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Kink Compendium

Chapter Text

“I must admit,” Peter says casually, like he isn’t running his hands over his naked niece’s thigh, “I never would have pegged you as a size queen.”

Cora’s response is lost in a moan as Peter’s hand reaches between her thighs, fingers moving the neck of the glass beer bottle sticking out of her stretched cunt. He hadn’t truly believed she’d be able to take it, maybe the neck of the bottle, but no, she’d spread the lips of her soaked cunt, moaning openly as she’d worked the thick base of the bottle into her.

Peter’s eyes are locked between her thighs where she’s stretched open, breathing in the scent of her arousal. He rotates the bottle, making her arch her back with a broken little gasp. He pulls the bottle back until only an inch or so is inside, before thrusting it back into her. Cora gives a broken little cry, her thighs starting to tremble. There’s a thin sheen of sweat making her tanned skin glisten, her eyes cloudy with need.

“Peter,” she whimpers. Her hands are wrapped around the slats of his headboard where he’d set them, telling her not to move.

Peter hums, moving the bottle quicker within her, cock hardening even more at the obscene wet noises from her open cunt. It’s not just that she can take it, but that she wants to, that she enjoys being spread open like this. It makes his wolf rumble in his chest, wondering how much she’d love his knot.

Cora's rocking with his movements, hands twitching like she's desperate to reach between her thighs. As much as Peter loves watching her like this, wondering what else he could stuff into her greedy cunt, he wants her to come and he doesn't think she will like this.

He pulls the bottle all the way out her, ignoring her indignant huff, eyes on her loose cunt struggling to close. Well, can't have that. He shoves three fingers into her, cock twitching at the slick, easy slide.

"Peter," she hisses, spreading her thighs even wider for him. Her cunt clenches around him as he pushes in his pinky in next to his other digits, four fingers fucking into her loose cunt.

Peter presses his fingers against her g-spot, dragging a guttural moan from her. Her eyes are closed, mouth open with her toned thighs trembling on either side of Peter, so she's not expecting it when he brings his hand down between her thighs, slapping right over her clit.

Cora shrieks, but it's not a noise of pain, not with how she squeeze tight around his fingers, arousal bursting in her scent so strongly he can nearly taste it.

"Again," she says, voice rough.

Peter grins, bringing his hand down again, even harder, slapping over her little cunt, his fingers pressing against her g-spot. Cora comes with a shout, thighs squeezing together around Peter's arm. She's gasping out her pleasure, rippling around the half a fist he has up her cunt.

As soon as her shaking legs fall to the side, freeing Peter's arm, he withdraws from her dripping cunt, hands going to his belt. He needs to see her hanging off his knot.

Chapter Text

This isn’t something Chris indulges in often, most sexual partners he’s had preferring his gentler side. That doesn’t bother him, he enjoys the soft and tender aspects of this. He also craves something harder, though. Something that Stiles specifically came to him for. “I want to be hurt, not broken,” he’d said when Chris had asked why he hadn’t gone to one of the wolves. He can’t imagine how jealous Peter will be when he smells the boy all over Chris.

Stiles is naked on Chris’ bed, a gag forcing his mouth open, tied spread eagle on his stomach. His luminous skin, marred with scars here and there that make Chris wince (someone that young shouldn’t have similar scars to his), is all on full display. Waiting for Chris to mark him up.

Chris swings the flogger he’s gripping, smacking it against his own thigh. Stiles jerks at the sound but doesn’t look back, just keeps his eyes forward, like Chris told him to. He does it again, enjoying the sting of the PVC flogger. It’s not his most painful, not by a longshot, but he’s easing Stiles in, not wanting to assume anything about his pain tolerance.

“You have your ball. You will use it if you need it, yes?” Chris asks, referring to the ball in Stiles’ hand, the one he’ll drop if it gets to be too much. Stiles nods, the ‘yes’ coming out garbled through the gag. “Good boy.”

He’s not at all surprised by the little shudder that earns him. God, he’s glad Stiles came to him for this.

Chris steps closer, walking to the side of the bed. Stiles jerks, like he’s trying to stop himself from turning to look. Chris tests the flogger’s weight in his hand before bringing it down against Stiles’ upper shoulders, careful not to hit over the spine. Stiles whines, jerking in his restraints. The ball is still held tightly in his hand.

Chris starts him off slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him, but Stiles seems to crave it, hips twitching as if he’s trying not grind against Chris’ mattress. Chris hits him harder, cock hardening between his thighs as that pale skin starts to redden. He switches up the pattern, brings the flogger down on Stiles’ ass, shocking him into shouting.

Stiles just...he looks so pretty, trembling and red. His sweet whimpers of pain and pleasure are making Chris ache in his jeans. Chris...Chris loves this, this place where he can cause pain for pleasure’s sake, to make a partner writhe for him, to know his cock is hard and leaking against the bed.

It doesn’t take long before he decides Stiles has had enough, even though he’d probably ask for more. He sets the flogger aside and unbinds Stiles’ restraints, helping him onto his hands and knees. When Chris is sure Stiles can hold himself steady, he trails his hands down over the reddened skin of his ass, pressing against the thick plug wedged inside him. Stiles whines, head hanging between his shoulders.

Chris works the plug out of him slowly, stretching his hole at the widest point before letting go, letting it slide and settle back deep inside him. Stiles is whimpering high in his throat when Chris finally pulls the plug all the way out. Stiles’ hole is wet and open, rim red and puffy.

Chris groans, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his cock. He’s harder than he’s been in years, aching to sink into Stiles. He doesn’t deny himself, slicking up his cock and thrusting into Stiles’ willing body. Stiles shouts around the gag, the rough denim of Chris’ jeans rubbing against his sore, red ass.

Chris doesn’t wait, roughly thrusting into him, enjoying the high whines and garbled shouts. Chris pauses long enough to haul Stiles up until he’s sitting up on his knees, back pressed to Chris’ chest, sinking down even farther on his cock. Chris is getting close, embarrassingly fast, but working over Stiles has turned him on even more than he expected.

Stiles whines as Chris’ hand wraps around his throat, body trembling. His hand is still tight around the ball. Chris thrusts up into him as best he can, but he knows it isn’t going to take much, not with how Stiles is clenching around him, moaning around the gag. His hand on Stiles’ throat squeezes tighter.

“You can touch yourself,” Chris growls in Stiles’ ear. Stiles’ free hand immediately drops from Chris’ arm, reaching between his legs. It takes barely thirty seconds before Stiles is coming with a shout, clenching around Chris’ cock.

Chris eases his grip on Stiles’ throat, though he doesn’t let him go, thrusting up into his pliant body a few more times before he’s coming too, cock jerking as he empties himself into Stiles.

Chris eases Stiles down onto the bed, stripping himself quickly before curling around him, rubbing a hang up and down his spine. He whispers words of praise, telling him how good he’s done, how pretty he looks all marked up. In a few minutes he’ll get the lotion he uses after scenes like this for Stiles’ irritated skin, but for now he’s staying right here.

Chapter Text

Erica is practically vibrating with nerves and excitement. She’s been curious for years, and it’s not like it’s something she can ask Derek about. Derek and Peter are the only two in the pack with a full wolf shift, and between the two of them, she has a feeling it’s Peter who will share this bit of depravity with her.

When she’d asked, he’d agreed to fuck her as a wolf, a hungry gleam in his eyes that had her heart racing, and it wasn’t from fear. He’d dragged her to his apartment the next day, pushed her down on the bed, and buried his face between her thighs.

It’s been nearly an hour of him fingering her and eating her out and he finally says she’s ready, wanting her relaxed and open enough to take him. She’s naked on his bed, body thrumming with need, especially since he hasn’t let her come once yet. Peter’s stripping in front of her, eyes already that supernatural blue. It shouldn’t turn her on, the proof that he’s killed, that he’s strong, but it does.

Peter’s...impressive. Everything about his body is impressive, and even if she weren’t achingly turned on, she’d still want him. He easily flips her over until she’s on her hands and knees, soaked cunt presented to him. He runs one big hand down her ass, fingers grazing her needy cunt, before he’s pulling back. She manages not to whine at the loss of contact, but it’s close.

The bed dips behind her as he moves, covering her body with his, his teeth grazing her ear. “Tell me now if you’ve changed your mind, little one,” he says, his voice a growl. His hard cock is pressed against her ass and she wants.

“Fuck me,” she hisses.

There’s a pleased rumble from him, then his body is shifting, the soft skin pressed against hers replaced by soft fur, the body reshaping above her until a huge wolf is at her back. This is it, it’s real, the tapered cock of the wolf is pressed against her ass. Her cunt clenches in anticipation.

Peter shifts, fur brushing against her overheated skin, then his front legs are wrapping around her waist, wolf cock dragging over her soaked folds. Erica pushes back against him, gasping when his cock catches at her entrance. Peter doesn’t even pause, just thrusts forward, burying himself in her in one stroke.

He’s huge like this, bigger than any normal wolf, and his cock matches that. Even though Peter’s spent so much time between her thighs, it’s still a bit of a stretch, but god it feels good. Peter doesn’t give her a chance to adjust to his size, just thrusts into her like he really is a wolf, mindlessly using her for his own pleasure.

She loves it. This is exactly what she’d wanted, to feel that thick wolf cock fucking into her, taking her like she’s another mindless animal. She tries to rock back into his thrusts, but Peter growls lowly, then a second later, his sharp teeth are pressing against the skin of her neck. Erica stills, whining and tilting her head in submission. There’s a rumble that sounds like approval, but his teeth stay on her throat.

Erica lets the sensations take over, lets him fuck her pliant body, whimpering and whining when he thrusts particularly deep or hard. The pleasure and pressure is building inside her, and it takes her a second to realize it’s not just her orgasm approaching, Peter’s cock is actually swelling inside her.

Erica mewls, face dropping to the mattress. He’s going to knot her. The wolf fucking into her is going to knot her, lock all that come inside her, breed her. She can’t help but clench around him, arousal swelling around her until she’s coming with a shout, inner muscles spasming around Peter’s thickening knot.

Peter growls behind her, knot fully expanded inside her, then his cock is jerking within her, flooding her insides with his come. She gasps shaking under him because it’s so, so good, so very close to overwhelming.

Peter seems to sense this and the fur against her back recedes, the legs around her waist turning into human arms. His cock is still thick and locked inside her, still filling her. He eases them to the bed, running a hand up and down her side.

When her breathing is back to normal, his knot still lodged inside her, his hand drifts between her thighs, brushing over her clit. Her breath hitches, cunt tightening around him.

“You’re not quite done,” he rumbles in her ear.

Chapter Text

It’s all the damn flower’s fault, the flower that’s currently sitting innocuously on Derek’s kitchen counter. The flower sent to them by the (probably) well-meaning, but misguided alpha of the Henderson pack in San Diego. It’s meant as a sort of recreational aphrodisiac for werewolf couples, and Alpha Henderson had been heavily hinting that she thought pups would be great for the pack.

Peter had opened the door to the loft, taken one look from Derek and Kira to the plant on the counter, and slammed the door closed again. By then, Derek’s hand was already down the front of Kira’s shorts, only pausing to snarl over his shoulder at the interruption.

“You should go,” Derek says, hand pausing between her thighs. He sounds like the words are forced out and when Kira looks up, his eyes are flashing red, like it’s taking all he has to control himself. He takes a deep breath, which apparently is a bad call because it sends a shudder through him. “I can...I can deal with this alone. It’s shouldn’t be as bad for you. Since you’re a kitsune.”

“I can still feel it,” Kira says. She’s clinging to his shoulders, trying not to grind against his hand. He has two fingers over her wet, hard little clit, and god, she needs friction. She can feel the heat simmering under her skin, the need seeping through her. Her skin is begging to be touched, to feel nothing but him on her. And if this is just a fraction of what he’s feeling? Fuck.

“Kira,” Derek says through gritted teeth when she’s been silent for too long.

“I’ll still need...I’d rather it be you,” Kira says, unable to stop the way her hips twitch, making his fingers jerk against her. “If that’s okay…”

Derek growls again, and god, that shouldn’t be such a turn on, and tightens his arm around her waist, fingers moving against the sides of her clit. Kira mewls, nails digging into his shoulder and forearm as she grips him, grinding shamelessly against his hand. She’d meant what she said. She’s not dating anyone, and out of everyone this could have happened with, she’d rather it be him, one of her closest friends.

Derek pulls his hand out of her shorts, which she does not appreciate, but then he’s dropping to his knees in front of her. Her breath hitches, staring down at him, the eyes of her alpha looking up at her as he drags her shorts and panties down her thighs.

Derek braces her with one hand on her hip, the other guiding her to lift her leg and rest it on his shoulder, opening her wide for him. A second later, his mouth is on her, drawing a loud gasp. She clutches at his shoulders, leaning back against the kitchen counter for balance.

His tongue is hot and insistent, quickly finding how she likes to be touched. There’s no teasing, no hesitation. His goal is to make her come, and quickly. She’d be embarrassed about being this wet this easily, but, flower, and what he’s doing feels too good. And there’s a distinct lack of shame with him.

The supernatural need running through her is taking what Derek’s doing up by like ten notches, and it’s only a few minutes before the gentle fluttering of his tongue against her clit is too much. She wraps a hand in his hair, crying out his name as she comes, wet cunt clenching around nothing as pleasure rushes through her.

There’s something about it that’s...stronger, like that extra supernatural push is dragging her orgasm out longer, making it all-consuming. Or maybe that’s just Derek.

