and kicking at Rafayel’s sides, his shoulders, but he doesn't even budge. His arms lock tight around your hips, keeping you there, keeping you spread for him as he eats you out like a man possessed. 

And then he's begging again, voice wrecked, slurred with delirious pleasure, licking at your clit between words as though he really can’t get enough.  “Please, please let me fuck you. I promise, mhm, promise I won’t cum inside you again.” 

Rafayel is still begging for permission even as he manhandles you beneath him, hesitantly parting with your cunt as he kisses up your stomach, sucking at one of your breasts as you feel the nudge of his cock against your entrance before you can even think. “Promise I’ll be good. I’ll be such a good boy.”

Fuck, you really are weak against him. 

Using the last of your strength, you flip the both of you around, grinding down against his cock as you feel it throb, violently jumping between your thighs, the sloppy, wet sound of each movement sending shivers down both your spines. Poor thing is already ruined, body extra sensitive due to his heat, cock swollen and leaking as it begs to be inside you. 

"You promise?" Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you drag your soaked folds along the length of him, feeling him tremble beneath you.

Rafayel nods frantically, breath hitching, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to grab you, wants to force you down onto him, but he knows better. Knows he wouldn’t survive the punishment. His lips are red, glossy with your slick, parted around little choked-off whimpers as he fights against the desperate urge to rut up into you.

"I promise," he gasps,  "Please, I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”

You hum, dragging your fingertips down his chest, nails scraping lightly over sweat-slicked skin, enjoying the way his breath shudders at the contact. The pain. "You say that, but you've already come inside me, what, three times now?" 

You rock your hips again, coating his cock in your arousal, watching the way his abs twitch with the effort of keeping still. Gods, he’s so pretty like this, neglected and crying underneath you, muscles strained and glistening with sweat and cum, watercolor eyes bleary as his tears collect on the mattress as dusky pink pearls. The same rosy shade of blush that burns across his cheeks, ears, and throbbing tip of his swollen cock. 

“That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”

Rafayel all but whines at that, head tilting back against the pillow, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe, tries to hold on to the last fragile thread of control he has left. "I—I won't this time, I swear, I’ll be good, I just need you."

"You need me?" You lean down, pressing your lips just below his ear, letting your voice drop to a sinful whisper. "Or do you just need to fuck something, sweetheart?"

"You." Rafayel’s answer is immediate, desperate, his hands finally snapping up to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. "It’s always you. Only you, my mate."

The admission makes your stomach tighten, heat pooling low as you let yourself sink down, just enough for the swollen head of his cock to catch at your entrance. Rafayel jerks, eyes wide, mouth dropping open around a silent moan, his grip on you tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

"Oh, fuck."

"You need me, you need your mate?" You tease, rolling your hips, letting him feel the wet heat of you without giving him what he really needs.

"Yes, please, please, please—"

And then, because you’re cruel, because you love seeing him like this, you lift yourself off him entirely.

Rafayel practically cries at that, and you let him plead, let him beg, until his whole body is shaking with the need to be inside you, until his voice is raw and wrecked from crying out your name. Then, finally, finally, you sink down, dropping the entirety of your weight onto him as you both moan at the sudden pressure as your ass smacks his pelvis with a lewd slap. 

Rafayel’s body aches up off the mattress, a wrecked, strangled moan tearing from his throat as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. His head tilts back, chest heaving, eyes glassy and unfocused, dilated almost like a cat’s, as if the feeling of being inside you after so long is too much for his mind to comprehend.

"Fucking finally."

You barely have a moment to adjust before Rafayel thrusts.

Whatever fragile restraint he had is gone, obliterated the second your walls squeeze around him. His hips jerk up in a desperate, instinctual rut, shoving himself deeper, harder, until the thick length of him is buried to the hilt inside you, and then pulled all the way out before ramming back in again. You choke on a gasp, nails digging into his chest, but he doesn’t even seem to register the pain.

"More." Some inhumane warble distorts Rafayel’s voice, nails turning clawed and sharp as he thrusts up into you with more strength than any human should possess. “Perfect, perfect mate.”

Your head spins, the force of each snap of his hips making your whole body jolt. His desperation is relentless, dragging you closer to the edge far too fast, too intense, gripping onto his shoulders just to keep you from falling over as your thighs begin trembling once again. 

"Rafayel—Raf, slow down!"

"No," he whimpers, shaking his head wildly, hands tightening on your waist as if letting go isn’t an option. "No, please, sorry, need this." Rafayel’s voice breaks into a sort of trill, something like whalesong, eyes fluttering shut as he drives himself up into you, starved for more, cock throbbing desperately inside you. "Don’t leave me again, please.”

Your heart clenches. "I’m here," you whisper, leaning down, pressing your forehead to his as your body moves with his, rolling your hips as you try to stay in time with his brutal pace. "I’m right here, Rafayel."

He moans, high and broken, clutching you so tightly against him, feeling every inch of you pressed into his skin. His pace turns frantic, sloppy, body shaking beneath you as pleasure racks through him in violent waves. He’s close, but he won’t let himself fall over the edge alone.

"Come with me," he begs, his lips brushing over yours as he pleads for it. "Please.”

And you do.

The orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, stealing every breath from your lungs as your entire body clenches around him. Rafayel keens, hips jerking wildly as he follows, his cock pulsing inside you as he fucks his cum deep inside you yet again, stuffing you full until you’re both shaking with overstimulation.

But it still doesn’t stop.

Rafayel can’t stop.

Even as his body trembles beneath you, even as his whimpers turn into sobs, he keeps moving, his hips rolling into you in slow, messy grinds. His cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, sending violent aftershocks through you both.

