#kg beast

[thebat-musicman]

i keep forgetting KGBeast is, in fact, the villain that shot Nightwing and not a Youtuber

[celaenaeiln]

Am I interested in Dick Grayson's innovativeness and how that makes him a terrifying opponent?

Nah, not really, no, it's no- EXCEPT THAT I AM!

I love your analysis and honestly, I always surf through the dick Grayson tag once a day to see if u have posted. Pls drop the innovatiness wala analysis. I would absolutely eat it up

ADSAJHFGAJLHADJLHA YOU CAN'T SEDUCE ME LIKE THAT-MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT!

But I am here to deliver *bows*

Let's start this off with a bang

Dick is completely naked except for a towel and with one (well defined) leg he hooks the handle of the beer bucket and sends it smashing into Midnighter to stop him from using the knife on another person.

Pure. Fucking. Platinum.

That move was so delicious, there's an ease-fluidity-grace-to that split second movement. Also notice how accurate his aim is despite swinging it with the arc of his toes. The bucket slammed right into the medulla oblongata, or more specifically the pyramidal tracts which are crucial for controlling voluntary muscular movements. Nerves from the brain cross over at that area as they go down and then synapse onto other nerves that are responsible for controlling muscles when they leave the spinal cord. The precision at which he aimed the bucket is glorious. And with what? His feet.

The only reason Midnighter wasn't injured is because he is a meta which is the point. Otherwise Dick wouldn't have aimed there unless he was fighting an enemy.

Oh that brings me to my next point.

Dick has extraordinary control of his actions

He's so right though. Nightwing doesn't need to kill because fighting is too easy for him. I swear he has some kind of messed up idea (aside from his need to be absolutely good) that killing someone with a gun would take the joy out of fighting. He loves to live life on the hardest mode only.

The rapid fire throw of the gun, calculating the distance, time, velocity of return, and angle? I mean I studied physics and calculating even half of that on paper is a headache. The fact that he did it in one second? It's extraordinary. Things that are pure, dumb luck to literally everyone else is carefully calculated at a speed faster than light, making it look like luck. Damn.

Yeah.

Forget Slade. Midnighter is my new favorite nemesister.

DO YOU SEE WHAT HE FOUGHT WITH?! WHILE DEATHSTROKE AND BLACK ADAM WERE FIGHTING WITH META POWERS AND A CURSED SWORD, HE FUCKING WRAPPED CHAINS AROUND HIMSELF LIKE A BOSS AND WHIPPED THE SHIT OUT OF THAT MAN.

Please take a moment of silence to relish in this sight.

Dick's innovativeness is a formidable skill when fighting allies.

Dick and Ras are evenly matched in sword fighting.

Wait, wait. I don't need any doubts about Dick's strength in sword fighting so I'm going to include a couple panels here:

Dick fights Azrael to a standstill which is absolutely incredible because Azrael solos. He's gone through many upgrades and skills and is one of the best fighters ever. He's even defeated Bruce.

He also defeated Jason and Tim together in Batman and Robin Eternal.

This is just another point towards the fact that Dick actually won in his fight against Bruce before going into Spyral. They weren't holding back.

Oh yeah. Ra's vs Dick panel, Dick and Ra's aren't going anywhere because Dick is a swordsman equivalent to one of the best in the world. So how do you win a draw? By one upping the opponent. He swings his foot up in midair and completely defeats him. "But that isn't a defeat...Ra's just stopped fighting!" It was complete defeat because Ra's is intelligent and knows when he can't win. Also they have been fighting for a while until they reached the breaking point in the battle. This move is a show of how Dick has that just one inch more that will lead him to be a victor.

Ra's honors Dick so much he tried to give the sword he used to fight with Batman because he thinks Dick is worthy of it. Can anyone receive a higher honor than this from that man?

He'll also use the broken glass of a car window to take down his opponent. If that's not innovation, then what is?

But one last thing since a car door cannot be considered innovative these days.

sticks. He literally took two twigs off the ground to use as weapons against his highly skilled, one of the best assassins, great-grandfather who is fighting with daggers in his hands and all over his body.

But you know the best part?

He draws his opponent to a tie. A tie? Not a win? No it was win after, considering he used his relative's falling body as a launching pad in the middle of the air when they were falling off the bridge to grab onto the bridge with the help of his friend. So it was his win but it's insane how incredible Dick's skills are.

It's really innovative because who thinks of using twigs and winning? Let me also clarify another point. Dick could've used the knives he'd gotten from his talon suit and thoroughly won because when he was brain washed he almost killed Red Condor from how skilled he was but he conscientiously chose to use twigs. In a sword fight. This man.

His improvisation is an asset that many have come to know him for and classify him as dangerous because he can fight with anything, anywhere, and win.

Something I want to end with. Dick only fights people who are stronger than him. I know he's fought mob characters and stuff but his enemies? They are all metas, assassins, skilled fighters, Russian Black Ops, and more. Essentially, people who are the top of the class in their categories and him defeating them equally and fairly is the reason why he has the respect of his enemies. He's just that good.

[allovesthings]

I think about how KG beast shot Nightwing and I have to wonder... Why the fuck did he think that was a good idea ?

Just going after Batman's first partner alone seems like a terrible idea.He has a no kill rule that doesn't mean he can't put you in the hospital, never recovering from the injuries you got (also Batman, canonically, can go a little berserk if it's one of his kids if there is no one around to stop him).

But not only that, Nightwing is one of the most well-connected heroes of the DCU.He is the guy who has connection to almost every superhero teams in the DC universe. He is the first sidekick of the justice league and was part of it as full member quite a few times both as himself and as Batman and the first Robin and all of that are known facts in-universe.

KG Beast will never know peace now because he accepted that contract..and that is so funny to me.

[kiskivmiske]

Sister (who owns a husky) told me her eyes don't glow red, apparently, like some cats do?

I looked it up, and, in some cases huskies and wolves do have pink or reddish tapetum. And this is exactly the part that is responsible for the color of glowing eyes. Well, not glowing, it's just light reflected off the tapetum. But you get the idea.

Example from the internet.

So maybe it was a loner wolf. Or a wolfdog. I've encountered a gigantic black female a couple years ago. She was pretty chill and kept her distance, around 30 meters, to make sure I'm not up to no good. Wolf packs, on the other hand, haven't been seen since my mom's late grandpa hunted them in 50s. It's a one time occurrence now.

Also have a look at what google suggested to me

I type in "huskey's eyes in", going to type "the dark"

And the first search option is "in the oven"

Just had a small laugh out of it. And a new idea for holiday dish.

Just kidding.

