#teeth dividers by mmadeinheavenn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dearly-somber · 2 months ago

Text

Birthday Boy | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. tooth rotting domestic fluff, birthday celebration, found-family, established relationship

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 846

-> warnings. Kinda suggestive at the start 😭��🏻

-> a/n. Self-indulgent birthday JK fic <33

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 09:41

-> fin. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 16:55

-> edited. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 18:46

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook wakes to the unmistakable feel of your lips around his earlobe.

“Mmng…”

Your giggles tickle his ear as you trail your lips over the underside of his jaw, dotting wet little kisses all across his throat. “Morning.”

Jungkook hums appreciatively, tilting his head back for easier access, his hands making their way to your hips when you give his Adam’s apple a sweet little nip.

“Bunny,” he mumbles, forcing himself to slow-blink his eyes open.

“Mm?” You kiss him (finally), gently pulling his lower lip between your teeth before leaning back down to press your foreheads together, mouths a hairsbreadth apart.

This is Jungkook’s favorite thing, he thinks. He wishes he could stay in bed with you forever… but, knowing you, you definitely had something a little extra prepared.

He smiles into your mouth, giving you a quick peck before leaning up to nuzzle against your cheek. “G’morning,” he sighs contentedly.

You giggle again, using his chest to push yourself up into a sitting position. “Sleep well?”

He nods, laughing when you smooth over his hair with your hands, cupping and squeezing his cheeks together while growling about your cuteness-aggression.

“Thank you,” he mutters through forced duck-lips, rubbing gentle circles against your exposed hips.

You frown. “For?”

“Gift,” he says. “Waking up like this…”

You scoff, gently smacking his chest before swinging your legs over the side of the bed like you’re dismounting a horse, pulling your (his) shirt down over your stomach so it rests across your thighs. “Idiot. This is a cherry on top.”

You walk across the room, rummaging around the drawer for a pair of shorts. “Get up and get ready.”

Jungkook frowns as he sits up, picking the sand from the corners of his eyes. “Huh?”

“We’re going shopping.”

“Isn’t that something you’d wanna do for your birthday?”

“Har-har, babe. Very funny.”

Jungkook grins, watching you with sparkling eyes as you come back to him, grabbing his jaw between your fingers and giving his puckered lips a firm smooch. “I got us tickets to Deadpool and Wolverine.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“The Honda Odyssey fucked hard,” Jungkook gushes, swinging your hands back and forth as he takes a bite out of his ice cream.

You laugh fondly, biting into your sweet sugary cone. “The choreography was phenomenal,” you agree.

“Right?! Ugh—“ He kisses your cheek, pulling away with a cute little mwah that makes you involuntarily smile. “Thank you so much for today. Seriously. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He smiles and squeezes your intertwined hands, taking another bite out of his ice cream.

“Always, Kook.”

He briefly lets go of your hand to reach into your back pocket for the apartment keys, twisting it in the lock and pushing it open while trying to catch the melting ice cream on his tongue, giving you a sly grin over his shoulder.

“Although, I might have one other thing in mind for tonight—“

“Surprise!”

Jungkook flinches in surprise as the apartment lights flash on, party streamers flying across the room as the pack come jumping out behind every nook and cranny they managed to squeeze themselves into.

“Happy birthday, brat,” Jennie grabs Jungkook by his neck and digs her knuckles into his head, laughing as Rosé pulls her off so she and Lisa can wrap their arms around him.

Jisoo fondly shakes her head, giving the younger girls a chance to finish greeting their maknae before hugging him herself, followed quickly by Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok who all collectively dogpile Jungkook (so much so that he nearly falls over).

You laugh as you close the door behind you, watching with a burning heart as the pack envelop him in their arms, loud and rowdy and full of love.

“Yah! Make room, you rascals! Stop hogging my son!”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, the tears that’d been slowly building in the corners of his eyes finally flowing down his cheeks at the sight of his mom and dad.

“Eomma,” he whispers, falling into her arms as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, cooing at him like all mothers do.

He pulls away and grasps onto his dad’s shoulder as his mom wipes at his tears, scolding him for making her emotional. “Appa,” he sniffles, hugging them both again, his dad laughing as he tries not to cry himself.

They hadn’t been able to see each other in months, and Jungkook had seemed so sad when they said they wouldn’t be able to make it. You couldn’t let that happen, so you pulled a few strings to get them off work and up to Seoul.

You can’t help the strong pulling sensation in your chest, your love for this family so close to spraying out of you in a wave of bright, iridescent light.

And despite the tears streaking across his cheeks, Jungkook’s happiness radiates like a sun radiates heat—strong and all encompassing.

He looks at you over his father’s shoulder, a tearful, loving smile on his face. Thank you, he mouths. I love you.

I love you, you whisper.

Happy birthday.

<- prev | next ->

259 notes · View notes

howlinginsolitude · 4 months ago

Text

Black and Red Hellhound Moodboard

Because I don't see them a lot

(None of the images are mine, teeth dividers by mmadeinheavenn)

#alterhuman #otherkin #wolfkin #nonhuman #canine therian #caninekin #hellhound kin #hellhoundkin

91 notes · View notes

justjams2003 · 4 months ago

Text

Over-ripe

I fear...people are going to be a bit upset with me for starting a new story and not updating any of my other ones... But I have to go where the old man obsession takes me! And I fear this time it's bad...those who follow my second blog know...

So, here is my vision. You've heard of Big Daddy Elvis (BDE). And you've heard of vampire!Elvis. So please all imagine for me, Alpha!Big Daddy Elvis.... I fear the brainrot has me...

Summary: After an exhausting night, overwhelmed by the crowd and meds, Elvis stumbles onto the wrong floor. Where he finds an omega, innocent, sweet like over-ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.

Pairing: Alpha!Big Daddy Elvis x Omega!Innocent!reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Omegaverse, grooming (kind of), reader just barely 18, talk of: heats, ruts, scent glands, rutting, scenting, fated mates. Over-protective, obsessive. Innocent reader. Toxic/abusive father, gambling addiction. Alcohol, drugs. Talk of divorce, mentioning Priscilla. Tell me if I missed any.

Word count: 4,4k+ unedited

Dividers by:@mmadeinheavenn and @crylynnluv

Everything is spinning like one of those damn globes on a stand. The music, it all just sort of becomes one big blur of a ringing sort of noise. The pheromones of a million horny teenage omega is just the thing to send an alpha like him into overdrive. The sweat drips in his eyes and as the people cheer his name but, he can only curse the name of one.

That damned so-called Doctor Nick got the dose wrong again or something. Because this feels like a migraine had a love child with a hungover and birthed the damned throbbing sensation in his head.

Doctor Nick was supposed to suppress his senses and now it only feels heightened by a million. What only makes it worse is the people begging for his attention after the show. Clinging to him more than the sweat clings to his hairy stomach.

