#when will you tell me what ails you so? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xbellaxcarolinax · 10 months

Note

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete.

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors.

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips.

“I know.”

…

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes.

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog.

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch.

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated.

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big.

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length.

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter.

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock.

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find.

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment.

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on.

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you.

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy.

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you.

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair.

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you.

“Miguel?”

“Mm?”

“You better get me a suit like yours.”

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?”

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

#ask response #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv

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sunniskyies · 4 months

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𝐁𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 || 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your boyfriend Percy has been at camp all summer, and you’re anxious that he’s moved on since you last saw him 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: book!Percy Jackson x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Fluff with a dash of pining and a sprinkle of fluff !! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k 𝐀/𝐍: Take a wild guess who the woman is (>ᴗ•) ♡

You're picking at your fingers again, a nervous habit Percy always scolds you for. Your hoodie —his hoodie— is soaked through with rain, the weather turned bad now the summer is over.

You've been sitting at the bus stop for hours now, and resorted to pacing to calm your anxious thoughts. It's late now, 9 pm on a Friday. The only other person here is a beautiful woman who has failed to board a single bus in the hour she's been sitting there.

You're on your 467th lap of the ground between two pavement tiles when the woman speaks up.

"What ails you, my darling?" She asks from her perch beneath the narrow lip of the bus stop.

You glance over, hesitant for a second. Is this one of the monsters Percy has talked about? She definitely seems suspicious.

"I'm just nervous to see someone I haven't seen in a while," you say cautiously. The woman delicately raises an eyebrow.

"A boy," you clarify. "My boyfriend."

A smile lights up the woman's face, revealing perfect teeth from behind her soft pink lips. "That's what I thought!" She says, adjusting her floral dress over her knees when a single drop of water hits her ivory skin. She grimaces.

"Please sit in the dry, sweetie. I'll comb out your hair while you tell me everything."

You hesitate again, not wanting Percy's first job after camp to be saving you from a monster. But something in the woman's eyes calls to be trusted. And besides, your hair is a damp, scraggly mess. Do you really want Percy to see you like this?

Of course the gorgeous woman has a literal gold comb in the Prada bag she's stashed beneath the bench, and begins running the fine teeth through your hair when you sit down beside her.

"So? Why are you so troubled?" She prompts after a beat.

You sigh, shifting on the seat. "Well, he's been away all summer at— er, a camp. And, well, I dunno. I guess I'm just worried he's moved on from me," you mumble.

You glance over your shoulder as if seeking approval from the pretty woman. But instead of seeing the blonde ringletted, pale-skinned lady who sat there before, a stunning tan woman (who can only be described as a supermodel) has replaced her.

"Wait— Did you— Weren't you..?" You stammer, eyes wide. The woman just smiles, gently shushing you.

"No, dear. It's just the lighting," she replies.

You want to argue, jump up and run away. But something about her fingers on your hair soothes you like a mother does a baby. You find yourself relaxing, all worries erased.

"So why would he move on from you? You seem very lovely to me, dear. And so pretty," she continues.

You sigh again. "Well, there's this girl. She's gorgeous, I've seen Polaroids." You think back to the scrapbook Percy had shown you last year, a beautiful girl named Annabeth with blonde curls and sun-kissed skin.

"They're like, best friends," you deflate. "And he's really talented, and she is too. I'm just some boring girl from the city he met years ago. He's sure to move on to someone like her. Isn't he?" You fret, looking back at the woman again.

The woman —who now sports luscious auburn curls and crystalline eyes— gives you another sweet, motherly smile.

"No, dear. If I know anything about love," she chuckles, "is that it is not easily swayed by beauty or talent. Love is built on something deeper."

You spin around to face her, drinking in her words. "But what if he has found someone better?" you whisper.

The woman sets the comb aside and clasps your hands with hers, her gaze locked with yours. "My dear, there will always be other people who come and go in our lives. But true love is irreplaceable. If Percy truly loves you, he will see you uniquely and fully— as you."

You nod understandingly, and it’s only later that evening that you realise you had never told her Percy’s name.

Suddenly, your intent gaze is pulled away by the sound of an approaching vehicle, and you watch as a shoddy public bus pulls into the stop with a 'splash' and a 'thunk' as it disturbs a large rain-filled pothole.

Through the window seeping warm light into the dark evening, you can make out the silhouette of a dark-haired boy. He stands from his seat and starts walking down the alley.

"That's him!" You squeak, turning back to the lady to point him out.

But the spot beside you is empty, cold and unoccupied as if she was never there.

But you don't have time to wonder because the doors of the bus are beginning to open. You stand up quickly, the nerves returning to your body.

"Trust me," you swear a woman's voice whispers in your ear, but you're distracted by Percy stepping off the bus and rushing over to you.

He sweeps you off your feet, spinning you around and around till you giggle for him to stop. He sets you down gently, green eyes dilated and sickly sweet when they meet yours.

"I missed you so much!" He says, voice filled with genuine affection, and you feel every shred of doubt leave your body.

You laugh, still dizzy. "Percy! I missed you too!"

You finally get to kiss him, and he kisses you back eagerly. He doesn't seem to care about being soaked out here in the rain, every inch of him turned to you with rapt attention.

When you pull away, Percy reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice brimming with adoration. "I missed this face."

You lean into him, settling into the arm he wraps around you as you begin to walk back to his place. "How was camp? I got your letters— how many people did you kill?" You ask, holding one of his bags with a spare arm.

He laughs, beginning from the start of this year's adventure. You stare up at him attentively as he talks, taking in every detail. He's right, you've missed this face.

As the two of you walk away, you can't help but look back to the bus stop once more, wondering if the woman had been a figment of your imagination.

There, on the seat, lies a gold comb.

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #one shot #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #fanfic #fanfiction

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diejager · 8 months

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begging for more monster 141🙏🙏🙏

hear me out- reader is a host to venom but has it hidden and they find out maybe…?

(i got hyper fixated on blue’s au and SCOURING the internet💀)

What if… Hunter was Venom?

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x venom reader

Cw: blood and gore, canon typical violence, head eating, gaslighting by Hunter, injury, fighting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Only Human masterlist

Sometimes, they’d find you mumbling to yourself, voice so low that, unless they were a hybrid or had impeccable hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was a ne’er silent whisper of harsh words or soft coos towards a being they couldn’t see. Were you talking to someone on your headset? Were you wearing EarPods to talk to someone? Or had you lost some screws in your mind after working with them for so long? None of them truly knew, but they wouldn’t bother you with it when you never bothered them with pesky questions that sounded insulting to them. After all, why would they bother their adorably useful and resourceful medic? You were the beating heart of the Task Force, you made it whole and functioning. Yet, they couldn’t stop the curiosity that festered in their mind, the need to know what made you talk to yourself, mumbling and cursing when you were alone.

Nothing seemed out of order, you were still strong-headed and scolding them like you did the day before, mumbling about Soap’s recklessness and Gaz’s impending fate of falling out of airborne vehicles. About Price’s habit of working too hard, pushing his already pained body to work. Pulling Ghost by the - bloody and soiled - sleeve to your infirmary with a deep frown and eyes glinting with the promise of retribution for the hybrid that hid whatever ailed him from you; you were the medic for Pete’s sake! It was your duty to watch over them. Hounding Alejandro for his medical check after a deployment because, as handsome and dependable as he was, he liked hiding his wounds. Running after Rudy for his checkups while he was limping or trying to avoid you. Calling after Horanji for his share of the affection, needle, scalpel, bandage and all, he needed and deserved all the others received. Or sitting beside König, reminiscing about your early days, where taking care of your patients was as easy as taking care of König was, grateful and pliant, showering you with love and adoration before, during and after the procedures.

You had your plate full with them, so it’d be unheard of if you had time to care for others. You might’ve been a medic on base, but your priorities and loyalties lay with them, with Task Force 141 and its allies. However being a - their - medic, didn’t mean you were free from any pain, fear or quirkiness as they were. You were as weird and as awful as every single one of them was, wearing it pridefully on your chest when you stood with them; even if you were wholly human - or you were supposed to.