I didn't laugh. 👹

[mxwhore]

Does Martin transform slowly into fog tiger like Jon did while in the safehouse/somewhere else, or does Jon go to get him from the lonely only to discover “whoops ur bf’s a cat now”

both options can coexist ♡

[placebo-ambrosia]

circled round a huge jar of peanut butter chanting “penis batter penis batter” life is kinda beautiful

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

TRAINER KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. sucking könig's humongous titties. big cock. shower sex. semi-public. non-fluent könig.

it was a practical decision, you told yourself, scrolling past flashy advertisements for gyms promising overnight transformations, past testosterone-fueled testimonials about “beast mode” and “grindset.”

you'd sworn to yourself that as soon as you had the financial breathing room, as soon as you didn’t have to mentally calculate whether a dinner out would set you back for the week, you’d do it. invest in yourself. not in aesthetics, not in performance metrics, but in survival.

something that made you feel safer so that walking home late at night wouldn’t always feel like a loaded gun pressed to the base of your spine. you wouldn’t keep your keys between your fingers like they were some flimsy excuse for a weapon.

you found a coach who was within budget, someone named könig. a straightforward profile without a profile picture and just a handful of mid-range reviews.

it was genuine in its mediocrity, not glowing in the way bot-generated reviews tended to be, but not riddled with horror stories of scams or half-baked lessons either. people mentioned that he knew what he was doing, that he was patient, that his methods were effective.

but there were a few comments about his communication too. his english, more specifically.

at first, you were more nervous about looking weak than anything else.

logically, you knew that was the point. that was why you were paying for this— to get stronger, to learn. but the thought of stepping into a room filled with people who could probably bench your body weight while you struggled with a 25 kg deadlift made something inside you shrivel. made you feel like you’d be under a microscope, mistakes magnified. the thought of someone watching you fumble through drills, assessing your form— the potential for ridicule made your stomach knot up.

so, you signed up for solo lessons.

before you even met him, könig messaged you. a late-night notification breaking through the dim glow of your phone screen.

“is it ok that my english is not so good?”

you blinked at the screen. read it again. there was something unexpectedly… earnest about it. a self-consciousness that you rhymed with your own.

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you replied. “of course! i don’t mind at all.” then, after a second, “i’ll probably learn some phrases from you, haha.”

a long pause. three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. finally— “this is nice. i will try my best.”

something about that, about the fact that he had asked at all, the careful way he phrased it, stuck with you. you didn't know why, but it did.

the first time you met könig, you nearly turned around and walked straight back out the door, convinced your coach still hadn’t arrived.

at first, you genuinely thought you had the wrong room. or maybe there’d been some kind of mix-up, like another instructor using the space before your lesson.

you had walked into the gym expecting— what? some average-looking guy in a compression shirt? maybe a little bulky, maybe with that particular kind of gym-rat energy, all tight smiles and way-too-enthusiastic handshakes.

instead you got könig.

a massive, six-foot something, tank built like something that was meant to withstand damage and then deliver it back tenfold.

his hoodie, loose on his frame and looking a bit worse for wear from too many washes, still did nothing to hide the sheer scale of him. the water bottle he was holding was dwarfed by his hand and his arms, even relaxed at his sides, looked like they could crush a man’s ribs without much effort.

out of place. that was what he looked like. less self-defense coach and more guard stationed at the gates of hell.

you hesitated in the doorway, gripping the strap of your gym bag, suddenly hyperaware of every muscle in your body tensing up.

and then he spoke.

"… my client?” his voice was surprisingly soft. deep, yes, but smoothed down with the lilt of his accent.

you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. jesus christ.

“uh, yeah, i think so,” you shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “i booked the solo slots.”

he nodded. “good.” a pause. then, “you are… beginner?”

you exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh. “you could say that.”

his eyes smiled, something in the creases looking like amusement, before he jerked his head toward the back of the gym. “we start slow then.”

the whole thing went… surprisingly well.

könig was an amazing instructor for self-defense, not afraid to teach you moves that were downright dirty. not just the textbook counters or polished techniques that looked good in demonstrations but the kind of violence that left real damage. moves that could end a fight before it even started. his lessons were brutal in their practicality, built for survival, not sport.

his shrug always came before the skepticism could leave your mouth, as if he already knew the doubts forming behind your eyes. anticipation sat in his expression, waiting for you to question the practicality of a move that involved hitting someone's throat or breaking a wrist. waiting for that flicker of hesitation so he could counter it.

“has no rules, defense,” he simply told you, adjusting his gloves with a nonchalance that felt at odds with the destruction he'd just inflicted on the poor training dummy. his foot still pressed into its broken torso, the material caved inward like a crushed can. “s’long as you're safe, is good tactic.”

it was truth that didn’t need embellishment to him. könig wasn’t just saying it to justify his methods— it was a simple fact.

he made it seem less brutal, more justified. not just an excuse for violence but a reassurance, a lesson in survival.

it had you thinking if maybe you had been seeing things too rigidly, measuring combat in terms of right and wrong instead of what kept you breathing. könig didn’t. his world wasn’t one of fairness, it was of outcomes.

you exhaled, glancing at the poor, ruined dummy before looking back at him. “i think you broke it.”

könig tilted his head, unbothered. “hm. ja.” then, after a pause, he grinned, nudging the dummy’s crumpled remains with his boot like it might suddenly spring back to life. “but was good form, yes?”

the laugh that bubbled up caught you off guard, an unexpected burst of warmth. the corners of his grin lifted just a little higher at that.

texting started out as a necessity. scheduling changes, clarifying techniques, occasional reminders about bringing extra wraps. that was the whole point, really— a way to communicate outside of training.

somehow, though, könig turned out to be a menace over text. sarcasm practically dripped from his messages, sharpened now that he had the time to translate things properly. he was witty, sometimes outright ridiculous, and the sheer absurdity of his jokes caught you off guard more times than you could count.

könig: i think i have unlocked a new level of muscle soreness. my body is rejecting me. i am a broken man.

you: rip. gone and forgotten.

könig: good. don't tell my story. it's kind of pathetic.

“könig,” you typed one evening. “where the hell did you learn english?”

“the internet.”

immediate suspicion flooded your mind. “what part of the internet?”

“…the bad part.”

“be more specific.”

“ah…” there was a long pause, like he was regretting his choices. finally, “weird forums.”

apprehension curled at the base of your spine. “what kind of weird forums, könig?”

“…conspiracy theories.”

sheer, undiluted disbelief clung to you as you stared at your screen.

“WAIT” he backpedaled immediately, as if he could feel your judgment through the phone. “i was a child!!”

“A CHILD IN CONSPIRACY FORUMS?”