"Sonny, God damn it, would yah leave me alone. All of yah!" His temper flares as a thick Southern rumble comes from him. His entourage all jump back, realising that the charming smile he gave on stage was as fake as it could come today.

He has no control over his alpha voice and everyone around him preens, baring their neck in submission. Not that he didn't love when people begged for his attention, except only when it didn't feel like someone was dead set on killing him.

His feet drag across the carpet floor and in his messy haze he chooses 3 instead of 30. The white LED lights match the colour of the rows and rows of doors. And right now, he couldn't give a damn if he was on some random floor he didn't entirely recognise. Instead, he just sort of slumps down against the wall. His stage outfit feels entirely too tight, and he claws around his bulge hoping for some sort of relief.

His head hangs in between his knees as chest heaves. Like his heart is going to explode. How long he sits there, he has no clue. But only when his hearing comes back it's sharply interrupted with a loud frustrated yell. And then the harsh slamming of the door. He doesn't bother to raise is head as his voice rumbles out.

"Would you stop it with that damn hollering!" But it's more a command than anything, and his words are met with a sharp inhale. His head very slowly and carefully raises, he expected some sort of fight back for his command. Or at least some sort of faffing about his name.

But his heart is quickly grabbed and twisted right out of his socket when his eyes meet with ones so big and watery.

A scent of an omega, so sickly sweet he hasn't smelled anything like it before. Like an over-ripe mango in the middle of summer. Nice and cold from the fridge, cooling your insides from the summer eat. The type you have to eat like the sloppy animal you are. Your teeth ripping into the soft flesh. The juices cover your mouth and drip-drip-drip down to your sweaty chest. Your hands a vibrant orange colour from the sweet nectar. And even days later when you lick your lips you can taste mango and nothing else.

And suddenly the ringing fades away as he feels guilt stab through him for yelling at something so fragile looking. A girl, but a little thing compared to him, sort of slumps down against the door, same as he had. She pulls her knees up against her chest and then fiddles with the hem of her much too short dress.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I didn't know- I didn't think of- um-" She sort of stutters out an apology. Along with the honey covered fruit smell, she reeks of a beta. All around her like someone pissed on her feet to mark their scent.

But he just can't seem to find himself to care all too much about the weak response. "What's got you all fussy?" The alpha in him instantly wanting to coddle the little omega.

He leans his back against the wall as he rests his hands on his wide spread legs. Almost as if he's making himself bigger for the little girl to either be scared of him, or trust him, he doesn't entirely know yet. His chest puffs out and he licks his sharp teeth. She might reek of another man but he's quick to notice no mating mark.

"My papa, he's being a big... meanie." He almost had to stifle a laugh, that was most definitely not the response he was expecting. This 'papa' must be the one protecting or, or at least trying to, with his gasoline scent. "And why's that, little one?" Elvis asks, fighting off his iconic side smirk as he truly takes her in. As cute as a button, but with the body of a woman and yet dressed in something clearly not age appropriate.

"That's just the thing. I ain't so little no more. I just turned 18, I'm a big girl. He brings me to Vegas. I thought that meant I could do yah know, what grown ups do." Her voice rambles, still playing with the hem of her too short dress. He can see her cute little pink panties showing but she doesn't seem to realise it. Or at least if she does, she doesn't seem to know it's a bad thing. He spreads his legs wider, hoping for some relief.

"And what would that be?" Elvis can see when he just opens his mouth, a light dusting of pink falls on her cheeks before falling away again. "Yah know..." She mumbles, but it's clear that she isn't entirely all too sure. "No I don't, you'll have to tell me." His voice is coated with a condescending tone however it doesn't register with her. Instead she just sort of leans her neck to the side, already submitting to him. Such a weak little thing. No fight either.

Her front two teeth capture her bottom lip before letting it go with a pop. He can see her small little canines and his subconscious mind immediately thinks of how tiny her mark would look on his shoulder.

"Yah know... Talking about grown up stuff and dancing, all in pretty, fancy clothes." Elvis supposed that it could definitely be seen like that to someone like her. He however doesn't really want to break this bubble that she lives in and just nods, showing her to continue.

"But he won't let me. Just tells me that he's got himself into trouble with dangerous men and that I can't go out. What's that gotta do wit' me?" Things seem to slowly fall in place for the famous rock star. A gambling addict, in debt to one of the many mafia that seem to run this place. Trying to keep such a frigid omega safe. But clearly, this little one needs an alpha like him. To mark her, let the whole world know she’s his. "He's right. Vegas ain't all that they make it out to be."

She huffs, clearly not liking this answer and her tongue moves again. "How would you know? You ain't Elvis Presley." Now... now he really can't stop himself from smiling. "How would yah know, little girl?" Again, like before, she gets all wide-eyed when he uses a pet name like that. "My papa tells me Elvis is...is...a delinquent. Whatever that is... And a, uh, sexual deviant. And well, I don't really know what either o' those mean but I know yah ain't either of them."

An earthy deep rumble laugh escapes him. "Aren't yah just something?" He mumbles, shaking his head. Usually he'd be pissed off that someone would go around saying stuff like that about him. But the way she stumbles over the big words that don't register in her mind can only make him laugh. She so needs someone to take care of her. "And why would somethin' like yah want to go out in Vegas? Doin' all these adult thangs?"

She looks down, slightly embarrassed by his laugh. But also entirely unsure about this hot feeling that tickles her stomach when he laughs like that, or talks like that, or looks at her like that. Or this sticky substance that she feels coating her thighs.

"I like dancin'. But Papa don't like the way I dance, he don't like me dancin'. Says I'll end up becoming just like that Elvis fellow if I dance. But, a big girl like me should be able to do what she wants."

She sounds so sure of herself and now Elvis really has to see this dancing she's talking about. "Well, I suppose so. But if a sweet thing like you goes around doin' what she wants in a big girl place likes this, she'd get taken advantage of." Just like he's about to do now. But he just can't resist bringing this little thing out and seeing the look on her face as he corrupts her. Safe her for himself, make her see the way he wants. She’s so easily could be moulded into his.

She tilts her head to the side, like a confused puppy. Damn this damn costume really is too tight now. He stands, trying to adjust himself without her noticing.

"How about this, little girl. If your Papa leaves you all on your own again, you find the nearest elevator, m'kay?" Elvis speaks, a commanding, dominant, alpha tone in his voice as he points to her where to go. He knows the best gambling times are right before and during his shows, there are less people in there then. The Colonel is always gone at these times too...

Like an obedient dog she nods her head, looking up at him. Wide eyes swimming with the sweetness her scent carries. "Then you gon' press the button for the very highest floor. Once you're there, don't get scared when a big lookin' guy asks what yah lookin for. Just tell 'em that Aron is lookin' for his little lamb. Alright? He should show you 'round then. Alright?" She quickly scrambles to her feet.

She nods her head frantically, wiping her sweaty palms on her little dress, since everything suddenly just feels so hot. Elvis is quick to see the way her thighs rub together, a smirk falls on his lips and it takes everything in him not to groan. To not fuck her right here on the hotel floor and mark her as his.