Derek pulls back, settling her back on her feet. The way he’s looking up at her, hungry and desperate...the heat that had been momentarily settled comes roaring back. She yanks him up to her, kissing him harshly. Derek groans against her, his hard cock pressed against her belly. Before she can reach for his jeans, he’s picking her up and walking toward his bedroom.

In a back corner of her mind, she knows she should feel ridiculous. She’s bare from the waist down, being carried by a man who’s fully clothed, but she doesn’t, she just feels need and want. From the way Derek’s inhaling where his nose is pressed against her throat, she thinks he’s feeling something very similar.

Derek sets her down on the end of his bed and wastes no time, pulling his t-shirt off over his head. Kira’s momentarily stunned, because yeah she’s see him shirtless before, but right now it’s making her brain halt, followed closely by the need to get her hands on him. Him reaching for his belt buckle jerks her back into motion, and she tugs her own shirt off, reaching behind herself to unclasp her bra and toss it to the side.

Then Derek’s there, crawling onto the bed after her. She lies back, tugging him to her until he’s settled between her spread thighs, his face inches from hers. His pupils are blown, tension obvious is how he’s carrying his body, and god, if she’s feeling just a lessened version of how he’s affected, she can’t imagine how he’s holding himself together.

Kira rolls her hips up against him, his cock brushing through her slick folds. A growls rips through him and he closes his eyes, arms shaking on either side of her. She knows he needs this, she needs this, and she doesn’t want him hurting trying to fight it.

“Come on,” she says, running hands up his back. His skin is warm to the touch, much warmer than he usually runs. “Derek...please…”

Derek whines, a shudder running through him, then he’s reaching between their bodies, pressing his cock against her entrance and thrusting into her. Kira lets out a garbled shout that melts into a moan. The need in her swells, spurred on by finally being filled by him, and she rolls into his thrusts.

There’s a low rumble from Derek’s throat, his eyes burning red as he looks down at her. His face is open, full of need and pleasure and fuck, he looks good like this. Kira wraps her arms around him, grasping at his back, needing to feel him against her. Derek drops his mouth to her throat, sucking and biting her sensitive skin. It’s good, the tingle of pleasure and pain making her clench around him.

She can feel the pleasure building in her again, faster and more intense than before. She manages to gasp his name before she’s coming, cunt spasming around him as she trembles apart in his arms. It’s longer than her first, swelling in waves through her entire body. Derek gasps, tensing above her, and a moment later his cock jerks inside her as he comes, his teeth at her throat.

There’s a fine tremble running through Derek as he hovers over her, breathing heavily against her throat. He carefully rolls to the side, his cock slipping from her body, before he tugs her to him. Kira curls into his side, enjoying the pleasantly fucked feeling.

The desperate need is receding a bit, letting her think more clearly. She knows at some point they’re going to need to destroy that flower. Maybe if she electrocutes it? But then she feels Derek hardening against her hip, and a warmth growing between her thighs. Maybe another round first.

Chapter Text

Stiles hadn’t believed Derek at first when he’d invited him over to get high. He’d thought there’s no way Derek wasn’t fucking with him, but here he is, sitting on Derek’s couch, watching him roll a joint with practiced fingers. It’s at least Derek’s second, the scent of weed fresh when Stiles had walked in.

Derek looks good like this. Relaxed, calm. There’s no tension to his shoulders, not bracing himself like he’s waiting for an ax to fall. He offers the joint to Stiles, who almost fumbles it because he’s too busy staring at Derek’s stupidly perfect face. He manages not to, though, taking the lighter and taking the first hit.

Stiles isn’t exactly a novice smoker, so manages not to embarrass himself by coughing or anything, even when Derek leans back into the couch, legs spread wide. Stiles generally has an urge to touch when Derek’s involved, but it’s especially strong right now. He manages to ignore it, and he thinks he deserves a damn medal for it.

Derek takes the joint back, bringing it to his lips, inhaling slowly. When he exhales, slowly blowing out the smoke, Stiles nearly falls off the couch. Derek just smirks, passing the joint back to him. What an asshole, of course he’s perfect.

Right when Stiles brings the joint to his lips and starts to inhale, Derek stretches, shirt riding up, showing off those ridiculously cut hip bones and Stiles, is weak, okay? He might breathe in a bit too quickly, coughing and shoving the joint at Derek so he doesn’t drop it.

Derek laughs softly, but not unkindly. He reaches out, taking Stiles by the hand and pulling him closer until he’s sitting right next to him, their thighs brushing. Derek rests his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and presses the joint to his own lips, eyes locked on Stiles as he breathes in. He doesn’t exhale, pulling Stiles to him. Stiles goes willingly, eyes locked on Derek, heart in his throat because he hopes he knows where this is going.

Derek draws him closer, their noses brushing, before pressing their lips together. He exhales slowly, softly breathing the smoke into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles just breathes in, not coughing or choking, though he feels like his heart is beating out of his chest. Derek has to be able to hear it, has to be able to feel his pulse where his thumb’s rubbing over Stiles’ throat.

Derek pulls back, waiting until Stiles exhales, then he’s kissing him, soft and gentle and better than Stiles ever imagined. When he pulls back, eyes fluttering open, it’s all Stiles can do not to climb into his lap right now.

“Wow…” Stiles says.

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling.

“We need to do that again. Like now.”

Chapter Text

Stiles’ heart is racing as he runs through the trees. It’s dark and in the past he may have tripped and fallen, but he knows these woods know, has spent hours here with Peter and the pack, training and running and fighting for their lives.

There’s a snapping of a branch not far behind him and he knows he wouldn’t have heard it unless it was intentional. He runs faster. He knows he doesn’t have a hope, that he’s going to be caught sooner rather than later, but he still runs, still has to.

He’s nearly to a river running through the preserve, thinking he can maybe lose his scent in the water, but then a body is crashing into him. He tumbles to the ground, strong arms surrounding him, cradling his head, then he’s on his back in the brush, Peter lying on top of him, his eyes alpha red.

“You’ve improved,” Peter purrs, running his nose up Stiles’ throat. “The mimic spell was impressive.”

“Didn’t throw you off much,” Stiles says, breathless.

“I’m attuned to you,” Peter says, lips brushing the skin of Stiles’ throat as he speaks. “I can always find you. Others would be fooled.”

“Not you,” Stiles says, running fingers up Peter’s side, under his thin t-shirt.

“Not me,” Peter says, his voice a growl, then he’s biting down on Stiles’ throat. Stiles gasps, cock hardening in his pants. Honestly, he’s been half hard since Peter’d started chasing him, so easy for his mate.

There’s a low rumble in Peter’s throat as he grinds down against Stiles, the hard cocks pressing together through their pants. Peter unzips his pants and pushes down Stiles’ shorts, taking their cocks in his big hand. Stiles groans, hips jerking up as Peter strokes them, smearing their precome all over them.

Stiles will bitch about the leaves in his hair later, about being dirty but god, he does love when they do this, when Peter’s wolf just needs to chase him, to track him down and claim him in the woods of their territory.

It’s not long before Stiles is coming, Peter knowing just how to touch him by now. He cries out, cock spurting in Peter’s grip as he comes, pleasure wrenched from him. Peter growls and follows quickly, his come mixing with Stiles’ in his hand.

He wipes his hand on Stiles’ shorts, which is just rude, before setting their clothes right, helping Stiles to his feet.

“Wouldn’t kill you to bring a towel,” Stiles grumbles, taking the hand Peter offers and they head back toward the house.

Chapter Text

Stiles had expected Chris to be quiet in bed. He very much as the strong, silent thing going on, and really Stiles had expected to be fucked into the mattress with just grunts and groans from Chris. Fucked into the mattress, yes. Silently? No.

“Look at you,” Chris rumbles, running a rough hand up Stiles’ bare back.

Stiles whines, face buried in Chris’ soft blue sheets. Chris is buried deep inside him, his thick cock spreading Stiles wide. He’s still, letting him adjust to the thick intrusion, hands roaming over his body.

“You look so pretty, spread open for me,” Chris says and god, Stiles can’t handle that, his hard cock leaking between his thighs.

“Please,” Stiles whines, pressing back against Chris, making both of them moan. “Come on, fuck me, please…”

Chris’ grip on his hips tighten, then he’s moving, thrusting into Stiles, long and deep. Stiles is so hard it nearly hurts, but he doesn’t reach for his cock, knowing he’s going to come embarrassingly fast as soon as he touches himself, and he wants to make this last.

“Good boy,” Chris says when Stiles rocks back into his thrusts. He can’t help the way his hard cock jerks at that, can’t keep in the little whine it pulls from him. Chris notices, of course he does. “You like being my good boy? You’re taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.”

Stiles is dying, he can’t hold back any longer, has to reach between his legs and stroke his hard cock. “Fuck, Chris…”

“That’s it, let yourself feel good, honey,” Chris says. He fucks into him faster, nails digging into the skin of Stiles’ waist. It rough and deep and perfect, exactly what Stiles was hoping for. “Let me see you come,” Chris says, his voice gravelly. “I want to feel you.”

Stiles...he can’t hold out in the face of that. His hand moves quicker on his cock, then he’s coming with a shout, body tightening around the thick cock inside him, shaking apart underneath Chris. Chris fucks him through it, telling him how perfect he is, how wonderful he feels coming on Chris’ cock, how pretty he is when he falls apart.

Stiles collapses forward with a groan, arms not able to hold himself up anymore, Chris’ cock slipping from his body. He watches over his shoulder as Chris takes his own cock in his hand, jacking himself quickly until he’s coming over Stiles’ ass with a hiss.

It’s...insanely hot actually, but even Stiles can’t get hard again this quickly. Hopefully Chris will want an encore soon though.

Chapter Text

“Daddy…” Lydia whines softly, shifting her weight, breath stuttering when the heavy metal plug shifts inside her.

Chris had shoved the plug into her ass over an hour ago and she’d been excited, thinking it meant they were about to have some fun. Then he’d had her pull her skirt back up and taken her out to run errands. He had to pick up a case of ammo he’d ordered from a local gun shop, then to the post office to drop off a package, and now they’re at the grocery store.

Lydia’s panties are soaked. She’s been wet since he worked the plug into her, tapping at the jeweled base just to watch her squirm, but then he’d had his hand on her while he was driving, callused fingers tracing patterns on her inner thigh, so close to where she wants him to touch her. Every speed bump they went over jostled the plug filling her up, making her gasp. And she’s sure he took the route with the most on purpose.

Now they’re at the grocery store, Chris taking more time than anyone ever has to pick out apples. Lydia is so turned on that it’s all she can do not to rub her thighs together in the middle of the store, desperate for any relief. Chris looks over at her whine, eyebrows raised.

“Need something, princess?” he asks.

“Not something Safeway carries,” she says, aiming for haughty but unsure of how it actually comes out.

The corner of his lips twitch in amusement, but there’s a dark look in his eyes that says his thoughts are very close to hers.

“This is our last stop,” Chris says, and Lydia nearly sags in relief. She doesn’t know what she’d have done if he said they had more to do.

Chris takes his sweet time choosing oranges and lettuce, too, and Lydia fights to keep still. When she moves, even shifts, the heaviness in her makes her want to gasp, to reach between her thighs, public store be damned. And Chris knows it, knows how she gets like this. Bastard.

The cashier, bored and slow moving, makes Lydia want to scream. Chris walks slowly to the car, takes much longer than necessary to load the groceries, then watches as she struggling to climb into the high seat of his SUV. She can’t help the low moan as she settles in her seat, plug pressing deeper into her.

Chris leans forward with dark eyes, under the guise of handing her a bag. He sets it in her lap, his hand pressing between her legs. Lydia gasps, rolling her hips, trying to grind against the friction that’s so sweet, even through her skirt and underwear, but then he’s taking his hand away, smirking at her groan. She glares, dropping the bag into the backseat.

The route Chris takes back to his house is full of curves, potholes, and speed bumps, because he’s a cruel, cruel man. Lydia doesn’t bother holding back the whimpers at how the plug jostles inside her. After the second speed bump, she starts grinding against the seat, shameless in how much she needs this.

Chris groans, hand tightening on the steering wheel. He glances at her at a red light, watching her rock against the seat, grinding her hard little clit against the leather. She can’t even be embarrassed, especially not with how hungrily he’s watching her, how long it takes him to turn back to the road and set off when the light turns green.

Chris reaches over the console, pressing his hand between her thighs. “Go ahead, princess,” he says, voice rough.

“Fuck,” Lydia groans, grinding down against his hand. “Daddy, please…”

“Don’t you dare come until I say so,” Chris says, pressing harder against her aching cunt.

She whimpers, too far gone to be ashamed. Chris’ windows are tinted, no one can see her, and she’s been turned on for hours, since he told her to come over that morning. Every bump in the road drives that need higher, every heated glance from Chris, every firm press of his hand.

It takes way too long for him to pull into his garage, hitting the button to close the door behind them. He’s barely turned off the car before he’s out of it, rounding to her side and yanking her door open. She turns, ready to get out, but he steps between her spread thighs, keeping her sitting sideways on the seat, legs dangling out the door.

“So good for me, princess,” Chris says, big hands running up her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her waist, exposing her soaked panties. His thumb presses against the side of her clit through the thin fabric, making her gasp and cling at his shoulders. “If you don’t want me to fuck you right here, tell me now.”

