#lizard x reader

The wooden barn doors groan shut behind you, and the lock bolts slam home with a sound that punches through your ribs.

Your wrists are still raw from the ropes they cut off in the cart. You'd screamed yourself hoarse during the ride up the mountain, but the driver—some scaled thing with too many knuckles—had simply reached back and pressed one cold finger to your lips.

Now you're standing in sawdust and straw, naked before you even knew they'd stripped you. Your dress is gone. Your underwea are torn in some corner. All that remains is your skin, prickling in the cold air, and the three shapes that circle you like wolves deciding where to bite first.

"This one's got fight," rumbles the first voice.

The minotaur steps into the lantern light.

His horns curve back from a broad, flat face, nostrils flaring as he breathes you in. Black fur covers his arms, his massive shoulders, the thick column of his neck. He's wearing nothing. His cock hangs half-hidden in a sheath of furred skin, but you see the weight of it.

"Fight's good," says another voice.

The werewolf appears.

His fur is silver-grey, matted across his chest and down his spine. He's leaner than the minotaur but no less dangerous. His snout twitches, nose working, and his eyes are the color of amber. He doesn't bother hiding what's between his legs. The red tip of his cock has already slipped free of its sheath, glistening.

"Mouthy, though," observes the third. "Heard her all the way up the switchbacks. Screaming."

The horse hybrid steps closer.

He has no fur. Just smooth, dark hide stretched over a frame that seems built for endurance. Broad hands. Wide shoulders. And when he turns fully toward you, you see the length of him—not fully erect yet, but the half-hard shaft hangs near his knee. Veins trace blue rivers beneath the skin.

You back up. Your spine hits cold wood. A stall divider.

"No—" The word tears out of you before you can stop it. "Please, I don't—I can't—"

"Shhhh."

The werewolf is in front of you before your next breath. His hand cups your jaw, claws retracted, but the pads of his fingers press hard enough to hurt. "You can. That's the beautiful part, little meat. Your body knows exactly what to do. It's just your mouth that hasn't learned yet."

You try to turn your head. He holds you still.

"Let me hear her," the minotaur says, stepping closer. His shadow swallows you. "Want to know what kind of sounds she makes."

"I told you. Mouthy."

The werewolf's thumb presses against your lower lip. You clamp your mouth shut, jaw grinding. He chuckles and then his fingers find the corners of your mouth and pull.

"Open."

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Variks Farm doesn't buy closed mouths," the horse hybrid says from somewhere behind you. You feel his heat at your back. His hand lands on your hip, palm calloused, fingers spreading wide to measure the span of your waist. "Variks buys service holes. So you'll open, or we'll open you, and one of those takes a lot longer."

The werewolf's other hand comes up. Two fingers push past your lips before you can bite down. They scrape your tongue. They press toward the back of your throat.

"Ghkk—"

"That's it. That's the sound."

He fucks your mouth with his fingers, pushing in until your eyes water, pulling out to let you gasp, then shoving deeper. Your hands come up to claw at his wrist, but the minotaur catches both your wrists in one massive fist and pins them above your head.

"Let her fight," the minotaur says. "Adds flavor."

The horse hybrid's hands are on your breasts now. No warning. Just palms cupping the weight of you, thumbs finding your nipples already tightened to hard peaks from fear and cold. He circles them, presses down, pinches.

You scream into the werewolf's fingers.

"Good," the horse hybrid breathes against your ear. "Good tits. Look at these, Dorn."

The minotaur—Dorn—leans down. His free hand comes up, and he doesn't just look. He touches. He palms your breast, lifts it, squeezes until you feel the pressure deep in the tissue. His thumb rasps over your areola, then he bends his head and licks.

The wet heat of his tongue shocks a moan out of you. Your hips jerk. The horse hybrid's cock—when did it get hard?—presses against the small of your back, hot, heavy and so long you can feel it riding up between your shoulder blades.

"Pretty nipples," Dorn observes, pulling back. He licks his lips. "Small areolas. Sensitive, look—" He flicks one with his thumb and your whole body twitches. "She's going to be a faucet when we really get going."

"Check the rest of her."