What’s going on? He didn’t even mark Priscilla. He never felt this impossibly crazy, like a real fucking animalistic need to make her his...this just has to be something more.

"Okay Sir. And that's your name then? Aron?" Elvis winces slightly. He doesn't like people calling him that. Sounds like his mama is scolding him all over again. But he also, really, for now, doesn't want her to know who he really is. She’d sigh away, hearing what her father said about him. "It's uh my second name, I don't want you quite knowing my name yet, dollface. I gotta go now though. But you'll be a big girl and do as I ask?"

Her teeth find her bottom lip again as she fights off the whimper that threatens to escape her when he says something like that. Her pink lips become even pinker when her wet tongue grazes it. She leans against the door handle, needing some sort of support to keep herself up, as she nods, showing she'll listen. He gives his iconic smile. "Alright, good girl. See yah then."

The girl gently slides open the door. The smell of alcohol is strong in this little rented hotel room. But she doesn't care. She leans against the door, a big smile forms on her face and she lets out a dreamy sigh.

Her thighs clench together when she thinks about that southern drawl of his again. And she just can't help but wonder if it was fated for her to meet this beautiful big man.

He'll be damned. He didn't think that there was anyone left who didn't know what he looked like. Much less what he sounded like. His voice is just about everywhere these days and if she didn't recognise him at all it means he has discovered a gem he's been searching for. Someone who didn't treat him like the great Elvis Presley, but instead like some man.

And even if he is just some man to her, she looks up at him like he's got some way to grab the sun an the moon down for her. Even if they've only just met. And then, right on time exactly as he had thought he smells her before he hears a faint knock in the door. Shy and gentle, almost afraid the wood of the door might hurt her. He calls for her, his voice is like raw honey. Deep baritone alpha that he is.

He sees her head just barely peak out into the very dimly lit room. He can't help but let a lob sided smirk fall on his face. Just seeing her wide eyes, worried that everything about this might just be wrong. He holds out his arm, resting it on the backrest of the sofa.

"C'mere darlin'." She slowly closes the door and like a little mouse crawling towards a piece of cheese she steps towards him. He's quick to grab onto her tiny little dress, pulling her closer to him until her thigh is pressed against the outside of his leg.

She's already hot, he can feel it. He can't help but wonder when her next heat would be. Or if she's ever even had one, surrounded by her beta father all the time. And even if she had, he knows the sudden exposure to his smell is sure to bring it on soon enough. He gives it give or take a week, if he has to guess.

He's leaning back, his legs wide spread like the man he is. He's already in his stage outfit, just like she saw him last time. Her hair is tangled and he's sure if he were to check, the label of her dress would read "14-15 years." His hands trail up and rest on her hip, just wanting to keep her here. Keep her close. He could do so much for her. Make her so happy.

"I wanna show yah somthin', but yah gotta promise not to be mad, darlin'." Her face contorts and her head tilts to the side like a confused puppy. "Why would I get mad?" He lets out a slight sigh and then readjusts his pants. She's just too damn adorable for her own good. He wants to grab her into his arms and kiss her until she's squealing his name.

But he doesn't. Instead he licks his lips and speaks again. "You'll see, baby, you'll see." She hides her bottom lip in her front two teeth making her look like a little bunny. "Now, you wanna go like this or you want me to find yah somethin' else?" Then she let's go of her bottom lip and pushes it out in a pout.

She looks down, fiddling with the hem. "What's wrong with this?" Again he just sort of sighs, looking at how the dress is full of holes and sits just barely below her round bottom.

"Well, don't get me wrong, sweet thing, I really don't mind this look on yah. And I'll give the dress back to yah. But I gotta take care of yah, since your papa is away. An' I don't want men looking at this body of yers. Your Papa would be very upset." She bites her lip again, tearing away at the plump skin. He just can't help himself but take her chin and pull the lip out from he violent teeth.

Then slowly she nods her head, her head tilts to the side. "You talked to my Papa?" She asks, at least she has some sense of defence. "Oh yeah," Elvis lies, taking her delicate little hands in his. So mini, just like everything else of her. Softly squishing the small pads right below each finger on her palm. Slowly tracing higher on her wrist. His fingertips letting out as much of his scent as he can. That intoxicating sugary smell fills his nostrils.

"He said he wanted me to take care of yah, while he's busy." Her doe eyes follow his fingers, fully entranced. He can’t help but bring her wrist to his lips. Soft, so soft. She doesn't even question when he talked to his father, or what he’s doing, just sort of nods.

"A-alright. Gotta listen to yah." A smile prickles his cheeks when she says that. "Yes, exactly, sweet pea, now you understand." And his grin grows even wider when she preens for him.

Elvis smiles and nods, slowly standing up and walking to his closet. He gives her a once over, hell, he'll have to find some of 'Cilla's old clothes, give it a better scent that Priscilla’s overwhelming Iris smell that still lingers all these years. In any case, that might be all he can find that would fit her. He rummages through and suddenly takes a sharp breath when he finds it. A wide smile across his face as he holds it up for her to see.

Frilly pink dress from when 'Cilla was your age. And the moment this little girl sees it, she gets sparkles in her eyes. She bounces on her feet and he can see her hands are eager to grab at it. "Yah like it, little one?" Too excited to say anything, she just rapidly nods. She’s holding herself back as much as she can.

Elvis hands the dress to her, she's so so careful with it. And he knows his scent is all over it, he's likely rutted into that dress a few times. After he tries to comfort himself after the divorce. Savour all of the flowery smell he’s now all too glad to get rid of. So he just smiles when she raises the dress to her nose, taking soft breaths.

He sees the sweat bead on her forehead and she stutters, not understanding what's happening to her. He frowns, that shouldn’t be happening yet.

He then points to the bathroom, "Go on, put it on." It's almost as if she jumps into the bathroom. A low wolf whistle escapes him when she steps out in the pink frilly dress. She blushes like a sweet little strawberry made just for him to feast on. Rip into with his sharp canines.

"My, my, little thing...I'm gonna have to fight off the other men." He chuckles, his hands slowly finding her arms, his thumbs rubbing up and down. Somehow she becomes even pinker and it takes everything in Elvis not to lock her away right now.

"Now c'mere, let me brush yer hair." This time she doesn't ask questions, just nods and follows as he puts her down on the soft matted floor in front of a bed. He takes his brush and begins slowly brushing.

"I never did catch your name, little one." He mumbels, his hands slowly parting your hair in different sections. Making sure to 'accidently' graze your scent gland. Making sure his leather scent will stay. He loves the way your whole body shivers. And the name you give him too, sweet as the a honeysuckle. But he'll likely still prefer a cute nickname, how else will he get you all fussy? "An' you're an omega, right?"

Elvis is caught completely off guard when she tilts her head to the side. "What's that?" Bless the moon goddess above, Elvis shifts his hips forward. Almost resting his knee on your shoulder, loving the way you take deeper breaths.