"Mhh sorry," he moans, lips dragging down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin as if marking you will somehow keep you tethered to him. "Did it again, can’t help it. Pussy feels so nice, wants me too, always so desperate for me. Made to worship me."

You let out a wrecked, exhausted laugh, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his arms snap tight around your waist, keeping you anchored to him.

"No," he pleads, voice cracking, nuzzling into your neck as he breathes in your scent. "No, please, just—just a little more. You owe it to me for being so mean before."

Your head falls into the crook of his neck as yet another orgasm crashes through you, ripping a moan from your throat. Rafayel shudders, gasping against your skin, completely gone, his hips jerking helplessly, overstimulated beyond the point of caring. His body is moving on instinct now, neither of you fully conscious as he keeps moving on his own, chasing another high even as it breaks him.

"Fuck, Raf...”

"One more," he’s licking into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, too tired and uncoordinated to properly kiss you. "One more, one more."

You don’t even know how many times you’ve both come. The world is a haze of heat and pleasure, of wet, messy grinds and deep, instinctual thrusts, of Rafayel’s loud, unashamed moans directly in your ear between kisses, of the desperate way he clings to you, unable to bear even a second, an inch of separation.

You ride him through another, and another, until your body finally gives out, completely limp against his chest, your limbs trembling too hard to keep yourself upright any longer. Rafayel follows soon after, his movements slowing, stuttering, until he’s finally, finally still beneath you, panting raggedly, body wracked with aftershocks.

The room is finally silent except for your heavy breathing, the two of you floating between sleep and reality for what seems like an eternity. 

"I think I might die," Rafayel croaks, voice hoarse.

You huff a weak, breathless laugh as you grumble into his shoulder. "Good, you stupid horny fish."

Sylus ♱⋅ ── the sweetheart (liar)

You’re going insane. 

Sylus promised he would finally fuck you, promised he’d finally give you what you’ve practically been begging him for all week. “Just the tip,” you’d beg, whining into his neck or suckling gently against his fingers in attempts to bait him, “Please, Sy, just the tip and I’ll stop asking.”

Technically speaking, he’s held up his end of the deal. After all, you’ve already cum four times. Not that it’s ever stopped you from wanting more. 

“What’s this? Are you even listening to me, sweetie?” Something jerks your head up, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts at the same time as Sylus grinds forward, humming as he pulls you closer on his lap, your thighs spread wide atop of his. “Tch, first all that whining and now you’re not even paying attention to me. I’m hurt, kitten.”

You shake your head as best you can with his thumb and forefinger still squishing your cheeks, tears from the sheer overstimulation blurring your vision as you bury your face into Sylus’s chest, chasing the mere friction. 

The fat head of his cock slips right back out of your cunt, tapping once, twice, on your swollen clit before grinding back in with a lewd pop. One inch, two, just enough for you to feel the delicious stretch of the tip of his cock, before Sylus lifts you up higher on his lap, pulling out as the torture begins all over again. 

You swear you can take more. It doesn’t matter than everytime Sylus lines up his cock it hits your bellybutton from the outside, it doesn’t matter that your hands can barely wrap around his base, it doesn’t matter that even when you suck him off your jaw throbs and he can barely thrust it in halfway without you gagging. 

“Sylus, please, please just—” you whine, rutting your hips down to no avail as his firm hands render you immobile. Watching you squirm with thinly veiled amusement. “Just fuck me already!” 

Your breath comes out in short, stuttered gasps, frustration bubbling over into pitiful little sobs against Sylus’s skin. He shushes you, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your hips as if he’s offering you comfort. But you know better. The bastard lives for this, the way your body trembles, how your cunt clenches down hard every time he pulls out, desperate for more than what he’s giving.

“Please.” A broken cry rips from your throat as he nudges forward again, pushing the tip back inside like he hasn’t already driven you half-mad. “I can take it. Ah, I swear, I can take it.” 

And yet, he’s still so fucking mean.

“Hmm,” Sylus’s voice drips with amusement, low and tinged with laughter as his lips graze the shell of your ear as though lost in thought. “No.”

You whine, digging your nails into Sylus’s back with more force than necessary as you hiss out curses, “Cruel, stubborn, self-assured asshole. I told you I can take it Syl—ah!”

Sylus pushes himself upward, roughly fucking his swollen tip against you, ramming that delicious spot within you as your curses dissolve into mindless babbles of his name, another orgasm ripping through you as you try and match Sylus’s rhythm by grinding yourself on the rest of his cock. 

“That’s it,” He hums, dragging his tongue along your pulse, relishing the way it hammers beneath his mouth.  He can feel how fast it beats, erratic and needy, the way your breath catches in your throat. “You’re gonna be good and take what I give you. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already fucked stupid. And I’ve barely even given you anything, kitten.”

It’s humiliating how right he is.

Your thighs tremble violently on either side of his, the ache in your muscles a dull, distant thing compared to the unbearable need twisting in your core. Desperate, you try to grind down, to force him deeper, to make him give you what you need. But Sylus just clicks his tongue, unimpressed, fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still, keeping you right where he wants you.

Sylus shifts back on the couch, pulling you down, controlling your movements with an infuriating ease, guiding you along the few inches he’s deemed fit to give you. It’s barely anything, nowhere near enough, but even that—just that slow, teasing roll of his hips—and the unbearable pressure of the thick, insistent tip of his cock is enough to make your back arch violently against him. 

“There we go,” he murmurs, cooing as he watches you, helpless and pliant in his lap. “No more complaining.”

A desperate nod. Another broken whine. 