Ghost caught fleeting moments where a dark mass would move around you, a glistening blob of marble-like texture with silver rivers running across it. It was near impossible to see it when it would disappear once it felt - even the slightest indication - the presence of another living being, like an illusion of trick of the light. That’s what you told them, it was simply a trick of the light or something because you didn’t know anything about an ugly blob. It was told slowly and persuasively with a wince once the words “ugly blob” left your mouth, a pained grimace as if something was grating your ears or claws were digging into your mind. When he brought it up with Gaz - who had impeccable eye-sight, the harpy would agree, spewing words about it having a menacing face with wide, pointed eyes and a mouth full of teeth. Big and sharp teeth that seemed alien-like. It couldn’t have been the trick of the light, especially since both of them saw the same thing. They asked you once more, together this time, but you’d reassured them that they were both tired when they’d seen this blob. You were tired and sometimes saw moving forms from the corner of your eyes too, so it might’ve been hysteria - collective hysteria.

Soap, if he tried hard enough, would sometimes hear a deep voice echo around you. It wasn’t something disturbingly deep, or annoyingly alien, it was pleasingly deep with a smooth undertone to its growls. It would send chills up his spine when he heard it, but he would always catch your voice talking back to it. He’d hear hisses and curses, some more unusual and others more normal: “I can’t eat my teammates!”, “I told you no!”, “Stop eating heads! People will catch on!” or “Can you shut up?” and “I can’t concentrate with you screaming my head off!” Soap, knowing how good Alejandro’s hearing was, asked if the Mexican had heard you speak with an unknown voice, specifically a male voice. A few muffled conversations between you and an unknown man and sometimes one-sided, but, simply put, Alejandro had witnessed the same occasions as the Scot had. It wasn’t unusual to talk to yourself, would it? Soap liked to boost his own morale with confident words and flattering compliments to himself. Alejandro wasn’t a stranger to mumbling to himself either, cursing his choice in life and how he ended up with his - lovable - problem-causing band of vagabonds.

If you weren’t careful or unintentionally careless, there would be a distinct odour clinging to your skin. It would be strong and pungent, the smell fresh and metallic-like. König knew it well, he craved as much as he wanted to bathe in it, the sweet smell of blood. How could he not recognize the faintest whiff of blood when it often drove him mad with bloodlust and the uncontrollable need to fall into a daze of primal hunger? It stuck to you like a second layer of skin, thin and always present. It sewed into the fundamentals of your scent, the tinge of iron mixed into the sweet, syrupy musk. It drove him mad with need, thirsting for the thing that made you smell so delicious. It clung to you as if you bathed in blood, drinking and devouring it, yet your skin was clean, with no speck of red under your nails, on your skin or between your teeth. In a worry, he went to Price, The Captain had the most knowledge about you and König could trust him to take good care of him, being a dragon. He expected the Brit to know something, even the slightest change, but Price hadn’t caught anything odd about you. Perhaps it clung to you because of your closeness to him, Percht hybrids - although rare - were ferociously unpredictable and ravenously bloodthirsty.

Rudy was the more human of them, so he caught on to the changes in behaviours and habits of others easily. You’d act odd at times, shoulders slightly tense and back slumped inward, body tired but unable to relax. He wanted to help, he proposed, but you’d turned him down, telling him you were fine, that you were just restless from being off duty for so long or for being worked to the bone. He would also catch you subtly avoiding them without ringing any bells, seeming occupied with other things while whispering under your breath; your slower reactions to their banter and the darker bags under your eyes, wearing that dazed and blank look in them while you sat with them; or the strong growl of your stomach and the slight rubbing of your stomach, soothing an ache that rooted so deeply in your abdomen. He worried, often, if he was honest. Even Horangi, a man oblivious to most cues and behaviours in humans, saw the subtle change in your behaviour when you acted odd. He pointed out the rings under your eyes, your fatigued and distracted mind, and your lip-gnawing hunger. For a hybrid that had so much difficulty grasping and understanding humans, he caught on to your change abnormally quickly, even with the excessive chocolate consumption.

They were all suspicious and you, their sweet and convincing medic, had them doubting what they saw, your gaslighting working on them as easily as a child bribed with candy. It didn’t make you feel less guilty or disappointed in yourself, but you weren’t sure how they’d react to him, not being human or a monster. He was a creature out of the pages of a sci-fi novel, a creation of the human mind and imagination. Venom was an alien, something from outer space. You were convincing until you couldn’t anymore.

Let me take over, the soothing voice uttered to you, calling out your name in a concerned tone. Let me protect you.

You were compromised, the enemy had tapped into your line, listening in on your conversations and movements. That’s how they were able to separate most of you, to turn the squad of nine operators down to four smaller teams, all on the run and trying to stick to the shadows without calling to the others through the comms. You were crouched over Gaz, whispering sweet nothings to the hissing man. You soothed his ache, hand and mind strained on the bleeding wound on his forearm, his beautiful, bronze skin stained with crimson in the hot and humid air of Columbia.

Blood rolled down his tense arm, over his round muscle and sweaty skin, it was a clean graze, the blunt head of the bullet grazing his arm deep enough for it to bleed but shallow enough for it not to leave him incapacitated with blood loss. It was a ray of light in your dreadful situation. You had his wound cleaned and wrapped up, congratulating him for pushing through and helping him up. You cursed the enemy, wondering how the low-stake in-and-out ops suddenly turned out to be an extremely high-stake one with minimal possibility of reaching the evacuation point.

“C’mon Gaz, we need to move,” you whispered to him, holding your rifle closely to your chest while you walked around the shadows of Guaitarilla’s back alley and dark corners. “We need to regroup at the evacuation point.”

“Yeah, good plan,” he nodded, following your lead even though he was higher-ranked than you, but in such situations, survival was the priority.

You stuck to alleys, using the shadows to hide from the patrolling cartel that had the town surrounded, it nearly baffled you with the speed of their defences and counter-attack if you hadn’t heard of Las Almas’ attack from El Sin Nombre and The Shadows from you teammates. Although you couldn’t admire them, you could respect their skills and ability, you only wished it was for you rather than against you.

While you watched ahead, Gaz had your back, peering around the corner before giving him the green to move. It was a rotation between who went first and who looked back, but you made it work with only you both. You were so careful, yet it somehow wasn’t enough, someone had noticed you and it sent you and Gaz rushing for cover, to escape the group of dispatched cartel members. It was stupid, running without looking where you were heading towards. It was stupid to let the enemy tap into your comms. It was stupid, the situation you got yourself into.

You were backed into a corner, Gaz standing before you like a protective shield between you and the enemy, his rifle pointed toward the quickly advancing group. You wanted to protest about him using his wings to cover you, his wide, brown feathers expanded to hide you from those men. He was already hurt from pulling you away from harm, but he was now standing protectively before you. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you, not anymore.

Little One, his voice rang once more in your head, the reassuring pressure of his presence in your body calming you down by an inch. Let me take over.

If you let him take control of your body, it would ensure your and Gaz’s safety, then you could reach the others that you’d lost in the chaos of the battle. While you wore the combat medic’s patch proudly, your prior training before taking up your 16 weeks of medical training wasn't lost to you. You remembered how to aim and shoot, how to snipe an enemy from afar and protect your teammates from whatever danger you faced. None were lost to you, and you’d use every bit of training you had to protect them, whether it was as yourself or with Venom’s help. Venom’s help was undoubtedly useful, and right now, you needed him.

“Please, Venom,” you spoke aloud, your soft voice carrying through the blocked alley.

“Who-” Gaz asked, confusion laced his tone, the question left unspoken as Venom’s deep, rattling voice boomed across the tight space.

“We are Venom, flesh bag,” he growled, body crouching down, not dissimilar to a feline laying prone while it waited for the right moment to attack, and pounced at the men.

Don’t call Gaz flesh bag, Venom, you whined, your voice echoing in your shared subspace of your mind.

“If that is what you wish.”

His heavy mass landed on a man, pushing him to the ground with a loud crack. You imagined that Venom either broke his back or a few of the Colombian’s ribs, it was sickeningly delightful, the sadistic pleasure from Venom sent you reading with mirth. His hands stretched to abnormal lengths to swing at the enemies with practised ease and familiarity. Whether they’d die from blunt force trauma from Venom’s strength or live with a concussion, none mattered to him, hunger raked his being, the throb aching in the back of his mind. It was a moment where he was let loose, where you wouldn’t need to gorge on an extreme amount of chocolate to keep him fed. This would keep him satisfied for a few weeks.