“it was not like that!!”

his frantic response only made you laugh harder. “then explain.”

“i was just reading, yes? stories. people told very cool stories. aliens, secret government projects, ghosts”

“oh my god, you were a cryptid kid.”

“nein!!”

amusement bloomed in your chest. “so what i’m hearing is you were, like, deep in the trenches. lizard people? JFK clone theories? the moon isn’t real?”

“…yes.”

“jesus christ.”

“it was fun!! and good english practice!”

“you learned english from paranoid men on the internet.”

“they were very passionate.”

laughter ripped through your chest so violently you nearly dropped your phone. könig sent a series of increasingly exasperated texts, all variations of “stop laughing”, which only made it worse.

every time you thought about it after that, a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. the next training session, you couldn’t even meet his eyes without picturing tiny könig hunched over an old computer, nodding solemnly as someone named TruthSeeker88 explained how the queen of england was actually a reptilian overlord.

he hated you for it. “you are evil,” he muttered when you brought it up again, shoving your shoulder lightly. “this is slander.”

“is it slander if it’s true?”

“YES.”

somewhere along the way, little snapshots of your lives started slipping into the conversation. könig sent blurry photos of his boots kicked up on a table, a war documentary playing in the background. “history lesson,” he’d caption, like he wasn’t watching something unreasonably brutal for fun. you sent the sky from your morning walk, pink bleeding into gold, and he always responded with a simple “pretty.”

you weren’t sure if he meant the sky or something else, but you let yourself wonder.

and then, selfies.

his were always shy, half-obscured, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you see too much despite the fact that you saw each other every week. the lower half of his face, mostly— jawline tucked into the shadows, the soft curve of a grin barely visible.

sometimes it was just his hands: wrapped around a steaming mug, fingers long and scarred, or flexed absentmindedly over his knee, veins shifting beneath pale skin. you never commented on them outright, just sent something casual— “cozy” or “nice gloves, old man”— but you always saved them, tucked away in your camera roll like little guilty pleasures.

yours were much less subtle in comparison.

exhausted post-workout, slumped against your couch with a dead-eyed stare. wrapped up in a hoodie, coffee in hand. the first time you sent one, you didn’t expect much. maybe a quick “good job” or some kind of fitness advice. instead, he sent “cute.”

you stared at the message for a full minute, blinking. your stomach did something stupid.

after that, he started commenting more. when you looked particularly grumpy, he’d send a teasing “you need nap, bird?” or “angry face. very scary.” and when you groaned about soreness, he was smug about it, “should have stretched. tsk tsk.”

it was cute. unbearably cute.

but all good things must come to an end.

one month. that’s how long this was supposed to last. four weeks of training, a neat little package of lessons that would leave you more capable of handling yourself in a fight. somewhere along the way, that timeline stretched, bending under the weight of something neither of you dared acknowledge.

könig should have cut you off weeks ago.

“you are expert already,” he tells you one evening, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of real curiosity beneath it. “i do not think class is needed. why do you keep taking?”

hesitation flickers in your chest. because of you, you want to admit, but the words sit heavy on your tongue, too risky, too exposing. instead, you roll your shoulders back and offer something easier, something safer.

“i need to beat you first.”

amusement dances across his features. könig huffs out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as if considering the possibility.

“it will not happen in a million years, i think.”

arrogance suits him. confidence carved into his bones, stitched into the way he moves, the way he fights. you don’t argue because he’s right— he’s bigger, stronger, more experienced. if he wanted to, he could probably break you in half without much effort.

but miracles happen.

it’s a fluke. both of you know it. a momentary lapse, a split second where his guard lowers just enough for you to slip past his defenses. könig lets you try—indulges you, really, humoring your attempts at taking him down like he’s teaching a child to wrestle. that cockiness, that easy amusement, is what costs him.

somehow, impossibly, you get him in a triangle choke.

his body tenses the moment your thighs clamp around his neck, locking him in place. shock flickers in his eyes before it shifts into something unreadable, something quiet and assessing. his breath comes out steady despite the position he’s in, controlled in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

for a moment, you think you have him.

then, with an ease that’s almost insulting, he pries your legs apart, spreading them like it’s nothing.

a gasp hitches in your throat.

his movements don’t stop there— before you can even process what’s happening, he shifts, pressing himself close, kneeling between your thighs, completely caging you beneath him. his grin is wide, pleased, entirely too unbothered for someone who had just been seconds away from losing.

“very good, bird,” he praises. “very good takedown. i like.”

air sticks in your throat. something is wrong.

“k-könig-”

he blinks at you, tilting his head slightly. “ja?”

your bugged-out stare flicks downward, and his follows instinctively.

oh.

his entire body tenses. his pupils shrink.

understanding dawnes, slow and terrible, as he finally feels the press of something very, very apparent against you.

“that was not supposed to happen.”

no shit.

könig’s weight shifts over you, muscles tight as he tries to move away but instead— maybe by accident, maybe not— his cock drags against your core, thick even through the fabric separating you. the pressure is just enough to make your breath hitch, a spark of something warm licking up your spine before a sound slips from your throat.

he freezes, head jerking up like a startled animal, eyes darting around the empty training room, scanning for any sign that someone might’ve heard, his breath uneven as he listens, as you listen, as the silence between you stretches impossibly thin.

nothing. no one.

he exhales. something in his face twitches, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real, that you really just made that sound because of him.

his gaze drops, landing back on you, mouth parting, jaw flexing. then his body moves again, slower this time, cock grinding against you, rubbing you through your clothes, dragging heavy between your thighs, and you swear you see his eyelids flutter just slightly at the friction.

his forehead presses against yours, breath coming faster. “tell me to stop.”

the words hit your skin as more air than voice, warm against your jaw, but you don’t even need to think about it, because stopping is the last thing you want right now, the very last thing your body would allow.

“d-don’t stop.”

he curses, words slipping before he can stop them, and you don’t know what they mean, only that they sound wrecked, like they’ve been dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest.

könig’s forehead presses harder into yours. his hands tighten at your waist. his breath comes out uneven, stumbling over itself, and his voice fumbles through the next words. “i don’t have lube.”

“we don’t nee-”

“we do.” his face twists a little, mouth pressing tight, like the idea of taking you without it is actually painful.

you swallow, shifting slightly under him, feeling just how big he is. slick gathers between your thighs, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out, barely above a whisper.