The werewolf's fingers withdraw from your mouth with a wet schlick. You cough, drool stringing from your lower lip to his knuckles, and he wipes it on your cheek. "Turn her around. Want to see the back."

The hands on you rearrange you like livestock.

The horse hybrid grips your hips and spins you, forcing you on your knees. And then the werewolf is behind you, one hand spreading your ass cheeks apart, the other sliding between your thighs from the front.

"No—don't—"

"Shut her up," Dorn says mildly.

The horse hybrid steps in front of you. His cock bobs at eye level—thick, dark, the head already weeping clear fluid. He grips your hair at the crown and tilts your face up. "Open that pretty throat."

You keep your jaw locked. He sighs.

Then he pinches your nose.

You hold out for seven seconds. Maybe eight. Then your lungs force your mouth open and he shoves inside, deep, his cock sliding over your tongue and hitting the back of your throat before you can even process the taste of salt and musk.

"HURK—"

"There she is."

He doesn't move at first. Just lets you choke. Your throat convulses around his shaft, trying to push him out, but that only makes him groan and press deeper. Spit floods your mouth, spills down your chin, drips onto your chest.

"Look at that," the werewolf says behind you. His fingers are at your pussy—you feel them parting your folds, exposing you. "She's already wet. Look. Look."

He spreads you open. You hear the wet sound of it, the schlick of your own arousal betraying you. Dorn leans around to see, and his grunt of approval vibrates through the stall.

"Tight little cunt," the werewolf continues. His fingertip circles your entrance, teasing the wetness gathering there. "But she'll stretch. They always do. And look at this—"

He pulls his hand back. You feel the blunt press of his thumb at your asshole instead.

"MMMMPH—"

"No, no, keep choking," the horse hybrid says pleasantly. He pulls his cock back until just the head rests on your tongue, then shoves forward again.

"Ghhhk!"

"That's perfect. Do that again."

His fingers tighten in your hair. He sets a rhythm; long, lazy thrusts that bury him in your throat each time, your lips stretched around the base of his shaft, your nose pressed to his lower belly. Every push makes you gag. Every gag makes your throat squeeze him tighter. He groans above you, head thrown back, hips rolling.

"She's drooling down her tits," Dorn observes. You feel his hand on your breast again, smearing your spit across your nipple. "And her ass—"

The werewolf's thumb presses harder. Not inside yet. Just rubbing, circling, feeling the tight ring of muscle clench and release and clench again.

"Never been touched here," the werewolf says. You can hear the grin in his voice. "Virgin hole. Dorn, you want first?"

"Tempting. But let's see how many fingers she takes before she comes."

"Before?"

"You think she's not going to come?"

They both laugh. The horse hybrid pulls out of your throat just long enough for you to gasp, "Please, please, I don't want this"—and then he's back, stuffing your mouth full, cutting off your protests with the fat head of his cock.

The werewolf's finger pushes into your pussy.

Just one. Just the first knuckle. But your body reacts like you've been electrocuted; back arching, hips grinding back onto his hand, a moan vibrating around the cock in your throat. He sinks deeper. One finger. Two. Curling them, stroking the spongy spot inside you that makes your knees buckle.

"There it is," he murmurs. "There's her button. Feel that? She's squeezing me like a fist."

"Work her open," Dorn says. "Both ends."

The werewolf's thumb presses against your asshole. And pushes.

The stretch burns. You scream around the horse hybrid's cock, but the sound comes out muffled, choked. The werewolf works his thumb in slow circles, forcing the tight ring to give way, while his other fingers keep pumping your pussy. Two in there now. Maybe three. You've lost count.

And then... betrayal.

Your hips start moving on their own. Rocking back into the werewolf's hand. Grinding down onto his fingers. Your pussy flutters, and that pressure building in your belly isn't pain anymore—

"Ngh... no—"

"Yes," Dorn says. He's moved closer, you feel his furred chest against your side, his hand sliding down your belly to where the werewolf's fingers disappear inside you. His thumb finds your clit. Circles it. "Yes, little bitch. That's the first one of many."

You come screaming.