He bites down on his lip and looks up at the mirrored ceiling. Trying to keep himself from taking her right now. And the damn suit is too tight again. "Yah don't know...?" She blushes and fiddles with the ruffles of her new dress.

"Papa homeschooled me. I don't know much of much." She says, quite ashamed of this but Elvis can only smirk. "An' where did yah grow up?" Elvis sees the way she tries to remember the name. "Something Mem...mem..." He chuckles, continueing to brush the knots out of her hair. "Memphis?" She nods, but just barely as to not bother his progress.

"Why, baby I'm from Memphis. How come I ain't never seen you b'fore?" Again she blushes, "Papa didn't let me out too often." That's an understatement, seeing how she's wearing children's clothes and doesn't even know what a second gender is. "You're killin' me here, baby." She seems terrified of the thought, "O-oh no, I don't want that-"

He chuckles, placing his large hand on her shoulder. He lets her now brushed out hair fall down. So long, never been cut before. "Don't worry, little omega, I'll teach you." She leans her head back, looking up at him upside down. "Yah will?" She asks, clearly so very hopeful. He nods, caressing her soft round cheeks. "Of course, your Papa asked me too." He lies.

"Now... everyone... I have a very special guest with me today," Elvis has the mic in hand standing in front of his various band members that keep this show going. They all wait in anticipation for his next word. He moves the mic to the side and turns to you. His arm reaches out as he gently guides you in front of him. "C'mere, little one."

You squeek, suddenly being at the attention of quite a few people. They all ooh and aah, looking over eachother at the tiny omega with the intoxicating smell. They can tell, Elvis has already scented as much of you as he could without you noticing. The little girl blushes even more when they all peak at her like some pet.

"Now, this little one tells me she likes dancin'." He says, the mic back up to his lips again. "Let's make some music she can dance to." He suggest to them and they holler and cheer at the thought.

Again he whispers to you. "Don't get all shy in me now. Show me that dancin' you were talkin' 'bout." Elvis speaks, his hand still in your arm. Needing to be touching you somehow at all times. You just nod, taking a gulp already feeling shy. But something in his voice almost forces your body to comply. An overwhelming, demanding need to do whatever he says.

"Alright, Glen, you gon' start us off." Elvis begins scatting into the microphone, letting the piano player follow his notes. "Get the bass up." They follow his command like he controls them.

"That's alright. That's alright. Any way you do~." The moment he begins singing it's like something comes over him. His legs and hips shaking as he feels the music. And as sure as hell, the same seems to happen to you.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah," he repeats into the microphone, feeling the groove. "That's alright Mama, that's alright wit' you, that's alright Mama, any way you do~" He directs his words to the sweet little omega he found. Who is moving her hips like she was born to do so. And he's certain if his Mama were here to see it, she'd be crazy about you.

He can't help but take your hand, spinning you so that your back is against his chest. He grabs your hips and presses it against his. "That's alright, that's alright now mama, any way you do," the way he grabs his southern drawl from the very depth of his stomach makes your gut clench and that stickiness forms around your thighs again. You bite down, really not wanting to ruin your new dress.

"Now mama she done told me, papa told me too, son that gal' you foolin' with ain't no good for you." His hips jerk in movement with yours and he feels just about 20 years younger in that moment.

Your two bodies move like you've planned this whole thing beforehand. His large hand on your waist, gripping you as your hips move together. As if all his years of fighting for his right to dance on stage has paid off in the form of this cute little omega who moves like she'd been made for him.

You feel his pudge rest just above the curve of your ass. Something hard pressing against your back and you chase this sort of giddy feeling forming in the bottom part of your body. Like adrenaline is forming in your stomach. And these butterflies that cause your thighs to press together. His smell, you've never smelt anything like it before. Leather, lemon and sandalwood.

It all comes from this hot and heavy sweat that makes him look so shiny. It bewitches you and makes your vision hazy. Makes you want to press your face in his dripping hairy chest where before you'd cringe at the thought. The urge to lick it up like a dehydrated animal burns under in your belly. You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself. What’s happening? What are these strange thoughts you’re having?

It’s as if he's burning down all your defences, making you feel things you've never felt before. See things you've never seen them before. Chase after things you never thought to chase before. What is this you're feeling? So hot, so so hot. Burning. His scent is burning you up and the only place that feels cool is where he touches you.

Elvis notices it immediately. The way your eyes glaze over when you look at him, your breast perk up as if your body is trying to sell itself. And your sickly sweet fruit scent develops into that of intoxicating alcohol.

A sweet gin that you could so easily drink straight from the bottle. No need for tonic. He doesn’t even like alcohol but he needs to taste more. It makes his head swirl and he grips your waist tighter and bends down.

He presses his nose down into your scent gland. His canines grow, he licks the crook of your neck. No omega or beta or even a weak alpha could notice the change so slightly. But he does, it's like he's gotten the manual to your body and has dedicated his life to studying it. "Come on, baby, give me just a few more hours. Can’t you wait just a bit longer?”

Elvis begs and pleads and you’re entirely sure what for. Or if you can give him what he wants this time...

I don't know if I'm going to write a second part, but if I do, comment to be added to that taglist!

105 notes · View notes

parasitespngs · 10 months ago

Text

did some recolours of these teeth dividers by @mmadeinheavenn

#parasite posts <3 #carrd material #aesthetic #transparent png #transparent #dividers #horror #teeth #horror aesthetic #carrd dividers #rentry #rentry graphics #rentry dividers

144 notes · View notes

justadeadreaper · 8 months ago

Text

// OPERATOR-BIO: JACK-POT //

Man’s best friend, a creature that will be most loyal to its master, a dog, the word befitting of Makarov’s bodyguard. The only member of Konni or the Inner Circle that could be described as more loyal than Andrei to Makarov and his cause, a man who would do anything to see it come to life. No matter what was thrown at him, he always came back; no bullet or grenade could keep him down or dead for long as he would just get up again and fight once more; it is no surprise that he earned Makarov’s favour. A giant that uses his strength for the wrong cause. A man who sees what he does as a mission from God as he aims to build a new world, one that Makarov controls. A man who uses his talent to create technology to wipe out cities to forge a path to his only. A man who became the face of Konni, so at least if he was taken in, Makarov could still concoct what needed to be done. A man who smiles as he beats in the skull of his enemies. Makarov’s jackpot.