“Fuck me,” Lydia says immediately, cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Daddy, please…”

Chris doesn’t hesitate, stepping back just enough to impatiently tug down her panties before unzipping his jeans, just pushing them far enough down his thighs to free his cock. Lydia moves to the edge of her seat, spreading her legs wide, showing off her glistening cunt and the jeweled base of the thick, metal plug lodged inside her.

“You look so good like this, princess,” Chris says, rotating the plug and making her gasp. “I should do this more often. Fuck your slutty little ass and lock my come inside you.”

Lydia bites her lip, cunt clenching at that, aching to be filled by her daddy. Chris doesn’t make her wait, brushing the head of his cock through her slick folds, before thrusting into her. Lydia shrieks, suddenly so, so full. His cock is bumping against the plug, separated only by a thin wall of flesh inside her and god, why hasn’t he fucked her like this before?

Chris fucks her roughly, the plug shifting on each thrust. Pleasure is rushing through her, so good and intense after being on the edge for so long. She loves it when he fucks her like this, rough and fast, grinding his pelvis against her clit on each thrust. There’s something tightening inside her and she knows she can’t hold back much longer.

“Daddy, please, can I come?” she begs, nails digging into his skin.

“Yes, princess, come on my cock,” he orders, fucking her hard enough it makes her shout, then she’s coming, clenching around him and the hard, unforgiving plug inside her.

Chris doesn’t stop, fucking her through the tremors of her orgasm, dragging out her pleasure until the spasming of her cunt drags him over the edge, his cock jerking as he empties himself inside her. They stay like that for a long time, her legs around him, both of them nearly fully clothed, her forehead resting against his chest.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,” Chris says eventually, pulling back enough that his softening cock slips from her open cunt, a trail of his release following. Lydia takes his hand, lets him help her out of the SUV, keeping her hold on him way she sways. “Is that what you wanted, princess?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, daddy.”

Chapter Text

This is 100% Peter’s fault. Normally it’s Stiles that needs to be told not to touch the potentially dangerous magical object, but nope, this time it was Peter who grabbed at the dumb figurine, which is why they’re here now. They’d barely been able to make it in the door before Peter’d shoved Stiles to the bed, wrapping his lips around his cock.

It’s been hours now that Peter’s been fucking Stiles, the slide of his cock easy with how wet and open Stiles’ hole is. He’s sure his rim is a mess, red and puffy from how much he’s been used, but he’s still aching for more, only feeling complete when Peter’s buried in him. They’ve been able to call Derek and Lydia between rounds and know it should wear off soon…but...

Stiles moans as Peter’s knot swells inside him again, thick cock jerking as he adds to the multiple loads already sloshing around his insides. Peter’s teeth are at his throat, his hand pressing low on Stiles’ belly, making him whine. When he looks down, his heart leaps into his throat. His normally flat belly is distinctly rounded, distended from how much come is locked inside him.

“Peter,” Stiles groans. “I’m so mad at you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Peter says, reaching between Stiles’ legs. His cock is hard and aching, even though he’s come more times that he can count.

“If you stop, I’ll pee in all your shoes.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Allison hadn’t meant to end up at the loft with an egg vibrator nestled inside her cunt. She’d been just having some fun, going shopping with the toy inside her, relentlessly turned on from being in public with it vibrating inside her. Before she’d left home, she’d been playing with her wet cunt, nipples clamped tightly. She’d taken the clamps off before she left, but her nipples were red and sensitive, the fabric of her bra too much. So she’s braless, her hard, swollen nipples visible through her thin shirt.

But then she’d gotten the call from Stiles saying Scott wanted everyone to meet at the loft, some kind of emergency, and she hadn’t been able to go home first. So she’s walking into the loft with the toy inside her, though turned off because she’s sure the werewolves would be able to hear it.

Peter’s eyes immediately zero in on her when she walks in, eyes dragging down her frame, stopping briefly on where her hard little nipples are standing out under her shirt. She looks away, fighting down the wave of arousal at his look. They’ve fucked a few times, so he knows exactly what she smells like when she’s aroused, and she has a feeling he’s smelling her soaked panties.

It’s hard to focus on what’s Scott saying once she realizes it’s not actually an emergency, just Scott wanting to talk about a werewolf that might be visiting. She zones out, trying not to move, not wanting the toy to shift. There’s already wetness seeping out of her, earning a few odd looks from the werewolves who can smell it. She can feel herself blushing, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

She wasn’t really paying attention when the pack meeting breaks and everyone drifts out, leaving her with just Peter. She stands, barely suppressing a moan when the toy shifts inside her, then Peter is right there in front of her, eyes dark.

“Show me,” he says with a growl.

Allison doesn’t bother feigning ignorance. She glances behind her to make sure everyone had left, and reaches for the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. He lets out a hiss at the sight of her chest, nipples red and aching. He runs his hands up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. She’s holding her breath, not sure what she’s expecting, but when his thumbs ghost over her nipples, she exhales in a loud whine, cunt clenching around the toy.

“Mm, such a slutty little thing,” Peter murmurs, circling her nipples, just barely brushing them.

Allison fights the moan she wants to let out. She never would have thought being talked to like this, especially by him, would turn her on, but she’d discovered quickly that she loves it. She cries out when his thumbs press harder against her sensitive nipples, eyes fluttering shut.

“Now, we both know it’s not just this that has your slutty cunt this wet,” Peter says, flicking one of her nipples. She mewls and squeezes her thighs together, trying to get some relief for her aching cunt. “Tell me what has you so worked up.”

Allison swallows hard and reaches into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out the remote for the toy stuffed inside her. He instantly understands, a low rumble coming from deep in his chest as he plucks the remote from her fingers. She’s expecting it, but still cries out when he turns it on, the toy vibrating right against her g-spot.

“Lie down,” he says, crowding her close to the couch until she’s collapsing back, letting out a strangled moan at toy moving. Peter crawls over her body, slotting a thigh between hers, pressed right up against her soaked cunt. Peter grins at her gasp. “I know your greedy cunt needs to rub against something.”

She grits her teeth, face flushing in embarrassment, but that doesn’t stop her from grinding down against his thigh right when he turns the vibrations up. She moans loudly, back arching, eyes fluttering shut, then flying back open when his lips close around a hard, aching nipple.

“Peter!” she cries out, hand tangling in his hair. He rumbles against her, but doesn’t pull away, gently sucking at the abused flesh. His other hand snakes up her torso, roughly palming at her breast and god, it’s too much stimulation, from her aching nipples, her soaked cunt filled with the vibrator, her hard little clit grinding against him through their jeans...but she doesn’t push him away, doesn’t tell him to stop.

“Your desperate little body needs this,” Peter says, lips moving against her breast before he grazes her nipple with his teeth, biting down when she gasps. “Take what you need, princess. Let me see you hump my leg like a dog.”

Allison grits her teeth, humiliation running through her, but god, it makes it better, makes more of her wetness seep out of her and she knows when he pulls away there’s going to be a wet spot on the thigh of Peter’s jeans.

Peter turns the toy on high, vibrating hard in her aching pussy. Allison lets out a garbled noise and he switches to her other breast, biting at her swollen, throbbing nipple, sending a bolt of heat straight to her cunt, his hand grasping at her other breast. She’s shamelessly grinding down against his thigh, chasing her orgasm that’s so close. When she feels Peter’s fangs drop, dragging over her areola, she comes with a shout, cunt spasming around the toy inside her.

Peter doesn’t stop, dragging out the waves of her orgasm until she’s dangerously close to overstimulation, squirming to get away from his mouth. He relents, turning off the vibrator, pulling back with one last lick to her nipple. When she looks down, her breath catches, nipples puffy and red, skin around them nearly purple in places from how hard he’d sucked.

Peter hums, looking down and when she follows his eyes, sure enough there’s a very wide, very visible damp patch of denim on his thigh. He brushes his fingers against it, bringing them to his mouth to lick the taste of her. She knows exactly how good he is with his tongue and despite how her inner muscles are still twitching, it makes her want. He smirks, like he knows what she’s thinking.

“I can either eat you out ‘til your slutty pussy is squirting all over my fingers, or I can fuck that messy cunt of yours until you’re hoarse,” Peter says. She glances down, swallowing at the hard bulge at the front of his jeans. “Pick which.”

Chapter Text

Peter runs careful fingertips down the pale column of Stiles’ throat, grinning at how it makes him shudder. He’s standing behind Stiles, one hand drifting down to his ass, pushing at the denim right over the base of the thick plug stretching him wide. Stiles whines, hard cock jerking in his tight, black jeans.

“You’ve been so good for me,” Peter murmurs, hand wrapping around Stiles’ throat. Not squeezing, just holding him there. Stiles’ pulse quickens under his fingers. “Plenty of people are going to want to get their hands on you tonight. But I’m a territorial man, love.”

“I noticed,” Stiles says. Peter grins at the way his voice goes breathy.

“Mmm. Since you don’t want your pretty skin marked up above the collarbones, and I want my mark on you, I have a proposal,” Peter says, pausing to enjoy the way Stiles’ scent is tinged with excitement. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the collar he’d spent days picking. Peter plasters himself to Stiles’ back, reaching around to hold the collar out in front of him.

Stiles’ breath hitches, his heartbeat picking up. He reaches out, taking the soft leather from Peter. It’s a deep blue with a brushed gold O-ring at the front, a color that will look perfect against Stiles’ lovely skin. There will be plenty of collars at the club tonight, but he wanted this one to be more elegant than the average.

“Peter,” Stiles murmurs, running fingers over the collar. “For me?”

“Yes,” Peter says. “It lets everyone know you’re mine. They can stare at you all they want, but no one can have you but me.”

Stiles swallows, the scent of his arousal growing. “Put it on me?”

Peter takes the collar, wrapping it around Stiles’ throat and closing it, his wolf rumbling in approval at the sight of the collar, seeing Stiles proudly wear the symbol of his submission to Peter. Stiles reaches up, touching the leather and turning to face Peter.

“Perfect,” Peter says, voice a low rumble. “When I paddle your pretty ass in front of everyone tonight, they’ll see this and wish you were theirs.”

Chapter Text

Stiles hisses as Chris shoves him down to the bed by the back of the neck, his ass in the air. Chris rips down his jeans and boxers, tsking when he sees the plug stretching him wide. Stiles whines when Chris pushes against the base, nudging the plug against his prostate.

“And where exactly were you going like this?” Chris asks, his voice deceptively light. Stiles doesn’t know what to say, and before he can find the words, Chris is pushing against the plug again. “Answer me.” There’s a dangerous tone to his voice this time, and Stiles swallows hard.

“Nowhere!” Stiles says, gasping as Chris rotates it in him. “I wasn’t - “

“Going to Peter?” Chris asks, finishing his sentence. Stiles’ teeth click when he closes his mouth, his heartbeat picking up. “Did you think I don’t know? Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting fucked by an animal?”

Stiles groans, trying to hide how his cock jerks. “I didn’t - “

“You did,” Chris says, anger lacing his words. “And you’re still getting hard thinking about it. You’re disgusting.”

Before Stiles can say anything, Chris is pulling out the plug, pausing when the widest part is stretching Stiles open. Stiles moans but doesn’t try to get away, knows somehow that that’ll be much worse.

“The hunter council would kill you if they found out,” Chris says, then he’s pulling the plug all the way out. A moment later his hands are spreading Stiles open, staring at his stretched, open hole.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Stiles asks, hands twisting in the sheets.

“If you want to fuck animals, I’ll fuck you like you’re one of them,” Chris hisses, then his hands are disappearing from Stiles’ ass. When Stiles looks over his shoulder, Chris is unzipping his jeans, pushing them down to his thighs. His cock is hard and Stiles swallows hard.

“Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t - “ Stiles cuts off his words with a yelp when Chris slaps his ass, hard.

“A wolf’s bitch doesn’t speak,” Chris says harshly. “And that’s all you are, isn’t it?”

Stiles whines, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what answer Chris wants, so he stays silent. He’s glad he’s slick and open from the plug because Chris isn’t gentle when he thrusts into him. Stiles cries out, falling forward until his chest is on the bed, his ass in the air for Chris to fuck.

Angry filth is spewing from Chris’ lips, about how he’s presenting like a dog, how desperate he is for an animal to fuck him, to breed him. Stiles’ cock is still hard between his thighs, dripping precome onto the sheets. Chris’ words, as humiliating as they are, only make him harder.

Chris is doing exactly as he said he would. He’s fucking him like he’s nothing more than a mindless animal, caring only for his own pleasure. His hands on Stiles’ waist are tight and bruising, grip too strong for Stiles to pull away. Chris’ cock is hitting his prostate on every few thrusts, completely unintentionally and god, he’s right; being used like this, with no care for his pleasure, is getting Stiles off.

His orgasm slams into him, cock jerking between his thighs as he comes. Chris hisses as Stiles clenches down around him, body shaking from his orgasm. Chris doesn’t let him go though, if anything he only fucks him harder.

“Of course you’d get off on this,” Chris grunts. “No wonder Peter likes your worthless ass.”

Stiles groans, spent cock twitching between his legs. Chris just huffs in annoyance, fucking him deeply. He lets out a loud groan and then his cock is flexing in Stiles’ ass, filling his insides with his come. He pulls out quickly, quicker than Stiles anticipated, then the thick plug is nudging his hole, giving him barely enough time to bear down before Chris shoves it into him.

“There. Keep that inside you, let them smell how much you reek of me,” Chris says.

“Everything you wanted, sweetheart?” Chris asks, running hands through Stiles’ hair, damp with sweat.