It rips through you without permission. Your pussy spasms around the werewolf's fingers, clenching so hard he grunts with surprise. Your asshole tightens around his thumb. Your whole body shakes, convulses, and through it all the horse hybrid keeps fucking your throat, forcing you to swallow around his cock, choking on every thrust.

The orgasm goes on too long. Weeps out of you in shuddering waves. When it finally stops, you're limp with rapture.

"Beautiful," Dorn says. He pulls his hand back and sucks his thumb clean. "Now we fuck her."

They position you like a doll.

The werewolf lies on his back in the straw, cock jutting up against his belly—red, ridged, his knot already beginning to swell. He grips your hips and pulls you down onto him, your pussy stretched wide around his shaft.

"Aaaahhnn—"

"Shh. Bottom out. Take it all."

You sink onto him inch by inch. He's not as long as the horse hybrid, but he's thick, and the ridges drag against every nerve inside you. When your ass meets his hips, you feel him pressed against your cervix, and your eyes roll back.

"Good girl," the werewolf breathes. "Now don't move."

You couldn't move if you tried. Your legs are shaking too hard.

But Dorn kneels behind you. You feel his hands on your hips, spreading you wider, and then something cool and wet drips down the crack of your ass: spit, he's spitting on you, working the saliva into your hole with his thumb.

"Ready, sweet little bitch?"

"No—not there—I can't—"

His cock presses against your asshole.

You've never had anything inside there. Never even touched yourself that way. But Dorn doesn't care about your experience. He pushes, and the head of his huge cock stretches the tight ring until you feel like you're splitting in half.

"BREATHE," he commands.

You breathe. And he slides deeper.

The pain whites out for a moment. Then something shifts. Muscles giving up, giving in, and he's inside, his cock filling your ass completely, pressed against the thin wall that separates him from the werewolf's shaft in your pussy.

You can feel both of them. Every ridge. Every vein. The werewolf's cock swelling inside you,the curve of Dorn's shaft pressing forward.

"Look," the horse hybrid says.

He's kneeling in front of you now, cock in hand, stroking slowly. He reaches out and presses his palm flat against your stomach. You glance down.

There's a visible bump. Two of them, pressing against the wall of your belly from the inside.

"There's your purpose," he says. "Just a set of holes for us to use. Now open up."

You don't have the strength to fight. Your jaw drops open and he feeds his cock into your mouth, down your throat, past where you thought your throat ended. The bulge in your neck matches the one in your belly.

And then they start moving.

The werewolf thrusts up into your pussy. Dorn thrusts forward into your ass. The horse hybrid thrusts deep into your throat. Three different rhythms, three different angles, and you're just the meat between them. Bouncing, choking, drooling, moaning despite yourself.

"Ghhhk—glrk—shhlck—"

The sounds are filthy.

Your pussy squelches around the werewolf's cock every time he pulls back. Your ass stretches wide as more spit is rubbed all over your rim. The horse hybrid's balls slap against your chin when he fucks your throat, and his pre-cum mixes with your spit and drips down your chest.

"She's taking it," Dorn growls. His claws dig into your hips hard enough to leave marks. "Taking all of us. Look at her throat—look—"

The horse hybrid pulls out just enough for you to see his cock sliding in and out of your stretched lips. Your throat bulges with each thrust. Your eyes are streaming. Your nose runs.

"Pretty little bitch," the horse hybrid sighs. He shoves back in and you gag, throat convulsing, and he groans.

You climax again.

This one doesn't ask permission. Your pussy squeezes the werewolf's length, your ass clamping down on Dorn's shaft, your throat spasming around the horse hybrid's length. You scream but no sound comes out. Just a wet ghkk around the cock in your mouth.

"That's it," Dorn snarls. "That's it, take it, take it—"

They fuck you through the orgasm. Past it. Into another one that crests before the first one finishes.

The werewolf comes first. You feel his knot lock inside you, swelling until you can't move, and then hot floods of cum pump you full. His hips jerk. His head tips back, and he howls.

The sound triggers Dorn. He slams into your ass one last time, balls deep, and you feel his cock pulse, once, twice, three times, pumping his load into your bowels. His hands crush your hips. His roar drowns out everything else.