You can feel it building again, the pressure coiling deep inside you, sharp and unbearable. Sobbing, you drop your head into Sylus’s shoulder, biting into the curve of his neck to muffle your cries, nails digging into his shoulders, chest, clawing violent red marks as Sylus shudders, eyes rolling back at the pain. Your legs are shaking too hard to do much of anything anymore, giving out as Sylus is the only thing left guiding you, dragging you toward yet another orgasm. 

Or rather, he would have. 

But you feel Sylus chuckle, the sound deep and sinful as it rumbles down his chest and into yours, and fear prickles along your spine. Then, with excruciating patience, he pulls out, leaving you empty all over again before tapping his throbbing cock against your clit—slow, deliberate, taunting.

“You wanted just the tip, sweetheart.” He grins, voice a low, cruel purr as he kisses your forehead. “So don’t start crying now that it’s all you’re getting.”

Xavier ♱⋅ ── the munch

“Then sit on my face.”

You stare, dumbfounded, as Xavier already begins leaning back against the cushions of your bed, those big, blue eyes begging up at you in ways that make it hard to breathe. 

Xavier’s hands tighten around your waist, fingers flexing like he’s barely restraining himself from yanking you down then and there. The heat of his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making your pulse stammer, making every inch of you ache with want.

“Xavier, I didn’t actually mean…”

“You want me to prove it, right? Then I’ll do what I can to serve you well.” He’s dead serious, you realize, still staring down at him in shock as Xavier frowns, sitting up just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and haul you toward him, seating you on his chest as protests die in your throat. “Sit.”

Biting your lip, you still find yourself hesitating. What if you’re too heavy? Or if he doesn’t actually like it? You still have your underwear on, shouldn’t you take it off, or does he plan on eating you through it? What if—

"You're thinking too much again." His voice is firm, but gentle, cutting straight through your spiraling thoughts. Before you can get another word in, he lifts you up from the backs of your thighs, guiding you forward until your knees are bracketing his head and you're hovering just above his waiting mouth.

Xavier groans, this is already better than his dreams—just having you above him, so close, so warm—is enough to make him lose his damn mind. His hands are keeping you steady, and when he tilts his head back to look at you again, you almost drown in the sheer hunger in his gaze.

"Please," he murmurs, breathless, sucking and kissing into your thighs like he can't believe you're making him wait so long for something he so, so desperately needs. "I really don’t think I can wait much longer."

A shudder racks through you, thighs trembling as the heat between your legs grows unbearable. Xavier’s so serious, so patient, despite the raw hunger in his voice, despite the way his chest rises and falls in uneven pants beneath you. You’d have to be cruel to deny him. 

Slowly, you lower yourself the rest of the way, bracing your hands against the headboard as Xavier immediately pulls you the last few inches down, shoving his face up into you like he’s starving.

He might as well be because the first swipe of his tongue is so hot, so eager, that you nearly jerk away from the sudden pleasure. Not that Xavier would let you. His fingers dig into the marked-up plush of your thighs, keeping you right there as he groans into your pussy like you’re the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted.

“Wait—” Your voice is already breaking, a gasp caught in your throat as he licks into you again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. He doesn’t even bother pulling your underwear aside, just mouths at the fabric, dampening it further, teasing you through the barrier until it sticks to your folds and you’re a whimpering mess, gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles ache. 

Then he shifts, hooking a single finger under the waistband, dragging it aside just enough to give himself proper access.

The first real flick of Xavier’s tongue against your clit is devastating.

A high, broken moan rips from your throat as pleasure jolts up your spine, your thighs snapping shut around his head, suffocating him as Xavier feels like the happiest man in the world. Moaning into your cunt, Xavier pulls you down harder against his mouth like he wouldn’t mind drowning in your pleasure if it meant he got to taste you for just a few seconds longer.

You’re already cumming. Head falling backward, your lips part in a silent scream as Xavier’s tongue continues circling around your clit in that same, devastating rhythm, only letting go once you’ve come all over his face. But he doesn’t stop for long. 

His tongue flicks and curls and fucks into you with the kind of dedication that makes your vision blur, that makes your whole body burn as you become more and more sensitive. And when you grind down against his mouth, desperate and trembling, he just groans in approval, encouraging you to ride his face like you need this just as much as he does.

"That's it," Xavier mumbles between licks, inaudible between your wet, sinful noises. "Don't hold back. Use me."

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard, but it only makes him grin against you, only makes him suck harder, making you gasp and sob as your thighs start to shake once more around his head. Still, he devours you, no teasing, no hesitation. Just raw, ravenous hunger. 

"Xavier—"

He hums in response, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through you. Then he finally fucks his tongue deep into your cunt, curling against your walls as you clench around the hot muscle, Xavier’s nose grinding deliciously into your clit as his hands begin guiding you back and forth once your rhythm falls apart. 

You come hard, a choked cry ripping from your throat as your body locks up, pleasure searing through every nerve. Xavier doesn’t stop—doesn’t let you escape—licking and sucking you through your orgasm like he needs every drop, like he won’t be satisfied until you’re a writhing, overstimulated mess above him.

“Ah, Xavier, seriously,” you whine, every suck against your clit now tender and overstimulated as you try and squirm away to no avail. “Can’t, Xavier, can’t come again!”

Crying, you finally manage to wrestle his head out from underneath you—body still shaking, pleasure crackling under your skin like a live wire—realizing something that makes your stomach flip.

Xavier is panting, eyes half-lidded and hazy with bliss, hair fisted in your hands as the rest sticks to his forehead and pillow with sweat, letting you inch off of him as he finally breathes, heaving in deep breaths through swollen, wet lips. His whole body shudders beneath you, and when you shift, you feel it—the sticky warmth against his stomach, the evidence of his release.

He came. Just from eating you out.

