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vashwoo · 4 months

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pairing: vash the stampede x afab! fem!reader content: smut (MDNI!) cw: questionable usage of this man's prosthetic fingers, c.lit play, tristamp coded vash because of the arm color but the others can have some coochie as a treat a/n: been in my notes app for forever. i cannot believe my first fic in awhile is smut and it's even my first trigun fic. ashamed. shaking out the dust and sand from my brain just like vash shakin' out the sand from his arm.

brad is a genius and knew the blonde would gunk up his masterpiece with sand at some point... so he provided a neat lil feature to help shimmy out the granules from the tiny crevices!

On the desert planet that was Noman’s Land, sand was a cruel devil for mechanical bits and bobs. Constantly eroding the cheap lacquers and choking up the gears in more intricate machinations made being an engineer a more annoying task. Hence why Brad, genius that he is, had equipped the blonde gunman’s arm with a little special something to rid the little granules from the intricate joints that made up the malachite arm.

“This is the annoying part; gets... so… gritty– Eep!”

The blonde man squawks as he flails his left arm around, jerkily stretching his lithe fingers. The dual suns’ rays reflect off of the flat planes of his limb, occasionally blinding you as you watched him fumble around. Speckles fell from the crevices as he slapped his other hand against the jewel toned forearm, but the grimace on his face told you that it wasn’t quite fixed yet. Before you could offer to helpfully brush it down with a random paintbrush you picked up from the previous town, he fiddled with something at his inner bicep and the teal arm buzzed to life.

Sand granules vibrated and seemingly shimmied out of the tighter spaces of his arm and fingers, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he happily wiggled his digits again. A clear lack of stuttered arcs in their movements told you the sand battle was won.

Distantly, the others in your ragtag group argued about the lack of water and supplies for the next few hours, but your brain wanted nothing to do with that conversation. In fact, the mechanical whirring of his arm mimicked the static of your empty skull. Not a single thought was between your eyes at that moment.

Words died in the back of your throat and were replaced with absolutely salacious thoughts. Those thoughts raced through your mind and the blood pumped wildly in your ears (and between your legs). You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you cleared your throat to grab the blonde's attention.

“Say, Vash,” you coughed, and his eyes darted to yours in interest at the awkward tone you’ve suddenly adopted, “I’ve got an… idea.”

Those big blue eyes blinked owlishly at you as he curiously tilted his head.

“What’s up, Mayfly?”

As soon as the group stumbled into town, divvied up the keys, and parted ways, the door of your motel room was barricaded by a splintered chair because the lock didn’t live up to its namesake.

“Curious about this, huh?” Vash’s teasing murmur against the shell of your ear snapped your attention back to the present. “Were you wondering how it would feel… against… your–”

The tip of his cool, jade finger floated down and graced the swollen bud between your legs. Before you could snap a little jab in his direction, the droning mechanism whirred to life again, except this time, Vash wasn’t trying to rid himself of sand. With a yelp, you curled in on yourself, plush thighs caging the broad man’s hands. Your body jerked and he laughed breathlessly, cooing as his flesh-and-blood hand pried your legs apart. This man was teasing you! Turning the buzzing fingers on and off? How cruel–

“So lewd of you,” he cooed your name, delighted by your body’s honest reactions.

Tease. Bastard. Where’d this confidence come from?

He tenderly pressed chapped lips against the back of your neck, pecking you three times over. When you embarrassingly squirmed against him and curled in again, he fussed. “M-Mayfly, don’t hide,” he breathes, his voice laced with poorly masked desperation. Your attention was taken and you ceased your squirming at the breathlessness of the man holding you. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

For Vash the Stampede, succumbing to hedonism was a transgression against his moral code. Yet, when it comes to his precious Mayfly, your happiness and pleasure were equally his own, and he was a selfish sinner learning to indulge.

He would never come to you with this... idea. But he won’t lie that it came to mind once.

Well, twice.

Okay, maybe a few times before the two of you had become entangled in each other.

For every stuttered gasp you released, he mirrored it. For every choked moan you bit back, his hips bucked in response to wordlessly beg you to let go in his arms.

It made you wonder who was going to finish first. It made him wonder why he took this long to do this. It was all for you, after all. Your pleasure was his.

The gunman’s ragged back rested against the chilled wall of the dim motel room, pulling you taut against his warmth. He protected your back from pressing uncomfortably against the metal over his heart, shifting your body to lean on the rightmost side of his chest. His soft hair tickled you at times, constantly adding ammo to the reasons to squirm in his lap.

Vash’s touch was grounding, yet it also sent you straight for the clouds. His initial hesitant ministrations were gaining confidence the more you sang for him and arched so prettily in his grasp; his index and middle fingers moved at a languid pace, playing you like a seasoned musician performing their magnum opus.

At the start, he expressed concern over the idea of using his arm’s ugly, brutish, and utilitarian functions on your soft body. He sputtered in surprise when you first mentioned it earlier in the day; he had frantically gestured to his shining arm, babbling and asking you to confirm what he thought you had said. Crimson heat rose to his ears and it was not from the suns beating down on his neck.

Vash was certainly surprised by your proposal, but again, it wasn’t necessarily the first time it came to his mind.

Even as the two of you first settled against the musty sheets on the mattress, his hesitation spoke volumes with the way his fingers ghosted your core. After much coaxing and promises to stop him if it hurt, he finally, cautiously, pressed his strong fingers where you needed them most. The jade fingers weren’t vibrating though. Only when you complained with a whined cry of his name did he turn it on with bated breath.

Well, Vash quickly learned the tremoring metal was not too much against your core, and hearing your stuttered gasps? The practiced gunman was delighted to find out his body could serve you even better than before.

Currently, each time your legs twitch inwards, he’d whine with pouted disagreement and sweet talk your body to open back up to his touch by nudging your thighs apart again. His petulant huff raced past your ear and your attention would wrap around his next words. “So wet, Mayfly,” he breathed, awe lacing his voice. “Is it that good? Am I doing okay?”

Genuinely, Vash wanted to be nice, so he stopped his flicked motions to let you answer. His fingers rested on your clit, but didn’t cease the vibrations. With trembling, yet practiced fingers steadily pulsing against you, your head flew back onto his shoulder as you choked out your pleasure, “S-so good, Vash!”

Oh god, you sounded wrecked and beautiful to this man’s ears. The man always loved how his name was uttered from your lips. Your compliment held an unsaid cry for him to continue, so he hummed happily as his fingers sped up their strides, flicking up and down, and occasionally chasing well-practiced circles. The vibrations from his hand seemed to amp up in strength and your hands flew to his strong legs, digging your nails into his skin. His hand was suddenly drenched and his breath caught at the back of his throat.

His loving pace faltered for a beat at the sting of your grip as he groaned, mindlessly nuzzling the back of your neck with his nose. The crescent marks on his legs would never scar like the others on his body because you’d never harm him in such a way, but a ruined part of his mind prayed you did. Vash’s free hand trailed up from your tummy to cup one of your breasts to gently toy with the swollen nubs, pulling you close against his body.

“You’re so wet,” he moans brokenly and gingerly nips at the juncture of your neck. His fingers were starting to clumsily slip from the slick drowning his fingers, but he was determined to be so good and do well. That’s all the Humanoid Typhoon ever wanted to be for you, after all. If he was blessed to touch an angel and make her sing with his erred hands, the least he would do was give her a glimpse of heaven, right?

“A-are you getting close, Mayfly? Can feel her throbbin’ f’me…” he slurs, his fingers working overtime as he flicked and massaged you. You wailed softly as he seemed to establish a steady rhythm after your sudden deluge from earlier. Before he can moan out yet another nose-bleeding-inducing whimper, your hand shoots out and halts all of his progress. You yank his arm away and a confused ‘bwuh?’ slips from the blonde angel in the room. Before he can protest, you awkwardly crane your head around and stare him down; his voice, worry, and confusion fizzle away at the dazed gaze you grace him with.

Although the room was dim this late at night, the lantern illuminated your silhouette well; every curve on your body was highlighted by the warm light. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from his little onslaught of pleasure.

‘Wow.’

You laughed; did he say that aloud?

Kind of embarrassing, but–

Desperate want painted your pretty little face as you pant at him. His grip on your body loosened as he felt your legs twitch, letting you rearrange the two of you however the hell you wanted.

He’d follow you anywhere.

When you lifted yourself from his body to shakily turn and face him, a hum bubbled in his throat before your fingers coyly traveled down your front, spreading yourself under his gaze. His cerulean eyes had followed your fingers’ dance and he swallowed dryly.

Wet.

So wet.

He did that.

Your thighs were quivering as you balanced yourself on your knees, and if he stared hard enough and long enough, he was sure he’d see you drip onto the sheets.

What a waste that would be, though.

Dumbly, his jaw slackens he stares at your lower half glistening with the obvious sign of your love for him. Distantly, his left hand continued to buzz against your flesh and you laughed at the tickling sensation as you placed your hands on his tense shoulders to steady yourself.

His brain was going to short circuit like the very first time you allowed him to even see an inch of your bare skin. The hardworking pink thing in his skull cheered over and over as his eyes continued to glaze over at the gift in front of him.

Your plump lips were mouthing salacious words down at him but were only partially registering in his clouded brain.

Something about ‘being inside’ and ‘finishing together’–

His wide eyes snapped back up to yours when you planted your hips firmly against his. Oh god, his pants were so ruined but he didn’t care. Not when you were looking down at him with all the love in your eyes as you sighed out his name in bliss.

It sounded so pretty from your lips.