The horse hybrid pulls out of your throat just long enough to stroke himself over your face. "Open your eyes."

You do. The first rope of cum hits your left eye. The second paints your lips. The third lands on your chest, and by the time he's done you're wearing him like a mask.

They pull out slowly. You feel every inch, the slide, the emptiness, the rush of fluids that follow. Cum drips from your pussy, your ass, your mouth. It pools in your navel. It runs down your thighs.

You collapse face-first into the straw, shuddering.

"It's over," you whisper. "Please. It's over."

Dorn laughs.

"Poor little one," he says, petting your hair. "The night shift hasn't even clocked in."

The barn doors open again.

More shapes. More shadows.

A centaur, his human chest bare, his horse body gleaming. His cock hangs from his equine sheath, longer than the horse hybrid's.

Behind him, a lizardfolk with rusty scales, his tongue flickering out to taste the air. His cock is different; ridged, barbed, the color of blood.

A gargoyle shambles in last. Stone and power. His cock is carved from the same grey rock, slick with some kind of oil that drips onto the floor.

"First shift did good work," the centaur says, circling you. His hooves click on the wood. "She's loose. Ready."

"No," you try. Your voice comes out broken. "No more—"

The lizardfolk kneels beside your head. His forked tongue licks the cum off your cheek. "More," he says simply. "Always more. You don't stop until morning, little one. That's the point."

The gargoyle crouches between your legs. Stone fingers part your pussy—still dripping, still twitching—and he pushes one huge finger inside. The stone is rough, textured, and you feel every groove scraping your walls.

"Wider," the gargoyle says. "She needs to be wider."

The centaur lowers himself and positions himself at your mouth. His cock is too long, too thick, but you don't have the strength to fight. He pushes past your lips and down your throat without resistance this time. Your throat has learned. It opens for him like a sheath.

The lizardfolk takes your pussy. His barbed ridges catch on every nerve as he slides inside, and you scream around the centaur's cock—but the scream turns into a moan when the barbs drag against that spot inside you. He fucks you slow. Each stroke scrapes you raw and sends lightning up your spine.

The gargoyle takes your ass. Stone stretches you wider than Dorn did, wider than you thought possible, and the oil lubricates but doesn't cushion. You feel every inch of carved rock pressing into your bowels.

Three of them. Three new monsters. Three new rhythms.

You stop fighting after the first hour.

By the second hour, you're on your side, riding the centaur's cock while the lizardfolk fucks your ass from behind and the gargoyle kneels in front of you, your lips stretched around his stone shaft. Your jaw aches. Your throat is raw. But your pussy keeps clenching, and your ass keeps gripping, and you keep coming... over and over, orgasms stacked on orgasms until you can't tell where one ends and another begins.

The centaur paints your pussy with his release. The lizardfolk follows, filling your ass until it overflows. The gargoyle finishes last, pulls out, strokes his stone cock over your face, and unloads grey-white cum across your tongue and cheeks and hair.

You lie in the mess. Unable to move. Unable to close your legs. Your pussy gapes open, leaking. Your ass is similar; a dark, stretched hole that winks. Cum drips from your lips, your chin, your eyelashes.

The lizard cups your face and tilts it toward him. "Look at you," he says softly. "Broken in. Ready."

He kisses your forehead and stands. "The day shift will be here soon. Rest while you can, little one."

The barn doors close.

The lanterns flicker.

And somewhere outside, you hear more hooves approaching.

You lizard man is going through his rut.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation. And position.

On your knees, legs bent, waist arched to expose your dripping cunt. His claws dig into your thighs, spreading you wide, his scaled chest pressed against you so you can feel the heat rolling off him. His cock, thick and knotted throughout, pushes at your entrance, slick dribbling from the slit at his round tip.

“Yes… perfect mate, perfect hole,” he growls, hissing as he drags his massive girth through your plump folds. “Meant to carry my clutch, hm? You’ll take every egg… you won’t spill a thing.”

“Yes!” Your breath catches as the head pops in, stretching you obscenely. The knots pop one by one, stretching your slit, scraping inside, delicious and raw, making your body slump down on the floor.