And the worst part?

He’s still hard.

“One more time, please?”

Zayne ♱⋅ ── the addicted

Uh oh. 

This was bad. 

Zayne has always considered himself a beacon of self-control, having grown up under the concept of restraint and caution when it came to everything from his Evol to his life’s work as a surgeon. 

But even he could get addicted to having you spread out underneath him like this. 

It had started innocently. Zayne had forgotten his lunch today, probably due to his consecutive sleepless nights, thanks to being on call for not two or three but four surgeries this week. So when you delivered his lunch to his private office like any sweet girlfriend would do, it was only natural that you’d want to see if you could help him feel more relaxed and maybe help relieve the stress that was so clearly fogging up his mind. 

This, however, was not what you had in mind.

"Zayne, someone is going to hear us," you hiss, voice trembling, but make no move to stop him.

Zayne only hums, two fingers rubbing right up against your clit with expert precision even with your jeans still unzipped around your waist. His other hand shucks them just barely down your thigh, pressing his fingers right back in, curling against that spot that has your legs jerking against the polished wood of his desk before dragging his fingers out of you agonizingly slow. 

"You should’ve locked the door when you came in, then." He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand presses against your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you open with his fingers, movements slow, deliberate. "You know I don’t like being interrupted."

Your head tilts back against the desk as your cries are muffles into your palm. "Zayne!"

"You were the one who wanted to help relieve my stress, weren’t you?" His voice is calm, collected, like he isn’t knuckle-deep inside you with his fingers glistening from how wet he’s made you already. "So be a good girl and take it."

Your breath stutters, thighs twitching as you clench around his fingers, already embarrassingly close with how well he knows your body, how pent up you’ve been after not having Zayne in over a week. Meanwhile, Zayne watches you come undone with sharp, almost clinical eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained, a predator biding his time.

"Mhm, close, I can’t—"

"Yes, you can," he cuts you off smoothly, pressing his fingers deeper, rubbing firm, steady circles over your clit. His expression doesn’t change, but his voice dips lower, smiling ever so slightly as he watches you. "Come for me."

You shudder violently, hands gripping the edges of the desk as another orgasm threatens to crash over you, your body far too weak to resist the relentless pleasure.

"Zayne," you cry out, hips jerking.

He clicks his tongue, allowing you to ride out your orgasm, but not before ripping his tie off, deft, scarred hands looping through the expensive silk before balling it up and pushing it into your open mouth. 

“What did I say about staying quiet?”

Your response is stifled around his tie, and Zayne feels his traitorous cock throb at the sound of your fucked out, inaudible voice, the very picture of debauchery with the slight drool smearing your lipstick, your eyes hazy with post-orgasm glow, your office button-down skewed across your breasts just enough so be can squeeze your breast right under your lacy bra. 

He wants to ruin you even more. 

Zayne has barely even zipped down his pants, holding up his own shirt as he bites it to keep his leaking cock from smearing pre-cum all over the cotton, before he’s desperately fucking his own fist with one hand, the other still circling your clit. 

When the sound of voices echo from right outside his office door. 

Your body jerks under him at the sudden noise, but Zayne doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, pressing his slick fingers harder against your clit, wrenching another broken sob from your throat, muffled by the tie still shoved between your lips.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispers, voice low, dangerous. His free hand tightens around his cock, stroking faster, more desperate, more sloppy than you’ve ever seen him. The sight alone has your walls clenching down around nothing, a fresh wave of arousal making a mess of his desk and the scattered papers on top. 

The voices outside the door grow louder, and Zayne’s entire body tenses. Not with fear. Not with hesitation. But something that he thinks might ruin him forever. 

“I should stop,” he murmurs, though his fingers never leave you, still rubbing circles into your overstimulated clit, dragging you higher, forcing you to ride that unbearable edge of pleasure. His teeth clench, brows furrowed as his pace on his own cock stutters, his restraint cracking with every second that passes. “I really should stop.”

You whimper, body trembling beneath him, a plea barely audible around the silk in your mouth.

“But you love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, rasping, guttural. “You love making me a mess, love knowing that the only thing keeping us from getting caught is how good you are for me.”

Zayne never talks like this, but god, now you wish he’d never stop. His mere voice is enough to send you over the edge once again. Your moan is strangled, raw, hips lifting weakly into his touch despite the overstimulation.

The door handle rattles.

Zayne snaps, one arm shooting out as ice surrounds the handle, spears of it crawling over the wooden frame of the door, across the tiled floor as he loses control. 

He barely spares it a glance. Pulling the tie from your mouth, Zayne immediately replaces it with his lips, swallowing your gasp as he shoves two fingers back inside you, curling them deep, his strokes ruthless, relentless. His other hand leaves his cock only long enough to drag you forward, forcing your legs around his waist, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he moans into your mouth.

"Zayne, your Evol—"

"Don’t worry about me," he hums, kissing you one more time before his gaze drops, watching where the two of you meet. “You’ve done more than enough for me. You’ve always been enough for me.” And he pushes in inch by inch, stretching you open around his thick length, your body still pulsing and greedy from your last orgasm.

Zayne exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, buried inside you. His fingers flex against your waist, grounding himself, keeping himself from completely unraveling.

 “That’s it, breathe,” he murmurs, voice back to the soft, low tone you know so well, the urgency melting into something reverent. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw, as if to soothe you through the stretch. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you grind upward, coaxing him into going faster, into actually fucking you. 

Zayne groans, his control fraying as he clutches you tighter, nose brushing against yours. “You're going to be the death of me,” he whispers, lips ghosting yours in a kiss, the intimacy making your heart clench.