Venom pulled the first two in, his jaw widening to clamp down on their neck. Gaz saw the dangerous gleam of Venom’s teeth, rows of pristine and immaculate teeth the size of a finger bled the man’s head red in a single bite. He shivered at the decapitated body that fell from your monster’s hand as he went for the second and third Colombian. He made a show of viciousness and raw, unadulterated bloodthirst with his eating. Fortunately, apart from the bloody mess and dead bodies, Venom was a relatively neat eater, licking his teeth clean from the red stains with a long, slimy tongue. Gaz couldn’t shake how your monster made him apprehensive, his body flinching and trembling at the greater being.

“Let’s go, The Little One wants to rescue the others,” Venom’s grating voice shook Gaz out of his stupor.

“Hu-Hunter’s there?”

Venom nodded, his mass retreating into your body, the mass melting into you like a second skin. It was as if Venom was never there, as if it was all his delusional imagination. Gaz rushed to you, his hands grabbing hold of you as he shook you in his grasp, he cursed in worry, concern lacing every word he spewed in a tornado of fear, curiosity and confusion. His soft feathered wings cradled you, casting a protective shadow over you as you hid in the darkness of the alley.

“Gaz, we have to go,” you murmured to him, your voice soft and reassuring, trying to help him walk off the edge you were pushed to. You both were safe for now, the cartel that had followed you all laid dead without their heads in a thick puddle of their viscera. “We have to find the others.”

He let out a shaky sign, his head nodding in affirmation at your comforting words. He loved that about you, that ability to heal and mend their ache and anguish with a smile and sweet words. Then, pairing your softness with your stubborn viciousness made you a gem within the military, a one-in-a-million for them. Yet, all that clouded his mind were questions, about your safety, about that monster that melted into you, about what kind or what it was. Gaz had so many questions that he’d push back for the greater good of rescuing the rest of the Task Force, he’d hound you for answers later when everyone was back together.

When Venom resurfaced, retaking control of your shared body, he’d reassured you that he knew where they were, his body being hyper-aware of the things that made you smile and laugh. You were his host and his joy. It was an easier job than the two of you - you and Gaz - had expected, Venom’s claws digging into the buildings as he scaled the walls to reach the roof. From then, he pulled nothing back, rushing forward with the same enthusiasm as König had when he led first, and leaped, the muscles of his legs pushing him high across the buildings with Gaz flying beside him.

Venom had made quick work of the situation, his body invulnerable to anything but loud sounds and fire, which none had since it was a rainy night. You found Horangi and Alejandro first, Venom doing what he knew best: protecting you, in relation, what you loved too, and feeding on human heads, the chemicals in the human brains nurturing him. Alejandro and Horangi were naturally confused and distrustful of Venom, but you had Gaz to smooth things over, and knowing that Venom’s way of speaking was curt and up-to-point - annoyingly blunt - it made your body soar with relief. They, albeit confused and curious, followed you from the ground as Venom cleared a path to the next ones.

Price, Rudy and Soap were the biggest team from your unexpected separation. They jumped at Venom’s appearance, Soap throwing threats at him when he took a step towards them. That was expected, Venom - even being the symbiote you were hosting - was a stranger to them and Soap reacted according to his instincts. That blaring, red light that signalled his brain to send his body on complete guard about the danger, Venom couldn’t escape a werewolf’s keen situational awareness. You’d taken the initiative to calm them down, seeing as everyone was already down, the enemy loaded with bullets and dying in a pool of their blood. You kept the explanation short and simple, giving them the important points before promising to tell Price everything he wanted to know after you found Ghost and König.

Those two were harder to find, forcing Venom to extend himself to sense the slightest presence of either man. It couldn't be easier that Ghost was a wraith, being able to disappear and appear at will and that König knew very well how to hide, perhaps as well as Ghost could. When Venom found them, Ghost shot first, “shoot first, questions later” seemed to lead his decisions with König not far behind him. He brought his arms forward to protect himself and you, hidden within his mass. Venom growled but didn’t attack them, hissing the words you spoke to him to them. It was a simple quote that you’d shared with them in situations where they needed to find you between the hostages or under disguise.

Like calls to like.

It was simple, but telling. They stopped the moment Venom uttered them, knowing well you were inside Venom, Gaz landing before him and the others steadily arriving behind the two. Task Force 141 was finally complete, from the most humane to the most chaotic hybrid, some were hurt, grazed, protrusions, and stabbed, but all were alive. You were glad, you were really, really happy that everyone was safe and alive.

Seated in the Razor, the silence and tension were thick within the cargo hold, Horangi and Gaz framing your sides with Price taking the seat across from you. You could see the stress and tension rolling off his shoulder after treating everyone, his brows furrowed and a frown curled his lips under his beard. Beside him was Alejandro and Ghost, both - like everyone else - wearing a confused and disgruntled expression on their face, their eyes gleaming with questions left unsaid. You’d left them wondering if their minds were playing tricks on them, if they were seeing things, if they were imagining things and if they were losing their minds. You understood the anger, but you had your reasons to hide Venom’s existence.

Price crossed his arms, legs spread wide as he leaned back, his head tipped back with an inquisitively serious look. He raised a brow at you, waiting to see if you could prove your case or if you had anything to add before he started. With nothing to say, you bit your bottom lip, your shoulders screwed with anxiety and fear. You didn’t know what to expect now that your well-kept secret was out.

“We have a lot to talk about, Hunter.”

“I know, Captain.”

Better sooner than later, leaving it to fester and grow would be bad for the TF’s morale and relations.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

hey if you don’t mind, I’ve been struggling with a lot of anxiety and it makes my chest hurt a bunch so maybe you could rwrite something like that with anyone you’d like, ofc if you’d rather not that’s totally.

have a wonderful day dearie

Thanks for requesting baby, I'm really sorry you're dealing with that! I hope maybe you're feeling a bit better by now.

cw: anxiety, chest pain

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus knows you mainly watch this show because he likes it, and yet he’s dozing off. After a long shift at the hospital, the clashing of swords sounds about as lulling as a thunderstorm outside the bedroom window to his tired ears, and his head slowly slumps backwards against the couch cushion. When snuggle closer to his side, head needling its way almost into his armpit, he thinks you’re trying to get him to wake up.

“Sorry.” His voice comes out raspy, drowsiness clinging to his vocal chords like a paste.

You pull away, looking up at him. “Oh no,” you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The guilt in your voice has him responding instinctively, “It’s okay.” Remus drapes an arm across your shoulders, encouraging you back to where you were. “I was only resting my eyes.” It’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, so he moves on quickly. “What’s up, hm?”

“I was wondering if I could have a hug,” you say quietly, tentatively, your eyes not quite on his, “if that’s okay.”

Remus checks himself before he can look too surprised. “Of course it’s okay,” he says, tightening his grip on you.

Granted permission, you go all out. You turn your body into his, both arms wrapping tight around his midsection and face burrowing in the soft material of his sweater. Remus adjusts his hold to get a better grip on you. He brings his other hand to your head, cupping the back firmly.

Asking for affection like this, so explicitly, is unexpected from you. It makes Remus feel like he’s just had a cup of tea, spreading warmth through his insides and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue. You hate to need him, but he loves to let you. He’ll take any chance to take care of you. He likes to think a secretive little part of you likes to be cared for, too.

The exhaustion in his bones melts into something heavy and fond as he pets the back of your head. “Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You hum into his armpit. “Just felt like I needed this, for some reason.”

“Any reason’s good enough for me,” Remus half-jokes, dropping a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Did you have a long day, too?”

“Not really.” Your voice dips into a lower register, disgruntled and bemused. You turn your face up so you can see him but don’t pull away, scooting closer to tighten your hold. “Nothing’s happened, I just feel a bit off, I guess. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting all afternoon.”

He can see the regret in your expression when his eyebrows go up, and Remus laughs.

“Oi, what’s that look about?”

“I’m not trying to put you on the clock.”

“No,” he says, smiling as he kisses your hairline, “You’re not, honey.” But he does reach for the remote, pausing the TV and silencing your background noise.

Your eyes narrow. “You’ve got that serious look, though.”

“That’s just my face, I can’t really help it.” Admittedly, chest pain worries him. Remus is prone to worrying about anything that ails you; it's where his job and his boyfriend duties collide. Still, he doubts you’ve been having a heart attack for the entire afternoon, so he’s not going to frighten you by telling you about the vast number of things chest pain can point to. “Where does it hurt? Can you show me?”

You sigh and lean back, putting space between your chest and Remus’ side. “Sort of here,” you say, flattening your palm over your sternum.