“Yes… hnn…. fuck, you’re so big!” you moan, clawing at his scales.

His split tongue flicks against your neck as he forces his cock deeper, inch by inch. Knot by knot. “Not just big, baby. Just right. Your body was made for this. Hnnn… fuck, you squeeze so tight already.”

When he bottoms out, your pussy is wide open and your belly distends with the sheer girth of him. He stays there, grinding slow and heavy, making sure you feel every knot pulsing and caressing your walls. Then a clawed hand slips under your body, palm pressing flat against your round stomach.

“I love to feel that,” he drawls, shifting, making your mewl so the bulge shifts under his hold. “My cock… right here. Soon, you’ll feel every egg move down. You’ll beg me for more.”

Oh… you know you will. You’re past shame. He feels so good, touching deep and caressing your sensitive spots. Your cunt clenches around him at the thought, and he laughs softly, tail coiling around your wrists, pinning them before you.

“Please, I want it… want you to fill me, breed me,” you whimper, nails raking his hard tail.

That breaks him.

With a hiss, he starts moving, slamming into you, again and again, taking you in deep, claiming thrusts. The sounds are primal. Your moans, his feral growls. His shaft plunders your depths, stealing your breath. Each knot stretches you obscenely, rubs your walls raw, and each snap of his hips pushes you closer to breaking.

“Good little mate… good little breeder,” he chants between snarls. “Take my clutch. Take it deep. Stay full for me.”

Replying is meaningless. You come undone. Sob with pleasure as his cock throbs inside you, expanding fuller than before. He pulls back, slowly making you whimper at each knot, then drives back home. As deep as he can go. Reaching into your womb. You shatter again, and if not for his tail holding your wrists, you’d collapse.

But he’s not done. His breath hitches, his monster body trembling as the first hot, heavy pulse pulses into you. A swollen egg slides through his cock, pressing against your walls until it pops deep inside. You cry out, overwhelmed, and he growls against your nape, biting just hard enough to mark.

“One… mmhhn, fuck, one in you. Good girl. More coming. You’ll carry them all. My pretty breeder.”

Another pulse, another egg, your stomach tightening as it settles inside. Your body convulses, another climax ripping through you so hard you scream his name. Slick and lizard cum gush down your thighs, and he turns your head and kisses you, split tongue thrusting inside your mouth, filling it as he deposits another egg inside your hot womb.

“Yes… cum on my cock. Milk the egg out of me. Gods, you’re so beautiful and mine…. so fucking mine.”

Minutes… hours pass. You don’t know. You only know you’re getting bred and overwhelmed by multiple orgasms. He doesn’t stop until your belly is swollen, until you’re wrecked and sobbing and twitching around him. Only then does he relent, hugging you to him, keeping his cock deep, locking everything inside.

“Now… you rest. My clutch is safe. You’ll stay like this, full, marked, mine.” His tongue licks over your tears, tender now that his rut has been satisfied.

And you happily close your eyes, resting in the arms of your lizardman, growing his precious clutch inside you.

Today was a lovely day. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was pleasantly warm. There wasn't a cloud in the sky for miles. The day promised that nothing bad could happen, and you and your husband were certainly enjoying it. Curt has spent the past few weeks consumed by his work, and while you weren't working nearly as much as he was, you were still busy with your job too. The two of you only really saw each other in the evening and early morning, little moments you cherished. Now, however, you two had the day off. For the first time in a while you could completely relax with Curt.

And Curt, despite being quite the workaholic, seems to be finally be tied of working so much, seeing as he hasn't even tried to do anything on the computer like he usually does on the weekend. Instead he was laying on the couch, trying his best to understand what was happening in the movie you two were watching. His left arm was wrapped around you.

"That is... not scientifically accurate whatsoever. How could they even think that to be remotely true?" Curt questions, eyebrows furrowed, head slightly forward to perhaps gain a better understanding somehow by being a centimeter closer to the TV. You just giggled. Shifting slightly, you peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"They probably thought it sounded cool, love."

More inaccuracy happens on screen. "I understand that, most movies do this, I know, but how could they be so far off from the truth?"