Divider used, by: @mmadeinheavenn (Please support him as he made the amazing divider I will be using)

CALLSIGN: Jack-Pot

ALIASES: Behemoth (by Taskforce 141), Makarov’s (sometimes attack or guard) Mutt (by Makarov, Taskforce 141, and others), Nephelim (by Makarov’s associates), Big Bastard (by Soap)

CITIZENSHIP: Russian

LANGUAGE(S): English, French, Biblical Hebrew, Latin, Russian

FRACTION AFFILIATION: Konni, The Inner Circle, The Ultranationalist Party, Zakhaev's Arms

STATUS: Active

AGE: 29

NAME: [REDACTED] “Remus” Belladonna Matthew [REDACTED]

PLACE OF BIRTH: [REDACTED]

DATE OF BIRTH: 26.06.1995

SEX: [REDACTED] Male; [REDACTED]

BLOOD TYPE: O-

HEIGHT: 7’11”

WEIGHT: 503 to 533 Pounds

BUILD: Stocky, well built

SCARS, TATTOOS, AND MARKINGS: Healed skin grafting covering most of the left side of his body -predominantly on the front of his body even if it goes onto his back- from his face to his torso to his arms to his legs with a few patches dotted around the right side of his body, missing most of his left ear, teeth marks across his right hand, scars across his back that seems to be from something like a belt, a long surgical scar above his heart, surgical scars across his body (more specifically his knees, hips, ankles, and shoulders), scars from knife and bullet wounds across his body, scars across his right arm, a scar across his lower back around his tail bone that looks like something was carved off of his skin, a scar around all of his neck that has a crown of thorns above and below it, a massive snake tattoo that loops around his right leg to his back and chest with the head resting on his chest, a tattoo of a dog on the back calf of his left leg, a tattoo of a kingfisher styled queen chess piece on his right arm, a tattoo of a spider's web over his heart that is made of webbing and flowers (specifically forget-me-nots, bleeding hearts, larkspur, and lavender) with a redback spider resting on it, tattoos of thieves' stars by his collar bones onto his arm, a tattoo of a cathedral on his lower left back to the side of his torso, and a tattoo of the words 'Владимир Анатольевич Родион Макаров' on his V-line

HAIR: Just past his shoulders, extremely curly, ginger but with streaks of grey

EYES: Brown

COMPLEXION: Medium Beige to Medium Tan

RACE: [REDACTED]

NATIONALITY: [REDACTED]

OCCUPATION: Makarov’s bodyguard

[REDACTED] “Remus” Belladonna Matthew [REDACTED] was born to mother, [REDACTED] and father, [REDACTED] of the acclaimed [REDACTED] family of [REDACTED].

An unwanted child straight from the womb. [REDACTED] was given to his [REDACTED] at the young age of five with his [REDACTED], just like his [REDACTED] before him, after suffering years of abuse. The reason given was due to the fact of him being a [REDACTED] instead of the “normal” son they wanted. An extreme bond formed between the only three people who he knew to love him as his two [REDACTED] lived under the tyrannically religious rule of their [REDACTED] even if she loved them like her own children even. An unhealthy bond formed with religion from that point acting as more of a reason to live than a lifestyle as it was one of the true comforts they could afford as he grew to develop an unhealthy view of relationships and how to act in them as none of them stopped him.

[REDACTED]. Giving him nearly all the scars that riddle his body and leading him to run away at the age of sixteen.

[REDACTED].

That was until he met the acclaimed Vladimir Makarov. A deal was made between the two, in exchange for protection, he would work for the terrorist doing any act that the leader asked of him. [REDACTED].

[REDACTED].

Despite the eccentric, terrifying persona he plays when out in front of the public as he performs another terrorist act for Makarov whether it be blowing up another building or crushing a man's skull, when he is with his men he is known to still be terrifying but also a caring and somewhat goofy leader as neither Andrei or Makarov want to deal with every little complaint that they had.

Every team bonding activity is planned by him as Makarov sees it as a waste of time but he knows that forming strong bonds is extremely useful in the world he has found himself in where it is not uncommon to find themselves being stabbed in the back. He listens and resolves their problems as he earns their trust to seem like a genuine, caring leader, but to him, it is not as genuine as everyone thinks it to be. Yes, he cares about his men but he learnt from his family and from living this life for so long to never be attached and to always gain people’s love for when you need to use it. An optimist on the outside but a true pessimist deep down, but he has learnt to bury those feelings long ago. The only people he has ever shown his genuine true side to, the caring, soft, but funny side is what is left of his family and his best friend Infrared who knows to look past the terrifying act he puts on.

The only other notable thing that most Konni soldiers have learnt about their unofficial leader is his morals, hatred of Milena, and undying loyalty to Makarov. They have watched how he rapidly goes to defend Makarov and kill any man who has been disloyal before running off to check on their Komandir; it is why they all believe that Makarov trusts him the most out of all as he knows that Jack-Pot will be loyal to his death like Makarov is holding something against him even after all the years that Jack-Pot has so effectively served him. They have watched his side eyes and scoffs whenever Milena talks or tries to command someone and how he so easily argues with her to the point of having a game with Infrared where they throw stuff (mainly slippers or flipflops) at Milena whenever she walks by, but in the end he has to let her do what she wants as she is his Komandir’s wife -even if she is the only one who can not see that Makarov only married her for her money and not because he loved her- and he hates to disappoint Makarov as it physical pains him.

What he has left of morals has been crafted by his faith and upbringing. They all know that he will refuse to do certain things as it is against his teachings and he has rules for his soldiers based on his own beliefs whether it be to not desecrate a corpse but instead give them a proper burial or to turn the other cheek unless it is so disagreeable that violence is needed. Most do not mind as he does not force them to participate in his religion with him but they have grown to understand that he will not break his morals unless Makarov calls for it; they all know he feels enough Catholic guilt for other things and do not want to make it worse.

-One item of clothing you will never see him without is his rosary; it is normally tucked beneath his shirt so that it will be pulled on whenever he is in a fight but when casually around base he tends to have it out on display. The rosary has been in his family for countless generations, which can be seen by how the gold and ivory have gone dull but to him, it is one of the most important items in his life that once when a recruit had made the foolish decision to steal it he had beaten their brain in with his fists before putting the rosary back around his neck. It was a warning to others who were forced to witness the twitching body of their fallen comrade as he lived through his final moments while Jack-Pot walked off to pray.

-Unlike what his size would make you believe, he is incredibly smart. He is known to even give Makarov advice when his Kommandir is concocting their next plan, but his intelligence is most clear when he relaxes in his workshop surrounded by his inventions. A savant when it comes to anything mechanical. Makarov paid for his robotics, engineering, and mechanics degrees when he saw the potential that Jack-Pot exhibited when he was able to fix up a getaway car in a matter of no time. Makarov still pays for any degree Jack-Pot requests to do that relates to machinery as it only means they will have access to more complex machinery; it also means that it keeps the giant busy even if it seems like he gets through them in no time. Nearly everything mechanical on the base is made by Jack-Pot, from the security cameras (which he watches and treats like they are a live-action soap opera) to the air conditioning and heating systems that make the base just a little less unbearable. His skills are that trusted that he was even allowed to make the robotic prosthetic for Makarov and control the device that lets the arms do certain actions.