You can still hear muffled voices beyond the door, a stark reminder of the risk, of how dangerously close you are to being caught. But it only makes you cling to him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you whisper, “Then let me take care of you, Doctor.”

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

Gladiator Reader Part 2

Part One

Gladiator Reader! Who has faced many opponents but none have left you feeling like this. As medics go over your injuries from the hard fought battle, that you won of course, a feeling sits in your stomach, a feeling you thought you have forgotten. Fear. Fear of death.

Gladiator Reader! Who is escorted back to their cage, but as they walk back, they can feel it. The stares. The stares of hundreds of eyes of aliens as they watch you get escorted away, you keep your head held up straight, the golden muzzle attached to your face hides your scowl, hiding the feelings you've kept locked away since your first battle, since your fight or flight kicked in, and you haven't stopped fighting since.

Gladiator Reader!  Who stares at themselves in the mirror, staring at the bandages and gauze that covered their torso, except they felt no pain or discomfort, no. They felt angry. Angry at everything. Angry at the arena crowd, at those creatures that made you feel like you had to prove yourself, the Xenomorph for reminding you that despite everything; you. Are. Human. Angry you felt towards the things that took you from your home and stripped everything from you. Made you forget that you are human. 

Gladiator Reader! Who lies on their bed, staring at the ceiling, food that their captors left forgotten on the floor. How could you eat? How could you eat knowing that your failure to kill that alien fast enough resulted in reminding everyone that you are human. You weren't born with special hard skin to protect you, or trained on how to fight different aliens, you were born human. Something that no amount of testing and experiments could change.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

At a motel rn, the guy at the front desk was really nice and pretty charming so I think it's worth imagining a monster motel. For monsters and a human who can afford nothing else

I'll take it one step further and propose to you a Monster Hostel.

Your holiday location seems to be unusually popular and expensive. Everything in the area is borderline unaffordable, and the constant traffic of visitors is unexpectedly high. To ease your financial burden, you decide to go for a hostel instead, and pray the dozen people you'll be sharing a room with turn out reasonable enough.

Unbeknownst to you, the place you've picked is only really popular with monsters. So it's not just you who is surprised by the encounter: as you open the door to your accommodation, several beastly creatures turn to gawk at you. A human? Here?

Now, you're free to choose which outcome(s) you prefer:

The wholesome route. You return home with brand new knowledge of monstrous board games, inside jokes, and promises of reunion. Your roommates kept you entertained, showed you around, and told you all about their forbidden realms. Several of them have begged you to keep in touch, already bragging to their friends back home about the new human they met.

The NSFW route. You almost have to return home on your fours, worn-out and stuffed. You feel like you've just starred in the sloppiest debauchery of the year, being passed around by a handful of horny monsters who were eager to see how a human works. It's just a couple of nights, you told yourself at the time, but now you stare at your phone in horror and faint arousal: it appears that your unholy suitors would prefer to see you again, and soon.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

Hello!

Could we please have more of the "masked monster" husband? (The one with the antlers and skull mask)

How has the reader coped with suddenly being his bride? What is their domestic life like? And how does their...nightlife look like?

This is one of my personal favorite OC's so we absolutely can. This boy takes up too much space in my mind. I genuinely really love this dude. This also absolutely got away from me, I am so sorry (sort of) MDNI M!Beast x F!Reader, Hunting (blood): Mentioned, This is a lot of exposition honestly, in my mind this is a slow burn romance, kind of... Oral sex f! receiving Cont of : This

It took a week for you to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to leave your home without a fight, another week after that you finally learned his name, or at least what he told you to call him. You were feeling especially brave you walked up to him watching as he sat slumped on the living room floor inspecting a bookshelf as if it held the secrets to the universe itself.

"You're staying aren't you?" You ask, stopping at the doorway, leaving plenty of room between the two of you. His head twisted around, the red glow of his eyes meeting yours too quickly as the jaw of his fox skull face snapped shut with a definitive click making a shiver run down your spine as you felt his full attention on you. This was the first time you'd initiated the conversation, or even said more than one word responses to him. His attention sent a chill through you yet at the same time you knew you weren't in danger. Even as he shifted fully to face you.

"I am." He states simply, the skull tilting slightly to the right, as if showing animal like curiosity at the question you've posed. Slowly, cautiously even, you take a step forward.

"What do I call you?" You ask carefully, your eyes shifting to the stark white of his fangs unable to hold the eye contact of his red orbs anymore.

"You may call me Oak, morsel. Use the name often, for I will always answer." His deep bass voice rolled over you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket that could stave off any chill.

It took a month for you to be comfortable in the same room as him for long periods and to stop jumping when he seemed to appear behind you with little to no warning or sound despite his massive size and the way his antlers seemed to scrape at the ceiling if he unhunched for even a moment.

Another to be okay with the gifts he continued to leave you when he did rarely leave the quiet of your home.

"Oak..." You started carefully, stepping into the kitchen to find yet another... something... sitting on your island. It looked like this time it was the hind leg of a deer.

"Yes my morsel?" He asked, appearing closely behind you, so closely that if you took half a step back you'd be pressed against his broad frame. You'd be able to feel the thick fur on his arms and legs, the bark like texture of his exposed skin. Sometimes you found yourself wandering how well you might fit there, tucked into him like the treasure he seemed to think you were.

"I appreciate that you want to hunt for me." Your words are careful as your eyes never leave the still bleeding stump. "But please... at the very least, bleed them outside."

"Of course my love." You weren't really sure how you were ever going to get that stain out of your butchers block but... at least you rarely had to buy meat now.