“are you big?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a grin, like he can’t believe you just asked that, and then it spreads into something quintessentially könig, — slow, lazy, and warm.

he presses in harder, dragging over your soaked cunt through the fabric of your underwear. the friction pulls a gasp from your lips, hips rolling up instinctively.

his grin stretches wider, eyes flicking down to watch you grind against him. "i am not small."

heat floods you, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching. your hips move again, searching for more, slick soaking through your underwear. your head tips back, breath catching. the sound that escapes you is closer to a whimper than you’d like to admit.

his lips find your jaw, tongue flicking out, tasting sweat and skin. his voice follows his mouth, words warm against your neck. "pretty little pussy..." he murmurs, dragging the syllables out like he’s savoring them. "bet it’d feel better wrapped around me."

the sound that leaves your throat is humiliating, high-pitched and needy. you don’t mean to make it, but it’s too late.

könig grabs your wrist. pulls you up. your balance falters, and before you can recover, he hauls you toward the showers. boots thud against tile. the door slams, lock clicking into place.

his mouth finds yours before you can speak. lips crash into yours, messy and eager. tongues tangle, breaths mix, heat pouring between you as your fingers twist in his hair. a laugh bubbles up between kisses—yours or his, you can’t tell—and he groans into your mouth, grinning against your lips.

“fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. cheeks flush, eyes dark with something feral. “wanted this so long…”

clothes hit the floor in frantic shoves. hands fumble, pulling fabric away until skin meets skin, warmth pressing in on all sides.

his cock, thick, flushed, and dripping with precum, hangs between the two of you, weighed down by its own girth.

he sees your stare and grins. "big, huh?”

words fail you and for a moment you can't do anything but nod dumbly.

könig reaches past you, flicks on the shower. water crashes down, steam rising fast. the air thickens with heat and he wastes no time to pull you under the spray, water slicing over skin.

scarred hands find your face, thumbs brushing your jaw as his mouth returns to yours.

your hand slides down between you and wraps around his cock. konig's hips jerk forward, breath shuddering out against your lips.

“could kill you with this, eh?” his grin tugs lazy at the corners of his mouth. his chest lifts and falls, breaths dragging in deep, water cascading over both of you, hot against skin already burning.

your hand tightens, fingers sliding along the thick length of him, precum slicking your palm. warmth pulses beneath your touch, veins pronounced under your grip. he twitches when you give a slow twist near the tip, hips jolting forward. a groan rips from his throat, echoing off the tiled walls.

“scheiße,” he hisses, jaw working as he fights the urge to thrust. one hand flies to his hair, tugging as if the sting will help. water streaks down his face, lips parted, breaths breaking up his words.

“not helping,” you breathe, voice shaking. you press your mouth to his jaw, pressing a kiss there before your tongue darts out to taste the salt of his skin. his breath catches, eyes squeezing shut.

“oh, fuck-” his hips rock forward again, cock dragging through your fist, smearing more warmth along your stomach. precum drips from the flushed head, glistening in the steam-filled air.

a grin tugs at his lips, strained but there. “you tryna kill me?” the words slide out. "scheiß kleines ding…”

you laugh, kissing down his jaw. “not my fault you’re easy.” your thumb slides over the tip.

his head knocks back against the wall, neck stretching, throat working through a swallowed groan. “you- fuck- you think is easy?” a hand finds your chin, pulling your gaze up. “look at me.”

könig’s eyes catch yours. blown out. a ring of blue against black. then suddenly his lips curl, and his voice slips through his teeth.

“i have touched myself to you.”

you blink. “what?”

his grin widens. “before.” his hips push forward, cock dragging against your belly. “many times.”

your face burns.

“oh my god.”

his head dips, lips brushing yours, his breath hot and amused. “you do too, hm?”

your heart stops. heat shoots through you, cunt clenching. “yeah,” your breath shudders. “me too…”

his eyes widen, like he didn't expect you to admit to it, then narrows, grin pulling crooked. “yeah?” his cock twitches in your hand again. “fuckin’ knew it…” laughter spills out, breathless and warm.

könig’s head dips to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. tongue sliding against yours, messy and eager. laughter rumbles out, hips rolling, giggles slipping between mouths.

“fuckin’ knew it,” he repeats, words slurring together. “think about me late at night? fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt…”

you gasp, half scandalized, half aroused, hips shifting as slick pools between your thighs. “könig-”

“yeah?” another thrust. precum smears across your belly. “tell me.”

“i- fuck- yeah,” you breathe. “think about you all the time.”

he groans like the words alone could undo him. könig’s hands drop to grip your thighs, fingers digging firm into the flesh as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. your back meets the cold tile with a dull thud, heat from the shower clashing with the chill seeping through the wall.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close. his cock drags through your folds, thick length sliding slick against your cunt, nudging your entrance but never pushing in.

könig watches your face, chest lifting with every shaky breath. “how much do you take?”

you blink, heat simmering through your skin. “what?”

his cock slides against you again, harder this time, grinding against your clit, making you twitch. “normally. how much?”

a shrug rolls through your shoulders, confidence bubbling up, reckless. “all of it,” you answer without thinking, back arching, rubbing against him, arms looping around his neck. “i can take everything.”

he stills, expression shifting— his lips part, brows lifting just slightly. then he laughs, a low, amused sound, mouth curling into a grin. “nein, you can not.”

challenge flares in your chest. “i can.”

another laugh, softer now, hands adjusting on your thighs. “you are-” he shakes his head, grinning wider, lips brushing your cheek as he exhales, “-so very stupid.”

heat pools in your stomach, thighs clenching around him. “i’ll prove it.”

hands grip your thighs, fingers pressing deep into flesh as könig shifts his weight, cock grinding slow against your entrance, precum smearing where you’re slick and warm. a breath shudders out of him, jaw tight, brows pinching like he’s trying to hold something back. “you say this,” he mutters, “and then you cry.”

“i won’t,” you shoot back.

“hm.” his gaze flicks down to where his cock pushes against you, dragging through your folds. “we’ll see.”

könig’s fingers flex. his grip tightens and your breath hitches. “ready?”

“please,” you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders.

he grits his teeth, cock sliding as deep as your walls will allow, head bumping against your cervix. every sob that escapes your lips makes his hips stutter, breath catching like he’s holding on by a thread.

"oh shit," he mutters. "look at you... crying so much."

"feels too good." your hands are weak on his shoulders.

könig grins, breathless, hands squeezing your hips. "ja? but you begged for this, no? say ‘please, könig, fuck me’-" he mocks your voice, low and whiny, then thrusts, ripping a squeak out of you. "and now you cry like a little baby like i said."

you shake your head against his chest, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. you love it—you love his cock so much it hurts—but you just can’t stop the sounds. every thrust drags a new sob from you, body trembling in his grip.