Stiles hums, nuzzling into the touch. “Yeah,” he says. “Peter’s gonna be so pissed he missed it.”

Chris laughs. “He has his own plans for you, don’t worry.”

Chapter Text

“This is embarrassing,” Kira says, looking somewhere over Dr. Hale’s ear instead of at his face.

“I’m not here to judge,” Dr. Hale says simply, waiting for her to continue.

Kira’s mom has known Peter Hale for years, since back when he was still in medical school and because he’s a werewolf, he has a deeper supernatural knowledge than just any doctor. And since she doesn’t want her inner kitsune to pop out and fry a human doctor, she’d taken her mom’s suggestion and made an appointment with Dr. Hale.

“I, um, haven’t had a pelvic exam since my kitsune manifested,” Kira says. “And since it tends to make me glow when I have sex or when I’m uncomfortable, I’m worried I’d hurt or scare a human doctor.”

“I understand that. I have plenty of patients in the same situation,” Dr. Hale says, and it makes a bit of the tension in her loosen to hear that. “Do you have a specific concern?”

“Kinda? My boyfriend and I had sex for the first time and it...wasn’t great,” Kira says. She feels a bit awkward to be discussing her sad sex life with a man who’s hotter than the sun.

“It rarely is, the first time,” Dr. Hale says, smiling slightly, though it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at her. “Was there pain?”

“Yeah, and I mean, that kind of faded? But it still didn’t feel good really, and then my kitsune came out and sort of electrocuted him. He’s a werewolf!” Kira adds quickly, not wanting him to think she’s confessing to murder or anything. “So I guess I just want to make sure everything is okay? That I’m not, uh, broken down there?”

“I’m sure you’re not broken,” Dr. Hale says firmly. “Nevertheless, I’m happy to do an examination. I’ll step outside while you get undressed from the waist down. I’ll leave a sheet for you to cover yourself, okay?”

Kira nods. “Yep, okay.”

She does as he asks, taking off her boots, panties, and skirt, setting them on the chair before sitting up on the exam table, the sheet wrapped around her waist. She doesn’t have long to sit and stew in nerves before there’s a knock on the door, announcing Dr. Hale is back.

Kira lies back and puts her feet in the stirrups when he tells her to, trying not to blush when he lifts the sheet covering her. One of the hottest men she’s ever seen in real life is between her legs right now and she’s suddenly so grateful she shaved her legs that morning.

“This may be a tad cold,” Dr. Hale warns her, then his gloved finger, slick with medical-grade lubricant, is slowly sliding into her. She gasps, clenching down in surprise before forcing herself to relax. Dr. Hale looks up, concern on his face. “Did that hurt?”

“Nope,” Kira says, shaking her head. “I just startle easy.”

“Okay. Let me know if something does hurt,” Dr. Hale says, smiling slightly.

Dr. Hale rotates his finger slowly inside her, pressing gently against her inner muscles. Nothing hurts, nothing at all like when Scott had shoved his fingers into her. His finger brushes over a spot inside her that makes her breath catch, one Scott definitely didn’t find.

“I don’t feel anything alarming,” Dr. Hale says, voice soft. “Still no pain?”

“No,” she says, a slight waver to her voice. His finger inside her presses against her g-spot again and she realizes that oh god, she’s getting wet. If he were a regular doctor she’d just hope he doesn’t notice and assumes it’s the lubricant, but he’s a werewolf. He can smell her getting turned on. She barely manages not to cover her face with her hands.

“Everything feels perfectly normal to me,” Dr. Hale says, but his finger is still inside her. He looks up at her, eyes locked with hers, and presses gently against her g-spot again. His eyes darken, nostrils slightly flaring when she inhales sharply, and she knows he’s smelling her arousal. “I think in the future, you may want to have your partner spend more time on foreplay.”

“He, uh, he was a little excited,” Kira says, voice ticking up a bit at the end when he rubs his finger over her g-spot again.

Dr. Hale tsks, shaking his head. “I suggest sitting him down and explaining exactly why this is important,” he says. He withdraws his finger and Kira makes a small, disappointed noise, but he’s smirking at her and a second later, two slick fingers are pressing back into her, making her gasp. “Foreplay, besides making you wet, also causes your inner muscles relax, which makes penetration much more pleasurable. Did he do anything for you with his mouth or hands first?”

“No-o,” Kira says, the word stretching out when the two fingers crook inside her, making a zing of pleasure shoot through her. She can feel her clit hardening, swelling with her arousal, and she’s sure he can see it.

“A shame,” Dr. Hale says. He’s moving his fingers slowly in her, eyes on her, looking for her reaction. When she bites her lip, tilting her hips into the movement, his grin turns sharp. “I’ve found plenty of foreplay and at least one orgasm is helpful before intercourse if you’re worried about discomfort or pain.”

Before she can answer, his thumb brushes against her clit, hard and swollen. She whines, can’t help it, and Dr. Hale does it again, starting up a slow but firm rhythm between her thighs. With his fingers moving steadily in her, his thumb working at her sensitive clit, she can feel a tension building deep inside her, her wetness seeping out of her around his fingers.

“Dr. Hale, I…” Kira doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. She doesn’t want to ask what he’s doing, doesn’t want him to think she wants him to stop. All she wants is to come, desperate for the release that Scott just can’t seem to give her. Dr. Hale seems to know that, moving his hand quicker between her spread thighs.

“Have you ever come from being fingered?” Dr. Hale asks casually, like it’s a totally normal thing to ask. She answers anyway, shaking her head.

“Just from myself,” Kira says, breath heavy. “I can’t get the right angle - oh god!”

Kira whimpers as Dr. Hale presses more insistently against her, his eyes flashing blue at the sounds she can’t bite back, at the way her legs are trembling, how her wetness is covering his fingers. The sharp pleasure is building in her, peaking suddenly as her orgasm rolls through her.

She throws her hand over her mouth as she comes, not wanting her cry to be heard from any of the other rooms. Her cunt clenches around his fingers, her thighs kept spread wide by the stirrups as she trembles through the waves of pleasure.

Dr. Hale keeps his fingers in her until her inner muscles stop spasming around him, withdrawing slowly, his eyes fixed between her thighs. Then he’s covering her lower body again with the sheet, the mask of professionalism slipping back on, though Kira now can see the hungry wolf prowling beneath the surface.

“I strongly recommend foreplay before intercourse to avoid discomfort or pain,” Dr. Hale says over his shoulder as he removes his gloves, tossing them into the trash.

“Sure, a doctor-ordered orgasm,” Kira says, making Dr. Hale smile.

“Everything seems perfectly in order to me, Miss Yukimura,” Dr. Hale says, offering his hand. She shakes it, very aware that his thick fingers were inside her just minutes ago. “I’d like you to make an appointment with my receptionist out front if you’d like a followup appointment next week, just to be sure.”

Her hand is still in his and she nods quickly. Dr. Hale grins and even though there’s not a hint of fang, she can see the wolf he is.

It’s when Kira’s pulling her panties back on that she realizes her kitsune hadn’t come out to attack Dr. Hale. Huh.

Chapter Text

It’s a week or so after Kira and Scott’s breakup that Kira comes to Derek. He’s her closest friend in the pack, the person she spends the most time with, the person she trusts most. The loft door is open, Derek waiting for her, leaning against the frame when she gets to the top of the stairs.

“I don’t want Scott’s hands to be the last ones that have been on me,” Kira says before he can ask. “I don’t want Allison’s name to be the most recent thing I’ve heard in bed.”

Derek immediately understands, because he always understands where she’s coming from, and tugs her inside by her hand. He slides the door closed behind them, locking it, and Kira is suddenly nervous. She hadn’t been during the drive over, just focused on what she wants, but now that she’s here, what if he says no?

But then he’s in front of her, cradling her jaw in his large hand, he’s kissing her, soft and gentle and sweet. She sighs into the kiss, body melting against his as his arms move around her.

Derek’s achingly tender as he undresses her, kissing each inch of skin exposed until she’s bare and he’s down to just his boxers. She swallows hard, heat gathering between her thighs at the sight of him.

“Anything you want,” Derek murmurs against her lips. His hands are trailing up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, making her breath hitch. “Just tell me.”

“Can I...your mouth?” she asks, stuttering over the actual words. Derek doesn’t care, just grins down at her before sweeping her up in his arms. She squeaks in surprise, arms going around him as he takes her to his bed, lying her on it and crawling up after her.

She gasps at the first touch of his tongue between her thighs, at his gentle fingers slipping between her folds, testing where she’s warm and wet. Derek...she’s never been eaten out like this, never has had someone so easily find the best ways to touch her, how to bring her to the edge so quickly. When she gasps his name, coming around his fingers, her thighs quivering on either side of his face, she knows this is going to be the benchmark she measures everyone else against.

Derek looks proud when she opens her eyes and sees him between her thighs, his mouth wet from her. She swallows hard and reaches down, tugging him up to her. Derek brushes her hair out of her face, smiling down at her, his eyes widening a second later when she rolls her hips up, pressing against his hard cock.

“Please?” she asks.

She doesn’t have to ask twice. Derek tugs off his underwear, then he’s at her entrance, thick cock slowly sliding into her. Kira gasps at the stretch, waves his concern away because god it’s good. When he moves within her, she swears she can see werewolf Jesus. Derek’s slow but steady, working up a deep pace that makes her toes curl.

And then he starts talking.

“You’re so perfect,” Derek murmurs, and she can’t stop the way her heart beats a bit faster at that. He hums, like he’s noticed it too. He cups her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple right when he says, “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Feel perfect. That’s it honey, just let yourself feel good.”

Kira...has no idea why that gets to her, but it does, makes her cunt clench up around him. She rolls into his thrusts, urging him to go faster. He does, fucking her quicker, grinding against her hard clit on each thrust.

Derek’s soft voice is still washing over her, telling her how good she looks like this, how he’s going to take such good care of her, to just let yourself come, sweetheart. It’s too much, the words spilling from his lips, the way he’s easily working her body. She comes with a cry, writhing as she clenches down around his cock.

It’s never been like this. She’s never had this kind of pleasure rushing through her, has never had someone coax this from her body. It takes her a second to realize Derek came as well, his forehead resting against hers.

“Wow,” she says, voice rough. Derek just grins.

Chapter Text

Stiles is on his side, Peter’s knot swollen inside him, tears running down the poor thing’s face. His little cock is locked in its cage, unable to get hard, but still drooling precome. Peter’s been fucking him for over an hour, splitting him open on his knot, and as soon as it starts to go down, rocking into him again until he’s locked inside him, pressing against his full bladder.

“Peter, please…”

“Shh,” Peter says, running a hand over Stiles’ belly, rounded from how much come Peter’s fucked into him and his desperate, swollen bladder. “I told you, sweetheart. You can come whenever you want as long as you don’t piss yourself.”

“It’s too much,” Stiles gasps. He’s clenching around Peter as best as he can with his slack hole, his body tense, trying to keep from wetting the bed.

Peter had laid the rules out clearly. Stiles can come but only if it’s on Peter’s knot, but if he can’t hold his bladder, he gets two weeks added time locked in his cock cage. Peter hums, pressing low on Stiles’ belly, making his cute little cock jerk in its cage, his ass clench around Peter’s knot.

“Mmm,” Peter says, rubbing a circle over the little bulge. “That’s not your safeword, is it?”

Stiles swallows hard and shakes his head. A second later he’s rocking back on Peter’s knot, trying to get as much pressure on his prostate as he can. Peter grins, biting down on his shoulder as he rocks forward, nudging his knot deeper into his boy.

Stiles is trembling in his arms, body tensing up further and Peter knows he’s close. He thrusts forward grinding his knot into him, pressing his hand against his belly, and a second later Stiles is crying out, his cock jerking in its cage as he comes, come trickling out of him.

A second later, Stiles whines, humiliation bursting in his scent. The poor thing couldn’t hold it in anymore, pissing himself and the rubber sheets on Peter’s bed. Tellingly, there’s still plenty of arousal mixed in with the humiliation reeking from him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it out, it’s okay that you’re a dirty little piss whore,” Peter says, pressing against Stiles’ belly, wanting him to empty himself completely. Peter loves it, loves that Stiles is starting to associate pissing himself with pleasure. He taps the cage, making Stiles whimper. “Two extra weeks.”

Chapter Text

Tears are running down Lydia’s red cheeks, her little body trembling between Chris and Peter. Peter’s thick cock is stuffed in her cunt, Chris’ sliding into place deep in her ass. She’s gasping for air between them, feeling so full, never having two cocks as thick as these inside her before.

Chris is running his hands soothingly up and down her back, but Peter’s mouth and hands are on her tits, squeezing and pinching and sucking until her nipples are hard and aching. Chris slowly pulls back before rocking back into her, shifting her where she’s straddling Peter. She whimpers, hands tightening on Peter’s biceps. Lydia was a bit surprised Peter would want to be the one on his back, but seeing his eyes on her full tits bouncing above him makes her understand.

“You’re doing so well, princess,” Chris growls in her ear, making her gasp. He thrusts into her more roughly, his cock pressing against Peter’s through that thin wall of flesh within her. Peter hisses, bucking up into her.

They find a rhythm, each fucking into her when the other pulls back, making sure she’s never empty. She falls forward, her hands braced on the mattress on either side of Peter’s head when Chris tightens his grip on her hips, his thrusts getting harder.