It took winter coming, your old home's poor insulation doing little to keep the draft of cold air from seeping deep into your bones for you to give in and curl on the floor next to him. Tentatively at first, still keeping space between the two of you, the heat emanating off of him doing more to heat you than the fire blazing in the fire place in front of both of you.

"Can I sit with you and read?" The question is out of your mouth before you can think, the warm blanket you had over your shoulders clutched tightly in one hand as you held up a book to show him as you sat two spaces away from him. His head did that little tilt again, the red of his eyes seeming to brighten as you watched him almost physically restrain himself from moving closer to you.

"Of course Morsel... Will you read it to me?" He asks, his voice wrapping around you, soothing your cold bones with its warm bass. For a moment you're silent, looking down at the old book in your hand before nodding softly, pulling your bottom lip into your teeth to worry at it slightly.

"Yes... But it will be more comfortable if I can sit closer..." Before you can even finish your thought, two large hands wrap around your middle in a gentle but firm grip, lifting your from your spot on the floor and carefully transferring you to sitting directly in his folded legs, your back pressed against his abdomen. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you snuggly, warmly against him.

"This will be how we read then." He declares, you know there's no point in arguing against it, and if you're being honest you don't want to. He was warm, almost hot in the way his body seemed to give off wave after wave of comforting heat that sunk into your chilled bones. You curl into his lap, ignoring the way you felt heat flooding to your cheeks as you slowly open your book and read to him in a soothing calm voice. Yawning occasionally, relaxing into him, he holds you even after you fall into a quiet steady sleep in his arms. He doesn't move all night but to reach one long arm over to stoke the slowly dying embers of the fire that once burned brightly. He holds you that night, afraid to move, afraid to wake you, afraid you might move away from him again.

You don't. This becomes part of the routine the two of you have found yourselves in. Every night you sit in his lap in front of the warmth of the fire, protected from the chill as he holds you in a loose but filling embrace as you read to him softly until you fall asleep in his arms. Each night you try to argue with your own mind, try to convince yourself you don't like the way his claws feel as they run through your hair. But you love the feeling. You try to argue that you don't snuggle into his hold, but you do. You even try to say the way you play with his fur and touch his skin is simply idly moving your hands, but it's not. Part of you wants to touch him, wants him to touch you more, every night you find that part gets bigger and bigger. Until you find yourself crawling into his lap of your own accord, curling into him as if the shape of him was meant to hold the shape of you.

It was one of these nights, your book long since forgotten beside you that things truly changed. You lay across his lap, relaxing as his clawed fingers dance lazy patterns into the soft skin of your thigh. You don't even notice you do it, but your thighs spread at his touch, making room for his large hand to move higher and higher up your thighs. A soft hum escapes your lips when his hand just barely brushes over your clothed cunt. That hum changed everything.

Before you truly had time to understand, or even react, your body was flat on the floor, pressed right against him as his hands wandered over your skin. Oak let out a huff as his snout met the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing against it, his long thick tongue sliding from between his fangs to dance across your skin.

"My Morsel, I am starving." He said his large hands moving to your hips as he moved away ever so slightly. His glowing orbs weren't on your face as he pulled away, they were locked on the growing wet spot that was slowly growing by the second on your sleep shorts. They flicked up to meet your eyes, waiting. You could feel the heat rushing through your body and slowly, almost imperceptibly you nodded, surprising yourself for a split second. A split second was all you had before your hips were hoisted into the air to meet his maw, your clothes pulled to the side with one massive claw as he exposed you to him. The huff of air was the only warning you had before his tongue, long, and smooth, pressed against your cunt. The moan that escaped your lips was unholy as he drank you in like a dying man. The fangs of his fox like jaw pricking against your hips and ass. His tongue lapped at your clit and entrance as his grip on your hips tightened. When his tongue slid into your sopping pussy, he growled around you as you arched into the sensation. You could feel his fur bristling as you clawed at his fur covered thighs with your blunt nails. His long deft tongue fucking into you in a blindly delicious rhythm that had you tensing around him as your orgasm built quicker than you ever thought it would. Gasps and moans and whimpers fell from your lips unable to stop yourself from grinding into him as not only his hands kept you held close, but his fangs pressed closer, the threat of the prick of his fangs turning into something more making you shiver and a whole new wetness flood his mouth.

His tongue explored your walls, rubbing against them, fucking into them, his huffs cooling the small sheen of sweat on your body as he feasted on you. His tongue pressed against your g-spot, pausing completely as he seemed to study the different texture of this area, before focusing on it, rolling his tongue over it, over and over again making your moans get longer until they turned into screams of ecstasy. Your eyes shot open when you felt it, the orgasm you felt building crest and crash into you like a freight train as he still rolling his tongue over that spot. You watched as his red orbs met your eyes, watched as his face, dripping with not only your juices but his saliva, as it pooled and dripped onto the floor below you. You clench around him, your walls milking at his tongue as he lets out a full body shiver at the feeling.

It's long after your cunt has stopped twitching, your release all over his maw when he finally releases your hips and moves back detangling the two of you with an obvious reluctance that almost makes you laugh.

Quietly he curls you into his lap once more, holding you tighter than before as his claws comb through your now tangled hair.

"Hush now Morsel, sleep I will have more to taste when you wake." He nearly coos at you as he lulls you to sleep, your body pliant and relaxed against him as a shiver runs through you at that promise.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

*slaps hands on table* THAT BEAR SHIFTER CARPENTER BETTER BREED THIS VIRGIN CUZ I WANT HIM TO WANT ME YOOOOHOOOO

🤸🎉🤸 LET'S GOOOOO

This has been highly requested, like HIGHLY requested and asked for and I have the motivation for it right now so while others are worked on lets roll with this!