“Is it a concentrated pain,” he asks, “or more of an ache?”

“More like an ache,” you admit. “It’s sort of, like, burning? But that sounds more dramatic than it really is.”

He ignores the last part of your statement, setting his hand on your chest and pushing down gently. “Does that make it worse?”

You shake your head, and Remus hums. You haven’t been coughing; he would have noticed. He works two fingers under your jaw.

“What else feels weird, sweetheart?”

“I’m not sure,” you tell him, starting to sound a bit raw. “I just feel…not right, you know? Is that bad?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, letting his fingers drop from your pulse point. ”I think you’re mostly okay.” He uses both hands to pull you into his lap. “C’mere, baby dove.”

You seem far from unhappy at being moved, pushing your face into Remus’ neck and letting him rest his chin atop your head. “What?” you ask.

“Did you have coffee this afternoon?”

“Yeah.” You sound cautious. “Why?”

“And did you eat before?”

“Remus.” Your warning tone is undercut by unease.

He kisses your head in apology. “I think your chest hurts because you’re anxious, honey,” he says. “The caffeine probably made it worse.”

You go quiet for a minute. Remus rubs your back, sorry for the invisibility of your hurt but relieved that its cause isn’t something more sinister. When you pull away, you’re frowning.

“I don’t think it’s that,” you say. “It’s never felt like this before.”

Remus feels his mouth slant in sympathy. “I think coffee without eating is already a bad idea, but then if you got anxious and we started watching a stressful show,” he tries to convey some apology in his expression, “it might have made your nerves feel worse than you’re used to.”

“I think I’m only nervous because my chest hurts.” You blow out a breath. “It’s kind of a chicken and egg thing, yeah?”

Remus hums, running his hand up the length of your spine. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm. “Humor me for a minute?”

You sigh again. It looks strenuous. “Sure.”

“Breathe with me,” he instructs, folding you back towards his front. You go willingly, though you seem tenser now than before, your hands nearly rigid on his back. “In for eight.”

He listens to be sure you’re doing it with him, feeling your chest expand against his own. He lets his palm lie still beneath your shoulder blades, sneaking a gauge of your heart rate.

“Hold for eight.”

Remus feels your nose press into his collar. He turns his lips into your forehead, holding his lungs at their full capacity and knowing that if it’s difficult for him, it has to be considerably worse for you.

By the time you’re finished breathing out it's a relief for you both, and you turn your face up to his with a bit less skepticism.

“That was hard,” you admit.

Remus bites back an I-told-you-so, but he knows his smile must say enough of it when you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“Why don’t I change it to something a bit lighter,” he says, nodding towards the TV. “We can do more breathing during the commercial breaks, yeah?”

You appear to consider this. “And we can keep cuddling?”

Remus’ chuckle lures a smile out of you. He’s exceedingly gratified to see it. “That was never up for debate.”

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rednotebooksworld · 6 months

Note

A Fae MonsterFucker Mini-Fic, as a little treat~

Androgynous “pretty Boi” Fae Monster looking for a suitable Mate.. and one Human girl looking to snag herself a Fae husband because she grew up with the old tales of women being whisked away by the terrifying but gorgeous “neighbors” of the old wood~ who were supposedly never seen again, unless someone caught a glimpse of her fully pregnant when walking with her Fae lover..

She’s not to fond of the nosy towns people that live down the hill, her Aunt’s a known Fae fucker too, so can you really blame her for not seeing a down side to this?

The Human girl who lives with her kind but sassy “mouth of a sailor” Auntie, spending most her days in the garden (in perfect view of the forest) while singing songs of Fae Lovers and twirling in her short dresses as she waters her favorite flowers.. knowing the Fae love to dance and spin in circles~

Her aunt smirking at her niece playing up the innocent role, knowing her little plot is working as she notices the circle of mushrooms growing under her niece’s bedroom window.. a Fae Lover has chosen her already.

The brooding Fae who watches the human girl with longing possessive eyes, waiting for the chance to show himself, to trick her into being his and his only.. All he needs is her to willingly give her Name to him, and make a deal~

The Fae seizing his opportunity when he sees her in the woods alone for the first time, a sad look on her pretty face..

He relishes the look of awe in her eyes at his appearance.. a long slender framed body with pale green skin, sharp black nails on his fingers, sharp teeth in his charming smile, long ears, large glowing golden eyes and dark green hair flowing around him in waves as leafs and flowers adorned his locks like gems, dear-like antlers glittering like opal moonstones resting above his brow like a crown, and flowing robes of thin green silk that fell off one shoulder and left little to the imagination.. a splendid sight to be see for sure~

“Sweet, lovely thing~ why the tears? Tell me what ails you.. and I shall make all pleasant as warm honey with your heart~ for a price~”

gently he held her chin up with a single finger, grin turning wide as a Cheshire as she grasped his larger hand softly in her own with pleading doe eyes and rosy cheeks~

“M-My aunt.. she’s sick.. she’s all the family I have.. I.. I don’t know what to do.”

He knelt down as his figure cast a tall shadow over her, as he realized she wore only her lace nightgown, My how perfect she looks gazing up at him so intently like that..

“Give me your Name, my dearest, and swear to me and me alone your first night.. and your first born~ I shall see to it your Aunt recovers and lives all her days healthy and strong… perhaps a long life as well~”

He could feel how she trembled at his words.. but he had yet to see any fear in her as her gaze turned heavy, giving up Her Name to him without hesitation..

“I swear it~ you may take my heart if it pleases you, my lord~”

He growled as she spoke those delicious words to him.. how sweet.. how delicious…. How curious was she~ a fine Mate for him indeed~

He slowly laid her down on her back as he hovered over her, his long luscious hair falling around them as he kissed her tenderly with honeyed passion, her precious moans tingling his ears as he raised a slender hand up her legs, lifting her dress skirt, only to rip her underwear clean off!

He could smell her arousal burning his nose, how sweet and inviting a scent as he bit her lips and grasped her breast as he shoved two fingers in her wet pussy and started stretching her wide with his fingers.. using his fingers to fuck her with skilled precision, only pulling his lips away from their kiss as she cummed on his hand.. her red lips gasping for breath~

“Tell me, my delicious little human~ what sickness has wrought your dear Aunt, that you would have me RAVAGE you~ make you MINE and Ruin you to any other pathetic male that would dare look at you~”

He quickly shoved his thick cock into her tight and dripping pussy right as she opened her mouth.. a guttural shriek the only thing she could muster as he slammed into her three times, filling her till they were hip to hip.. though he refused to move again till she gave him an answer~

She hastily wrapped her arms around his neck, roughly kissing him with pure hunger as she then gripped his horns and intwined her legs with his.. he froze at the look of predatory lust in her eyes.. My what a new and interesting development this turned out to be~

She weekly fained an innocent look, though she no longer bothered to make it convincing..

“Oh~ terrible allergies I’m afraid~ I feared she might never breathe properly again..”

His Golden eyes turned black as his Cheshire grin returned with glee at hearing this.. she..

SHE.. TRICKED.. HIM??

Ooooh ho ho ho ho~ A Mate this clever and patient was truly worth the wait~ he’ll be sure to reward her for that one~

He began pounding her at full force, her head rolling from side to side against the grass below as her grip tightened on his horns~ shoving his face into her neck he started to fill her with his seed~ Breeding her for as long as he desired.. after all.. thay made a deal. He will have her first Born~ and every single child he fucks into her pretty womb after that~

“Clever little Mate~ you wanted to be Bred like this? Didn’t you.. to be made a Fae’s Bride? Answer me! MY MATE! Or else I won’t fuck my brood in you~”

“Y-YES!! YES!!! Oh Yes!! I-I want this!! Please~ Breed me! MY LOVE!! P-PLEASE!!!!”

He purred at her, declaring her Love to him, to a Fae~ before he even finished Mating her~

He decides to do what not many of his kind do anymore.. Truly claims a Human as his one and only Mate~ instead of just Fucking her once.. he’s Fully going to be Breeding her to completion~

His Mate.. His Bride.. His Breeding Mother.. HIS… she’s HIS!!!

By the time she walks out that forest~ her legs tremble with every step, her dress dirty, stained with grass and the smell of sex, though it takes some time to realize she DID NOT in fact spend just a single night with her Fae Lover.. in fact he was Breeding her for a full week straight, and not long after till she starts to notice a new point at the tips of her ears..