The Humanoid Typhoon felt dizzy, oh so dizzy…

You purred when his hands shakily found their home on your hips, “c’mon Plant boy. Let’s get those pants off of you, huh?”

Vash the Stampede had never clumsily unbuckled his ruined pants so fast in his life. Can’t blame the guy though. His pretty litte Mayfly laughing and sitting on his lap made it really difficult.

#vash smut #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun #trigun reader insert #vash the stampede reader insert #vash the stampede smut #vash x reader smut #trigun stampede

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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Here is a dream Jimmy has had again and again: he is sitting in a cage.

It is, he thinks, probably not a particularly nice birdcage. No one’s bothered to gild it; maybe he should consider it lucky for the white polymer enameling that means the bars don’t rust, but in some ways, it’s more insulting that no one’s tried to dress up that it’s a cage. There is straw on the bottom, a water dish, a small plate of fruit. There are mirrors and colorful bells and perches hanging from the ceiling. There is a knife on the floor, half-hidden by the straw and so polished that it almost looks like a mirror.

As he starts to pull his hands away from the straw he’s been sat upon, recoiling from the knife for reasons he doesn’t know how to explain, he can see he’s not alone. There’s a bird in here with him, a little yellow canary. (Of course there is.) The bird mostly hops, rather than flying, but its wings aren’t clipped; it could fly if someone let it out of the cage. It has a lovely song, and it sings it over and over, as though it doesn’t know what else to do when it’s locked in.

That’s normally when Jimmy looks for the door, then. There’s a little black digital lock holding the cage shut. It’s on the wrong side of the bars and the bars are too close together for him to reach anyway. The first time he had the dream, he spent the whole time there, trying to figure out how to get at the lock. He couldn’t figure it out, though, not before he suddenly stopped being able to breathe.

The rest of the times he’s had the dream, he’s bothered to look outwards. There, he sees people; many of them are familiar, but most of them are strangers, blurry figures that are only distinctive in that all their eyes are looking at the cage. He yells for their attention, rattles the cage, rages, and sometimes, one of the familiar faces sees him. Tango and Joel at least tried the lock; they didn’t know the passcode any more than he did. Others talk to him, but don’t bother with the lock. Jimmy tries not to be angry. It’s not like it will open without the code.

No one else seems to see him at all, though. They’re too focused on the bird. His words steadily get more and more drowned out by the birdsong, even as the room starts to heat up and smoke starts to coil on the ground. By that point, not even the people who know Jimmy seem to be able to hear him over mesmerizing birdsong, and as he desperately tries to get someone’s attention, vision swimming in and out, desperately tries to reach the lock again, do anything, nothing happens.

And then, one time, they turn to look at him as the bird succumbs before he does to the smoke.

They still don’t get the door open in time.

But the last time Jimmy has the dream, it’s shown him what to do.

He picks up the knife.

And as he exits the mine with blood and yellow feathers on his hands, he does not regret it at all.

#trafficblr #trafficfic #a bee fic #jimmy solidarity #no specific life series for this one #anyway have you ever had a piece of imagery hijack your brain? because that’s what happened here.#animal death #also obviously this is all ~a metaphor~ interpret it however you will.

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uncookedfeeler · 16 days

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Cok's adventure II 🐙

Giselle x You

Tags : 7k5, Idol Giselle, story, smut, creature kink, anal, creampie, oral, breed, domination, ...

Part 1 Part 3

As the night goes on, the sirens of police and emergency services are still ringing in the city, where journalists are now swarming around the building, trying to get as much information as possible. Giselle is waiting for her manager to arrive in a café a couple of blocks away. She's put her bags and package at her feet and is enjoying a vanilla cappuccino. She can hear the TV not far away, with a live report from a journalist covering the accident:

"This is Jin, a reporter for K-News." The mall just had its last customers leave. There was a loud noise nearby, and a huge cloud of smoke was still coming from the building. We don't have all the details yet, but we'll do our best to get them to you as soon as we can. We've been told that the emergency services are still refusing our interviews. Are they trying to cover something up? The journalist kept going with his report, even though she was there at the scene, the situation had happened so fast, and she didn't know any more than he did.

Giselle notices her phone is vibrating in her pocket. She checks her screen and sees several missed calls from Karina, plus a notification in their chat.

She knew she could count on her members when she got home, and they'd reached out with some comforting messages. However, her tough-girl image was starting to show some cracks. The day had been long and stressful, and she was feeling the effects. Giselle's mood has taken a bit of a turn for the worse. She used to enjoy her freedom and her little adventures on her own, but now she wishes she hadn't gone out today.

She looks relieved when she sees her manager come into the café. He comes over to get her bags, and Giselle, feeling a bit embarrassed, heads for the exit. She feels her manager's hand rubbing her back as a gesture of kindness.

The night is now more aggressive, sending waves of cold wind across the city and blowing Giselle's hair around. The cold air hits her face, still covered in makeup. She picked up the pace, eager to get to the car and find some shelter. She notices the lights on her manager's car are blinking, indicating it's unlocked. She puts her hand on the back door handle, tosses her purse into the middle seat, and gets in, fastening her seatbelt as she goes. She's eager to get home.

She hears the trunk open and her manager say, "Let me drop off your stuff, and we'll get going." "I'll be as quick as I can." The man's voice is reassuring. He puts the bags and package one behind the other, then runs over to the driver's seat.

You've been stuck in this black box for a while now, even though you can't see anything and your tentacles are all tangled up. You're calm and thinking about the best way to get out. You feel the vibrations of the ride and wait helplessly for what's to come.

The ride home is as quiet as a church. Giselle looks out the window and enjoys the light show. The manager, despite his best efforts, would rather focus on the road. He knows the member will find the right words.

Once parked in the underground lot, the way to the dormitory is the same. Giselle leads the way, and her manager is busy with shopping. They get to a big white door. She opens the black box on the side, enters the 4-digit code, then closes it. You hear a small validation sound, and the lock releases. Giselle goes in first. She takes off her shoes, and her manager leaves her stuff at the entrance before heading back to the elevator. "Good night, Giselle. See you tomorrow. You've got the day off, so make the most of it!" he says after completing his mission. She quickly turns to thank him, a big smile on her face.

Now that she was barefoot, she put her shoes back where they belonged and opened the door to the main room. There she finds Karina sitting on the sofa and Ninging's body, clearly unconscious from exhaustion. The leader takes the initiative and comes to hug her, like a mother would comfort her child after a difficult event.

There's no need to say anything. Both women enjoy the moment of silence. Karina is relieved to see that her colleague is unharmed. Giselle is happy to be home. They spent a good two minutes rubbing each other's backs before they heard Winter come back from the doorway.

"The food is here!" the young girl announces, her hands full of plastic bags. She'd gone downstairs a while before Giselle got there to start cooking dinner. Karina and Winter get the food ready while Giselle takes her things back to her room. She quickly put her stuff away and went back to the living room. Ningning was brought back to life successfully when the young woman caught a smell of food filling her nostrils.

After dinner, the girls enjoyed the food and Giselle's spirits lifted for a moment. She was able to forget what had happened that day. It was well past midnight, and the girls were heading to their rooms to get some rest.

Speaking of privacy, when Giselle returns to her room, she decides to change into her pajamas. She removes her clothes, including her underwear, and puts on a long white t-shirt that reaches to her knees. Her two large mounds hug the shape of the clothing, and her anal plug is still firmly lodged in her small asshole.

Now she turns her attention to the package that caused her so much trouble. She grabs the scissors on her desk and begins to open it with a vertical motion. As the employee said, the package has already been opened, so there are only a few pieces of tape holding it in place.

You've finally had a chance to see the light. The room is warm and bright, and the light hits your eyes. You catch a hint of a sweet smell as it wafts in towards your nostrils. You come face to face with a human with black hair, big brown eyes, and perfect skin. Her lips are painted a pretty pink, and her skin is white like the flash of a light. As soon as you lock eyes, you freeze, suddenly aware of where you are. It's likely that the Humans have already killed one of your own, and there's no reason to believe they won't do the same to you.

"Wow, so cute" Giselle says as she looks at you and quickly picks you up to put you on the ground keeping her eyes on you the whole time. She had a pretty good idea of what to expect from an octopus and never thought she'd get such a pretty toy. Octopuses aren't the most attractive creatures, but when she sees your little round head, black eyes, and mouth, she can't help but think of you as a little puppy.

She opens it by touching your tentacles. Much to her surprise, she feels your warmth in her hands. The gelatinous yet firm feeling is pretty addictive. She places her fingers on your suction cups and feels how strong they are. The pleasure of touching you now makes her feel good, so she puts her lips on your head, and you don't seem to mind. Instead, she follows up with a quick flick of her tongue, releasing a sweet but not unpleasant taste into her mouth.

She starts by putting two of your tentacles in her mouth. The contact of her lips and tongue makes you quiver inside. The sensation of moisture at your tips is a pleasure you've never experienced before. Then you feel more tentacles on her warm body. Soon you're completely used by the human.

You're still immobile, and you're starting to worry about the attacks on your body. The fact that she's started putting her lips on you and even biting your head makes you think she's going to eat you. Then you feel your body being lifted and you land in a soft, comfortable place.

Giselle has taken the liberty of placing you on her bed. "I think it must be hidden over there," she says, peering between your tentacles. She notices a crack and gets really concerned. "What?" "I can't believe they sent me the female model!" She starts to touch your "bottom."

"What on earth is this person doing? Why is she putting her hands so close to...?"

Your excitement causes your penis to jerk out from between your tentacles. You feel vibrations running from the middle to the tip of your tentacles.