This is for the absolutely everyone that asked for more, sent a comment, ask or anything in-between. Genuinely thank you so much! MDNI M!Bear shifter x F!Reader, oral sex, explicit sex scene, breeding kink, this is a direct continuation of: this

"Please. Tell me I can taste you." He pants, his teeth growing longer, his fingers ending in what are definitely claws, his body seeming to grow. You stare at him for what feels like hours, but really its only seconds before a very soft, almost shaky, "Okay" falls from your lips. He meets your stare, the deep brown of his eyes darkening, turning almost black as he lets out a huff, his lips pulling up into a lop sided smirk, the now sharp points of his teeth on clear display as he parts his lips and he shakes his head. Leaning closer you feel the way his hot breath rushes over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"No Darlin' I said tell me." His voice is low and husky as he presses even closer to you, his large body pinning you to the wall but his lips never meeting your skin as he stays hovering just shy of kissing your neck.

In that very instant your brain turns into mush, liquefying at the way his slight southern twang pronounces the words and the thought of telling him what to do. But he stays still, his body tense and tight as he leans into you, his lips never meeting your skin but his breath getting heavier the longer he is this close to you, this close to your scent.

"Y-you can taste me." You finally stutter out, your entire body hot as you try to catch your own breath, mesmerized by the way his body tenses and shifts and grows before your very eyes as he struggles to maintain control. With a long, low, rumbling growl his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against his chest. His lips meet your neck as he makes his way through your halls. His familiarity with your house something you're insane grateful for as he pushes open the door to your bedroom, his lips and teeth never leaving your neck as he throws both of you onto the bed, the mattress and frame groaning and creaking under your combined weight.

"Been waitin', waitin' for a chance to get you on here. Lay you out, fill you up then lick you clean." His voice sounds deeper now, deeper than you've ever heard it before as he hovers over you. "You didn't even notice, the way I was always here, always watchin', sittin' with you to make sure no one else in the town could get close enough to get in my way while I made my move to make you mine. Always doing anything you asked, makin' sure you're happy here, that you're gonna stay." His large claw tipped fingers making easy work of your shirt and shorts leaving you laying beneath him in nothing but your panties.

He leans away and his eyes are completely dark now as he drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, his hands moving to slide over your exposed skin, savoring the way your soft smooth skin feels against his rough calloused hands. His thumbs catching either side of your panties as he pulls them down, the roughness of his knuckles feeling almost sinful against the skin of your thighs. You look up at him almost confused, he was what? Guarding you from the other shifters in the town? That's why he was always over at your place helping and then relaxing with you. This whole time hes been marking a territory around you that you didn't even know existed and that thought did something to your brain. Made your hips push up into his touch as he kissed his way down your stomach.

"Then you go and make the whole neighborhood smell like the sweetest kind of sin. I could smell you the second I opened my door, so could three others, they even came out to check it out. Gotta be more careful than that Darlin'. You're lucky I was the closest one." He says, his exploration down pausing as he presses kisses against your hips, shifting on the bed to pull you closer to the edge, and kneeling between your spread legs. "You gonna share what got you so hot an' bothered you didn't even bother to close the windows before you started fucking yourself silly?"

The way he settled between your thighs, that rare curse the sounded so much dirtier coming from him, his touches and eyes watching you so carefully. It all made you so wet, so turned on you found it almost impossible to stay still as you squirmed under his touch as he rubbed up and down your thighs.

"I... I was..." You're not sure really how to phrase it, if you should even admit what you were thinking about, but at this point you're so lost there's no real reason to hide. "I was thinking about you... About what it would be like if you were... With me." This admission made him pause, a toothy fang filled grin lighting up his face.

"Good girl." He nearly purred before burying his face between your legs. His tongue and teeth lapping and nipping at the sensitive skin. You moan, grinding your hips into his mouth until his hands come up, pinning your hips to the bed, holding you still as he feasts on your sopping cunt. His tongue thrusts into you, lavishing you with so much attention it is a nearly devotional act. He rests one large arm over your waist, a silent order to keep still, as his other hand releases you, his fingers replacing his tongue inside you as he moves to suckle and nip at your clit. You moan, your body shaking as he fucks two fingers into you, curling them just right, before adding a third. Fuck did it feel good, the way he stretched you out on his fingers, the way his fangs hit the sensitive bud as he brought you higher and higher pressing you closer to the edge.

"Fuck! Yes! I'm-" You don't even get to finish your words before your orgasm is crashing over you, soaking his fingers and chin even more. Before you can even start to come down, his fingers are out pressed against your lips as he stands, still between your legs.

"Open Darlin'." With a soft moan your mouth falls open, his fingers pushing in to let you taste yourself on his fingers. You don't notice the exact moment he sheds his clothes, too busy licking and sucking at his fingers you also really didn't care. Your eyes flutter as you felt the head of his cock press against your still fluttering cunt. You tensed for just a moment as you felt him press into you, he was big, thick. You gasped around his fingers in your mouth, he leaned down, pressing messy wet kisses against your cheeks and neck, removing his fingers from your mouth to slide his hand down, using it to stabilize your hips under him.

"Shh, relax beautiful, you can do it." He cooed gently against the skin of your cheek, his bead hair rubbing against your smooth skin as he nuzzled into your neck. "Fuck you're so tight, so amazing. Let me fill you up, fill you up so full you'll feel it for days." He whispered against your skin, sinking deeper, slowly pressing in further as your body slowly accommodated his size. You let out a soft whimper when he finally presses his pelvis against yours. He stays still, holding onto you tightly before giving an experimental shallow thrust. You moan, the stretch and way he hits every spot inside of you all at once overwhelming and madding, and you needed more.