"shh." he squints down at you. "you are too loud-" his hand slides to the back of your head, pressing you close. "fuck... here. suck."

your lips brush his chest, and his nipple is right there, stiff against warm skin. you hesitate, dizzy from pleasure, but then your mouth opens and you latch on, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck soft and slow.

könig’s hips jerk.

"oh, shit- good girl," he breathes, head falling back. his fingers tangle in your hair. "yeah, just like that. little baby needs something to suck on, huh?"

your cheeks burn, whining against his chest, mouth working over his nipple as his cock drags in deep and slow. he groans, low and desperate, fucking you through your cries.

"such a messy baby," he grins, looking far too fucked-out to be as smug as he is. "can’t stop crying, can you? too good, yes? too much?"

you nod, sobbing around him, and könig just laughs, like he can’t believe how fucked you both are.

"keep sucking," he growls. "will fuck you ‘til you’re dumb.”

[fireflycantsleep]

Gladiator! Konig

A 120 kg beast of fat and muscle, undefeated, after every victory he demands you as a reward instead of your freedom.

You nurse his wounds gently and carefully, and only sleep side by side, his hands mold your breasts and nipples to control his anxiety after confrontations, and his hips grind against you, but never go beyond gentle rubs and kisses.

Gladiator ! Konig

Who loves the kisses you give his wounds over the bandages and bruises when it's all over, getting bolder when he points to his bulge, arguing that he took a hit there too, only to receive your lips on his cock.

He probably loves to have you on his lap at the banquets he celebrates with his companions, while they brutalize the sex slaves, he just caresses their legs and your breasts.

If he takes his attention away from you, he asks you to feed and water him, forcing you to ignore the jealous and envious stares of everyone around.

[disco-troy]

KG Beast had the worst time of his life after he shot Nightwing.

First he got beat up by Batman and abandoned in the snow

Then Nightwing himself beat him up (and told him a pun)

THEN The Batgirls lured him to their turf ON PURPOSE to beat him up

Damian nearly kills him

He gets beat up by a guy at the speed of light

and that's not even counting Kory's reaction!

Entire hired killer career OVER bc he shot one man

[i-spit-on-your-garage]

*NSFW shit in here*

This is my accidental first sorta imagine,enjoy I guess

Logan Howlett x reader

*straight up down bad kinda rough smut after paragraph one,afab, I'm just dumping my horny Wolverine thoughts here*

I don't think we're acknowledging how HEAVY Logan is. Man's is full of metal. There's a scene in X-Men origins: Wolverine where the old farmer has him try out the motorcycle and when he sits that bitch SINKS under his weight. Hugh himself was around 200 pounds (90 kg) during this role, but Wolverine's canon weight is a whopping 300 pounds (136 kg) post adamantium injections.Canonically he's 5'3 (1.60 m) but in the movies he's 6'3(1.90 m).

All that to say CAN YOU IMAGINE this beast of a man fucking you from behind? The absolute FORCE he's capable of. Like your ass will hurt afterwards purely from his hips. Your hands are gripping the headboard for dear life(it doesn't help) and his hands are gripping your hips (where they belong) as he absolutely wrecks you. You're in denial if you say this man is quiet in bed, this man is growling, moaning, and/or panting like a damn dog. You're either screaming or letting out silent cries cause he's fucking the air out of you. You'd both be covered in sweat and this man is going feral because you are literally gushing around him and soaking his cock and his hips and he can feel you dripping down his fucking balls (I will never be sorry for what I post, I'm incapable of shame). He's gonna put you in a chokehold with his weight leaning into you as he lowers his chest onto your back, trapping you in beneath him while he obliterates you pussy(I'm projecting so badly rn).

.......how big do we think his dick is?👀

I've never written before,I just felt the overwhelming need to share my horny gremlin ass thoughts about this hot, angry,large hunk of man.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: moray eels

This week on Wet Beast Wednesday I'll be going over something amazing, a fish with a sense of morality. You see, the moral eel is known for, what... I think I'm reading this wrong. Oh, MoRAY eel, not moral. Well this is awkward. Hang tight, I need to go redo my research.

(Image: a green moray (Gymnothorax funebris) swimming outside of its burry, with its whole body visible from the side. It is a long, slender fish that looks a bit like a snake. A long fin starts just below the head and continues down the length of the body. The body is arranged in a wave pattern. It has a pointed snout and small eyes. Its body is a yellow-green color. In the background is the sandy seafloor, dotted with various sponges and corals. End ID)

Moray eels are true eels, meaning they are in the order Anguiliformes. Yeah, I did wolf eels, electric eels, and lamprey eels before I got around to actual eels. There are over 200 known species of moray eel in 15 genera. Like other eels, they are elongated bony fish with extra vertebrae and reduced fins. Moray eels have fewer fins than most eel species, only having a dorsal, anal and tail fin that merge together and run down the back of most of the body and underneath portion of it. They achieve motion by undulating this long fin and sometimes undulating the rest of the body as well. Moray eels aren't the fastest of fish, but they can swim backwards, something almost no fish can. The head has a long snout with wide jaws. Most species have long fangs used to grab onto prey, but a few species are adapted to eat hard-shelled prey and have molar-like teeth to crush through shells instead. Probably the coolest feature of morays are the pharyngeal jaws. This is a second set of jaws located in the back of the mouth. When the eel bites onto prey, the jaws can be shot forward to grab the food and help pull it into the throat. While lots of fish have pharyngeal jaws, morays are the only ones who can extend their pharyngeal jaws forward and use them to grab prey. Morays have smooth, scaleless skin that is often patterned to provide camouflage. The skin is coated in mucus that provides protection from damage and infection. In some species, the mucus can be used to glue sand together to help reinforce burrows. Morays lack lateral lines, a system of organs found in most fish that senses changes in water movement. Their sense of smell is their primary sense. The size of morays varies between species. The smallest species is the dwarf moray eel (Gymnothorax melatremus) which reaches 26 cm (10 in) long. The largest species by mass is the giant moray eel (Gymnothorax javanicus) which can reach 3 meters (10 ft) and 30 kg (66 lbs) while the longest species is the slender giant moray (Strophidon sathete), the longest known specimen of which measured in at 3.94 m (12.9 ft).