-He has a love of orchestral music, that any song he likes he will try to find an orchestral version of it, but if he can not find an orchestral version, he will normally settle for an instrumental version. He can not explain why he does not like the vocals of a song; he just shrugs and says that he has been like it since he was a child; the only exceptions to this rule were his older brother and grandmother, whose singing he adored but they normally sung hymns and nothing more. Despite his lack of love for hearing people sing, he is a talented singer even if he does not sing often; the only few times people have heard him sing is when he thinks he is alone or when he is dragged into singing by a drunk Makarov when Konni are celebrating another victory. His musical abilities are not just restricted to singing but also are extended to the piano as he is a very talented player who can play any song he wishes too after enough practice. Although, he loves Bruno Mars. It seems to be one of the only musicians he can listen to sing and there is a joke that if you catch Jack-Pot in the middle of the night raiding the Konni fridges that you will be hearing him sing one of Bruno Mars’ songs or another guilty pleasure song on his playlist.

-Despite his size, he is impressively fast and flexible. It is common to see him do stretches before all of his workouts as he tries his best to keep his flexibility from when he was much younger and smaller. When he was a child to a teenager he used to do ballet and still knows how to do some of the routines from when he was younger as it was always something he enjoyed as it first got him into fitness. He also trains his speed as he does not want to be slowed down by his size as he has learnt from prior instances and Makarov that a few seconds can be a matter of life or death.

-Although he hates to admit it, he is quite deaf and blind with his left eye and left ear suffering the most. He wears an “earpiece” in his left ear which is actually a cochlear implant that Makarov had paid for him to have which allows for him to make use of what is left of his left ear. When he takes the outer piece off he becomes deaf to the world in his left ear with his right ear being only a bit better that most at Konni know to either use sign language or shout loud enough for him to hear. Meanwhile, his left eye is his biggest blind spot due to not bein able to see through most of it and the bits he can see being blurry; when reading or building another invention he wears glasses so the blurriness does not stop him from doing what he loves.

-If you were to look up the definition of a hopeless romantic you would see his face as the first thing that pops up. Due to his religious upbringing and the only books he had as a child being passed down fairytales where the prince and princess get their happy ending it gave him a distorted view of love where he wants the happy little family of a partner and children where he gets to adore his partner endlessly and they adore him just as much. This has also led him to be quite... obsessive when he falls in love to the point of doing anything for the person he adores as they become his drug as he always chases the happy pipe dream he was sold.

-No one has ever heard his real accent. It has been noted by soldiers higher in Makarov’s favour and rankings that he has one “real” accent when talking to Makarov but two other accents when speaking to his main “assosiate”. When speaking to Konni soldiers or any other member of the public he puts on a Russian accent but the people who have heard his other accents have described them to either be British or American. The few brave souls that have brought it up to Makarov due to their concerns have either mysteriously disappeared, been sent on suicide missions, or were left terrified that they never wanted to speak about it again.

-Apart from the professional trainers Makarov brings in, Jack-Pot also helps to train the dobermans. While the professionals train them to attack the enemies with no remourse, Jack-Pot trains them to be loving dogs towards him, Makarov, and other Konni soldiers that are not deemed as traitors. The dobermans are like his babies as he has given each one a name for when they are with him apart from ‘Attack Dog Number 7’ and has beds for them in his office and in the blank space that he calls a bedroom.

-His love of animals is not only reserved for the dobermans that Konni have on base and conventional pets but it expands to unconventional pets as well, particularly snakes. Connected to his workshop is a room reserved just for his pet snakes where he has made extremely large vivariums with his own hands for them to live in. He has dozens of different types of snakes from none venomous to extremely venomous that Makarov has let him collect over the years. He uses the venom of his snakes on people that they are torturing for information; diluting the mixture as much as he can so that it hurts but does not kill the person. He also has the horrendous habit to put the less venomous snakes into Milena’s room so they can have some exploration time even if he knows Milena is terrified of snakes as he despises the woman. But, on a more “wholesome” note, he likes to wear the none venomous and more friendly snakes around his neck like a scarf when walking around base on a sunday doing chores as the only one who does not have to work; especially his absolute favourite Big Bertie a Burmese python that Makarov gifted him for his birthday one year to keep the giant company.

-Due to his size and needing to eat tons upon tons of calories he has learnt to be an amazing cook if you have a spice tolerance like his. As he needs a lot of protein and carbs to keep up his physique he has learnt how to butcher all kinds of meats and cook them in all different kinds of ways so he is able to get everything he needs without getting bored of his meals. He is best at grilling the meats on a grill or frying them but tends to stick to the later as it is easier to make bigger batches that way when he wants to share with other Konni soldiers who are fed up of the base’s food or do not want to be poisoned by Milena’s slop. He even knows vegan meals with high amounts of protein and other nutrients so he can have it on a friday but these meals tend to be more relaxed and cheat meals as he loves to fry the mushrooms he uses as a replacement for chickens.

-Anyone who wants to get on his good side or bond with him knows that the best thing to do is not give him some form of alcohol like every other soldier on that base but to instead sit down with him to watch whatever shitty soap drama he has found. He absolutely adores watching them no matter which country it comes from or how shitty it is as long as it is dramatic and has the craziest of twists in the love category. His most notable favourites are some telenovelas he saw when he had been dragged along to Mexico to talk to a cartel leader to ask to make an alliance with her or some old ones he found on VHS in Makarov’s mother’s face after he stayed to help her clean up after fixing her severely outdated freezer and improving it.

-Like anyone of his size he is constantly warm which has caused him to much prefer cold environments to hot ones. He has no issue walking around base in a compression shirt and sweatpants or even going into the snow with just those clothes on to go fetch something that blew away while others at Konni have to go outside in at least three layers to walk through the Antarctic weathers of the land of the barren, snowy part of Russia where the base presides. If you are ever cold he would give you his jacket as he is always “too warm” in his own opinion and he does not mind it when others stay closer to him to keep warm from the heat he radiates. However, even if he tans impecicably and can stand the heat he still hates it. Yes, he can last in the heat without complaining outwardly but it makes him feel uncomfortable and makes his headaches worse as he is already naturally warm but if you bet him that he could not stay out in the Sun then he is staying out there tanning to just prove you wrong even if he needs to take enough paracetamol to euthanise a horse to deal with his headache.

‘С нами Бог.’

‘I know a few cannibals we could send them too. My main associate hasn’t tried gangster flesh yet, I think. Why are you all looking at me like that?’

'Time walks in hands with the Devil as they eat all of God's children, there is no changing fate unless you want to disregard God's plans, we’ll all die in the end whether we agree to it or not. It's why we make the most with the time we have; we make the biggest impact. We let our legacy dictate how this Earth will turn out even if it means we will have thousands of corpses laying that path.'

'A dog that has only known beatings for its whole life will only know to bite. Any man that comes near will be bitten. It knows it can only fight to survive. Its maw is its weapon; it's what it knows it needs to survive. But, to muzzle it will cause it to whimper in fear.'