"Oh my, that looks so much like the real thing!" Giselle's eyes widen and she blushes. She's got the penis of a space creature in front of her, and she has no idea. She uses her hand as a measuring tool and assesses it with interest. "Oh my goodness!" "It's probably going to reach my uterus with ease."

Things have escalated quickly. Just a few moments ago, you thought you were in serious danger. Now, a human has just pulled your dick. You feel her breath on the tip. You're frozen in place, realizing what's going on. You don't see the human, but you get a few jolts and a sensation of moisture around your cock. It touches something that looks like a tentacle. It's itchy, and the heat and moisture of your cock make you feel warm and relaxed.

Giselle had taken your cock in her mouth without you noticing. She started with gentle kisses on the tip and then took the length into her mouth. Her tongue traced the length of your shaft, tasting the natural flavor of your arousal. Giselle gave it her all, already reaching for her pussy, naked as could be.

Giselle inserts a finger into her wet little hole and forces her ass to move her butt plug, determined to get her satisfaction. It's a great feeling to have both holes taken care of. She keeps going with your cock, and thick drops of saliva stick to it.

On the other hand, you found the pleasure increasingly difficult to bear. You never thought something like this could happen in your life. You felt the human's hands take your tentacles and wrap them in two spheres of flesh. She squeezes your tentacles with her hands, and you hear her moan. One of your tentacles is pulled to the ground before you feel a sticky warmth at the tip.

Giselle was letting off some steam after a long day. She'd wrapped her toy cock around both of her breasts. Her previous sucking had made the shaft quite slimy, which helped as she massaged the cock while licking the tip hungrily. One of the tentacles kept going into her pussy. She could feel the suction of the cups peeling her walls back, and a nasty stain had appeared on the floor. The room was getting warmer as Giselle pressed her breasts against your cock, making sure to put more saliva on your length. She dropped to her knees and jumped up a few times, feeling the tentacles breaking into her hungry little pink pussy.

The pleasure was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating on a cloud, and you released your cum without knowing where it would land. You automatically grabbed Giselle's head, pulling her closer. Your penis hit a wall that you couldn't identify. Giselle is taken aback when she suddenly sees the cock piercing her throat, her breasts squeezed between her and her toy, her pussy sweating warmly, leaving an incessant liquid on the floor. The pleasure is too sudden, and her body tenses before she drowns in her orgasm. She feels the spasms of her body travel as long as she is held by the creature.

You know you messed up. You've kept a poker face the whole time, but you can't help but feel pleasure. Once you've let go of the human's head, though your cock is still hard, you straighten up to face her.

Giselle was caught off guard by the taste and smell of the substance, and before she knew it, she'd swallowed some of it. She sensed that something was amiss. No toy is designed to trap its user in this way. She backed away from the bed, cum all over her face, and a feeling of dread hit her as she came into contact with her new "toy."

She was at a loss as to how to react. There was an octopus on her bed, standing upright with a terrified look on its face. The tentacles were almost touching her face, as if to protect themselves. She stood there for a few minutes, naked, her face covered in cum, her breasts reddened, and her pussy hot and lubricated.

You're standing in front of the human, ready to defend yourself if you need to. You don't speak their language and you're not sure where you are. Your only option for survival is to escape, but you know you're trapped in this room without looking. Then, right in the middle of your confusion, the human reaches out to you. Her expression is firm but not threatening. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably use your advantage, but the human doesn't seem to be going down that route. You're not sure what her gesture means, but you extend one of your tentacles toward her and make contact, aware of the risks if she catches you.

(Yes this image exist for some reason)

Your eyes are still locked together. You can feel the softness of her hand on your tentacle, then she gently applies pressure to bind you, moving up and down. She smiles and lets go of your tentacle to come over to the bed. She's just a few inches away from you. Her body blocks the light from the ceiling. You slowly bring your tentacles towards you, being careful not to make any sudden movements.

She's trying to communicate. You hear her say "Gis-elle" while pointing at her face with her hand. This isn't the first time you've come across other species that can speak. You know that people have names, and through repeated movements and words, you've come to understand that her name is "Giselle." You also try to imitate Giselle's gestures: "Cok, cok, cok." You do this a few more times, pointing your tentacles at your face.

Giselle, on the other hand, quickly realized that your name was Cok. "What am I going to do with you now?" "You don't look like the octopus I see at the market sometimes, and the fact that you can talk doesn't make my job any easier." "You just played a dirty trick on me. My body is stained with your semen, so I guess a shower is necessary now. Don't worry, water shouldn't scare you."

You don't understand what Giselle is saying, but she comes closer and picks you up before putting you back in her bag. Once again, you find yourself in a dark place, your erection notwithstanding. You always hope that nothing will happen to you.

Giselle, who has put her T-shirt back on, opens her bedroom door with her bag under her arm and heads to the bathroom. She makes sure the room is empty before opening her bag.

You feel Giselle's hands emerge from the darkness, and you discover a new environment that's even brighter than the last one. Even though you don't understand a word she's saying, she still gives you a quick overview of the place. "Welcome to our bathroom. Across from us is a shower and a jacuzzi. The sinks are to your left. "You'll find our toilets tucked away to the right." She goes over everything in the bathroom and points. You follow her with your eyes, even though you're still a bit confused.

She puts you down by the sink, and you watch as she tosses your semen-soaked t-shirt into a bucket. Then she heads over to the spot she calls the "Jacuzzi" and bends over to turn on the water, showing you her butt plug she left at "home" along the way. She gives you a signal to follow her by pointing at you as she steps into the jacuzzi. As you crawl towards her and finally plunge into the water, a haze of warmth fills the room.

"Ah, that feels good," she says with a smile. You have to agree; the sensation of swimming in this warm water is very pleasant. You see her look at you and smile, and you feel her hand on her head as she rubs it gently.

You notice Giselle looking at you and feel her feet rubbing against your leg. Each time she makes contact, she immediately pulls her foot back, but she keeps coming back for more. She gives a little smile that you can't miss. "mhh-hhh" You hear her making little whimpering sounds, and it's your turn to gently caress her toes, making sure to get your tentacles between each one. Her toes are clinging to you, and you're not sure what her hands are doing.

You then dip your head into the water and watch in surprise as two tiny fingers rub against her pretty pussy. You see them go into her body and then immediately come back out again. She speeds up the rhythm, and you realize you're no longer feeling pressure on your tentacles. This allows you to move up her legs as you bring your head closer to her perfectly smooth pussy, which is just a few inches away from your face.

"Not so sweet so fast my dear, let me savor you first" You see her suddenly stand up and lean towards you, her breasts right in front of you, her nipples still hard. Up close, you realize how beautiful they are. She spreads her legs while bending her knees and comes to lay her dirty pussy on your head. She rubs lightly against you and continues to pound her cunt with her fingers. "Oh, ah, I'm coming," Giselle says. A bit more pressure is applied to your skull, with her slit rubbing against you as her fingers play with her little clit above the entrance.

Her legs suddenly spasm, and you feel a rush of water hit your head and body. It's clear that the source is her red, quivering pussy. "Wow, that feels great," she says, her eyes full of desire. She's now sitting up, her legs feeling a bit wobbly. She's aware of what she's doing and the show she's putting on, and she sees your hard cock. She wants to use her toy right now, too. She's so caught up in her ecstasy that she doesn't care what you look like. She just wants a good fuck to bring her back to earth.

Giselle puts her hands behind her back and hears a "poc" as she removes her toy from her ass. You can see her face twitch with pleasure as she takes her partner out of her hole and places him in a small bowl next to the jacuzzi. She turns around to show you her backside, and you get a close-up of her freshly spread ass and her little pussy, still waiting to be loved. She uses her left hand to spread her hole, revealing all of her warm flesh as she points at the entrance repeatedly.

You can tell when a female is in heat, no matter what species. Giselle is releasing pheromones that indicate she's ready for male attention. That's all she needs, and without further ado, you make a swim towards her, climb up her legs and point your rod at her backside. Your tentacles squeeze her buttocks while you linger on both of her breasts. Not content with this lack of attention, the last one goes to her mouth, which you don't fail to penetrate. You're there, in possession of a human body, ready to fill her with your entire being.

"Cok cok cok cok cok" you hear your name as you tease her by rubbing your cock against her entrance, but this was a mistake. Giselle, who takes your cock in her hand and puts it in her ass herself, screams as you come hard against her ass. “Ohhh fuck, it’s big” Giselle's insides are warm and welcoming around your cock as you thrust into her ass. You start thrusting back and forth, harder and harder. “Mhhh-mhh more” she cries, your combined movements cause the water to shake as you satisfy your new mistress. You feel her tongue around your tentacle, trying to give you the best suck she can. You also pinch her breasts while playing with her nipples. You give her an ass-slapping rhythm to match her bouncing buttocks.

"More, more, more!" Giselle moans, lost in pleasure. She reverts to a simple primate, in need of pleasure. Her head is thrown back as you grab her hair and pull her towards you. The force of your bodies hitting each other leaves red marks on her buttocks. You move on to her stiff breasts and push into her still-wet pussy with a sharp thrust. Giselle ends up being double penetrated.

The noise in the room is getting louder by the second, and Giselle is losing all her self-control. She's on her hands and knees, her breasts pressed against the edge of the jacuzzi. She's being mistreated by her new toy; You don't let go, every time you pull her hair, she tightens around your cock: "Harder, hurt me, baby". She gives everything, the frenzy of your bodies increases, the heat in the room is at its peak. Her ass has become your sheath and your masculinity belongs to her.