New reaction image

(Image: a giant moray (Gymnothorax javanicus) emerging from a burrow. It is brown and mottled with yellowish patches. Its head is pointed at the camera and it's mouth is wide open, aming it look shocked. End ID)

(Image: an anatomical diagram of the skeleton of a moray eel emphasizing the pharyngeal jaws and the muscle attachments. End ID. Art by Zina Deretsky)

Moray eels are found throughout the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans. Different species are found in different temperatures and depths, though most species live in relatively shallow, warm water. Several species can live in brackish water and a few will swim upriver and live for a time in fresh water, though there do not appear to be any species that live their entire lives in fresh water. Morays are ambush predators who rely on the element of surprise. They live in small, tight places such as holes in coral, gaps between rocks, or sandy burrows. When prey passes, the eel can lunge out and grab it. Unlike most fish, the eel cannot use suction feeding due to the shapes of their mouths. They have to rely on lunging froward and catching prey with their mouths. Their mouths are adapted in shape to push water to the sides. This reduces water resistance and avoids creating a wave that could push prey away from the eel. If an eel catches prey that cannot be swallowed whole, it will tie itself in a knot while biting on to the food. By pulling its head through the loop, the eel can rip the food into bite-sized pieces. Spending most of their times in burrows also provides protection from predators, especially in juveniles or smaller species. At night, the eels will come out of their burrows to hunt sleeping prey while the larger predators are asleep. Giant morays have also been seen engaging in interspecies cooperative hunting with roving coral groupers (Plectropomus pessuliferus). The eels can fit into small crevices the groupers can't to flush prey into the grouper's path while catching their own. Morays are mostly solitary species and many can be territorial. They are known to be shy and will retreat into their burrows if they feel threatened. They are also curious and many species are quite intelligent.

(Image: a male ribbon eel (Rhinomuraena quaesita) on a coral reef. It is a very long and slender eel with its body curved in many waves. It is brightly colored, with a blue-purple body, yellow fin and face, and a long black and white stripe running down the back half of the body. On the nostrils are two feather-like structures. End ID)

Morays reproductive strategies are poorly known and differ based on species. While many species seem to have no set mating season and will reproduce whenever they can, others will mate at the same time every year. Some species seem to have dedicated spots to lay their eggs and a few are believed to be anadromous, meaning they travel from the sea to fresh water to spawn. Meanwhile, some of the species that spend a lot of time in fresh water are catadromous, meaning they return to sea to mate. Females will lay their eggs and the male fertilize them. After this, they depart, providing no parental care. As with all true eels, moray eels begin life as leptocephalus larvae. This type of fish larvae is notable for its resemblance to a simple, transparent leaf with a head on one end. These larvae are unique and poorly understood, despite being the larval stage of a lot of different species of fish. They are unusually well developed for larvae, capable of active swimming and generally living life. In fact, some particularly large leptocephalus larvae were initially mistaken for adult fish. They feed mostly on bits of drifting organic material called marine snow and can remain in the larval stage for up to 3 years, with those in colder conditions usually taking longer to metamorphose. All leptocephalus larvae start out with no sex organs, then develop female organs, then develop male ones, becoming simultaneous hermaphrodites. They will ultimately become eith male or female and it is likely that environmental factors are the main determining factor. During metamorphosis into a juvenile, the leptocephalus can reduce in size by up to 90%, resulting in the juvenile being smaller than the larva. The process of maturation is poorly understood, but it seems that most morays will be sexually mature by three years of age.

(Image: multiple photos of a particularly large leptocephalus larva (not sure what species). It is a translucent organis, wth a body shaped like a very long leaf, narrow at both ends. In the frint is a very tiny head. End ID)

Morays are shy and generally avoid humans. Though some cultures have hunted them for food, they are often not considered a particularly good food source. Many species have high levels of chemicals called ciguatoxins in their bodies, which can lead to a condition called ciguatera fish poisoning if eaten. The largest threat to morays is habitat loss. This is especially true for the many species that live in coral reefs, which are in increasing danger due to global warming. Attacks on humans are rare and usually happen as a response to a human sticking their hand in the eel's burrow. Some of the large species could cause significant damage with a bite. Some species, usually the smaller ones, are found in the aquarium trade, thought they are not good pets for beginners as even the smallest morays are still large for aquarium fish and have some specific requirements. The curiosity many morays have has led to some becoming familiar with and even friendly to humans, often the result of feeding them. They can recognize individual humans and remember them over the course of years. Aquarium employees sometimes report that the eels will come to nuzzle and play with them and have personalities like dogs. Marine biologists and professional SCUBA divers Ron and Valorie Taylor befriended a pair of eels they named Harry and Fang at the Great Barrier Reef who would remember them and come out to visit them year after year.

(Image: a SCUBA diver hugging a large, brown moray with black spots. End ID)

(Video: A shot video showing Valeria Taylor and a moray eel she befriended)

(Video: the song "That's a Moray", a parody of the song "That's Amore" by Dean Martin)

[demilypyro]

i dont understand manga weights. 83 kg at 184 cm? that's like. almost exactly my height and weight. and i'm skinny as fuck. so how did they reach the same number for this beast of a lady

[youngbounty]

Not Letting DamiJon Lose!

I'm not letting the DamiJon Nation lose without a fight, so here is my promo. Why vote DamiJon?

Childhood

These two practically grew up together as the Super Sons. They are each other's closest companions. Jon was the only person that stuck by Damian when no one else did. Even when Damian was about to kill KG Beast, Jon never turned against him. He was the only person that truly reached out to him just to make sure Damian was okay.

After this incident, Jon left the Legion of Super Heroes, hinting at the possibility that he sacrificed his membership for his friend. It could be for other reasons, but considering Saturn Girl kicked Damian out upon his arrival, I'd like to believe the Legion wasn't too fond of him.

2. "I know the sound of your heartbeat"

Even in the very comic where Jon Kent starts dating Jay, it's clear which boy he's much closer with. How can you not see sparks? These two were clearly made for each other both heart and soul!

3. Babysitting Lizzie

These two practically co-parent Lizzie Prince, the daughter of Wonder Woman in Tom King's run, from when she's five until she became the next Wonder Woman. They are still just as close and never change by the time Damian becomes Batman.

4. Even in Other Worlds

When Jon visits the Injustice Earth, he never gives up on Damian. No matter how evil Damian may become, Jon will always see the good in him. There is such a deep understanding these two have for each other.

5. The Promise

The one promise they made was to always protect each other. Damian was so genuine in that promise that he took off his mask. He hardly ever does this, even when making promises. It's clear Damian cares so much for Jon that he will abandon the Teen Titans to protect him.

Even going back to "I know the sound of your heartbeat," Jon said this when Damian was off the grid. This means Jon was the only nonparticipant of the Lazarus Tournament who knew where Damian was when he was off the grid. He's also the only person Damian has ever visited while off-grid, being that is when the Super Sons Special takes place.

6. This right here.

Also...

And...

So, let's get some votes for DamiJon. Co'mon, don't let DickBru catch up! Let's so our love! Vote here for DamiJon!

https://www.tumblr.com/ao3-top-batfam-ships-bracket/755738460459089921/top-ao3-batfamily-ships-bracket-round-6

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sooo, I have a thought from an ask i saw about yandere beasts towards the ancients...