'Showing a beaten dog some kindness will change its life. A loving hand compared to an abusive hand that feeds seems like Heaven. It will become loyal to that hand even if it becomes abusive as that was the only thing they knew to be kind.'

'Any man that is kind enough can create a deadly weapon. His dog will be loyal to the core. It will attack anything that tries to hurt the man. Using the maw for fighting to now protect. It will give its life for its new master even if it means they will never run free again.'

‘Breathe... breathe... just breathe and calm your arse down. We’re out of it now, we aren’t going back to it. Nothing will drag us back.’

‘Did the dingo set you up for this? Sorry love but I’m not a big fan of azaleas, more of a lavender man myself.’

'You missed? Again?! Next time I'll crush your skull to use the fragments for bullets!’

‘Nice arm you have here. Pretty tattoos as well. I’m sure you don’t mind me taking this back for my Komandir.’

‘If I hear that those Brits and Scots have blown up another one of my gardens I will personally go to their base and blow up everything!’

'You think a little bullet will hurt me? Hehe, Komandir's put me through worse.' 'I’m going to go pray. I need you all to stay here for two minutes while I ask God to give me patience since if he gives me any more strength, I’m going to kill all of you.'

'Why should I pay a few thousand rubles for this crap?! I can go home and by next week I'll have it done and I'll have only paid a few hundred max. ...robbing bastards.' 'Shhhh, I need you to quieten down. Komandir is cold. He needs the world to burn to stay warm and fat burns so easily.'

'Make me a promise, okay? If you have to lay me to rest before they put us both in our final places, remember, if you bother to give me a headstone, plant an apple tree behind it and lavender around it. I want to know that when you miss me that you'll visit and I can still provide you with help to sleep and I'll still be able to feed you. I'll always l...care for you even when I'm in Hell.'

Normal; Due to being one of the highest-ranking soldiers at Konni he wears an identical uniform to Andrei except for the fact that everything in the uniform from the groin protector to the compression shirt to the vest has been tailored to accommodate his gigantic size. The biggest difference between the two uniforms can be seen with the mask that Jack-Pot wears and the small additions that have been added. He wears a choker around his neck that holds his microphone with additional patches across his uniform apart from the Konni patch to display his rank. Meanwhile, his mask is based on the skull of a wolf as it lays on his face in two pieces, the lower jaw bone that moves with his own jaw and the upper piece, which takes more liberty in its design but looks like the face of a wolf, that is attached separately so that it can stay in place which allows him to still use his teeth when attacking enemies in close combat.

Casual; Based on what he wears when he is on base and not working as he prefers to wear something simple and comfortable which just so happens to be a very basic pair of grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he had Konni’s tailors personally make or he would be forced to go around naked.

Medusa; Based on its namesake, with this skin, he wears a white floor-length chiton that goes over the left shoulder and leaves the top right side of his torso exposed to show off the head of the snake tattoo as it curls around his body. Between the curls of hair now lay king cobras with some curling around his neck that will spit venom at anyone he commands as the scales on the snakes match the scales that now lay in place of the skin graft. While around his ankles and wrists are now golden chains that lead to somewhere...

Seraphim; Based on his deep ties to his religion in this skin he is the biblically accurate depiction of an Angel, specifically a Seraphim. He is dressed in a mixture of both white and red robes similar to the chiton he wears in the Medusa skin with golden chains coming from both his wrists and from under the robe. He has six pairs of wings, one main pair with a smaller pair above and below it -the top pair can be used to hide his face- as golden eyes cover the wings and cover parts of his body. His hair is replaced by flames as his tattoos are now made of golden while he cries golden tears.

The Bear; Based on his more feral side in this skin all he wears is a pair of bloodied combat trousers with no shirt at all as to show off his pecs and the tattoos and scars that riddle his chest as it is also covered in blood. Replacing his wolf mask is instead a bear skin with the paws attached to his arms with the rest of the pelt trailing down his back and the bear’s head on top of his own head which obscures his eyes.

The General; Based on what I imagine him to look like in an AU where he is a General for Zakhaev and much older, his hair is filled with more greys with more wrinkles across his face as he wears a traditional General’s uniform -the hat, jacket, shirt, and trousers- in black paired with black leather gloves and a black cloak with a gold chain and clasps that keep it on his shoulders and a gun holster on his belt.

The King; To be paired with a Makarov skin I have thought of that suits him, this skin is based on the king piece in chess. With this skin, he is decorated in ornate golden armour that is decorated with jewels and engravings and a crown upon his head as the armour is fashioned to resemble the king chess piece.

Purple Nymph; Based on the Nymphs of Greek mythology he is completely naked but sexless in this skin as his tattoos are now different shades of purple with his hair now being made up of the hyacinths and lavender that also bloom out of his skin and petals spill out from between his lips.

#cod #call of duty #cod original character #cod oc #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #jack-pot cod #jack-pot call of duty #konni group #konni oc #vladimir makarov's bodyguard

60 notes · View notes

hypocriticalspicewrites · 10 months ago

Text

🦇💚🦇💚

Pairing: Dwayne, Chrysta, [Self Insert]

Warnings: ⚠️NSFW ahead!⚠️ Minors DNI

Divider made by @/mmadeinheavenn 🩷🩷

Taglist~ @misslavenderlady @themarginalthinker @ria-coolgirl @lostboys1987girl @sweetnspicyfruitlet

Notes: Yall this is my first ever full blown smut drabble so please don't judge me if it's bad 😭

[Likes, reblogs, comments and suggestions are appreciated!🍒🩷]

Dwayne was an animal. Dwayne was a predator.

He uses that dark and mysterious demeanor to all but pull you in. He tempts you with sweet nothings and gentle, shy touches just to lure you into his claws. He acts like a creature, calling you in with cries of heartache and longing. And once he finally has you in too deep, he makes sure you can't get out.

He keeps his teeth buried into your pure flesh, taints it with his crimson stained teeth. His jaw tight around your neck, like a wolf shaking out what life is left in a cornered doe struggling with all the strength in can as to hope to escape without a mark. But Dwayne always leaves a mark. He'd be sure of it.

He growled, low and guttural, feeling it course and ripple across the hot flesh clad against his frigid temperature. Her chest rising and falling pressed against his with those, weak little breaths as she found her lungs caving with the weight atop her and the overall way he just ripped the air directly from her lungs with each rut of his hips clashing roughly with her own.

Chrysta could all but lay there, hands clawing desperately at his dewy skin, leaving imprints of nails carved across his arms and streaked lines down his back. Her legs parted so far out they'd started to ache and grow sore, trembling virgously as they tried to stay coiled around his hips, but his fast, animalistic thrusts left her body unable to keep up. Her mouth opened with nothing, my strings of slurred praises and his name echoing of the caverns of his nest.

It wreaked of sex. The dampness in the air quelling with the ocean just outside and the heat emanating from the small space could have left a haze in the ruins of the hotel.

His eyes stayed trained in her the whole time- even when she couldn't keep her own on him, screwed shut off in her own world of euphoria, a few flutters of her lashes indicating when his dick had stroked that spot that made her eyes roll into the back of her head and her spine curve.