"Move." You direct, your voice high and breathy. He stands again, dragging your hips up to meet his, your shoulders pressed into the plush mattress from the weight of his slow agonizing thrusts.

"Don't want to hurt you." The words are ground out through his sharp teeth, it is obvious how much restraint he is using to keep his pace like this, to not just rut into you like an animal like his brain is begging him to do. You reach down, gripping his wrists as his hold on your hips tightens drawing his attention away from where it was locked as he watched himself sink into your welcoming cunt. Once his eyes meet yours he stills.

"Please. Fuck me." You say, voice steady and certain. There is a deep rumble in his chest, his fingers squeezing at the soft plush skin of your hips. He draws back slowly again and you're almost worried he won't move faster for a second before his hips snap forward with brutal force his balls slapping against your ass with a lewd sound.

"Yes ma'am." Is the only warning you get before that brutal force is met with speed. He thrusts into you his grip already leaving marks on your skin as he tightens his hold. The room is filled with the sound of skin and cut off moans as each thrust leaves you breathless and writing under him as he allows himself to let go. He ruts into you, his cock seeming to swell inside you as he gets closer, pressing against everything at once as he hits your g-spot with each drag out of your sopping cunt and your cervix with each brutal thrust in. You're close, so close that you feel yourself willing to hold on just a little longer wanting to enjoy being used by him for just a little more.

"You cum on my cock like a good girl. You cum on me while I fill you up. I'm gonna fill you up every day, every day 'till you're carrying my cubs." He growls as his dick twitches inside you. You cum around him with a silent scream, the sound unable to escape you as he thrusts into you. Your back arching as your walls milk around his cock trying to pull him even deeper.

He roars his release, his hips stuttering to a stop as his cock twitches against your cervix painting your walls with rope after rope of thick cum. It takes a long minute for the twitching to stop, even longer for his grip on your hips to soften, revealing dark pin prick marks where his claws caught your skin just right. He doesn't pull out as he lays down, pulling you on top of him, keeping you full and not giving any of his cum to escape. After a long minute of him running a soothing hand through your hair she brings his free hand up, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. He gives you a long, languid kiss.

"Gonna be so beautiful so full of me all the time. An' don't you worry Darlin' I take good care of what's mine."

If this is what being taken care of looks like, you could get used to it.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

Your neighbor, a carpenter that's been helping you fix up with house you just bought in the secluded small town surprising you one day when he shows up at your door nearly panting, as if he is fighting to hold himself back.

"Darlin' I'm gonna be needing you to close those windows. Only so much a man can do when a pretty lady is making the whole block smell like heaven in heat."

You are way too slow on picking up what he means even as he pushes you through the door pinning you to the wall, his fingers flexing, is he growing claws?

"Moving to a supernatural town was already risky. Not being on anything to stop you from smelling like everything in a mile should come an' breed you? That's just foolish."

You try to ask what he means, you were relocated here for work, you knew nothing about the town but he stops you. Makes the words and questions die in your throat when he grabs your wrist with a vise like grip, those were definitely claws, bringing your hand up to his face and inhaling deeply. You go instantly red, he can't possibly smell the fact that you were just knuckle deep in yourself moments before be came pounding on your door.

"Please. Tell me I can taste you." He pants, his teeth growing longer, his fingers ending in what are definitely claws, his body seeming to grow.

You'll definitely need to talk to your main office about being relocated into a shifter town without warning. But who are you to say no to this when the bear shifter next door asked so nicely.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

When your friend opens up to you and tells you they are a werewolf, you scoff and brush it off, joking as you play along and ask them if you should call them moon moon from now on, lying back in the grass of their backyard, making little jokes about how your gonna buy them some dog toys for their birthday next month or maybe a collar with good boy on it just to play along with what you think is a joke or a furry coming out.

The sound of cracking bones and grunts of pain makes the laughter die quickly, sitting up and staring at your friend as they actively shift from the regular guy you knew to this hulking bipedal wolf-like creature, its very hands seem, to be the size of your torso and you only come to know this as it pins you with one of its hands. Looming over you as it huffs and sniffs at you, tongue lolling out to lick your neck as it huffs and grumbles at you, your friend's voice rumbling out of this monstrous thing's throat.

When fear turns to unsettling reality, you can do little but gently reach out and run your fingers across its flank, touching the soft, dense fur that now coats your friend's new body.

The conversation comes in drips and drabs as you try to really come to terms with the fact that your friend is really a werewolf and not just joking around with you. As silence settles between the two of you, a question comes to mind that you can't really bring yourself to ask.

What dose his dick look like now?

Wide-eyed and staring him down, you swallow around the awkward moment and bite the proverbial bullet, scratching the back of your neck as he lounges next to you, tail thumping against the grass as you work up the courage to finally ask.

He doesn't laugh or scoff at you, simply looking down at you with these liquid silver eyes as he spreads his thighs and gestures you over with a flick of his fingers, almost as if this transformation had shifted his confidence past what you knew the human version of him had. Guiding your hand towards his crotch, you make a small noise as you feel the heat and the difference.

Definitely canine in how it is hidden away, but the moment your fingers brush against it properly, your eyes go wide, feeling as the softness fo his fur gives way to hard warm flesh, his cock so much larger and thicker than you could have ever conceived of. As you try to pull your hand back, he catches your wrist, guiding you to wrap your hand around him and practically growling that you should finish what you started.

After all, you did joke about a collar with 'good boy' on it, if you wanted to put a collar on him, you're gonna have to prove you could handle him first, all of him.

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

I Love Your Art. Please Draw Price Fatter.

you ask and you shall receive anon

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

there's sharks about little tipjar

[woulddo-youwouldtoo]

she arrived