What if the Beasts became yandere towards YOU instead?

Although, the Ancients have the same feeling too, which may lead to high tensions in the air.

What would YOU in that scenario?

-A Self-Aware/Yandere lover Anon

Wait, me? Me specifically? Merchant? The person answering this ask? That's certainly an interesting thought...

If the Beasts became yanderes towards me, then I would fucking panic lol. I don't condone this kind of behavior irl, it's fun to write fictional crazy people but nobody wants to endure ACTUAL crazy people. Stalkers are sick and dangerous and need to be put away, and it's a damn shame it's not taken seriously by law enforcement anywhere (not until it escalates to violence, anyway, unfortunately)

With that said, let's terrorize Merchant for a little bit

IF THE BEASTS ARE STILL JUST COOKIES:

Step on them immediately, they're like 3 inches tall wait, would that work? They have powers and are crazy strong. What can they actually do against humans? Would stepping on them just break my fucking foot?

Send my dog after them no wait, I don't want them to hurt my dog. I love my dog very much. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'd never forgive myself if I let him try to eat them and he just got turned into flour or something

Pour milk on them ONE OF THEM IS MADE OF MILK ALREADY GODDAMN IT

Hide the box of cookies I like to get from the store, because they probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that I love to eat cookies (they're just like this 🍪 but still)

Try to trap them in the fridge momentarily, hope they don't destroy my nice fridge

Make a deal where they are allowed to live in and explore my house provided they damage nothing and hurt no one

Give them head scratches (especially Spice, his head looks Very Scratchable)

Give them tiny little kisses if they behave themselves (however, if I give one a kiss, I have to give them ALL kisses, or else the other 4 will retaliate against me out of jealousy)

I will also allow them to sit on my shoulders if they behave themselves and don't try to yank on my hair or my ears or something

Wait, do cookies know what sex is? Are they capable of sexual feelings? If so, how do they deal with them? Do they have the... equipment for that? WHAT IF THEY TRY TO HUMP MY FINGERS OR SOMETHING OH GOD-

Contact federal authorities and hope that they believe me when I say superpowered talking cookies are in my house, so they can come take them away and perhaps experiment on them

Probably never sleep again because there's a batch of little satanic cookies in my house that all want to fuck me for some reason (I'm ugly and a normie, wtf did I do to deserve this 💀)

IF THE BEASTS ARE HUMAN:

immediate death

panic x10000000000

I hc Spice as being at least 6'5''/198cm and 200+/90+ lbs/kg so I'm cooked 7 ways to Sunday just with him

Seriously I'm just a short nerd irl. Assuming they still have their powers, my life is literally over

Do everything in my power to convince them all my loved ones are dead so they don't go harm them out of jealousy (ESPECIALLY my SO, God have mercy, I'll probably have to tell him to go hide in his home country for a while)

Try to barricade myself in a church, hope that the "demons cannot set foot on hallowed ground/in God's house" rule applies to them, beg God to save my sorry ass while they try to break in and drag me back out

Can't call the cops because A) stalking and harassment are not taken seriously by police, B) they won't believe me when I say that 5 supervillains are trying to kidnap and marry me, C) by the time they realize I'm telling the truth, they will already have been hanged/put into a coma/beheaded/turned to flour/cut up into salt cubes

I actually only like men irl so I am in deep trouble with Flour and Sugar especially

Try to flee the country (probably won't work but I'll try anyway and hope they don't get too mad about it), hide out in the Yukon or some bumfuck nowhere village in Russia, I'd rather face a polar bear than these guys

Probably still be forced to let them live in my house in exchange for peace and obedience

...I don't know if tiny head scratches and kisses would cover it this time

Hope that they're all possessive enough to only harass me one at a time, instead of... more than one at a time, because that counts as sharing and yanderes don't really like doing that

Try to pit them against each other constantly. If they're too focused on arguing about who I belong to or whatever, then they can't focus on tormenting me

Would like to try to stab or shoot them but idk if conventional weaponry works on them at all

If I HAD TO pick one to say yes to, it would be Burning Spice. He is sexy af. Then, hopefully, I can weaponize this and get him to defend me from the others

IF THE ANCIENTS LIKED ME TOO, BUT WERE NORMAL:

Yay, sanity. I'll tell them to PLEASE get the Beasts away from me. They can sort out whatever they feel towards me later, we've got a bigger problem on our hands than that

COOKIES: I will keep them safe in my house under the same conditions as the Beasts: behave and do not harm anyone or anything

HUMANS: Look, can I just... send them back? How did any of these guys get here, anyway? Can I please just shove them back through the portal or whatever they used to get here? Even if I wasn't taken, I don't think I'd have the strength or patience to put up with anyone's shit. Can we just be friends? I'd love to be friends. I need a mom friend like Hollyberry in my life

If necessary, I am picking Dark Cacao. Seriously, I love my big, strong men. Merchant is a basic bitch at heart lol

IF THE ANCIENTS WERE YANDERES TOO:

Are you fucking kidding me

Am still picking Cacao, fuck all of you

[identifyallen]

Let’s be honest, if Dick had been killed by joker instead of Jason, Bruce would’ve killed joker. Also before anyone tells me “But Bruce wanted to kill joker but Clark (Superman) stopped him.” That’s a valid point but if it were Dick instead of Jason, Clark would’ve helped Bruce kill joker. We all know it. 😭

I even think that most of the Justice League and Titans would’ve helped if it were Dick instead of Jason. For starters the JL and Titans adore Dick. Dick had once been in trouble and he didn’t even have to ask for help. The whole Justice League was already there and ready to kick ass. Not only Bruce and Clark but also Barry, Diana, Arthur, Hal and Oliver. (Flash, Wonder Women, Aquaman, Green Lantern & Green Arrow)

Than there’s the time the Titans went out of their way to protect Dick when he was being targeted in his civilian form. I think it was Donna and Kory. (Wonder girl and Starfire) Then there’s also the time KG beast shot Dick. Wally (Kid Flash/Flash) had later proceeded to beat the shit out of KG. Wally even mentioned how there is a VERY long list of people who want to beat his ass. Dick is clearly very loved which I think is amazing because he deserves it. He’s one of the best hero’s. I understand why the JL and Titans would be bias. I get why they like Dick more than Jason but Bruce..seriously? He clearly loves Dick more and it makes me a bit sad. So I’ll just be reading my “Bruce treats all his sons equally” fanfics, thank you very much.