She turns around, Smiling lovingly out at the edge of the forest as she rubs her barely round belly.. the Golden eyes of her Love grinning back at her~

Her Aunt soon emerging from their home to congratulate her, as she herself just returned from spending a few nights with her own husband…. The very kelpie that lives in the lake just behind their little cottage…

“… So.. your uncle wants to know if you invited your new Husband over for dinner? Or is he just going to keep fucking you in the woods??”

The girl turned to smile mischievously at her Aunt, unfazed by her later question..

“Yes! I did, He’s coming by a little later, he wanted to grab a few flowers for the baby first.. and also yes he will~ he’s a truly remarkably skilled Lover~ among other things~”

Her Aunt started cackling as she lead her niece inside for a nice warm bath, and then some tea and fruits for the growing babe.

“Oooh~ got a feisty one did you? Good girl! Perhaps that taste runs in the family after all!”

Sheeeesh! This is so good 😭

Hot too 😏

Claps for you 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucker #monster smut #monster fucking #fae #fae husband #fae x human #fae x reader #monster lover

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deargojou · 3 months

Text

【 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 】

You pressed your hand gently against Megumi’s forehead, frowning at the intense heat radiating from his skin. His normally porcelain complexion was flushed pink across his cheeks, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

“Your fever still feels really high,” you murmured worriedly, brushing his dark bangs back from his face.

Megumi gave a small nod, the slightest grimace crossing his face at the movement. “I’ll be alright. Don't worry about me too much.” His voice was hoarse and lacked its usual composed strength.

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Of course I’m going to worry when my boyfriend is sick. Now hush and let me take care of you.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but quickly shut it at the stern look you gave him. Even in his weakened state, he knew better than to argue with you when you had made up your mind.

You had only been dating Megumi for a few months, but you cherished every moment together. Beneath his stoic, aloof exterior lay a kind heart and fierce loyalty. And though he was always composed around others, you delighted in slowly coaxing him out of his shell.

While Megumi had initially been shy about intimacy, your patience and affection eventually helped him open up. You lived for the small smiles he would give you, the way his pale cheeks would flush when you complimented him. He was still easily flustered by overt shows of romance, but you found it hopelessly endearing.

Now, as you tenderly cared for your ailing boyfriend, you were reminded of just how vulnerable Megumi allowed himself to be with you. He obediently swallowed the medicine you gave him to bring down his fever, though he insisted he could feed himself the hot soup you had prepared.

You just smiled knowingly, recognizing the subtle, prideful streak in Megumi. Compromising, you allowed him to eat on his own but remained close by in case he needed assistance.

After eating what little he could manage, his energy was spent. You helped him change out of his sweat-dampened shirt into a fresh one, taking care not to look directly at his bare torso―though the tempting glimpse of smooth, toned muscle made your face grow warm.

Once he was settled back against his pillows, you placed a cool cloth across Megumi’s burning forehead. He released a small sigh of relief at the sensation.

“How are you feeling now?” you asked softly, gently sweeping his bangs off his face.

“A bit better, thanks to you,” he murmured.

Your heart fluttered at even that small, precious smile. “I’m glad. Try to rest, okay? I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

His eyes drifted closed, though you could tell he was still fighting off sleep. You began carding your fingers lightly through his hair, soothingly massaging his scalp. After several moments, his breathing grew slow and even, his body relaxing into much-needed sleep.

You gazed down at his peaceful sleeping face. Megumi worked so hard taking care of everyone else, but was reluctant to rely on others in return. It made you happy to be able to care for him while he was vulnerable, proving he could depend on you.

When he awoke a few hours later, the flush had faded from his cheeks somewhat. But upon seeing you sitting dutifully by his bedside, a new bloom of pink blossomed across his pale skin.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, sounding quietly surprised.

You gave him a soft smile. “Of course. I want to make sure you recover properly.”

You reached out to feel his forehead again. “Mmm, still a bit warm. Are you feeling any better though?”

“Yes, much better thanks to your diligent care,” he said again.

You grinned. “Well, aren’t you quite the flatterer when you’re sick and defenseless.”

His blush deepened at your playful ribbing. Even now, after months of dating, he was easily flustered by your affectionate attention.

“Here, you should eat a little more,” you said gently, handing him a bowl of rice porridge. “This will be easy on your stomach.”

Megumi accepted the bowl with quiet ‘thanks’ before picking up the spoon to feed himself again. After a few bites, however, his arm drifted down weakly to rest.

Wordlessly, you retrieved the spoon from his slender fingers. Scooping up a small amount of porridge, you brought it to his lips.

His eyes widened slightly, “I… I can manage,” he protested half-heartedly.

“Shh, just let me help,” you insisted with a smile. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t spoon-feed my sick darling?”

At the open display of affection, Megumi looked utterly flabbergasted. But he obediently parted his lips, allowing you to feed him the porridge.

You weren’t sure if the renewed flush to his cheeks was from embarrassment or his lingering fever―likely both. But you relished being able to care for him so tenderly.

Once he had eaten his fill, you helped settle him back against the pillows once more. As you gazed down at him, you couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his cheek.

“You’re going to spoil me rotten if you keep this up,” he murmured, though he nuzzled ever so slightly into your touch.

You smiled, heart brimming with love for this boy who tried so hard to hide his softer side from the world. “Good,” you whispered. “You deserve to be spoiled sometimes.”

His gaze softened, his hand coming up to cover yours against his cheek. The simple intimacy of the moment made your breath catch.

“Get some more rest,” you eventually managed, reluctantly pulling your hand back. Already you missed the warmth of his skin.

Megumi’s eyes drifted closed again, his body relaxing into the mattress. As you watched over his sleeping form, you hoped he knew just how much you cherished him.

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girlgenius1111 · 4 months

Text

what if all i need is you?

alexia needs to relax. you can think of a way to make it happen.

18+ smut

Sat atop your girlfriend, you slowly worked the massage oils into her back, pressing hard in hopes of relieving some of the tension that ailed her. Alexia was rigid under you, the weight of the long week she'd had visible in the way she held herself. You'd both gotten home from training and you'd all put pushed Alexia onto the bed, stripping off her shirt and bra as you did so. She objected, arguing that you were tired to, but you ignored her, knowing she needed to relax. Even her ponytail looked too tight, and you tugged it out, softly massaging her scalp with your fingers.

You focused your hands on the back of her neck, using the pads of your fingers to work out the knots. It seemed like every time you got rid of one, though, she tightened right back up. You could practically hear her thinking under you, her eyes wide open, staring off at the wall, deep in thought.

"Alexia, you need to relax," you tell her, keeping your voice quiet.

"I am relaxed," she grumbles, and you roll your eyes.

"I feel like I'm massaging a piece of concrete, love, you aren't relaxing. Take a breath, drop your shoulders, close your eyes, and just focus on on the feeling of my hands on you," you instruct, nails now just scratching lightly up and down her back. You can tell she tries, watching as her muscles loosen for a minute, and then they're tensing up again, as Alexia lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Ale," you say reproachfully.

"I am trying, hermosa, but my brain will not stop," Alexia whines. Her tone of voice gives you a thought. It had been a few weeks since Alexia had asked you to take control. That had been rather rough sex, which you knew she needed. What she needed now, however, was for every thought to be pushed from her mind, to be taken care of.

"Roll over," you instruct, climbing off her so she has space. Alexia rolls onto her back, her cheek red from where it was pressed into the duvet.

"Are we done?" Alexia asks, sounding surprisingly disappointed for someone who you had to wrestle onto the bed.

"No. I'm gonna work on your legs." Your girlfriend raises her eyebrows at this, but relents when you push her chest back into the bed.

"Can I have my shirt back then?"

"No. I enjoy the view." you tease, and Alexia blushes slightly. "Close your eyes." They eyes flutter shut, and you smile to yourself, plan in place. You begin with her knees, starting with her good one, before moving your hands over to her bad knee, working gently at the muscles there. Alexia shifts under you, sighing slightly, and you know she's started to relax, just a little.

She's wearing shorts, so there isn't really anything in the way of you massaging her thighs, but still, you push them up until they are covering very little. You work each hand slowly up her thighs. As you get higher, Alexia moves more under you, shifting slightly every few seconds. You can tell that your movements are working and you trail your hands higher, until your fingertips are skating along her upper thigh, touch featherlight.

"Amor," Alexia says warningly.