This is what she came to them for. She wanted to be used, to be fucked roughly and by someone who knows how. She loves the stretch, the burning ache inside her as they force her body to make room for them.

Peter drops a hand between their bodies, pressing his fingers against the side of her swollen clit. Lydia whines his name, clenching around them as the pleasure works higher in her. Peter’s harshly fucking up into her, slamming into her in a way she knows will leave bruises tomorrow.

“He’s going to come in you, princess,” Chris says in her ear, and god, she had thought that Peter would be the talker between the two of them. “Gonna make a mess of that slutty cunt of yours.”

Lydia gasps, the harsh words making a zing of arousal shoot through her. Peter hisses, hands tightening on her hips, then he’s coming inside her, cock jerking as he empties himself inside her aching cunt.

The second he pulls out of her, Chris is pushing her to the bed, rolling her over onto her back and fucking back into her ass. She cries out but can’t move, not with Peter pressing her to the bed by her arms. His come is leaking out of her used cunt, dripping down to where Chris is thrusting into her ass.

“Look at how loose your useless little hole is,” Chris grunts, shoving three fingers into her messy cunt. They slide in with ease, Lydia gasping when he presses down, feeling his own cock moving in her. “Just a sagging mess,” Chris says, pulling his fingers out of her, making her whimper.

“Please,” she begs. “I need...please…”

“Peter, give our sloppy little princess what she needs,” Chris says. His thrusts are getting shorter, his breath harsh.

Peter reaches between her thighs, rubbing against her hard little clit. She nearly sobs, so grateful to finally have one of them touching her where she needs it the most. With Peter’s skilled fingers, Chris’ thick cock working within her, it’s almost no time until she’s coming with a gasp, clenching down around Chris as she shakes through her orgasm.

Chris hisses, his grip on her tightening. He fucks into her a dozen more times before slamming into her and holding himself there, as deep as he can get, his cock flexing as he comes deep inside her. He pulls out slowly, eyes between her thighs, where her swollen cunt and rim are leaking his and Peter’s come.

“You get a half hour of rest,” Chris says, idly pressing some of their come back into her, making her mewl. “Then Peter’ll be ready to go again.”

Chapter Text

“Lydia wants you,” Allison says, words trailing off into a soft moan. Chris hums, crooking the two fingers he has in his daughter’s wet cunt, nudging her g-spot.

“She wants you, too,” he says, nose grazing her temple. She’s leaning back against his body, one of his arms wrapped around her torso, hand on her breast, the other snaking down between her spread thighs. She gasps when his thumb presses against the side of her hard little clit. “She’s aching to get her mouth on your pretty little cunt.”

Allison whimpers, body tensing already. He knows just how to play her, what makes her wet and needy, and it’s only a few more moments before she’s coming around his fingers, whimpering. He waits until she can stand on her own before pulling away, tugging her dress back down.

“Have a good day at school. If you want to bring Lydia home with you, that’s fine,” Chris says. Allison’s grin is slow and excited.

Allison has a feeling Lydia knows. She and her dad are discreet, but sometimes in their home they touch a little too much, and she’s observant. When Allison catches her watching them, it’s not with disgust like she’d expect, but appreciation and if she were a werewolf, she’s sure she’d smell arousal.

So she’s not surprised when Lydia agrees to come over when school is out. She waves at her dad when they walk in, telling him they’ll be in her room. Lydia follows Allison up the stairs, talking about the spring formal coming up, when Allison kisses her roughly, hands tight on her waist. Lydia reacts instantly, like she’s been waiting for this, opening her mouth eagerly into the kiss.

Allison walks her back toward the bed, not closing the bedroom door behind her. When she pushes Lydia onto the bed, she glances at the open door and swallows hard, before focusing back on where Allison’s climbing onto the bed after her, crawling between her spread legs. Allison grins, pushing Lydia’s skirt up, exposing her pink lacy thong.

Allison runs her fingers up and down Lydia’s slit through the fabric, already a bit damp. Lydia whimpers, opening her legs wider. Allison takes the invitation, pushing Lydia’s underwear aside, licking up her slit. Lydia cries out, arching her back when Allison finds her hard little clit, tongue undulating against her.

Lydia’s lost in it, eyes closed, chest heaving as she breathing heavily, lost enough that she doesn’t hear the slight creak of the floor when Chris steps into the doorway. Allison does, grinning against Lydia’s cunt. She’s on her knees between Lydia’s spread legs, chest and elbows on the bed, her ass in the air. She arches her back, makes her short dress ride up more, and from the door Chris has a perfect view of her ass and panties.

She doesn’t let up, doesn’t give Lydia any reason to think something’s changed. When she slips two fingers into Lydia’s wet cunt, her eyes open as she gasps, then gasps again at seeing Chris standing in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe. Her thighs close a bit, but tellingly, she doesn’t try to pull away. In fact, her cunt clenches around Allison’s fingers, a trickle of wetness seeping out of her. Allison grins.

“It’s fine,” Allison says, pressing a kiss to Lydia’s inner thigh. She presses against Lydia’s g-spot right after, making her whimper. Lydia’s gaze is still on Chris, then her thighs fall open again, and Allison grins, ducking back to bury her face in her folds.

Lydia’s loud, which Allison could have guessed. She’s full of moans and gasps, little whimpers and cries when she wants more. Allison could give it to her, could easily make her come, but she likes teasing her, likes watching Lydia Martin with her composure gone, cunt throbbing from her best friend while her dad watches.

Lydia’s eyes flutter close when Allison closes her lips around her swollen clit and sucks. That’s when Chris moves deeper into the room on silent feet. Lydia doesn’t notice until the bed dips behind Allison. Her eyes fly open to see Chris on his knees behind his daughter, tugging her panties down until they’re at her knees.

Allison expects Lydia to react, but she doesn’t expect her to immediately come, wet cunt spasming around Allison’s fingers. Allison curses in awe, watching the way her sweet little pussy clenches.

“Good girl,” Chris rumbles over Allison’s shoulder, and it makes her and Lydia both shudder. “Allison has something special for you.”

Allison reaches across Lydia’s body for the drawer of her nightstand, pulling out a thick blue dildo, one model’s after Chris’ cock. Perfect to keep Allison satisfied when he’s out of town. She rubs the tip of it up and down Lydia’s slick folds, breath hitching when her dad presses up behind her, hands on her hips under her dress. The rough fabric of his jeans pressing against her makes her rock back, his cock hard against her ass.

Lydia’s soaked, her pussy wet and swollen in need, and it makes it easy to work the head of the toy into her. Lydia whines, tilting her hips up for more. Chris chuckles in Allison’s ear, pushing her down until she’s on her knees and elbows again, face close to where she’s working the dildo into her best friend.

When his fingers slip inside Allison’s wet, aching cunt, she gasps, shoving another two inches of the toy into Lydia. Lydia’s arching her back, desperate for more, but Allison likes her like this, on the edge of begging. Allison’s sure she’s not used to what she wants being held back like this, and she revels in being the one to do it.

“Be nice, princess,” Chris says, sliding a third finger into her. Allison whimpers but does what he says, sliding the toy the rest of the way into Lydia’s needy cunt, making her cry out. She grinds the base of the toy against Lydia’s clit before drawing it out, then thrusting it back in.

She fucks the dildo into Lydia at the same pace her dad moves his fingers in her, thrusting and twisting to make her feel every ridge, every curve. Lydia’s shirt and bra are pushed up high on her chest, her hands squeezing and kneading her own breasts. Allison reaches up, curious, and rolls her thumb over Lydia’s nipple, grinning when it makes her gasp. She pinches the hard bud, twisting the dildo in her at the same time, and Lydia making a high-pitched noise that Allison desperately wants to hear again.

She’s a bit lost in it, in watching Lydia fall apart, in her dad’s thick fingers moving her. She needs more, can’t come this way, from just the occasional brush to her clit. She sighs in relief when his fingers slip from her, followed by the sound of his zip lowering. She arches her back, presenting her wet cunt for him, gasping when he roughly fucks into her, hands tight on her hips.

Lydia’s eyes are on them, whimpering, hips tilting up into the thrusts of the dildo, like she doesn’t know what to pay attention to most. Chris doesn’t give Allison a chance to adjust, knows she likes it best when he’s taking her rough and hard.

It takes her a second to remember to fuck the toy harder into Lydia, to bring her mouth back to her cunt. She’s lost between them, pleasure and warmth building between her thighs where her daddy’s fucking her, her tongue moving quickly against Lydia’s hard clit, pumping the toy into her cunt. The wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, mixed with moans and gasps, hurt little sounds.

When Lydia comes it’s with a long cry, thighs closing around Allison’s head, shaking as her orgasm rushes through her. Allison doesn’t pull the toy from her, liking how she looks spread open. Then Chris reaches under Allison, hauling her up until she’s up on her knees, her back pressed against his muscled chest. She whimpers, sinking down farther on his cock. Lydia looks at them, still breathless, and reaches between her thighs, slowly fucking herself on the toy still stuffed inside her.

Chris wraps his hand around Allison’s throat, his other around her lower belly and fucks up into her, making her shriek, clutching at his forearm. It’s good, so, so good. She’s so full, his thrusts rough and sharp, and she loves being used like this. Lydia’s eyes are on her, staring at her bouncing breasts, where he’s splitting her open between her thighs, looking over her shoulder at Chris staring down at her.

“She’s been wanting this, princess,” Chris growls in Allison’s ear, his eyes on Lydia shamelessly fucking herself in front of them. “Look at how desperate she is for it. She’d do anything to get to taste you. She wants to be fucked, wants us to take her and ruin her.”

Lydia moans, hand moving quicker between her thighs. It makes something tighten deep in Allison’s body, her cunt clenching around her dad’s cock. He stubble rasps at her throat as his teeth sink into her skin, his hand dropping from her belly to her swollen clit. He doesn’t tease her, just presses against her the way she loves, the way that makes her pleasure swell in her until she’s crying out, coming with her dad’s thick cock spearing her open.

Chris lets go of her throat, letting her down onto all fours again, his hard cock slipping out of her body. She crawls up to collapse next to Lydia, her hand grasping the base of the toy in her best friend. She slowly draws it out, bringing it to her mouth, sighing at the taste of her.

“Don’t pout,” Chris says when Lydia whimpers at the loss.

He moves forward, spreading her legs wider. His cock is hard and red between his thighs, slick with Allison’s juices. Lydia’s looking up at him with naked want, mewls slipping from her lips when he brushes the head of his cock over her folds. She tilts her hips up in clear invitation, one that he takes. He slides into her making her gasp, and Allison dips a hand between her legs.

Watching him fuck Lydia is mesmerizing. She looks hazy and fucked out. Chris is still mostly dressed, his jeans halfway down his thighs, Lydia’s skirt still pushed up around her waist, her shirt and bra shoved up her chest. Allison lies on her back, her own dress shoved up, her fingers moving lazily over her clit as she watches them, her cunt warm and swollen from how hard he’d fucked her.

Chris pulls out of Lydia after she comes again, taking his cock in hand and jerking off over her trembling body, coming with a groan over her soft belly. Lydia looks dazed and debauched, breathing heavily. Chris kisses Allison harshly, hand tight in her hair to make sure she knows she still comes first (of course she knows) before standing up, tucking his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up.

“I called your mom,” he says, buckling his belt. “She’s fine with you staying over tonight.”

Allison grins.

Chapter Text

“I had no idea you’d be such a little size queen,” Chris says casually, like Stiles isn't face-down on the bed, his hole stretched wide around the thick dildo Chris has stuffed into him. "I should have, you whine for my cock enough."

Stiles moans, burying his face in the blanket. Chris is right; his cock is huge and Stiles is always excited, always desperate to be filled by it. And of course Chris noticed.

Earlier, he'd fucked Stiles roughly, using his body for his own pleasure, coming deep inside him without bothering to see to Stiles' pleasure. Before Stiles could complain though, Chris had reached into the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a thick dildo, even thicker than Chris' cock, which already is the biggest thing Stiles has ever had in him.

"You know, most people who buy a toy this big are buying it as a gag gift," Chris says, twisting the toy inside Stiles, making him keen when the silicone veins rub against his prostate. "Not many people buy it to actually use it in their greedy hole."

Stiles whimpers, unable to stop rocking back into Chris' movements, earning a rumble of a laugh. Stiles' cock is hard and red between his thighs, so aroused that it nearly hurts, but he doesn't touch himself, not yet. He's a smidgen away from coming, and he wants this to last.

Chris is moving torturously slowly, twisting and fucking the thick toy through the mess of lube and come inside him. Stiles knows what his rim has to look like by now, red and puffy, more like a swollen cunt than anything else.

"Please," Stiles whimpers, his aching cock leaking precome onto the bedspread. "Chris…"

Chris hums, twisting the dildo, then shoves two fingers in beside it. Stiles cries out, hand flying to his cock. It's too much, so good and he's so full, and a moment later he's coming, ass desperately clenching around the toy and fingers stuffed inside him.

Chris gently pulls his fingers out but leaves the toy inside, keeping Stiles open wide. His fingers trace over Stiles' swollen rim, but he's too wiped to do anything but whimper.

"Do you think your slutty hole will even be able to close when I take this out?" Chris idly asks. Stiles just groans.

Chapter Text

Stiles is grateful he has a cockring on, otherwise he'd have come probably an hour ago. Peter and Chris have been playing with his greedy little hole for over an hour, enjoying stretching him open, seeing how wide they can get him to gape. And he's loved every second.