While you ravage her ass, your tentacles take care of her dripping pussy, you come slamming against these walls while repeating circular movements, the tips are compressed to the extreme, this bitch has cum several times already, when you remove your tentacles, her fluid explodes from her slit before going back in again and again.

The thrusts are getting stronger and stronger as you feel the release coming. Her pussy fills the water again, and you feel Giselle's body go in one last thrust. Then you grab her hair in two spots and thrust as far as you can into her. You feel immense pleasure as you release all your cum into her conquered hole.

As you let go of her hair, you fall backwards, hitting the water with a small splash. When you return to the surface, Giselle is still in the same position, looking like she's waiting for anything to happen. You can see your cum coming out of her ass and sliding down her body, and her little pussy is lightly covered in your seed, which falls into the water. Your cock is now completely dry and fully retracted behind your slit.

The water is covered in semen and Giselle's wetness as they float on the surface of the jacuzzi. You hear her ass spew your cum in waves with obscene noises, then Giselle turns around, her arms slumped on the side of the jacuzzi. Her hair is a mess, and her body is covered with the marks left by your lovemaking.

You can't see Giselle's eyes, hidden by her hair, and you're waiting for her next reaction. You stand there staring at each other in an awkward silence. It's not forever, though, because you hear a knock on the door. "Giselle, I need to use the toilet," you hear her say. Of course, you can't understand, but you quickly grasp the situation when you see Giselle's panic-stricken face.

"I'll be ready in two minutes. I'll just rinse off and get out," says Giselle, taken aback. As she presses the button to drain the water from the Jacuzzi, she grabs you by the tentacles and heads for the shower, bumping into you on the ledge as she goes. "Don't be a princess. I've already seen you naked. I'm going to pee myself," she says as the door opens. You find yourself behind the curtain, restrained by Giselle's arms around her stomach.

You feel the hot water fall on your bodies as you're held back by Giselle. Her breasts press against your head, and you feel her breathing quicken. "You were totally fine showing me your butt plug in the dressing room, and now you're afraid I'll see you naked?" a woman says now sitting on the toilet, the sound of the shower masking that of the toilet.

“Shut up and hurry away, I'd like to dry off and...” Giselle feels your semen leaking from her ass again, which startles her. She knows the water won't cover the leaking on her leg. She looks at you and, with her hands, mimes her anus and the other finger, asking to plug it up. You use your tentacles to come and penetrate your anus and her … pussy

She's always happy to have her holes well occupied, but Giselle trembles at the presence of your tentacles inside her. Your communication still isn't perfect, but you've done what she asked. You feel the liquid trying to get out at the tip of your tentacle. Now that she's in the shower, Giselle takes the opportunity to wash her body and hair. You now stand alone at her waist with your tentacles around her, keeping the two of them warm deep in those caves. She watched Karina finish her business and leave the room after washing her hands at the sink. "Good night, Giselle," she said as she closed the door. Giselle had noticed that Karina was wearing only her panties.

The danger is now gone, so you pull your tentacles back while still holding on to Giselle. You slide down until you touch the ground, "You bastard, you've filled me well. Even my pussy hurts." Of course, she knows you don't understand. She moves her legs closer to you again, and you feel a warm liquid fall on her head. "Here, this will teach you to take me for your bitch."

Giselle had just pissed in your face. You frown and whip her lower legs with a tentacle. All the while laughing. She approaches you and rubs you with a soft ball that quickly foams. The rubbing sensation is pleasant, and Giselle works hard to rub it all over your body. Although you still can't communicate verbally, you feel like you're doing pretty well with this woman. It's hard to picture her as a threat now that she's let you take a "dominant role". Once the shower's over and she shows you how to use a hairdryer, she doesn't even put you back in her bag. She holds you in her arms at stomach level.

The quiet click of her bedroom door means you're safe again. Giselle turns down the lights in the room, the temperature is just right, and there's a nice smell of freshness from the shower. She'd changed into her pajamas, which were a loose-fitting T-shirt and pink shorts that let her lower body breathe. You stand on her bed and watch her brush her hair in front of the mirror.

Like her, you're tired from your journey. Sleep is one of your needs, unlike oxygen or food. Your body feels heavy and you sense that you're about to fall asleep. You feel a sudden motion on the bed as Giselle opens the blanket to slip into it. You're afraid of being crushed, so you shake your head no when she asks you to come closer.

You fall asleep on the pillow next to your mistress like a little puppy. Giselle grabs one of your tentacles and inserts it into her ass. After all, she wouldn't want you to run away now. You lose consciousness, feeling a warm sensation at the tip.

Giselle starts to wake up as the sun comes through the curtains, painting shapes on the wall. She feels her limbs are pleasantly heavy, with a soft ache from the restless night spent with her unlikely new friend. She turns to her side and laughs softly. There he is, her toy, an octopus, sprawled across her pillow, his tentacles lazily dropping over the edge.

The faint sounds of footsteps and lights under her door indicated that her bandmates were still getting ready for their day's work. She was the only one with a day off; her next schedule is the following night. As she discreetly slips out of her bed, she feels your tentacle gradually withdrawing from the depths of her ass as she moves towards the door, stopping for her own pleasure along the way and taking advantage of the last few inches still inside her, she disappears from her room.

You are awakened by the light coming from Giselle's bedroom door. Your body is still resting on one of her pillows. Your tentacles are scattered all over the bed and floor. Two shadows suddenly appear in your pupils, not fully dilated. You struggle to recognize the people in front of you :"Wow, what's this, Giselle-Unni really has poor taste," a quiet voice lets out. "It's probably her new doll. Hurry, grab the tablet from the bedside table. We're going to be late."The second grumbles as she grabs the tablet herself.

As they leave the room, you can see Giselle in the distance under the hallway lights, "Giselle, when you take the tablet, remember to put it back in the living room, we need it for our challenge!" she says nothing and walks towards you, closing the door behind her.

"Good morning, sir. It looks like you slept well here," she says with a smile as the two of you are alone again. In the distance, you hear the front door slamming, which means the other humans have left.

With a flick of her wrist, she opens the curtains to let in the light, then goes to the other corner of her room to find her clothes. Her "pajamas" twirl around the room, revealing, to your surprise, her butt plug. She grabs you and carries you out of her room. You're now in what looks like the main room of her dormitory. From the height of the table, you can see your surroundings and are now at Giselle's bust height.

The silence is broken by a sound coming from Giselle's buttocks. She removes a device from it and brings it to her ear while sitting across from you.

"Yes, manager-nim..." The rest is hard to understand, since she had taken the malicious pleasure of coming to crush her two mounds on your head and caress one of your tentacles as if it were one of her strands of hair. The weight of her breasts exerts a gentle pressure on you. Her softness is a small cloud over your misery.

In revenge, you come and squeeze her breasts through her clothes and take the time to insert one between in imitation of your big cock. Her face turns red; "In about how long?" she sighs. She pulls her clothes down to reveal her tiny nipples, which you must immediately attack with your tongue. It was already sensitive and hard in your mouth. "Mmmh, I'll w....ait for you..... then," you alternate between her nipples, one being devoured by your mouth while the other receives love from a tentacle. Her breathing stops and becomes irregular. The pleasure is intense but brief.

"See you in a minute," she says, putting her device down on the table. You had startedto get really serious, but she suddenly gets up and goes to her room, coming out with a handbag. She stares at you and says, "It's too risky to leave you here alone, we will finish this later" before shoving you into the bag with a mischievous smile on her lips.

Unlike the others, she has taken the liberty of leaving her bag open. You see a variety of sights and sounds. A spectacle of sensations unfolds before you. From time to time she turns her gaze to you, a slight smile on her lips, and you watch it interact with her own. You begin to decipher a few words and facial expressions.

The liberation comes as she puts her bag on her lap, unable to tell where you are. The close-up of her beautiful face is comforting. She brings her mouth to her bag and mumbles, "Hey stupid, I'm still wet from earlier. She pulls back and starts massaging your between-tentacles so you understand what's going on when she decides to take your tentacle out of her bag and slide it under her skirt.

You don't need her help to know what comes next: the capricious one has made sure to tuck her bag under her skirt. Your work as a miner has begun. Make your way to her watery cave. On your way to the rare loot are her panties. You rub them lovingly, already smelling the foul stain on them. It doesn't take you long to hold them up and pull them apart, while your colleagues take care of the rest.

The attack begins when you slide three of them in and feel her body vibrate. The passage is narrow and she resists you. You begin to rub violently against her walls and tickle her insides. You continue inside her until you come up against a wall. From then on it's impossible to go any further and she crushes you with a pelvic thrust. You slowly pull out of her and give way to another group of three; it becomes a game and her pussy a real amusement park.

For her part, Giselle is subjected to your repeated attacks as someone approaches: "5 more minutes and the director will see you". She takes a firm stance in front of the secretary, closing her legs as tightly as possible.

You feel her pussy tremble more and more with each thrust; you know her orgasm will be big and that it's close. Since she's in public, you're the only one who can satisfy her immediately, so your decision to step back, this slut deserves a good punishment. Without seeing her face, you can tell she's frustrated with the way she's rubbing her legs; her panties are completely soaked, not to mention where she's sitting. No doubt she's stained him with her love juice.

At Cok's mercy at this moment, Giselle takes it upon herself and is soon approached by one of her managers, she was in her company's building to talk about yesterday's incident as she was seen leaving the building when it was evacuated.She picks up her bloody bag and follows her manager to the director's office making sure to turn off your light as she closes her bag, clearly offended by your actions.You lose track of time as you fall asleep next to her.