"What? I'm just helping you relax," you say innocently, giving her a smirk when you opens her eyes too look down at you.

"That is not fair, bebita," Alexia argues, referencing that morning when you had gotten her off in the shower, but run out of time for her to return the favor.

"I don't care about fair, I care about making you feel good, it makes me feel good." You tell her, gripping the waistband of her shorts with your fingers, waiting for her to nod at you, before tugging them off. There's a small wet patch on her underwear, and you smile somewhat triumphantly, knowing you've gotten to her.

Alexia is looking up at you with an expression you only kind of recognize. It's the way she was looking at you a few weeks ago, her need for you clear on her face.

"Are you wet for me, baby?" you ask, reaching a hand up to trace over her lips. She nods shyly, and your breath catches as she opens parts her lips, taking your index finger into her mouth, running her tongue over it. "You want me to make you feel good?" Again, Alexia nods. You allow her to continue sucking on your finger, bringer your other hand to tease lightly over her panties. Alexia lets out a huff of hair, and you pull your finger out of her mouth.

"Please don't tease me," she asks.

"Hmm" you say, pretending to consider. "Since you asked so nicely." You tug her panties off her legs, and then, despite your words, you climb off your girlfriend, reaching over to the bedside drawer. You feel Alexia watching you, and you turn back to her.

"You're supposed to be relaxing," you tell her, allowing a touch of dominance to slip into your voice. Alexia slams her eyes shut, resting her head back down on the bed. You grab what you're looking for out of the drawer, and return to straddling her thighs. She's clearly fighting to keep her eyes closed. You nudge her legs apart, and she lets her knees fall open easily, until you're sitting in between, one leg extended on each side of you.

Alexia is only alerted to what is coming when she hears the faint buzzing of the small vibrator in your hand, before it is pressed up against her.

"Oh," she whispers, clearly not expecting this. Alexia normally didn't use toys on herself, or have you use them on her. She preferred to use them on you. The sensation was not one entirely familiar to her.

"Does that feel good pretty girl?" you ask, reaching one of your hands up to tease her nipple, just as you ask the question.

"Si, tan buena," she replies, hips pressing up into the vibrator. You increase the pressure of it against her clit, and then slowly begin to rub her nipple in between your fingers. Alexia's eyes are still shut, no longer as a sign of obedience, but clearly lost in pleasure.

You've only been holding the vibrator against her for a few minutes when she moans, hands gripping the sheets.

"I'm close," she murmurs. You're surprised, as normally it took Alexia longer to come, but the use of the vibrator must have been speeding things along. At her words, you press the vibrator harder against her, increasing her pleasure. She cries out, but her head lifts off the bed, and she looks at you, pleadingly.

"Please, can I come?" she asks. You feel a rush of something, though you're not sure what, at her question.

"Yeah, baby, make a mess for me," you reply, beginning to move the vibrator in little circles around her swollen clit. Another second passes, and Alexia's hips are jumping up off the bed.

"Fuck, amor," she cries, falling over the edge. You work her through the aftershocks until she jerks away from the vibration. Clicking the vibrator off, you spread her legs even more, lightly running a finger through her wetness.

"Amor," she gasps. You think she's overstimulated, so you pull back, but her eyes fly open.

"No, I need your tongue on me," she begs, propping herself up on her elbows to look at you, settled between her legs.

"Is that how you ask for things?" you tease.

"Please cariño, tu lengua, por favor," she moans.

"Good girl," you whisper, ghosting your lips down her abdomen, hovering over her pussy. You place a light kiss there, and then another, slowly increasing the pressure of your lips on her, before you spread her open, and your tongue juts out, licking steadily at her hole.

"Ay dios mio," Alexia whines, falling back onto the bed. Enjoying the taste of her on your tongue, you slowly push it into her, feeling her clench around you. You fuck the blonde with your tongue for a bit, until she asks for more.

"Fingers, cariño, please," she pleads, and comply, moving your tongue up to focus on her clit, pressing into her achingly slowly with one digit. Alexia is tight around you, already close, and she feels the stretch as you add another finger. You flick your tongue over her clit, pressing your fingers deeper into her and curling them, delighting in the strangled moan she lets out at the feeling.

"Amor," she whimpers, reaching a hand down towards you. Using your free hand, you lace your fingers with hers, giving her something to grip onto as you work her over the edge. Alexia's moans cut off as she comes, thighs squeezing against your head, whole body convulsing. It's a rather strong orgasm for only her 2nd, and it lasts for a few seconds, before her body relaxes, collapsing back onto the bed.

Alexia is breathing heavy, but her legs release your head and you lift it up, smiling triumphantly at the sight in front of you. Alexia, reclined on the bed, blonde hair fanned out under her head, chest heaving, face and upper body flushed red. You were successful- this was the most relaxed you'd seen her in a long time. Her hand weakly tugs on yours, and you allow her to pull you up the bed, until she can turn into your body, hiding her face in your chest.

"Are you relaxed now, my love?" you whisper into her ear.

"Si," she responds, voice breathy. "Thank you. I did not know I needed that."

You run your hand lazily up and down her arm, scratching softly with your nails. "I'm glad I could help."

Alexia tries to sit up suddenly, but your arms hold her against you. "Where are you going?" you complain.

"It is your turn, amor," Alexia says, ghosting a kiss onto your lips. You shake your head though, guiding her head to rest back on you.

"I can have my turn tomorrow. You need rest."

"But cariño," Alexia grumbles.

"No. I just got you to relax. Now it's time to sleep." you tell her firmly. She settles against you, whining when you sit up, easing her off your body.

"Amor, now what," she whines.

"I'm just going to clean you up and get you pajamas," you laugh. She's frowning at you as you move into the bathroom and closet, before returning. You using a towel to gently clean up the mess she made, ignoring how the sight of her slick core sends heat into your body; tonight was about Alexia, getting her to relax. You would live. You both change into sleep shorts and t-shirts, Alexia's movements slow and fatigued.

Pulling back the covers, you both shuffle under, and Alexia is pressing herself up against you with a content sigh almost instantly.

Kissing your cheek, she teases you sleepily. "I will not forget that it is your turn tomorrow, so you should get some rest too."

"Okay Ale, whatever you want," you tell her, biting back a smile. Tomorrow would be fun. Today, though, you got to take care of the blonde how she needed, and there wasn't anything more satisfying than that.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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palioom · 10 months

Text

stripes of a tiger

summary: pregnant with your first child, you cannot help but criticize your changing body. oberyn knows just how to help, not allowing any ill thoughts about yourself.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader word count: 3.9k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but nicknames); body worship; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; pregancy; mention of self esteem issues; some biting; husband oberyn being the sweetest

• masterlist •

A deep and heavy sigh was the first thing Oberyn heard when he entered their shared bedchambers. Long, drawn out and loaded with a variety of emotions he wished to explore, wished to know the cause of.

It made him wonder what ailed her today, his beautiful, pregnant wife. Round with his child for the first time, looking more stunning with each passing day, but also growing meaner by the hour.

He knew about the sudden bouts of changing moods by now, becoming more irritated and more emotional by the day.

Testing his limits anew and anew.

But he loved her either way, all these little things making him chuckle, excited to be on this journey with her.

“My sun.” He said with a wide smile as he found her, hands on her round belly, standing in front of the large mirror in the corner.

Dressed in a thin, orange dress, adorned with hundreds of jewels and pearls, glittering as she turned from side to side.

Stunning, so gorgeous and beautiful and-

His smile faded when he saw the expression on her face.

Furrowed brows, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Tears in her eyes.

“My sun.” His voice was softer now, gentle.

Body sliding against hers, chest flush with her back, his broad hands sliding over her beautiful belly.

Dark eyes following her gaze, landing on said belly through the mirror.

“What is wrong, my love?” Oberyn asked, soft and gentle. Lips finding her exposed shoulder and pressing a kiss to it.

Eyes trying to find hers.

“Why is my gorgeous wife looking at her round stomach full of our child with such sadness and contempt?”

Her eyes snapped up to his now, a few tears falling, leaving wet streaks across her cheeks.

How was she to tell him why?

His body felt comforting against hers, his hands warm on her belly.

That belly that was the cause for all of this.

Could she tell him about her sorrows without him being mad?

When she didn’t answer, he tried again.

“What is bothering you so, my sun?” Still soothing and gentle. The way he only ever was with her. “What is darkening your light? Your Prince demands that you tell him.”