He's straddling Peter, his thick cock nestled deep in Stiles' body. Three of Chris' fingers are stuffed inside him next to Peter's cock, Stiles' rim red and stretched around them. Chris pushes Stiles forward until he's lying on Peter's chest, his hard cock trapped between their bodies. Stiles whines, but they just shush him, Chris spreading his fingers even wider.

"Your hole is just so greedy, baby," Chris says, pumping his fingers faster, pressing them against Peter's cock, making him groan. Stiles just whimpers, pressing his face against Peter's chest. "It's stuffed full and it's still not enough, is it?"

"Please…" Stiles begs, trying desperately to clench down around the fingers and cock spreading him open.

"Okay, sweetheart," Peter murmurs, rocking his hips up, making Stiles mewl. "Chris will fill your slutty cunt, don't worry."

Stiles groans, eyes clenched shut. He thinks he should hate it when Peter says things like that, but it just makes his cock jerk between his thighs, red and angry-looking. And Peter knows it.

Chris pulls his fingers back and Stiles can't help the disappointed sound he lets out, which just makes Chris and Peter laugh.

"A thick cock inside you and you still feel empty?" Chris asks. "Such a desperate little thing."

Then the blunt tip of Chris' cock is pressing against Stiles' swollen entrance, slipping the first few inches into him. Stiles cries out at the sensation of being filled even more, grasping at Peter's arms as he bears down, letting Chris in deeper. He's not quite as thick as Peter but still, it's a lot, and when he's settled deep inside him, cock pressed against Peter's, Stiles is stretched wider than he's ever been.

"Fuck," Peter groans, hands tight on Stiles' ass, spreading his cheeks so Chris can get a good view at Stiles' obscenely stretched hole. "Don't forget to take a picture. I want to see his puffy cunt all stretched out."

Stiles whimpers, unable to even formulate words. They're right, he is such a slut for this, always needs his greedy ass filled, always ready to present his cunt for them.

"Do you think you'll even be able to close up after this?" Chris asks, pulling back slowly, until just the head of his cock is inside him, then roughly fucking back in, the breath punched out of Stiles' body. "I don't think so. You'll just be a loose, slack mess."

"Your rim's going to be so puffy and red. It's going to look like you really do have a sloppy cunt between your legs," Peter says, grunting as Chris' thrusts drag against his cock. He rocks up into Stiles' needy, aching body, his cock moving against Chris'. "You're going to be ruined for anyone but us. One cock isn't going to be enough for you, they wouldn't even be able to feel anything fucking you."

Stiles whimpers, rolling his hips into their thrusts, still needy for more despite everything. He wants it, wants to be a gaping mess for them, wants to see the evidence of how they've ruined his little hole. He wants his slutty cunt to always be loose from how much they've fucked him and kept him plugged up.

"Please," Stiles whines, rutting his cock against Peter's abs. "Need to come…"

"Okay, sweetheart, let's see you come on our cocks like a good girl," Chris says. He pauses his thrusts to tug Stiles up, back to his chest, making the boy sink even more on his cock. Stiles lets out a garbled noise of pleasure when Peter unsnaps the leather cockring, dragging the tip of his finger up the underside of his cock.

"You can come on our cocks whenever you want, but we're not going to stop fucking your sloppy cunt until we come," Peter warns, then they're fucking him again, cocks dragging against each other as they move within him.

Stiles is still on his knees, held against Chris' chest. Their cocks are making obscene wet noises as they thrust into him, his poor prostate oversensitive and nearly bruised at this point. Still, it's only a few minutes before the painful pleasure is too much and Stiles is coming with a cry, his cock spurting over Peter's stomach.

Chris hisses, fucking into Stiles even faster, enjoying the clenching of Stiles' hole as his orgasm rips through him. He grunts when he comes, cock jerking as he empties himself inside Stiles' loose hole.

He pulls back, cock slipping from his body, eyes on where his come is oozing out around Peter's cock. He tsks, fingers dragging against his rim. Stiles collapses down against Peter's chest, gasping as the sensation.

"Better clench down around him, princess. I doubt he'd be able to even feel anything fucking your slack cunt," Chris says, breath harsh.

Peter wraps an arm around Stiles and rolls them until Stiles is on his back, Peter's cock still buried deep inside him. He fucks brutally into Stiles' pliant body, the squelching noises and Stiles' weak mewls of oversensitivity only spurring him on.

"I should give you my fist," Peter grunts over the slapping sound of skin. "I could probably jack myself off in your useless hole."

Stiles gasps, cock twitching in a valiant attempt to harden again. Chris chuckles next to him, eyes on Stiles' messy, leaking hole,

"We need to find you a new plug," Chris says. "We can't lock our come up inside you if it falls right out of your gaping cunt."

Peter growls, eyes flashing as he comes inside Stiles, filling his insides with even more come. He pulls out as soon as he's done, scooping up the mess leaking out and pushing it back into Stiles, earning a whimper.

"Look at that," Peter says, pressing fingers against Stiles' abused, puffy rim. Stiles hisses, but doesn't try to get away. "I can see right inside you, princess. Your poor little hole can't even come close to closing."

"Don't worry, we won't let you tighten up again," Chris says, passing the thick plug to Peter, who shoves it right into Stiles. Stiles' heart beats faster because it goes in a lot easier than usual. That means he can get an even bigger plug.

"I know, it's much too small for you," Peter says, tapping the base of the plug that was a struggle to take only a month and a half ago. "We'll get you a fat knotted plug soon."

Stiles moans, his soft cock jerking against his thigh, making Chris and Peter grin.

Chapter Text

Allison shrieks as she comes, gushing around the four fingers Peter has shoved into her spasming cunt. He just hums, keeps his fingers moving inside her while she shakes apart. He'd warned her, told her they weren't stopping until her greedy little cunt swallowed up his entire fist.

"I can't," she whimpers, squirming on the bed. Peter puts his free hand low on her belly, pinning her to the mattress.

"We both know you can," Peter says, twisting his fingers inside her. "We both know your hungry little cunt has been aching for this."

Allison whines but doesn't try to move away, doesn't tell him to stop. Peter grins, sharp and vicious. He's been working her up to this, ever since he'd noticed how much of a desperate size queen she is. Her cunt hungrily takes whatever he gives her, always opening up easily for more.

Peter pulls back until just his fingertips are in her, adding his thumb and making his fingers into a cone. He presses slowly into her, watching intently as her cunt gives under the pressure, slowly opening until his knuckles are pressed against her.

He knows it's a lot, his hands aren't small, but he knows her little body, knows she can take this. He keeps up that gentle pressure rocking from side to side, his hand and her cunt slick with lube. It takes time, but then her loose cunt gives, letting his hand slide into her.

Allison nearly screams, back arching off the bed. Peter's been achingly hard since they started, but his cock is leaking in his jeans, almost painful in how aroused he is. Her cunt struggles to close around his wrist, so open and loose from how much he's worked her over.

Peter gives her a moment to adjust to his whole hand being inside her, then he squeezes his hand into a fist. Allison cries out and starts rolling her hips, fucking herself on his fist and fuck, he really did find such a good little slut in this one.

Peter drags his free hand down from her belly, fingers pressing against the side of her clit. She's beyond words at this point, just a bundle of arousal and need and desperation, whining and whimpering for more.

"Such a good little girl," Peter says. "Look at you, your needy little pussy swallowing me right up. Give us another few months and I'll be able to stuff both hands up your desperate, slack hole."

Allison gasps, nearly thrashing on his hands. She's so close, Peter can nearly taste it. It just takes pressing his fist against her g-spot, his fingers quick on her clit before she's coming, messy cunt spasming around his fist, her whines high and pitiful as he works her through it, the scent of her pleasure sweet on his tongue.

He means it, too. He has every intention of ruining her sweet little cunt. He'll have two hands inside her sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

Stiles and Cora are lying on their sides, facing each other in the king-size bed, both moaning, each with a thick knot lodged in their stretched cunts. Peter’s behind Cora, thick cock pumping his come into her, his hand between her thighs. She whines, pushing into the touch. She’s deep in the haze of her heat, unable to do much more than make wordless noises. Her hand is clutching Stiles’, who’s in the same state.

Derek’s behind Stiles, rocking his knot into her clenching cunt, his hand pressing against her lower belly, like he can feel himself inside her. She’s whimpering, overwhelmed but still so needy, desperate for more.

Peter had bitten her for multiple reasons, the top few being she’d make an incredible wolf, it would make her much harder to hurt, and most importantly, she wanted it. She wanted to be a werewolf, wanted to be in newly rebuilt Hale pack, consisting of just Peter, Derek, and Cora. Peter hadn’t expected her to go into heat merely a month later, didn’t expect it to trigger Cora’s as well, their bodies urging them to grow the pack.

Peter and Derek had been helpless to resist, the pheromones dragging them into a rut right along with them. It’s been nearly six hours, Cora and Stiles insatiable, desperate to be filled, to be bred full of the next Hale generation. They’ve been able to drink and eat in small amounts when the need recedes enough, thankfully, but right now isn’t one of those times.

Peter’s knot softens enough to slip out of Cora, drawing a nearly pained whine from her, like it hurts to be empty. Peter shushes her, slipping four fingers easily into her. He’s sure with just a little effort, he could get his entire fist in her used cunt.

“Just a minute, sweetheart, you big brother’s almost ready for you,” Peter says soothingly. Cora rocks against his hand, fucking her messy cunt on his fingers. She’s red and swollen between her thighs, cunt unable to close after being knotted so many times. And yet she’s still desperate for more.

“It’s okay,” Derek murmurs behind Stiles, pulling out of her slack cunt, a trail of his release following. “Your alpha’s going to take you now, princess.”

Stiles and Cora squeeze each other’s hand as Peter and Derek switch places. Peter groans as his cock, already hard again, slides into the dripping mess that’s her cunt. Her folds are hot and swollen, her cunt much looser around his cock than it’d been earlier and it makes Peter’s wolf possessively thrilled that he’s done that to her, that he and Derek have wrecked her so thoroughly.

Cora’s not much better, rocking back on her big brother’s cock as soon as it slides into her. Derek hisses, his cock a bit raw from how long they’ve been at this, but the need inside him drives him forward anyway, desperation and pleasure overriding everything else.

Cora and Stiles are tiring, not able to do much more than rock back against the thick cocks fucking into their sloppy, used cunts. When Peter’s knot swells again, Stiles’ loose cunt not nearly as snug around him as earlier, she just makes a high, pathetic mewling noise, hand clinging to his forearm around her waist. He makes soothing noises in her ear, telling her she’s taken them so well, that she can sleep if she needs it. His big hand rests on her lower belly, slightly rounded from how much come they’ve pumped into her. His wolf rumbles deeply, imagining her round with his pups.

Derek’s teeth are at Cora’s throat, his knot full and plugging her up. Her little belly’s distended too, poor thing so very full of what her uncle and brother have been doing to her small, slim body. She tilts her head, letting Derek bite marks that will fade in minutes. She’s begging under her breath, begging for his pups, for him to fill her up more. She comes on his knot, shaking in his arms when he comes inside her, grinding his knot against her abused g-spot.

Cora and Stiles both finally, blessedly fall asleep, exhausted from all they’ve been through today. Peter and Derek are awake, though, rubbing hands over their spent bodies, reveling in how their scents are all mixed, how they both reek of Derek and Peter both.

Peter’s knot starts shrinking, and well, he just can’t have that. He rocks gently into Stiles’ pliant body, not wanting to wake her when she needs the rest. Her body responds, needy cunt trying desperately to clench around him, to milk his knot back to hardness. She whines in her sleep as his knot expands fully, Peter coming inside her once again.

Cora's asleep in Derek’s arms when Derek notices what Peter’s doing. He groans and reaches between Cora’s legs, gentle fingers circling her clit as he rocks in her, trying to do the same as Peter, trying to get one more load into her, let his knot keep her stuffed full while they sleep. Cora’s letting out sweet little whimpers, cunt fluttering around his thickening knot as a weak orgasm ripples through her unconscious body, her heat helping her take what she needs. Derek groans just a moment later, pulled over the edge by her sweet pussy’s weak spasms. He falls asleep with his hand on her lower belly, willing it to take, to have her stuffed full of him for months to come.

Chapter Text

Peter likes seeing her in pretty things. As much as she teases him for this kink of his, she doesn't actually mind. She likes him putting her in high-end lingerie, likes him watching her hungrily when she pulls on an expensive dress over it

Peter's eyes have been on her the entire time they've been out. They're touring a penthouse apartment in New York, the agent showing them around trying to capture his attention and failing spectacularly.

Clawfoot tub? A glance. Giant windows? A nod. Herringbone hardwood floors? A grunt and mumble of approval, all his attention on Lydia. Lydia tries not to smirk at the woman's obvious irritation with having nearly no reaction to what is probably her usual selling points.

"Would you mind giving us a moment to walk through in private?" Lydia asks, making it clear that it's not a request. The agent is only too happy to leave them.

Peter's on her as soon as the door is closed behind the agent, pressing her back against the floor to ceiling windows.

"Show me," he growls, hands tight on her waist.

She does as he says, turning in his grip for him to unzip the back of her dress. "Do not rip the zipper," she hisses. She knows he won't, not after the hell she gave him last time, but he's so worked up already and she doesn't want to risk having to walk out of here with the back of her dress open all the way down her back.