When you regain consciousness, you're back in Giselle's room. It's as quiet as a graveyard, with the sun's rays streaming down the slope and fresh air coming in through the window. You're definitely alone in the room. You've never had a moment to yourself. Always in the company of Giselle or at the bottom of a bag... You already know the bed. You slip off the foot of the bed and fall to the floor. You slide to the center of the room and scan your surroundings again. You notice writing on the ceiling that you recognize: "6:48... 6:49 PM...".

On your right, glued to her bed, is a desk, which you climb over and find yourself in front of a book with the name GISELLE inscribed on it, as well as the technological object the other humans took this morning, but in a different color. With a simple touch, you press the object, which lights up and symbols appear. In the same way, you open the book, which seems to provide knowledge of her language, and the technological object allows you to listen to it. This is your way to learn Giselle's language, but despite your abilities, it's going to take some time.

The clock is ticking and there's still no word from Giselle. You concentrate on your task and try to assimilate as much knowledge as possible. The words make sense and your first sentences are still close to a newborn's speech. The slamming of the front door wakes you up and your instincts tell you to return to your position on Giselle's bed, motionless as a statue. In your panic, you've left the tablet and book open.

You hear footsteps approaching Giselle's room and quickly relax as the door opens to reveal her in an all-black skintight outfit. "Are you awake, you bastard? I needed to spend my nerves at the gym," she says, even though you've seen her before. Her body is truly a work of art!

Her eyes devour you completely, her walk is full of confidence, she approaches the bed and stops in front of it, her scent catches your nostrils, but it's not the scent that disturbs you, it's the "aura" she's been radiating since she entered the room.

Giselle reeks of sex, her whole body oozes those pheromones, those of a woman in heat, ready to be filled, the fact that you left her hungry earlier must have awakened her appetite and when you look at her, you know she's very hungry. Without delay, she lifts her top with her left hand, exposing her breasts and you notice the teeth marks on her nipples. Her right hand pulls down her leggings to reveal her sweet, freshly shaved pussy; a trickle of wetness still binds her slit to her clothing and her lips are scarlet red.

As she removes her top, she jumps onto the bed to take you in her arms and place your crotch on her slit, licking your body as she moves her pelvis, causing both your sexes to rub against each other. You are devoured by this lioness.

Her breasts are pressed against your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck on her nipples. Your tentacles try to get into her ass, but it's already busy: "No, no, tonight it's all in my pussy," she says, shaking her head.

The friction between your sexes is driving your arousal into overdrive, and your penis is more than ready to come out. Your tentacles had encircled Giselle's body, squeezing you together as each gave pleasure to the other. Giselle's nipples are now marked with your mouth. You feel the tip of your penis quivering at the entrance to her pussy. The rubbing of your sexes creates wet noises that echo around the room.

Giselle can't wait any longer, her pussy needs love and her sperm bakery is more than eager to have its first customers. She lies on her back and spreads her legs, leaving full view of her hungry hole. “Come, Cok, turn me into an octopus slut,” you line up and with a quick thrust, you penetrate her vagina, while you're immediately surrounded by her legs, who intends to feel you deep inside her. “Ohhhhh, say hello to my uterus!”

Frenzy overtakes them both as Giselle wiggles, hoping to reach a deeper place, your cock like a drill inside her. Her walls envelop you tenderly as you ram her with all your might: “More, Cok, fuck meeeeeee, kiss my womb”. You wrap your tentacles around her legs, spreading them wide to give you a full view of where you're lovingly fucking her

“Cumiiiinng, ahhh” cries Giselle as the pressure around your sex sends you skyward and allows you to shoot your first well-deserved load into her. Her juices try to expel themselves from her vagina, but your big cock acts as a seal and your juices mix while hitting her lust-filled walls. “Oh ohh, so hott, your cum is burning me from the inside!, i want more seed”

Far from satisfied, she lies on her stomach to show you both her plump buttocks and the glow of her butt plug as your cum drips from her pussy. She pushes it aside and lets you admire the havoc wreaked by your cock and then with all her carnal lust she says, "Honey, come and plug my wicked leak, we have all night so make sure to fill me again and again" as she wiggles her buttocks.

At a glance, you read “9:13 PM”. Then you move towards her open hole, taking your time to let her feel your thickness. As you push back into her vagina, making contact with her uterus, she cries out in pleasure: “Ohhh, it's finally here, hit me hard, my ovary want to meet lots of your baby seeds”. You feel the perspiration on her body as you strike her ass with your tentacles. Your thrusts go further and further and your “belly” comes to touch her buttplug. Grabbing her hair, you pull her towards you and increase the pace as you feel her repeated orgasms attack your cock. You watch the juices flow out of her as you pull back before returning with a hard thrust, ready for your second load of the evening. You make sure you come to plaster your tip on her womb and, in a final strike, you grab her by the throat and rip her womb open to spill your cum. “Oh oh oh, bredd me Cok!”, you feel your cum flood her insides as some of it comes out while the other remains more stuck deep inside her baby oven.

— 9:48PM

Giselle straddles you as you pound her bouncing breasts, your clit attacked by your tentacles as you send another load her way. Semen drips onto the bed, mixed with her fluids.

— 10:32PM

Her screams never stop, you can see her talent as a singer. She has orgasm after orgasm, her pussy still filled with hot cum that warms the inside of her belly. You don't stop when you reach your fourth orgasm.

— 11:17PM

Both of your exhausted bodies are still at it as she lies on her back again, each of your limbs wrapped around the other; your cock hasn't left her pussy since the orgasm, her body covered in tentacle marks and kisses. Her hard breasts are now in Giselle's mouth as she tries to suck her own milk while her cunt is served by your monstrous rod. You know there won't be another tonight, so you come with your tentacle and remove her butt plug and thrust your tentacle deep into her: "oh. .. mhh... more. breed me." Giselle is unable to form a sentence, her whole body shaking as she surrenders to the pleasure.

— 11:27PM

The front door slams as the group returns to the dorm, but you're both too busy to notice. Giselle's screams echo through her room and it's clear that she's struggling, no doubt heard throughout the apartment. Entering Giselle's room, Karina sees her lying with the blanket over her. "ah ahh, so.rry-unn.ie," she says with considerable struggle. Karina sighs. "Hurry up and finish, you start in a few hours and keep the volume down, the others can hear you like theyre watching TV," Karina says with a sigh. She slams the door.

Meanwhile, you continued to penetrate her, Giselle's legs trembled with pleasure, she had exceeded her limits. "Cok, cok, cok, one more, I want your baby so badly, I want you to conquer my womb, make me your wife," she said, tears in her eyes, far from sadness. Her body no longer knows how to respond to these emotions, but you intend to grant her wish: your sixth charge is your last. Her walls are smooth now, each orgasm comes to squeeze you, then her pussy opens again on your cock. Your cum still drips from her as you prepare to fill her again.

— 11:59PM

As the day draws to a close, you flood Giselle's octopus oven with your cum. Her pussy has become your baby factory. After several hours of effort, you finally pull out. Just then her last orgasm arrives and a stream of juice spills onto her bed. Her cunt is wide open and you see her walls covered with your seed and her well-fed womb.

Giselle lies inert on her bed, her belly full of semen and her head full of stars. It takes her a while to find the strength to get up and look at the damage to her body and bed. As she approaches you, she places a loving kiss on your cock, tasting her own pussy juices. She comes up to you to kiss you and says, "Thanks, Daddy," while touching her belly. You reply in near perfect Korean: "You're welcome, Ms. Cok".

______________________________________________________________

🐙

#giselle aespa #aespa smut #giselle smut #kpop smut #gg smut #giselle x reader

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permanentswaps · 6 days

Text

Felix Levesque, Future Olympian (Pt. 1)

When I first heard about the contest, I thought it was a joke. Sam Laurent, the legend himself, was searching for a young gymnast in Canada to "possess" and lead to Olympic gold. Possess, like actually take over their body. It sounded insane, like something out of a horror movie, but Sam Laurent wasn’t just anyone—he was the gymnast. If anyone could promise Olympic gold, it was him. And if there was even a sliver of truth to his offer, how could I not go for it?

I’d been a gymnast practically my whole life, pushing my body through rigorous routines, trying to perfect every flip, twist, and landing. I was good, really good, but every time I got close to the top, pressure crushed me. But here was Sam Laurent, offering to take all that pressure away, to do it for me. It seemed almost too good to be true

The application process was grueling, even without the possession part. They wanted videos of everything: floor routines, pommel horse, rings, you name it. I spent days recording, editing, and re-recording, making sure every move was as sharp as I could manage. When I finally hit 'send' on the submission, my stomach twisted in a mix of excitement and fear. What if I got chosen? What if this actually worked?

Weeks went by, and I tried not to think about it. It was probably just a marketing stunt, right? I went about my training like usual, though part of me secretly held onto that small hope. I mean, who wouldn’t? A chance to have Sam Laurent, the legend, guide me to gold? It was crazy, but it was also everything I’d ever dreamed of.

Then, the call came. I was in the middle of stretching when my phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, figuring it was just another spam call. But then I saw the area code and froze. Heart pounding, I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Felix Lévesque?” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional.

“Yes, this is Felix,” I managed to say, holding my breath.

“Congratulations,” the voice said. “Sam Laurent has selected you to beomce his protégé.”

My world stopped. I think I actually forgot how to breathe for a second. Among thousands of Canadian gymnasts, he picked me. I could already see the headlines: "Felix Lévesque, Olympic Champion."

It felt surreal as I read through the contract, my hands trembling. There were terms, of course, strict confidentiality. I couldn't tell a soul. No family, no friends. For the next few months, Sam would be me. Then, once I was an Olympic gold medalist, I’d have my life back to myself. I signed, my signature shaky on the digital document. This was happening.