His cock pumped in and out of her needy slit at a verocity that was enough to make any woman cry, filling her walls and leaving no part of her aching cunt untouched by his thick length. Her warmth pulled him in like a temptress, a yearning to feel it over and over again whenever he'd pulled out and quickly plunge back in. He could feel that tension in him that was about to burst- yet he all but tortured himself, edging his body to keep this moment going, and wished it could last so much longer than it already had. His cock twitched and throbbed it almost hurt. Enough Chrysta could hear hisses between grinded teeth and a few harsh quiet 'fuck..' Uttered out whenever her cunt clamped pathetically around his length slowly easing him back into her vice hold on him.

His strained thighs were glossy with her arousal painted across his lower half, her inner-thighs not looking any better whilst he fucked her into an incomprehensible haze, watching the way her wetness just spilled along his veined dick, feeling that pulsing ache in his body knowing it was all because of him.

"Look how fuckin' tight n' wet you are for me." He purred into her ear, hearing her whimper and that flutter of goosebumps crawling across her skin. His thick eyelashes kissed at her jaw, his faint stubble itching across her neck. Any touch that wasn't the feeling of his dick pounding away at her pussy was heightened, making her flinch slightly and her hips that where still held down by his large hands jolt.

He didn't need to hear anything but her moans fill his cavern and his head, like a lulling siren song he'd never ever refuse to hear night after night, wether it were himself eliciting the vocals from her, or one of his other mates. He could hear her thoughts, read those words repeating through her mind. 'More, more, more, more.' And he was willing to give her everything she requested- even if it was the entire world.

One of his hands left her hip, that dark imprint of his hand and splotched bruises of his fingertips caused that stir in him again. His rough palm slowly caressed up toward her stomach, that slight bulge being the swollen head of his cock rolling up and down with each rough thrust. His palm rested atop of it, pressing down firmly enough to watch her stomach compress and a strained breath to escape her mouth- followed by a wanton sob as her hips jolted against him, her back arching.

"Oh, precious.." He cooed, her brain too melted enough to know if it was spoken with true adoration or mocking. His hand continued it's journey or gliding up her body, resting in between her breasts across her sternum. That heavy thumping of her heart nearly pounding out of her ribcage to leap into his hand nearly broke all restrain he had in that moment. He could feel his thick digits curling around the back of her neck, propping her head up with his wrist before he leeched onto her, lips finding her own in a messy kiss of tongue and saliva.

Her moans and whines were swallowed into his mouth, only breaking free when he'd parted just enough to crane his head to a better position or to the other side. That taste of blood invaded her mouth as his tongue languidly entered her mouth, fangs pricking at her bottom lip which he hastily lapped at any blood oozing from his marks.

He could feel her go frigid for a moment, a strangled gasp heaving from her chest as he only parted the kiss for a moment, a tendril of saliva connecting their lips.

"Dwayne." She urged, her voice getting to that higher vocal he was all too familiar with. Her cunt tightened enough it almost made her have to slow down his quick pace as though afraid to break her.

"I know baby." He responded, a grunt and hiss following. "I'll get you there." He promised, thumb tracing circles into her jaw as his head resided into the crook of her neck. He guided his knees underneath her ass, propping her up just a bit against his hips till his dick could go as far as it could inside her, folding her over just a bit while propping her legs up along his hips.

He was about ready to break her. That inhuman energy and vampiric stamina had him bucking his hips so hard it made her body bounce, unable to keep her still underneath him. Her moans increased in pitch and became frequent as he urged her into an orgasm.

"Gonna cum for me, Dollface?" He smirked, a growl purrs from his throat, pressing needy kisses into her neck, feeling her pulse throb against his lips. "Fuck... You're just about ready to pop, aren't you?" He grunted as her cunt milked his length, urging him to just spill that building want into her, to pump his hot cum into her needy slit.

"Dwayne!" She choked out, her hands that were clawing at the sheets above her head finding his hair, tangling her fingers into his long dark tresses as her legs locked around his hips. Her vision started to go white, and her mind blanked, chanting his name as though it's the only thing her brain could comprehend.

He purred, eyes fluttering shut, ache pulsing through his dick now becoming unbearable, to a point one tear escaped from his earthy eyes, streaking down his face and falling onto her collarbone.

He used his unoccupied hand to finally tease her opening, his touch nearly featherlike as his middle-finger rubbed soft circles into the bud of her clit, watching her eyes snap open only to roll into the back of her head, back arching so hard he had to use his own weight to ease her down as a wanton moan falls out of her throat.

Her orgasm washed over her like hot fire, watching her essence pool out of her slit still stuffed with him inside. He gave one final rut of his hips before swiftly pulling out with a growl. Spurts of hot cum fall in ropes across her stomach, glistening in the dim candlelight with an inhuman glittery hue.

He pants heavily with breaths he doesn't even need. His breath fanning across her neck as he takes a moment to let her collect herself, her fingers still ripping at his dark hair. Not that he minded the pain.

"You doing okay, Chrysta?" He asked, his voice slightly husky as he brought his hand from her head, letting it back back into the pillows beneath her, and gentle took her wrists with and removed both her hands from his hair. "Still awake?" He had a wolfish grin you could almost hear as he said it.

"Mhm." She hummed softly, her hands weakly falling back against her chest. She looked rather dazed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and glazed over with a bliss as she still tried to reform her brain fucked into putty.

He chuckled, throaty and it made her body shake a bit. He propped himself onto his elbows, grabbing at the discarded sheets hanging off the bed and bringing them over to her figure underneath him.

He wiped off his seed oozing off her stomach down her hips, leaving a sparkly residue imprinted in her skin that she now thinks won't be coming out anytime soon. He also took the time to clean her up between her thighs, being as gentle as possible running the cool soft fabric across her sensitive cunt, making her heart flutter just a bit. He then brings it to his dick, cleaning off the concoction of their mixed fluids off his length, then merely tossing the sheet aside and easing himself back on top of her.

He rests his head atop her bare breasts, stroking his thumb across the underside of one before cupping if gently and placing a few stray kisses along the plush fat in his hand.

She sighed softly, running her hand through his hair which earned her a deep groan, his weight going lax on top of her, his other arm creeping under her back and wrapping around her. He didn't need to rest, yet something about having her in his arms after a fuck session like that made it hard not to relax.

"I'll take you home later, 'kay? Don't want to share tonight." He stated bluntly, his voice barely even above a whisper muffled against her skin. He felt a small giggling emit from her, making her chest shift. He could feel her playing with his hair, shifting a few strands into a braid.

"Yeah? I don't mind." She answered sweetly. "I just need a minute." She hummed, earning one back from Dwayne. She stops her braiding, simply running her fingers through his thick brown locks, looking up at the cavern ceiling, staring at nothing specific, just lost in thought.

"Hey, Dwayne?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."