[yawnderu]

She Wants Me Dead - Miguel O'Hara x Reader | Part II

1 2 3

content: pussy eating, hardcore sex, breeding kink, name-calling, pussy-drunk Miguel, cock-drunk reader. Just pure filth

Miguel is an absolute beast of a man, that much was clear from a simple glance. With sharp claws, talons that come out of his arms, fangs twice the length of his regular teeth, muscles for days, a behemoth frame of 6'9, and a crushing weight of 140 kgs, you know he could easily destroy you.

Yet he's doing it in a way you'd never expect. Your legs are wrapped around his neck as he holds you up, hands grasping at his now messy hair for support while he hungrily eats your cunt, exploring every single inch of your wetness.

He moans against the sensitive flesh, the vibrations forcing a whiny moan out of you while his lips and tongue work in tandem, pleasuring you with a rhythm that makes you gasp for more, hips slightly thrusting up enough to build a faster rhythm.

He allows you to fuck yourself using his tongue, half lidded eyes pure of lust glaring up at you while he can feel his fangs come out, mouth opening ajar before he turns towards your inner thigh, jaws clamping down on the muscle in a way your blissed out mind can't even process, lips parted while a tad bit of drool comes out of the corner of your lips. His smirk grows wider when he sees this, fangs retracting back as he dives back in, his hunger and desire for you evident in every single flick of his tongue.

"You taste so good." He praises between long licks, his long tongue diving back inside your cunt as he fucks you with it, plump upper lip rubbing against your clit as your fingers grasp his hair harder.

"I can't—" He silences you by sucking on your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves being completely engulfed by his warmth, wetting it up with a mix of your pussy juices and his own saliva. One his hands come down to your cunt as the other one supports your back while he holds you up in the air, your cunt clamping down on his long fingers like you were made just for this.

His gaze drifts up and the scene looks almost pornographic, your half lidded eyes looking down at him, lips parted, hair messy and a layer of sweat covering your naked body. Miguel had seen you like this countless times, yet he always fell in love even more nonetheless.

"Fuck, Miggy—" His fingers move faster and faster inside you while he latches onto your clit again, his boner straining against his abdomen while your body shakes in pure ecstasy, cumming all over his face and mouth. He licks it all up, making a show out of pulling his fingers out of your messy cunt slowly, licking up your juices from them while you try to regain your breath.

"Good girl." He praises, gently letting you down on the bed as you collapse, eyes closed while you greedily take deep breaths, trying to recover from the intensity of your orgasm. While you may hold the cards in your weird situationship, Miguel basks in these little moments where he has some control. Where he can forget you're manipulating and using him, bending him to your will.

"So fucking beautiful." He opens your legs wide with one of his hands, the other one lining up the glistening tip of his cock to your pussy as he rubs it up and down, using your own juices to lube himself up as he pulls his foreskin back gently. He's already rock hard, and despite your whiny moan of protest, he knows you're enjoying this as much as he is.

His hand grips your hip possesively, his fingers digging into the skin. With a sudden, forceful thrust, his massive cock fills you completely, the sensation of his hard length being slammed balls-deep inside you in one go sending jolts of pleasure and pain through your body.

"Eres mía, muñeca." He breathes out into your ear, voice husky and commanding. He gives you enough time to get used to the stretch of his fat cock before his movements become relentless, his pace and intensity increasing with each thrust in a way only someone genetically enhanced can go.

"Fuck—" You manage to gasp out, body shaken up every single time he buried himself inside you. He pulled out only to slam himself back all the way, your bruised cervix suffering the consequences of the great pleasure this beast of a man is giving you.

The sounds of your combined moans and skin slapping against skin fill the room as he takes you, claiming you completely.

"Want to make you a mommy so bad." He manages to groan out, too pussy-drunk to even fully grasp what he just said until a few seconds later. His movements falter for a second as he looks down at you, eyes narrowing slightly with a mix of surprise and desire. He looks down at your hips, the curves all over your body looking perfectly handcrafted to carry his children.

"Te voy a llenar de leche." He whispers in your ear, voice slightly strained and deeper as he resumes his thrusts, the grip on your hip tightening as he continues to pound into you, his pace becoming more urgent.

"You'll look so good with a big tummy, mi amor... carrying my baby." Miguel is never this vocal in bed, yet here he is, spurting out nonsense into your ears as he fucks you good and deep. "I'll make sure the whole world knows who you belong to." A soft kiss is planted on your temple while all you can do is squirm underneath him and moan, hands coming up to his back while your nails dig into the skin, dragging down at the overstimulation of being fucked this good right after you had an orgasm.

"Please, Miggy— fill me up, show them all I'm your slut." Now you're the one spouting out nonsense. His eyes go slightly wide as he hears you talk about yourself like that, something completely new to him, yet he still finds himself getting worked up. His movements become even more primal as he hears your pleads, only one thing in his mind— to impregnate you.

"My breeding whore." He growls, voice laced with possessiveness and lust. He blames your pussy for feeling so good around him, for changing his entire personality the moment your tight cunt wraps around him, lips stretched out while you struggle to take him. Miguel would never talk to you like this, yet his instincts take over the second his meaty thighs slap against your plump ass.

His thrusts become faster and more forceful, the sound of your whiny moans and the wet slapping noises echoing throughout the room. He can feel himself nearing the edge, the primal need to fill you up and mark you as his growing stronger each passing second.

With one last powerful thrust, he buries himself all the way inside you, groaning out your name as he empties his balls deep inside your fertile womb. He holds himself inside you, plugging you full of his cum, the room filled with a sense of raw intimacy and ownership. Despite knowing you're on birth control, he clings to the idea of it failing, hoping you'd be the one to carry his children and stop playing games once and for all.

"You're heavy." He's broken out of his thoughts by your words and a soft tap on his arm, making him roll his eyes as he simply changes positions with ease, holding you on top of him while his cock is still buried to the hilt. You teasingly start softly grinding on him despite your abused cunt being at its limits, and he holds your hips in place, a small hiss escaping his lips at the feeling of you moving on his sensitive cock.

"Don't." He says, trying his best to sound stern while he uses the chance to stay inside you for as long as possible.

"Or what, Mig—" He sighs loudly, coming down from the high just to get slapped by the harsh reality of your teasing nature. Maybe next time he'll put a gag in your mouth to shut you up and— yeah, no. He's not that kinky. His hand covers your mouth, closing his eyes and hoping to shut you up for at least a second. Of course, that's short lived as you begin speaking again, babbling out nonsense into his palm that he knows will give him a headache sooner or later. With another overexaggerated loud sigh, he regrets all the life decisions that led him to be completely smitten by a villain. A hot one, at that.