---

The day I met Sam Laurent felt like stepping into an alternate reality. I expected him to look like he did during his glory days—lean, sharp, the embodiment of a gymnast at his peak. But when I walked into the room and saw him standing there, I had to double-take.

Sam was still in great shape, but he was nothing like the smooth, chiseled legend I’d seen on TV. He had transformed into something else entirely: more rugged, with a thick beard and a broad chest dusted with hair. The years had turned him into a bear of a man. It wasn’t what I’d pictured, and it threw me off.

His eyes, though, still held that same piercing intensity. They locked onto me, and a chill ran down my spine. He didn’t waste any time with small talk. He just walked over, looked me up and down, and gave a nod. "This’ll do," he muttered, his voice low and almost disinterested.

I was about to introduce myself, maybe even try to break the ice, when everything went dark for a split second.

The moment Sam took over, I felt a rush of heat, followed by an eerie calm. It was as if I’d been shoved into a small, dark corner of my own mind. I could still see, still feel everything, but it was like watching my body on autopilot. Sam had possessed me, and there was no mistaking who was in charge now.

“Alright, kid,” he said aloud, turning my head side to side, examining my jawline in the mirror. “Not bad, not bad at all.” He ran my—his—hands over my chest, then down to my abs. "I haven’t been hairless like this in years. Not since I was about your age.”

I felt a strange mix of pride and discomfort. Part of me wanted to speak up, to reclaim some sense of control, but what could I say? This was Sam Laurent, the legend. I should be grateful, right? Just be polite, I told myself, my stomach twisting in knots.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” I mumbled in my mind, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Sam didn’t respond directly, but I could feel his presence acknowledge my words—more like talking past me than actually engaging.

He turned to the side, flexing my arms and watching the muscles bunch up under my skin. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” he said with a grin that looked strange on my face. “The media’s going to love you.” He paused, my eyes narrowing with amusement. “And the Olympic Village... well, let’s just say you’re going to turn some heads. The other athletes will be all over you.”

My mind stumbled over his words. There was something in his tone, a subtle hint, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or worried. “Uh, yeah,” I replied mentally, feeling sheepish and unsure. “I guess that’s good?”

He kept turning my body this way and that, sizing up my muscles. “Not bad,” he muttered, giving my biceps a squeeze. “You’ve got good definition, but you’re too lean. Gonna need more mass if we want to hit those landings with authority.” His fingers pinched at the skin on my arms, testing the tightness. “But don’t worry. We’ll have you bulked up in no time.”

I wanted to say something—to ask how he planned to do that, or at least express some kind of opinion—but the words caught in my throat. Sam was the expert here.

“Yeah,” I finally managed, feeling sheepish. “Whatever you think is best.” How could I argue? This was Sam Laurent. He knew what he was doing, even if I felt like a passenger in my own body.

“Damn right,” he said, grinning as he lifted my arm, flexing my triceps. “You just sit tight. I’ll turn this pretty face into a beast, you’ll see.”

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elixrr · 8 months

Text

part 1 here

It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. But what makes it worse it that his player; his love—his God, grew bored of him and discarded him.

What was he to you? Did you even feel affection for him? He loved you. He truly loved you because he had nothing but you. He's constantly locked in the same fake, digital room, even when you think he's out living his supposed stable life that some temporary code convinces you he's living. He'd do anything to please you, to keep you with him, because ultimately, you were his savior. You were everyone's savior.

And yet, you threw them all away.

Answer him.

What was he to you?

What were they to you? Were they toys to you? Dolls?

He feels betrayed. Rather, he felt betrayed. He can't feel a single thing now. Floating in the void of a digital trash bin stole all his feelings. It stole his supposed friends; it stole his supposed city; it stole his supposed life. His lifeless soul couldn't feel how much time had passed since the day you deleted the game, not that he would want to, even if he could be conscious again. It's dull in a dark void, and everything about him is already on the line. If he were conscious, not only would he have to openly sulk about how worthless he became in your eyes, but he would also have no future to look to. There wouldn't be any point to existing, let alone wanting to exist. If you ever re-downloaded the game, you would probably continue benching him, and that would be an extra sign that you'll never care about him again; that you came on for anyone else but him.

The only thing he'd wish for,

would be complete deletion.

Deletion of the email linked to your game account would result in the deletion of every single file of him and you. Every single fracture of evidence that you cared would disappear.

And, what he'd really want would be his whole self being erased.

In this life of his, he'd have no point. You left him, and probably completely. It doesn't matter what you do. Whether you never play the game again or even start it up again, none of that would matter because he wouldn't have a use in your life. If he doesn't matter in your life, then he wouldn't matter ever until he's possibly featured in an Archon quest or in some event. Even so, you might never use him ever again.

A single tear forms in his eyes. There's no point in existing.

Another tear falls. You never loved him, did you?

His eyes flutter open, and he's back in the team lineup screen. You're there. The supports are there, but he can't bring himself to pose. He can't bring himself to lighten up.

What are you going to do now? Repeat history, strip him of his artifacts, his weapon, and trash him? Slam him down into a pit of despair? A loveless void made for the hopeless and hurt, all of which once loved you and felt you loved them, now suddenly were torn and tossed like old, ragged dolls.

Through his broken heart and blurry eyes, he could see your face. You were about to enter his character detail screen, but you paused. You were looking at him like you were worried, and genuinely so. And, like an angel, you whispered his name with delicate, careful concern.

“What happened to you?”

You abandoned him. That's what happened, and he bets you never knew.

“Leave me alone,” he nearly sobs, “I know you don't want to use me anymore. Rip me apart for all I care—it won't matter when I'm back in that void again.”

“A void..? Wait, never mind that, I do care. What— really, what happened? Wait, you can hear me?”

He wipes his tears away and stands to face you fully. All the supports watch his bravery against the code.

“I could always see you; everyone on the field could. We can hear you.” He takes a moment to breathe it all in. Maybe... Maybe he can get you to listen. Maybe he can help you hear him out.

Maybe he could help you love him again?

“Anyways, the void is where every unused person goes. Once... Once we leave the screen, we just sit here until you use us. And if you remove us from all teams, we're sent— we're plummeted into said void.”

“Oh my God,” you whisper, leaning back, “I need to revisit everyone I...”

“Please, wait, I—” I want to be used. I want to be the one you revisit. I want to be the one you miss.

“Player, creator, whoever you are, just please,” he watches as you scroll through the team lineup options, “please don't leave—”

And you enter another lineup.

And everyone else is gone, too.

“Please. Don't leave me again.”

He falls over, not caring how much it hurts. Nothing works. Nothing will work. It's hopeless.

He'll be stuck here, waiting, waiting, and waiting. Not for you—there's no point in that anyway, but for your second deletion.

He'll be waiting for the game's deletion.

For his final deletion.

You left him, and he's clearly not important to you. As heartbreaking as it is, he accepts it. Even with this dimensional intersection, he can't convince you.

As heartbreaking as it is, he's just a fictional character to you in this fictional world. He loved you, and he thought you did too, but clearly, you don't. Because he is just an abandoned, rotting toy, and you are the player who abandoned him.

And, he thinks, if you want him to rot, then so be it,

Let him rot.

@iridescentrays @inlovewithlondonn @falconclaw244 @shiningpaint-marbleheart @jeremyth @hikaru-sama @ayatoq @krrkt @yureismellslikefanfic @samhelleborewrites @bi-panicatthedisco @hannya-writes @thomaliciouss @notisekais @lovelykrystal @raeharmonia @ayra2452008 @chikai-k @dreamsofmoney @shutingstar

To everyone who wanted part 2 :))

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tinydefector · 3 months

Text

Rut Cycle- Jazz

Jazz x human

Word count: 2k

Rut cycle masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Warnings: Smut, Size difference, Alpha/Omega hinted, Heat/Ruts, creampie, Oral

Other info: I've got a vote going for who you guys want next but this is a full on Gen 1 ones hot series I'm making.

__________________

The whole autobot base is on high alert due to everyone's rut cycle hitting. The multiple meeting between the Autobots and Decepticons over a ceasefire truce for Rut cycles. Jazz's Engine lets out a churn of noises as he leans back against his berth, he had decided it was for the best he retire after the meetings, it meant he was less likely to have problems with the scent of the human allies that also roamed the Ark, most of the humans had been asked to go home for the next week and a bit but a few still hung around.

The soft sound of knocking breaks Jazz out of his thoughts as he moves towards the door to see who it is. Jazz’s visor flickers as he sees his favourite little human standing at his doorstep with a cube of energon on a cart for him. They smile as they look up at him. “Boss bot said you'd be back here, thought I'd drop you off a cube and come hang out if you're up for it” they state while pushing it into his room.

Primus they weren't helping the situation despite how much they tried to assist the bots, how close they came To nearly being snatched up by starscream in their meeting early, he knew it was just the rut and how sweet their scent was to the bots but even he was getting close to his limits with how much he could handle before he eventually succumb to the old coding.

He cycled a deep ventilation, savouring the sweet crystal high grade smell wafting from their form. It makes his sensors ache and his engine whine in need. “ thanks Lil’ Bit. Yer always lookin’ out fer us bots.” He hums as he leans down to grab the Energon Cube. Primus, they stirred circuitry like nothing ever had.

“Reckon ya better skedaddle now, ‘fore things get outta hand round here. We’ll be right as rain once this wave passes... but it ain’t no place fer a little sweet thing like yerself, while tension are High with the Cons.” Most of the Bots hadn't Told the humans the reason as to why they had been asked to leave, many believed it was because of the Decepticons, and the Autobots not wanting any harm to come to them, in truth that was only part of the reason, the other part was how their scent made the cybertronians Rut worse and many of them weren't willing to risk hurting any of their allies Due to it. Didn’t stop Jazz from wishing, though, just for a taste, but he knew it wouldn't stop at just a taste.