Peter doesn't say anything, but his hands are gentle on her, one on the fabric of the dress, the other delicately pulling down the gold zipper. His warm fingers follow down her spine as the skin is revealed, making her shiver. He pushes the fabric off her shoulders, kissing each, and letting the dress fall to the ground.

The way the light hits the windows is making them perfectly reflective, giving him a clear view of her standing in her stiletto heels, lacy panties and matching bra with straps criss crossing over her torso. He presses himself against her back, hard cock in his jeans pressed against her ass, his big hand snaking around and splaying possessively across her belly.

"Look at you," Peter growls in her ear. She hums, leaning back against his solid body, staring at their reflections. They do look good together, she knows that intellectually, but seeing them like this is...a lot.

"You have maybe five minutes until she's back," Lydia says, widening her stance. "Are you just going to look?"

Peter growls, hand on her belly moving lower, fingers dipping into her panties, finding her soft curls already wet. She sighs as his fingertips brush her clit, hard and swollen for him. His other hand finds her breast, twisting and pinching her hard little nipple through the lace.

Lydia gasps when two fingers sink into her aching cunt, his thumb pressing against her clit. Neither of them care that anyone in another building could see what they're doing, Lydia because she's not ashamed at all, and Peter because he's nothing if not an exhibitionist, always happy to show off what he has.

All Lydia cares about is his talented fingers between her legs and on her breast, and she knows as Peter ruts against her ass that he's hoping there's enough time for him to fuck her against the window. But then Peter's cursing, his fingers moving more quickly within her.

"Better come soon, princess," he growls in her ear. "We have less than a minute."

Lydia moans at the change in speed, at his fingers pressing against her g-spot. He knows exactly how to play her body and it takes only a few more seconds before she's coming in his arms, his grip on her the only thing that keeps her vertical.

Peter withdraws his fingers reluctantly, sucking them into his mouth as she rolls her eyes, pulling her dress back on. Peter zips her back up, pressing a kiss to the side of her throat a mere five seconds before the agent is walking back in.

Peter turns to her, the first real eye contact he's made with her and that seems to startle her.

"We'll take it," he says. "I'll have my agent call you tomorrow."

He takes Lydia's hand, sweeping from the apartment. Lydia grins, thinking of how hard he's going to fuck her when they get back to the hotel.

Chapter Text

Lydia hisses, hands jerking in her cuffs as the hot wax drips onto her nipple, sending confusing signals of pain and pleasure through her. She’s tied to Chris Argent’s bed, completely naked, with him standing over her. He has a safety candle in his hands, illuminating his face, intense and focused. There are little purple spots of wax decorating the creamy skin of her torso, her chest rising and falling quickly with her breaths. The majority of the wax is on her breasts, because he just can’t resist marking them up.

Chris tilts the candle, cock jerking in his jeans at the whine she lets out when the wax hits her other nipple. She’s wet and messy between her legs, her juices mixed with wax on her inner thighs, and as much as he’s aching to bury his face in her needy cunt, he likes teasing her first.

“Please, daddy…”

Chris groans, blowing out the candle and setting it in the dish next to the bed before shoving her thighs open, licking at her soaked folds. Well, he never said his self-control is perfect.

Chapter Text

Derek watches from his chair, hard cock pressing against the front of his jeans. Allison is naked, kneeling on the ground, the thick collar around her neck attached to the leash in his hands. She’s riding a thick dildo, the toy stuck to the ground by the suction cup on its base. She’s whining, desperate, trying to prove to him that she deserves his cock, that she deserves to be fucked instead of trying to fuck herself on a length of silicone.

“Please…” she whimpers, slick cunt squelching as she rides the toy.

“The hunter princess begging for a werewolf cock,” Derek says, squeezing himself through his jeans. “If only your daddy could see you now.”

Allison whines, but doesn’t stop, legs shaking as she raises and lowers herself on the dildo. Her nipples are red and puffy from his mouth and stubble, her lithe body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She smells desperate and needy, and that’s exactly what Derek wants.

He tugs on the leash in his hands and Allison falls forward, the dildo slipping from her soaked cunt. She makes a wordless moan of distress, and Derek loves it, loves having the hunter on a leash like the dog she thought he was. He yanks her to him and she goes willingly, coming to rest on her knees between his thighs.

Derek keeps his eyes on her as he reaches between his thighs, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hard, thick cock. She bites her lip, nearly trembling with need. He strokes himself slowly, inhaling the scent of her arousal, watching her tremble, before finally grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her up. She scrambles up into his lap where he pulls her, messy cunt hovering over his hard cock.

“Better make it worth it, princess, otherwise the toy is all you’ll get for a month,” Derek says.

Allison sinks down onto his cock when he releases her hair, soaked cunt tight around him. He hisses, hand dropping to the back of her neck and holding her tightly. She takes his words to heart, riding him as best she can, but her body’s tired, legs exhausted from how long she’d been riding the dildo. She clenches around him, rocking in his lap, pressing her tits against his chest as she fucks herself on his cock.

He’s sure the bite of the denim and the zipper against her thighs and ass isn’t pleasant, but he doesn’t care. She’s here to be reminded of her place, of what she’s good for, of how easily the pack could function without her. She’s not here for comfort. She rides him anyway, shaking with desperation.

Derek’s cock is aching, the need to fill her up, to mark her as property of the alpha is overwhelming. He grabs her waist and fucks up into her, making her shriek. He’s only partially surprised when she comes, needy little cunt spasming around him as he fucks her through it, not giving her a moment for her pleasure. She’s a whimpering little thing, messy and overstimulated when he finally comes inside her, filling her up.

He knows that she hates how much she loves this, how much she aches to be treated like this. He doesn’t care.

Chapter Text

Lydia’s lost track of how long she’s been like this, bent over on the padded spanking bench. Her wrists and ankles are bound tightly to the bench, keeping her in place while the thick, curved dildo attached to the fucking machine pistons in and out of her. She’s already come twice, her cunt hot and swollen between her legs. She’d known she was pushing things, that Chris wasn’t in the mood for her brattiness, but she genuinely hadn’t thought he’d hook her up to the machine and leave her here.

She knows he’s still in the house, and she knows he has cameras in here so he can monitor her, but still! She’s in the playroom alone, thick toy making a mess of her cunt, and it’s been, god, at least a half-hour? Probably more judging by how sore she’s getting. She doesn’t have leverage to even rock back into the thrusts from how she’s tied, all she can do is take the relentless thrusting into her.

There’s a creak and she turns her head to see Chris standing in the doorway. She knows she wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t wanted her to, that he’s looking for a reaction, but she still can’t hold back her whine, can’t stop herself from whimpering his name. Chris smirks at her, looking very pleased with himself, and walks into the room. He disappears behind her, out of her line of sight, and she knows it’s coming, but still jolts when Chris’ hand smacks her ass.

Lydia whines, cunt clenching around the toy moving in her, making her shudder. Chris runs his hand over her ass, then the fucking machine is slowing to a stop, the dildo half buried in her. His fingers probe between her thighs, touching her where she’s hot and swollen, her soaked cunt aching. Chris runs light fingers around her puffy labia, ghosting over her hard and aching clit. She jolts at the touch, tries to push against him for more, but he doesn’t give her what she needs, instead pressing a finger into her cunt alongside the didlo.

Lydia shrieks, clenching down around him in surprise. She’s so oversensitive, so sore, and so, so aroused. She needs more, he knows she needs more than just this, but he doesn’t give it to her. He feels around inside her, running his finger around her opening, testing to make sure she’s not hurt, even though she hasn’t used her safeword.

With a hum, Chris pulls his finger and the toy out of her, only to place the bottle of lube at her opening and squeeze more directly into her fucked out cunt. Lydia jerks at the coldness inside her and her heart races because she knows that means he’s not done. A moment later, the thick dildo is sliding back into her with an obscene squelching noise, the curve bumping right against her g-spot. The machine restarts a moment later at a slow, deep pace. Lydia nearly sobs, letting her head hang down. He trails fingers over her skin as he circles her, over her hip, up her side, stopping to pinch her aching nipple, then up to take her chin in his hand as he crouches down in front of her.

“You wanted this, princess, to never be empty,” Chris says, thumb brushing over her lower lip, swollen from how hard she’d been biting it. “Can’t let that pretty cunt get too tight.”

He stands smoothly, putting her at eye-level with the outline of his hard cock in his pants, and she knows what’s coming. He unzips his pants, pulling out his fat cock and brushing the tip against her lips. Lydia opens up obediently, relaxing her throat as best she can while he thrusts into her. He’s not working her up this time, this isn’t a languid blowjob. No, he’s going to fuck her face while the silicone toy fucks her.

Chris leans over her, smacking her ass before hitting a button on the machine, speeding it up until it’s pounding into her cunt, forcing her mouth deeper on his cock. She only gags at first, too used to having his cock in her mouth for it to truly be a challenge, before hollowing her cheeks, sucking and licking at him as best she can while he fucks her throat.

It’s all too much, her poor abused cunt being fucked harder, her g-spot being stimulated on each thrust, Chris fucking her mouth, her whole body trembling with sensation and overwhelming need. Chris had told her she can come as long as it’s front being fucked, that he wasn’t going to help her along, and the heat building in her belly, her hard clit bumping the bench as she’s fucked, she knows she’s about to come again.

She whines around his cock, body tensing, and Chris chuckles, hand tightening in her hair. “Your slutty cunt is gonna come just from being fucked? What a good little whore,” Chris says, his thrusts coming faster, balls slapping against her chin. His breath is ragged, his voice rough as he says, “Be a good girl and swallow.”

Chris comes down her throat only a moment later, right when it’s all too much as she’s coming too, cunt weakly spasming around the silicone fucking roughly into her. She moans around his cock, struggling to swallow his come as the ripples of her orgasm wash over her, the pleasure almost painful at this point.

Chris pulls back, cock slipping from her mouth and she gasps in a deep breath, shuddering. She closes her eyes and lets her head hang down again, too tired to hold it up. He hums and a second later the fucking machine is slowing, but not stopping, leisurely fucking her slack cunt.

“I’ll give you another fifteen minutes, see how your sluttly little cunt’s doing,” Chris says, walking out. Lydia just whimpers.

Chapter Text

Peter genuinely hadn’t thought Stiles would say yes, but his scent had bloomed with arousal, face flushing. He’s continually surprised by this one. Here he is, reclining on Peter’s bed, the small metal sound nestled inside his slit, jeweled base sitting against the tip of his cock. Stiles had whined pathetically when Peter had nudged the tip into him, letting gravity pull it the rest of the way down, writhing at the burning stretch. He hadn’t safeworded though, and his erection had only gotten harder.

It’s a basic sound, just a very thin rod of titanium, but he has plans for the future. If Stiles is this squirmy with this, face and chest flushed, reeking of arousal from just the basic sound, what will he do when he takes the thicker one Peter has? What about the longer one with with series of bumps? Peter’s cock is aching in his jeans, but for once he isn’t concerned about it. He wants to see how Stiles will react next.

Peter gently takes the end of the sound in his fingers, slowly pulling it out an inch or so, before letting it sink back inside Stiles’ hard cock. Stiles moans, cock jerking between his thighs and Peter grins. Personally, he loves it like this, it nearly feels like being jacked off from the inside, but he’s been told his tastes are a little depraved. So to find that Stiles likes it too…

Peter does it again, pulling the sound out a little farther before letting it settle back in. Stiles whimpers, hands twitching like he’s aching to take his cock in hand, but he’d promised Peter he’d keep them at his side without the cuffs.

“Your pretty little cock looks lovely like this,” Peter says, tracing light fingers from the base up to the tip, grinning at Stiles’ whimper. He pulls the sound out an inch again before letting it sink back inside. “You’re going to look so nice with a thicker sound. I wonder how far we can stretch your slutty little piss hole.”

Stiles moans, cock jerking harder in Peter’s gasp. “Peter, I’m gonna…”

“Already?” Peter says in mock surprise. He tsks. “You really are so easy for this, aren’t you?”

Peter pulls the sound until it’s nearly all the way out and presses against that spot right behind Stiles’ balls, stimulating the prostate from the outside. Stiles gasps violenting as he comes, the force of his ejaculation pushing the sound the rest of the way out of his cock, landing on his belly in a mess of white.

Peter coos, his fingers still playing with him until Stiles bats at his hands, too sensitive for more.

“Oh my god, you freak,” Stiles says, but it sounds pleased even with his roughened voice.

“You loved it,” Peter says, dragging his fingers through the come on Stiles’ belly.


Chapter Text

Cora hisses out a breath, grinding down on Lydia’s face. After weeks of teasing, she’d finally demanded that Lydia put her money where her mouth is, so to speak. And here they are, Cora straddling Lydia’s face, cunt throbbing.

Cora hadn’t expected Lydia to be bad exactly, but she always seemed like the type who liked to receive in bed and wasn’t super interested in going down on her partner. She’s thrilled to be proved wrong. Lydia’s eager and enthusiastic, spearing her tongue up into Cora, nudging her clit with her nose, intent to tease and draw it out. Cora lets her, likes the slow build of pleasure.

Lydia doesn’t stay in one place for too long, nibbling at her labia before rolling her tongue over her clit, then going back to her opening. Cora’s grinding down against Lydia’s mouth, playing with her own hard little nipples. She’s close, Lydia’s talented mouth teasing her closer and closer to the edge, but she needs a bit more to get there.

Lydia can tell, taking back one of the hands wrapped around Cora’s thighs. A second later she’s pulling back just enough to slip two fingers into her, making Cora gasp, before her lips are closing around her clit, sucking gently.