"Because they didn't care to do their research."

"Clearly," he said, rolling his eyes at the terrible explanation being given on screen. You could feel his annoyance bubbling up inside. You couldn't blame him. It wouldn't kill Hollywood to be scientifically accurate once and a while in their movies. Frankly even you were getting annoyed by this movie.

You planted another kiss on Curt before slipping out of his embrace. "Why don't we go out and get lunch? It'd be much better than finishing this movie," you suggest, already grabbing your wallet. Almost immediately after you said that the TV was turned off, Curt right beside you. You laughed. "Where do you wanna go, honey?" He asks, a relieved smile on his lips. "Anywhere is fine, really." You grab your car keys. Curt, being the gentleman he is, has the front door already open for you.

"After you, your Majesty," he winks as you walk by him. You laugh again. "Why thank you, my Lord." You stop and turn around to give Curt a sweet kiss on the lips.

You ended up picking where you'd eat for lunch, not that you really minded. It was some Italian place named Leo's. The inside hardly let in any natural light save for the windows near the entrance, the majority of the inside being warmly lit by light bulbs hanging high above you.

As you waited for your order Curt was ranting about the movie from earlier. Turns out he was truly angered by how incompetent the movie's scientists were, how inaccurate the science was, and how much misinformation was in the movie.

While Curt talked you found yourself admiring the way his hair moved, how his eyes lit up with such passion. His eyes were a beautiful sky blue, yet almost like an approaching storm. They were always pulling you in, trapping you in an awed trance whenever you found yourself staring into them. It's like being in a dream you never want to wake up from. A wide, goofy love-struck smile spreads across your face. God, this man was truly remarkable.

"Y/N? Are you listening?"

Suddenly you realized those gorgeous eyes you were staring at were filled with concern. You blush, not really remembering where you had stopped listening to him. "No," you mumble, sipping on your drink. Curt chuckles. His hand reaches across and gently rests on top of your free one. "I don't blame you. Frankly I wish I could forget all about that movie."

"I was just admiring you, Curt. I love it when you're passionate about, well, anything. You're quite handsome when you are." You lovingly squeeze his hand. He smirks at you. "Am I just as handsome when I'm not?" He teases, leaning closer. You lean in as well. "Of course," your voice is soft, almost a murmur, as you speak. "Always, my love."

Waking up with a big headache Connors looked at his surroundings and noticed that he wasn't in the prison cell anymore he realised he was in a sewer

"That's weird"He thought,got up and decided to look for a way out

After a while he saw a light and went to check it but a human shadow appear

"Who are you?"Said a male voice in front of him and suddenly there was bright light coming from this man hands

Without a word Connors started charging towards him ready to attack but the man quickly opened a portal and Connors was yet again in an unknown place

Trying to charge once again towards this man,his whole body hit a glass panel and he kept trying and failing to break it

"That's not gonna work pal"The mystery man just smirked finding this amusing and the lizard just grunted in response

After a few more attempts Connors sighed and went to sit on the floor defeated

"Let me ask you again,who are you?"This time Connors had no other choice but to answer this man

"I'm doctor Curtis Connors and who are you?"

"I'm doctor Strange,i'm assuming you're from another dimension"

"Another dimension?"

"Yes,you know who Spiderman is right?"Connors just nodded"Well in here he looks different that the one you know"

Strange went on to explain Connors what was happening(minus the fact the he messed up the spell that brought him here)

············

"Hey Strange the door was open,you really need more security in this place"You said while opening the door to the Sanctum and where greeted by snow surrounding the whole place "Woah,what happened now?"While you said this you didn't noticed tha figure appearing from behind you

"Nothing important,let's go"You almost screamed until you realised it was Stephen's voice

"Mm okay"You were going to ask Wong what happened because there's a 100% chance that this was because of Stephen"So,what did you needed me for?"You followed him towards the basement

"There was a huge incident with one of my spells,i tried to help Peter Parker but things went wrong pretty fast"You just nodded without saying a word"Here let me show you"

He gestured for you to walk in front of him and you stopped abruptly when you saw a giant lizard looking directly at you behind a glass cell