Slight worry crosses their face as they look up at Jazz. "Robo flu?, you didn't get that static bug again, or that little critter the Cons made which caused so much issue in the base last time" They teasingly inquire as they press a hand to his plating as if to check him for a fever out of habit.

a ragged vent of air leaves him at their touch, joints locking to steel against surging charge and wanting to grab them. Plating heated beneath their hand. His visor lit with barely-restrained longing as azure optics peered down at their concerned face. "Ain't no bug, cher," he lamented softly. "Jus' a bit of a... condition we bots get sometimes. Nuthin' t' worry yer pretty headplate 'bout."

Gentle digits itched to trace the curve of their cheek, taste their skin against glossa sensors gone mad with need. But he'd offlined his hardsuit protocols, locking down his traitorous system until after they left the room. His frame grew hotter with each passing breem.

"Ya best skedaddle now, sweetspark." His field pulsed bittersweet promise of a raincheck, "And leave you by your lonesome while Prowl's even more foul?, could keep you company and get you energon when you need it, plus don't need you having a short circuit while i'm gone, cant have my favourite DJ sick can i?" The sweet scent on their skin has Jazz nearly drooling as they offer to stay with him and keep him company.

Jazz cycled a shuddering vent engine whining loudly in need, grip creaking upon his half-empty cube as lithe form crossed their arms as they moved to make themself comfortable on his berth that was now piled with Blankets, tarps, polish clothes.

His systems flashing warning as the magnetic field begged surrender to baser instincts, he desperately wanted to interface or at least let off some steam before he lost his mind and control. "Gonna hafta refuse that favour, li'l sweet. Y'got no idea ... th' things ya do t'me right now." His digits flexed, aching to caress them, claim. He walks to the other side of the room as if an injured animal that's cornered.

Optics linger over their temptin' outline, memorising every curve as if famine-struck. "Please, lil' spark. F'r both our sakes." His Field pulsed apologetically for cutting their visit short, but he couldn't risk them. They stand up on the berth as he walks around in circles.

Worry lingers on their face as they try to calm him down. “Jazzie talk to me, you're walking around like a cornered animal and you're worrying me” they state as he stops in front of them, his frame stiff as he holds off one last attempt to let them leave before he does something he would regret. Jazz nearly purrs as they cup his face looking up at his visor. Their hands feel divine against his faceplate.

The last shred of Jazz's ironclad control sheared away as they ran their fingers across his faceplate holding his face as they stared into his optics as sparked couples would. Tender servo curls around their waist as he uses a digit to lift their chin as a rumble resonated from his cracked spark. "So sweet t'care... but ya jus' don' understand, li'l sweetspark." Trembling digits traced the fragile line of their face, unable to withstand their pull any longer.

A deep, subsonic field pulsed from his frame. “I think I've got enough of an idea” they state while pressing their lips to his. A thundering roar leaves his engine as he grabs hold of them pulling them up against his frame as his lips desperately move against theirs. Tasting the sweet yet sinful flavour that is their skin.

He cycled his systems,warnings flashing critical. but Primus, how he ached to finally seize what haunted his every fantasised line of code...They whined loudly against his lips, his name muttered between breaths.

All of Jazz's fraying restraint snapped like cheap cabling. A strangled keen tore from his vocalizer as delicate grip yanked them flush against Plating as he eagerly pressed them down against the berth.

He seized their jaw in a trembling servo, glossa delving past yielding lips with a starved groan. They taste like ecstasy and Rust sticks. Another rumble left deep from his frame.

His other servo scoured down their back in rapture, digits aching to rip through their clothing and discard it across the floor. "Cher..." he gasped against their mouth. Name spilled like prayer as his interface panel snapped open his spike snaking out, straining against their covered form.

Whimpered moans leave them as his servos grip thier clothing, dragging it off their body as he throws it across the room, glossa tracing down their form as he eagerly laps against their skin.

At their little nosies Jazz’s Optics flared, visor blazing, Trembling servos gentled spead their thighs, pressing gentle kisses along them before he bites down and sucks a mark into the skin. “H-hold on t’ me, li’l one,” he rasped out as his glossa traces along their sex “Jus’ hang on tight. Lemme take care’a ya...”

Slowly, with far more grace than rationality warranted, Jazz began to rock his Glossa against their pulsing warmth with aching care. A loud groan and engine roar leaves him at the taste of them. His optics drank in every flicker of pleasure stealing across their face as the arch and rock against him.

His spike aches and leaks against the bedding as he slowly works his little human open with his glossa, preping and readying them.

Jazz burrowed his faceplate between their quivering legs, purrs interlacing pleasured moans dragging from his vocals. His servo curled beneath their legs, hitching them higher. "Primus, babydoll.. so perfect..." He gasped prayers and profanities, they arch and grip his helm as his glossa continues to drive into them. Their gasping cries, have his engine roaring louder.

He pulls away for a moment as he flips them lifting their hips up as he grinds his needy spike against their back, a guttural moan leaves him before he snarls, gripping their waist firmly. Jazz shuddered out a keening groan as he slowly presses his spike into them, stretching them to accommodate his size.

so tight - so hot and sweet he feared offlining upon first plunge into their sweet little form, their scent driving him wild as his field lets out pulse of energy.

He curled his servos around their fragile hips, grinding slowly into them, helm tilted back as he clenchs his denta from how tight of a fit it is. "Frag, yes!" he bellowed, slowly picking up pace as he drives into them. Their hands grip onto the blankets as needy moans and cries fall from their lips each time Jazz thrust back into them, grinding his spike into their Smaller form.

" So beautiful, so perfect...mmm, my Lil mate..." He gasped brokenly, intake clenching.

His thrusts turned feral, spike swelling. He dragged their joined frames up. Holding them to his frame as he goes into frenzy, slamming brutally home again and again.

"Mine," Jazz snarled ferally. "Gonna overload ya so fraggin' good, li'l cher..."

Another savage buck of his hips sent them keening, body pulsing and bucking as they cry out from pleasure. “Jazz oh God!, Jazz!” They claw at his plating desperately trying to grab hold of his arm as he drives into them as feral snarls leave him. A guttural groan echoed from Jazz's intake as their clamp and fluttered wildly around his spike,

"Frag, li'l bit-, that it, mmm so good" he moans, His spike throbbed mercilessly within their small channel, Another ragged groan was wrenched from depths of his frame as their orgasm hits, his name falling from their lips as if it were a prayer.

He tenses, another guttural moan leaves him and he presses them back down onto the berth, frantically griding into thier tight body. spike pulsing frantically. With a static-laced keen, Jazz finally tumbled over the edge, filling their much smaller body to the brim with bright pink transfluid. Jazz threw back his head with a roar as their tiny frame rolled back to meet each piston in desperation as he pumps more and more into their needy hole. "Frag, yes sweetspark - take it, take m'transfluid, take it all!"

He rolled deftly within, overload ripped through wiring in a cascade. Transfluid spurted from them as it rolls down their thighs onto the berth as Jazz holds them close, smaller whines leavign his intake as he grinds into their shuttering body.

With one finally thust he settles, fan systems on full blast as his frame desperately tries to cool down as he rolls to his side, cradling their body against his, holding them close, his other servo piles the blankets around their exhausted body as he keeps them plugged with his spike. Little whimpered whines leave them as he leans his helm down to press a gentle kiss to their forhead. His systems are slow to reboot, but one thing was for certain, he wasn't finished with them and he would be damned to the pits if he let them leave his berth until after everyone's rut had subsided. “don't move Babydoll, ain't done with ya yet” he mumbles voice still static laced as his optics shutter behind his visor.

___________

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dirtyvulture · 1 year

Text

Something’s in the Air - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha returns from a mission after being exposed to a chemical that makes her extremely, extraordinarily feral for you.

Word count: 2362

AN: Here is the opening act of the long-awaited collaboration with @jedi-luca! Enjoy, sinners!

Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Natasha races down the empty hallway, trying to ignore the blaring alarms and flashing lights overhead. She can’t read any of the symbols marking the doors, and all she knows is that she’s looking for one with a triangle in the center of three overlapping circles, like a variation on the classic biohazard sign.

“You find him yet, Nat?” Clint buzzes in her earpiece.

“Not yet,” she responds.

“Well, you’ve only got about another minute before HYDRA agents flood the building–”

“I know!” she snaps, her eyes finally settling on a triangle surrounded by three circles. “I found it!”

“Get him and let’s go!”

Natasha doesn’t need to be told twice, and she inputs the ten-digit code into the keypad on the door. It lights green to grant her access and she steps into a tiny, square room, no bigger than a broom closet, the heavy steel door automatically closing behind her.

“Uh oh,” she says when she hears the door click shut.

Suddenly, a white smoke starts to fill the tiny room, jetting out from the piping running along the walls and ceiling. Natasha covers her mouth with her arm, fumbling on her belt for a proper mask. The smoke stings her eyes and burns her throat, but the initial shock of pain is quickly overtaken by a warm, fuzzy feeling. Natasha staggers back into the wall, not even feeling the impact of the solid concrete as her stomach clenches in a way that’s familiar and foreign at the same time.

But just as quickly as it had started, the pipes stop pumping out the gas and it clears away through the vents. She wipes at her watering eyes and sees a door in front of her with no lock. More cautiously this time, she opens it and finds herself staring down a young boy behind a glass wall.