That made her chuckle, the sound mixing into a small sob, bottom lip quivering.

These damn mood swings.

“Will you promise not to be mad?” She asked, her hands splaying over his on her stomach.

He nodded.

Whatever could bother her that made her think he could get mad at her?

As if he could get mad at her for anything.

She was his everything, his world, the stars in the sky, his sun.

“You still love me like this, don’t you?”

The question took him by surprise, brows furrowing for a moment.

Why would she ask him such a thing? Wasn’t it obvious, the way he doted on her?

Whatever she wished for, she received, nothing was too expensive or too demanding when it came to her.

He told her how much he loved her every night, tried to make her feel his love when he was buried deep inside of her.

If she wanted fruit only found in Essos, she would get them. Necklaces, earrings, gowns.

There wasn't a thing Oberyn wouldn't do for his beloved wife.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough.

“Of course, my love. How couldn’t I?” He replied, kissing her neck but still holding her gaze through the mirror. “What makes you say such things?”

She looked onto the floor, taking a deep breath.

“I simply feel unwell with my body, my viper.” Voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. “The scars from my skin tearing, my back aches and… I have become huge. Huge and fat and unbecoming.”

The words tore at his heart, pulling her against himself tighter.

His beautiful wife, carrying his child inside of her, radiant and glowing and so unbelievably stunning.

And she hated herself so much, her body which was providing life, which let them have a family of their own.

He sighed deeply, hands wandering under the thin fabric to feel her skin, the small grooves which adorned her body.

Like a tiger’s stripes.

“My lovely sun.” Oberyn said, calm and soft, like he was speaking to something so delicate and sweet that a single misstep would make it crumble and wither. “Look at me, please, my love.”

She hesitated, tears dripping off her nose and onto her stomach. Didn’t want to see him disappointed or mad at her.

Of all the things, she never wanted her viper’s anger, even though he had promised to never let his fangs sink into her, only those who wished to harm them.

“Look at me, my dove.”

She did, raising her gaze, finding his face.

Towering over her, eyes sharp and dark and so soft still. Only for her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“You have become huge, because you carry our child within you.” His hands rubbed over her belly again, soft and slow. “A sign of something good, something wonderful. With each passing day that you grow bigger, my love for you grows as well, my dear.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at his words, his face becoming blurry.

“I know you do not believe me, you stubborn woman never do. You are far from unbecoming, even with a little plumpness to your likeness.”

She smiled just a little, even if she did not entirely believe him, like he said.

The talk she had overheard from other Lords who called their wives the most awful things when pregnant with their children had made her expectant of similar talk from her future husband.

That she would be too huge, too unattractive for her husband to even look at her in such a state. Skin ripping, too heavy, the extra weight settling on her chin and in her legs.

Oberyn wasn’t like this, but she couldn’t shake this feeling that deep down, he was recoiled by her appearance, rather seeking out other people.

“Your glow intensifies with every day, and I could never feel disgusted by you. I have married the most exquisite woman in all of Westeros and Essos combined, and you have only become more beautiful ever since your belly started growing.”

He placed kisses against her neck, onto her shoulder, feeling the shiver that ran down her spine.

His touch wandered, away from her belly and over her hips, fingers running over her thick thighs.

“I enjoy your thighs around my head, when they snap shut while you’re in the throes of pleasure.” A kiss just below her ear made her knees wobble. “Any man would be happy to find death between them, suffocating just to feel the warmth of them.”

Then, his hands wandered back up to her ass, unable to escape the urge of grabbing a handful, hearing her inhale sharply.

“Your bottom, moving so enticingly when you walk in front of me, teasing me without meaning to.” His lips were on her ear now, voice low. “When I could still have you on all fours, seeing it shake with every thrust, every time I buried myself deep inside of you.”

It was like her skin was on fire when his hands wandered up, over her sides to her full breasts, sensitive and aching.

“Your breasts, so soft and beautiful, have grown heavier. The sight of them practically spilling out of your gowns is one I never wish to lose.” When he licked over the shell of her ear, the softest whimper escaped her. “Full and begging for my hands and my mouth. How they move when you’re spread open on your back for me.”

She felt the wetness between her legs as he groped at her, the throbbing. That low pressure in her abdomen, like a fire that was just waiting to lose control inside her.

“Let me show you just how much I love you, whatever shape your body may assume.”

Oberyn slowly spun her around in his arms, cupping her cheeks in his large palms and kissed her, passionate but gentle.

He couldn’t let her believe that she was anything other than the most magnificent woman he had ever seen and that her body was not deserving of the scrutiny she directed at herself.

She hummed into the kiss, eyes closed and her hands came to rest at his waist, steadying herself.

Tasting like berries and the sweetest wine, making her crave both as his tongue slipped into her mouth, a welcome taste.

Always so sweet, despite his name.

The Red Viper.

Slowly he guided her over to their bed, and she was glad when she felt the soft mattress hitting the back of her legs, her feet hurting from standing for too long.

When she sat down on it, he never broke the kiss, moving down with her and then further, finding his place between her spread legs on his knees, her hands now in his dark hair.

She wanted him so desperately, so sensitive and aching already.

“My viper, I want you.” She moaned when his lips trailed over her jaw and down to her neck.

He smirked against her skin, a soft laugh leaving Oberyn and his hands found their way to the straps of her dress, toying with them and feeling the expensive fabric.

“I know you do, my dove.” Pushing one strap down agonisingly slow, breath hot on her skin, adding to the heat in her body. “I assume you’re wetter and warmer than the Narrow Sea.”

She whined when he bit her neck, gently so there was the faintest mark of his teeth embedded into it.

“But I will not make it easy for you, my sun. My wife has to learn just how beautiful she is first, then she can have me.”

He always knew how to torture, fan the fires inside of her until they could burn her alive before taming them in a way only he could.

The other strap was pushed off her shoulder as well, sliding them down her arms and making the orange fabric pool in her lap, still covering her round belly but exposing her breasts.

“Just look at them.” He said, leaning back so he could cup them with his hands, just barely spilling over at this point. The glint in his eyes as he looked at them, squeezing slightly, made her feel warm.

When he looked up at her, he raised a brow.

“Look at them.”

She did, letting her eyes fall down, seeing how his hands couldn’t contain them fully.

But all she could really see were the tears in her skin, dark and ragged. Not something she could find joy or beauty in.

He saw the emotions flash over her face and it made him mad. Mad and upset, but not at her.

Never at her.

He ducked forward, placing kisses over her breasts, his fingers pinching her hard nipples and making her moan.

“Do you wish to know what I think?” He said, looking up at her. His tongue traced over the grooves of her stretch marks, biting and sucking at the soft skin.

She watched him, mesmerized by how much care he put into this, so attentive.

“These scars remind me of a tiger’s stripes, a beautiful and unique pattern adorning your skin, my sun.” The words made her feel warm, it was something she had never thought about before. “And you will be a mother with just as much fierceness as that of a tiger once our child is born. Still strong and gracious.”

Her heart beat fast in her chest, thrumming against her ribcage with such a force that she was certain it could simply break through.

It was a nice thought, her marks like that of a tiger.

A beautiful animal, she felt honoured he thought of her that way.

One of his hands made room for his mouth, his soft, wet tongue finding her nipple and flicking over it while his hand wandered lower, pushing up her skirts.

She felt him inch up her inner thigh from her knee, fingertips rough, tracing the same tears there as it went higher.

Her legs spread wider, feeling him smile against her skin, mouth still on her breast as his fingers found her middle.

Wet and waiting, hips jerking just from the faintest touch to her lips.

“Oberyn.” She threw her head back as she whined, fingers curling into her hair and tugging. “Please.”

He let two fingers glide through her folds, barely nudging against her swollen clit, ready for him.

“You’re dripping for me, my love.” His lips found hers again, swallowing her gasp as he pressed his fingers against her, moving them in small motions. “Like a waterfall of the sweetest nectar anyone could ever wish for.”

Removing them again, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking her wetness off of one with a deep hum and a wicked smile, then presenting the other finger to her.

“Taste yourself, how could anyone dislike this?”

And he watched as she wrapped her lips around his thick finger, tongue cleaning up her slick with a hum not unlike his.

Looking so needy and desperate as she sucked on his finger, his dick twitching in his breeches at the sight.

But this was about her, only her, her body and her pleasure.