Cora throws her head back as she moans, fingers pinching and twisting at her nipples as she rides Lydia’s face, her orgasm so close she can taste it. Lydia sucks harder, pressing her fingers in deeper, and that’s it. Cora comes with a groan, cunt fluttering around Lydia’s fingers, juices smearing over Lydia’s face as she grinds against her.

Cora collapses to her side, inner muscles fluttering still with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She looks over at Lydia, the lower half of her face wet from Cora, and yeah, she needs to taste her like right now.

Chapter Text

One of Lydia’s normal stress relief techniques is sex. It’s fun and she’s good at it. Thing is, she only trusts the pack at this point because honestly, anyone could turn out to be the next big bad. That’s why she’s here in the loft, Derek fucking her from behind, Boyd fucking her throat. She moans around his thick cock, making him hiss and tighten his hand in her hair. She’s been needing this for weeks and they’re happy to oblige.

Derek groans behind her, hands tight on her hips as his cock jerks inside her. He pulls back, moving to the other end of the bed, but he’s just the first to use her cunt. As soon as he’s gone, Peter’s behind her, thrusting into her. Lydia whines around Boyd’s cock, Peter’s thicker than Derek, but she doesn’t stop, sucking at licking as he fucks her throat.

Peter’s rougher than Derek, but she likes that, and he can tell. She’s seen how he fucks the others, knows he tailors what he does to each person, and he fucks her just as hard as she craves. His hand snakes between her thighs, fingers pressing against the side of her swollen clit. She moans around Boyd’s cock, then he’s fucking faster into her mouth, hand tight in her hair as he comes down her throat.

As soon as he pulls away, Stiles is there. She’s glad they’re friends, glad there’s no feelings there to make this weird. She swallows him down, making him hiss her name. She’s whimpering around his cock, Peter’s skilled fingers between her thighs, and fuck, she’s needed this. She’s going to come, can feel it rushing through her, then the pleasure is cresting, rolling over her in waves. She shakes, pulling off Stiles’ cock as she rides out her orgasm.

“Fuck me,” she says to Stiles as soon as Peter’s pulled out of her. Stiles nods, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before shifting around. Lydia reaches out to Cora, who’s leaning against the headboard, her hand moving leisurely between her thighs. She grins, sliding down on the bed until Lydia right between her legs.

Lydia licks up Cora wet folds, earning her a satisfied sigh, right as Stiles thrusts into her. Stiles fucks her hard and fast, like he knows the need is still running her, even though she’s just come. His thrusts push her against Cora’s cunt and she loves it, loves how it’s forcing little noises out of her, loves how Cora whimpers when Lydia touches her just right.

She has two fingers in Cora’s tight cunt, pressing her tongue rhythmically against the side of her clit, when she feels that pressure building inside her. Stiles fucks her harder, fingers moving against her clit. She moans against Cora, moving her tongue and fingers faster, wanting her to come before she does. She grins victoriously when Cora comes with a shout, grinding against Lydia’s mouth before pulling away, too close to oversensitivity.

Stiles’ thrusts get faster and harder, like he’s close himself. She’s whining high in her throat, body tightening up and trembling.

“That’s it,” Derek murmurs, sitting next to her. He has one hand running up and down her back, the other reaching under her to play with her breast. She whimpers, cunt clenching down when he pinches her nipple. “Let yourself go. We’ve got you.”

Lydia gasps as she comes, cunt pulsing around Stiles’ cock. She collapses forward onto her elbows, biting her lip as the pleasure ripples through her tired body. She vaguely feels Stiles come, but she’s too exhausted to do more than just whine at the sensation.

Then there are multiple pairs of hands on her, moving her pliant body until she’s lying in the middle of the big bed. Someone is cleaning between her legs with a warm, damp washcloth, then a blanket is tugged over her. She recognizes the body settling to her left as Derek, Boyd on her right. She snuggles into their arms and sighs, letting her stress finally melt away.

Chapter Text

Peter’s had a few humans over the years, but they’re just so fragile and need so much special handling that it really is more work than it’s worth. But then Peter had been at the auction with Talia and had seen Human 09875 and turned to Talia, saying, “I want him.”

It had been a bit of a bidding war between him and Deucalion (the pompous ass), but he ends up with the slave’s leash in his hand, ignoring the smell of fear on him. His paperwork says his name is ‘Stiles’, which is ridiculous, but Peter doesn’t plan on using it anyway.

Peter only waits until Talia and he are in the back of the limo taking them home to shove the boy to his knees between Peter’s thighs. He has a ring gag keeping his mouth wide open and Peter’s going to use that. He unzips his jeans, pulling out his hard cock. He grins at how the boy’s eyes go wide.

“You’re going to suck me, pet, and you’re going to do a good job at it,” Peter says, letting his eyes flash and fangs drop, letting the boy draw his own conclusions as to what Peter would do if he wasn’t satisfied.

Peter taps his hard cock against the boy’s face, smearing his precome over his cheek, before feeding it through the ring of the gag. The tentative touch of the boy’s tongue isn’t nearly enough. Peter grabs him by the back of the head, forcing him down his cock until his nose is pressed against Peter’s pelvis.

Peter waits a few seconds, listening to the boy’s desperate struggle to breathe and not gag, before saying, “You need to work harder than that.”

When he pulls back, letting him get a gulp of air, then thrusts into his mouth again and this time he’s more enthusiastic, licking and sucking as best he can with the gag in his mouth. It’s not perfect, but Peter can tell he’s a natural and will get better. He’ll have him trained soon enough, but now he’s too new to remove the gag, too likely to do something foolish like try to bite.

“Good boy, you’re learning,” Peter says. Talia shifts next to him, her hand dropping between her thighs as she watches her brother fuck the mouth of his newest pet.

Stiles presses his tongue against the underside of Peter's cock as he fucks his throat, whining around him. Good, Peter likes them noisy. It’s only a few more minutes until he’s coming down the boy’s throat, growling at him to swallow it all. Talia comes next to him with a breathy sigh, pulling her hand out from under her dress.

Peter looks down at the tear-stained face of the boy between his knees, lips curling into a smile.

Chapter Text

Chris hates that he’s here again, but there’s a draw to Peter that he can’t deny. He’s better than this, knows Gerard would shoot him like a dog if he found him fucking a werewolf, especially a Hale. But after just two weeks of telling himself and Peter that this is done, he’s back at his apartment, knocking on his door. He knows Peter knows he’s there, is just taking his sweet time because he likes to make Chris wait.

When he pulls the door open, he’s wearing a dark v-neck and jeans, his bare feet crossed at the ankle as he leans against the doorframe, looking entirely too smug. Chris can’t decide if he wants to punch the smirk off his face or kiss it.

“Christopher,” Peter drawls, grin growing at how Chris’ eye twitches. “I thought you were done with me?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?” Chris says.

Peter pretends to consider it before stepping aside, letting Chris walk in. Chris follows Peter down the hall to his bedroom, glancing around the familiar apartment. It’s less extravagant than what Chris tends to think of as Peter’s style, but he also thinks he’d just wanted to get some space more than he was worried about elegance.

Chris pushes Peter down to the bed as soon as they’re in the bedroom, and Peter lets him, that smirk on his face. Chris knows he could resist easily, but he doesn’t. He lets Chris manhandle him, and that’s both extremely hot and extremely irksome.

They strip quickly, because slow and sensual isn’t how they do this. They do hard biting kisses, touches that are just a little too harsh, bites that are a little too sharp.

Chris takes the lube Peter tosses him, pushing Peter down until he’s on his hands and knees in front of him. Chris isn’t gentle prepping Peter, slicking up two fingers and shoving them inside him. Peter sighs, cock hardening between his thighs, because he likes it like this, likes the rough and the too much.

Chris pulls his fingers back when Peter starts rocking into the movements, meaning he’s ready to be fucked. Chris rolls on the condom, because the last thing he needs is other wolves smelling his come inside him, then thrusts into Peter with one smooth motion. Peter gasps, tightening around Chris for a moment before he relaxes.

“What would your angry little hunter bride think of this?” Peter taunts, rocking back onto his cock, and Chris has to grit his teeth to keep from snapping back. Peter knows he and Victoria aren’t a love match, knows that Chris wouldn’t marry her if it were an option, yet he pushes anyway. He supposes that’s what they do. Push too much and too far.

Chris pulls back and snaps his hips forward, hands bruisingly tight on Peter’s hips. He fucks him roughly, hating himself and hating Peter and hating how good it always feels to be buried in him. He’s fucked other men and it’s never like this, never as good and never as incensing.

Peter hisses, dropping to his elbows, presenting himself to Chris and god, he has to close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from saying something stupid. Peter’s pushing back into the thrusts, letting out low groans and whimpers. Chris can’t keep back his own grunts, the way he sounds like the breath is punched from his body each time Peter clenches around him.

“Fuck, Chris,” Peter moans, dropping a hand between his legs, hand working on his dripping cock.

Chris clenches his jaw and fucks him harder. It would be easy for his mouth to run away from him, for him to tell Peter how good he feels, how he’s been aching for this, how he’s everything Chris is supposed to hate but he still thinks of Peter’s mouth on his cock when he’s with his fiancée. So he says nothing, bites his tongue until he tastes blood and fucks Peter harder.

It’s rough and animalistic, much rougher than he can be with Victoria, and then Peter’s clenching around him, cock spurting onto the sheets below them. Chris swears as he comes, cock jerking in Peter’s spasming hole as he comes. He breathes harshly, the room reeking of sex, silent except for their ragged breathing. Then Chris is pulling out, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash next to Peter’s nightstand.

Peter rolls onto his back, showing off his powerful body, one hand resting beneath his head as he gazes up at Chris. “You don’t have to leave in such a rush this time,” Peter says. “I’m sure the hunter bigot circle jerk doesn’t start for at least another hour.”

Chris glares and starts getting dressed. Peter’s just watching him with an amused, sated look, like he knows how conflicted and stormy Chris’ thoughts are.

“What would your alpha say if she knew you fucked a hunter?” Chris spits back, tugging his shirt over his head.

Peter just shrugs. “Probably threaten me. Definitely threaten you,” Peter says. “If that’s your way of threatening to tell her, I can guarantee you’d be in more danger than I would.”

“I wouldn’t - “ Chris says, then abruptly cuts himself off. Peter just smirks.

“You know the way out,” Peter says, standing and stretching his nude body without an ounce of self-consciousness. “Do call ahead next time. I might already have someone in my bed.”

Chris thinks about Peter’s mocking smile the entire drive home.

Chapter Text

Stiles moans as he’s hauled up to his knees, sinking lower on Peter’s cock buried deep in his ass. The stretch is easy at this point; he’s already taken Derek’s father, Joseph, his brother and two cousins, as well as a strap-on from Talia while Cora rode his face. The only reason he hadn’t been fucked by Laura is she still has a few weeks before NYU gets out for the summer.

He hadn’t really realized what Derek meant when he said being mated to him would be like being mated to the whole family. He’d known most of them live together, but he hadn’t realized that the night after he’d received the mating bite, he’d be taken by the whole Hale family.

Derek had fucked him first, opening him up torturously slowly, wanting him as stretched as possible, leaving a load of come inside him. He’d been surrounded by Hales, getting fucked by each of them, sometimes more than once, until he’s a trembling mess, his hole puffy and loose.

“Derek picked well with you,” Peter hisses in his ear, fucking up into his ass, cum seeping out around his thick cock. “It’s like you were made for this. We could keep you like this, fucked out and full of our come and you’d be grateful, wouldn’t you?”

Stiles whines as Peter presses against his belly, rounded from the sheer volume of come they’ve left in him, then Derek is on his knees in front of him, tip of his hard cock pressing against his hole, where Peter’s already stretching him wide.

Derek doesn’t ask him if he’s sure or if he can take it, he knows the answer to both. He leans in, kissing him roughly, and slowly presses forward, cock moving against his uncle’s. Stiles whimpers as the tip gets past his rim with a pop, Peter hissing and tightening his hands on his hips at the press of Derek’s cock against his.

Stiles mewls, head falling forward to rest on Derek’s chest as he presses in farther, cock gliding in against Peter’s. He feels so full, so stretched open and god, he can’t wait to see how slack and puffy and messy his hole is when they’re done.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Derek says when he bottoms out, Stiles stretched obscenely wide around them. “We’ll never let you be empty again.”

Peter pulls back then thrusts back into him, making Stiles shriek, his hard cock jerking between them. Derek grins, setting his teeth against the bite mark on Stiles’ throat, and fucking into him, finding a rhythm that matches Peter’s, groaning at the drag of his cock over his.

Stiles is trembling between them, his poor prostate almost bruised at this point from all the abuse it’s taken, his leaking cock rubbing between him and Derek on each thrust. It’s too much, too overwhelming from all he’s taken. It’s a few more thrusts in his squelching hole before Stiles is coming across his and Derek’s stomachs, whimpering as he shakes apart between them.

They don’t stop, don’t give him any relief, just keep fucking his pliant, oversensitive body until they’re coming inside him, adding to mess coating his insides. Peter pulls out first, fingers playing with his slack rim before backing away, letting Derek withdraw and lie down with Stiles. He’s exhausted, weak-limbed and tired, and lets Derek arrange him how he wants, two fingers playing with his puffy, aching rim.

“We’ll be sure to do this again,” Derek promises, feeding some of the come that’s seeped out back into Stiles’ gaping hole. “You’re part of the family now.”