“Clint, I found him.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha safely extracts the boy, wrapping him up in a ragged blanket she found on his bed, and carries him out in a bundle. She meets Clint just in time before the HYDRA agents realize their base has been compromised. They leave the boy in the custody of a SHIELD van and six agents. Natasha gives him a chocolate before they part ways. Her and Clint escape on the Quinjet, only breathing a sigh of relief once they are safely hidden amongst the clouds.

“When I was trying to get him, I got sprayed with something,” she tells him in a low voice.

“With what?” Clint doesn’t take his eyes off the dashboard.

“I don’t know.”

“You seem fine.”

As if on cue, the same sharp pain that she experienced upon first inhaling the smoke punches her stomach again and she doubles over.

“Shit,” she curses, trying to massage out the ache and feeling her cheeks flame in embarrassment when she finally realizes what the pain reminds her of. Although she wouldn’t describe it as a pain, but that feeling of being so aroused she wants to burst.

“Nat?”

“Uh, never mind,” she says, not wanting to get into details with him.

“I’ll call ahead and have Dr. Cho ready to see you in the medical bay,” he says.

“I–Wait, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Natasha says, but Clint won’t listen to her, he’s already typing out a message to send to the doctor.

Natasha grumbles wordlessly and takes the seat next to Clint, glancing back to make sure the boy is okay. She isn’t sure about why HYDRA had him or why SHIELD made such a point to send in some of their best Avengers to free him. But sometimes, the less details they knew the better, and now she had to worry about what exactly had been in that smoke.

She takes her phone out from the backpack under the chair and sends you a text. But it’s almost three in the morning, so her text goes unanswered. With another 30 minutes until they’re home, Natasha boredly scrolls back up in the conversation, her attention caught by some of the old pictures you’ve sent her.

The first one she looks at is probably the most innocent of the bunch, a slightly blurred snapshot of you post-workout, your skin gleaming with sweat and your muscles pumped. Natasha bites her lip as her eyes trace down the veins on your stomach, following their path to the waistband of your shorts, which is not quite low enough to reveal perhaps her favorite body part of yours.

She quickly skips to the next picture, which is much more scandalous and should not be viewed in a public setting, but luckily Clint is sitting in front of her. You’re lying down, the camera positioned down towards your muscular legs, but Natasha’s attention is drawn to the thick cock you have your hand wrapped around. Her center clenches around nothing; Natasha wishes she had your length inside of her, ramming into her hard and fast, until you came undone and pumped your seed deep into her womb.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, crossing one leg over the other, trying to alleviate the pulsing at her core and failing. There was still so much time left until they landed, she didn’t know how she was going to survive. Out of pure desperation, she considers touching herself (still in the vicinity of where Clint can hear her, but he can turn his hearing aid down, can’t he?) right there in the Quinjet, and it takes all of her mental strength to keep her hands on her knees. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, why she’s so horny all of a sudden.

All she knows is if she doesn’t have you inside her in the next hour, she may actually die.

Using her advanced Red Room torture resistance techniques, Natasha barely clings to her sanity for the next 30 minutes. She grinds herself subtly on her seat, although it does next to nothing to ease the ache in her stomach.

“Can’t you fly faster?” she asks Clint eventually through gritted teeth. “It’s not like there’s any traffic in the sky.”

“I’m doing my best,” Cint responds.

“Well, going a little faster would be nice.”

Clint doesn’t bite back at her even though he wants to. Overall, Natasha seems okay even after her exposure to the unknown gas, but Clint knows his best friend better than herself. Something is bothering her–badly–and she doesn’t want to talk about it, which means it can only be one thing.

Natasha wants to cry in relief when the iconic “A” of the Avengers Tower comes into view. She practically hijacks the controls from Clint trying to land the plane faster, but just before she can sprint out of the Quinjet, Clint grabs onto her.

“You have to see Dr. Cho first,” Clint says sternly, holding onto her arms in a vice grip.

“I don’t want to see the doctor. I want Y/N,” Natasha says, almost in tears. Her core is practically on fire at this point and she wouldn’t be surprised if her panties are ruined.

“Y/N will be there,” Clint assures her, dragging her to the elevator and going one floor down. Despite the early hour, Dr. Cho waits sleepily to greet them at the entrance of the medical bay. Natasha practically throws a fit as Dr. Cho escorts her to a private room, while Clint disappears without an explanation.

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Natasha insists as Dr. Cho has her sit down on the edge of the plastic bed.

“Agent Barton said you may have been exposed to some unknown chemical,” Dr. Cho says, shining a bright penlight into her eyes and opening her mouth to examine her tongue and tonsils.

“I’m fine,” Natasha repeats, shifting agitatedly and crinkling the white paper covering the bed.

Dr. Cho squints at her. “I’ll be back to run some more tests,” she says, disappearing with a flip of her white lab coat.

Natasha groans and falls back on the bed, unzipping the collar of her uniform down to her chest, flapping her hands to cool her face. She thinks back to the pictures of you she looked at on her phone and before she can even stop herself, sticks her hands down her pants, ignoring how unusually wet she is, her fingers gliding through her soaked folds to press into herself.

“Fuck,” she mutters, kicking her legs wider to find a more comfortable position. Natasha can easily fit three fingers into herself already, a feat that normally takes some working up to, although it pales in comparison to the size of your cock. She pants at the thought of you on top of her, your body hot and heavy against hers, the feeling of your muscles flexing as you devote your strength to pleasuring her. She clenches hard around her fingers, trying to imagine them as your cock instead, hard and throbbing, stretching her apart in the best of ways and filling her better than any toy or substitute can.

Suddenly, there is a knock on her door and Natasha pauses mid-thrust.

“Nat? Babe, it’s me,” your croaky voice says on the other side.

“Come in!” she responds.

You open the door, still in your pajamas. Clint had called you until you woke up, telling you that while the mission had been a success, Natasha had come down with something and you needed to see her immediately. Without properly dressing, you staggered down to the medical bay, worried about your girlfriend despite your own exhaustion and delirium from being woken up at three in the morning.

And now you stare at her, jaw dropped, as Natasha is lying on the hospital bed, her hand disappearing down her shorts, her forehead covered in a light layer of sweat.

“Are you–” you start.

“I need you,” she begs, removing her hand and your heart thumps when you see that it is completely soaked in her slick. “Y/N, please, I need you.”

“What happened?” you ask, as your legs seem to have a mind of their own and gravitate to her side. Natasha reaches out for you, her hand twisting in the front of your shirt to draw you closer. She tugs it up, trying to shove her hand into the waistband of your shorts next and you stop her gently. “Nat.”

“I got sprayed with something while I was trying to free the subject,” she says, clawing at your abs. “At first it didn’t seem to affect me, but when we were on the way back, I just felt this overwhelming need…for you.”

“For me?”

She nods, biting her lip and looking at you with her bedroom eyes. Suddenly, your whole body lights awake, and you strip out of your shirts and shorts, climbing on the bed with Natasha and the structure squeaks under your added weight. Natasha pulls you on top of her, frantically wiggling out of her suit so she can feel you skin-to-skin. She kisses you ferociously, bruising your lips and clacking her teeth against yours, but you respond with equal enthusiasm, not really sure why she’s so desperate for you all of a sudden but not going to complain either.

You roll your hips in a gyrating motion, dragging your hardening cock along the insides of her slick thighs, unable to help yourself when you let out a moan at her impressive wetness. You’ve never seen her so ready for you, and you know you’ll have no trouble slipping inside.

“Fuck, fuck,” Natasha pants, dragging her nails along the muscular planes of your back and gripping onto your butt. “Stop teasing, baby,” she begs, trying to guide you to her entrance but you hold back.

“I haven’t even gone in and you’re already going to cum,” you point out, although you’re surprisingly close yourself, seeing how turned on your girlfriend is for you. You look down to see your cock shining with her wetness, the veins on it throbbing.

“I can’t cum without you,” Natasha says, and you lose all patience and discipline. You line yourself up with her entrance and push in hard, moaning when wet velvet wraps around your cock and Natasha moans in absolute relief at finally being filled. You pound into her, the muscles in your thighs and abs flexing like steel bands. Natasha keens as she takes you, knowing that you’re the only one who can bring her to a high that will have her entire body shaking, her lungs screaming, her nails marking red lines down your shoulders and back that everyone will see when you go to the gym tomorrow.

“God, Nat, you’re so wet,” you say between thrusts, using all your strength to hold yourself upright, when Natasha’s pussy is so tight and hot around you that your thighs are trembling and you can’t focus on anything other than the heat between your legs. You want to last longer, so you broaden your strokes, slowing down your pace but burying yourself even deeper with each thrust.

“Yes, just like that,” Natasha moans as the head of your cock presses against her sensitive walls. “Keep going, baby. Don’t stop.” She wants you to be buried to the hilt when you release her load, she wants to drain you of every drop you have to offer.

“Almost…there…” you grunt, squeezing her hips tighter as you pin her against the bed. The ball of arousal in your stomach burns hotter as you near your peak, and Natasha knows your body well enough to sense that your finish is near. She pulses around you harder and you drop your head against her breasts, panting like you’re running the last mile of a marathon. “Nat, Nat I’m gonna–”

It takes one more powerful thrust that causes the entire hospital bed to collapse under your combined weight. You jerk your hips forward as your cum shoots out of your cock in short, hard bursts. Natasha practically cries in relief as you fill her to the brim.

At the same second all of this is happening, Dr. Cho comes back into the room. She says nothing, only nodding in immediate understanding and quickly backing out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Part 2 by @jedi-luca is here!

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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