Removing them and one again finding her clit, she held his gaze as he pressed down harder, watched her eyes flutter but not look away.

“How did it taste?” One eyebrow raised, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Tell me, isn’t it the sweetest thing you have ever tasted?”

She couldn’t deny that there was something about the way she tasted that was… good. Never better than Dornish wine or the berries she was brought every day.

But good in a depraved way.

She nodded, biting her lip as he sped up his movements just a little, wishing he would push his fingers inside of her instead.

“Speak up, love. Tell me.”

“Yes.” She breathed out, whimpering when she felt him speed up again for a second, then moving down to her aching hole. Desperate for him, fluttering around nothing. “It tastes good, my viper.”

Oberyn hummed, pleased with her answer.

Pushing two fingers inside her, she leaned back, bracing herself on her hands.

She couldn’t see his fingers, moving slowly in and out of her, spreading her open. Thick and long, curling up into that spot that made her unravel every time.

“Always so wet and warm and tight for me.” He grinned, kissing all over her breasts again, letting his tongue run over the grooves. “So beautiful and full.”

The sounds that left her were music to his ears, soft whimpers and throaty moans and he really wanted to undress her and take her. Her new curves only made him more excited, the wet sounds from her beautiful cunt only adding to it.

Wetting his fingers, squeezing them tight.

“Full with my child, my sun. Pretty and round, still swallowing my fingers like the greedy thing you are.”

She was close, hips rolling weakly against his hand.

“Please, Oberyn- You fuck me so well.”

Her voice was soft and breathy, turning into a small whine that hitched in her throat as he bit her nipple.

Suddenly, his mouth was gone from her breast and his fingers gone from inside her, leaving her feeling empty and a sound of protest bubbled in her throat.

Then she felt it, his tongue on her, eagerly licking up her folds while his hands kept tracing the tears on her skin.

Warm and talented on her clit, making her whine louder.

Talented in more ways than one, sharp like the spear he wielded, like the dagger in its sheath on his hip, but also so gentle and soft, like the velvet of her favourite gowns.

When he sucked on the sensitive bud, the fire inside her burned bright, engulfing her as it spread through her veins, her legs closing around his head, hearing his muffled sounds and feeling the vibrations of his voice.

He lapped up all she gave him eagerly, hand wrapping around her trembling thighs as she moaned his name, loud, uncaring if anyone heard outside.

Slowly bringing her down, at some point opening her thighs forcefully when he felt the need to breathe again, he sat back, looking up at her.

Mouth and chin wet, devilish smirk on his face.

“Sweeter than any wine.” He whispered before pressing his lips against hers, tugging her dress down over her belly so it sat at her hips.

Hand smoothing over them, finding the grooves stretched tightly.

“Maybe I should call you my Tiger now. You are ferocious enough for the title."

His chuckle deep and voice smooth.

She joined in on the laughter, mind dazed and chasing his lips when he pulled away to stand.

“I like Sun more, Oberyn.”

Nodding his head towards the middle of their huge bed, he helped her get there, taking off her dress as he did.

“You can carry many titles, my dove.” His hands opened the belt hanging over his hips, letting it fall to the floor with a loud jingle before he shrugged his bright yellow tunic off of his shoulders, baring his muscular chest.

Oberyn watched her sit there, in all her naked glory as her eyes travelled over his body. Still as infatuated and hungry for him as on their first night together so many, many moons ago.

Finding the dark trail of hair that vanished under his breeches.

She did feel a bit self-conscious next to him like this, rubbing her belly as she watched him open his trousers, revealing his hard cock, already leaking for her.

Again, he saw the emotions on her face, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her eyes just became a little bit sad.

“I suppose it takes more to convince you stubborn woman.” He chuckled, moving over to her, helping her lay down on her side.

Oberyn grabbed a pillow to put under her head and some more to put under her belly, making her sigh as she got more comfortable.

“I can not understand how you could hate your body this much.”

Trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulder, he let his teeth graze over her skin, wandering lower and lower.

Cupping one of her breasts and giving it some attention amidst her soft gasps.

She watched him, focused on his task as he reached her belly, her hand in his hair as he let his lips wander over every inch of her.

“Your stunning, round belly. Holding life for our family, our child.”

Wandering to her side, to her hips.

“I can not wait to see you grow again, and again, my sun. You are stunning, so magnificent.”

Kissing further down, biting her ass softly and making her moan and writhe below him.

“Oberyn, my love, please, I need you.”

His nose dragged over her back as he kissed up her spine, settling behind her, shifting closer until he was flush with her, his erection pressing against her ass.

“You have me, my dove, you will always have me.”

Taking himself in hand, he guided himself against her, groaning against the back of her neck when he slowly pushed in.

Her moan mingled with his sound, reaching behind her to grab his hip, needing to hold onto something that weren’t the sheets.

Slowly moving his hips, she leaned back into him, moans wanton as he dragged his cock in and out of her, hand on her belly.

“My beautiful wife.” He groaned, feeling her squeeze him tight, trying to rock back into him. “Round with my child, so gorgeous and glowing.”

Even he lost his sanity once inside her, her cunt intoxicating and her sounds music to his ears, kissing and nipping at the back of her neck.

“You feel so good, my viper, please.”

He did make her feel good, with his words and with his body.

She felt desirable with the way he fucked into her, the way he held her, grunting against her neck and biting her skin.

“Your pretty, tight cunt is so wet for me, my sun.” Oberyn rasped, pulling her against him tighter, thrusts harsh and rough. “Like you want me to fill you again, when you’re still round but you already wish for my seed again, don’t you?”

The way she clenched around him told him all he needed to know, her high pitched whine falling from her lips.

“I can not wait to fuck another baby into you, watch your beautiful body swell with my seed again, my dove. You would like that as well, right?”

More nodding, mind hazy as that fire inside of her grew once more, fanned by his words, by his body.

“Yes, Oberyn, please!”

His hand went between her legs to find her clit, her leg lifting to help him and he rubbed tight circles into it.

“Let me feel you, my tiger, strangle my cock with your tight cunt.”

She came with a dragged out moan, trembling and soaking his cock, the fire burning her up from the inside again while he kept rutting into her, praising her over and over and over.

“Like that, my pregnant, beautiful wife, my sun.”

Then he stilled against her, coming with a deep groan and she felt him twitch inside her, spilling himself.

Kissing her shoulder as he calmed down, still rubbing her belly, her thigh, still buried inside her.

Just enjoying her heavy breaths for a few more moments, her warmth.

Until he finally pulled out, carefully.

“Do you believe me now, my tiger?” He said, leaning on one elbow and gently pulled on her shoulder so she could face him. Slotting his lips against her own.

She hummed into it, her hand cupping his cheek.

“A little more, yes.”

His eyes were loving as he looked down at her, but also mischievous, as always.

“But perhaps I need a little more convincing.” She giggled, watching him break into a wide grin, laughing with her.

“I will convince you as many times as I need to, my tiger.” He replied, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Until you believe me that there is nothing to hate about your changing body, for all that is changing now is to bring us our child, every tear in your skin a sign of your love and devotion.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words, feeling too emotional in the afterglow, but still smiled.

“Our viperling.”

“Our viperling, yes.”

He kissed her again, his hand moving to her stomach.

Right now she looked like one of the Gods themselves, with that gentle smile that tugged at her lips and her lidded eyes as she looked at him. Hair tousled and her skin flushed a dark crimson still.

“I do not wish to find you sunken in doubt ever again, my sun. You will find me first and I will help you forget about whatever plagues your mind.” His eyes were still gentle but with a certain seriousness in them. “Do you promise me? You are like one of the Gods, sculpted so magnificently that I allow no doubts about this.”

She sighed but nodded, drawing him in for another kiss.

“I promise, Oberyn. I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he settled back behind her, nose buried in her hair as he pulled her against him.

“And I love you, my sun, my tiger.”

Hand on her belly, feeling the faint movements.

“No matter how big or how small, you will always be my beautiful wife.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell smut #pedro pascal #game of thrones #got #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #tvats

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pparadiselost · 6 months

Text

crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village.

that much you know.

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother.

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert.

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches.

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode.

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you.

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch.

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right?

crunch.

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers.

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.”

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly.

he’s hungry, he decides.

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her.

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf?

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him.

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in.

“what-?” you flinch. “no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds.

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him.

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth.

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body.

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity.

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places.

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go.

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb.

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt.

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable.

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy.

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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