#n my monsterfucking got out of hand

[thegnomelord]

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

#Spittballs with Gnome #Idk how this happened #my hyperfixation got wayyy out of hand #n my monsterfucking got out of hand #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #top dom reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝PUSHING THE LIMITS.❞

(not my gif)

summary: eddie might fuck you good, but venom pushes your limits.

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, nasty ass smut, surprised-myself-while-writing-it kind of smut, sorta dubcon towards the end, oral sex f and m receiving, sticky tendrils and tentacles and appendages and such, bondage using v's tendrils, hair pulling, spanking, double penetration, eddie spitting in reader's mouth, eddie slaps reader's cheek a lil bit in the beginning, overstimulation central, names like "good girl", "sweet angel", "sweet girl", "beautiful girl"... don't wanna hype myself up too much, but i think y'all are gonna be eating good while reading this one. monsterfucking. i am definitely not getting into heaven, so make my sacrifice worth it and grab some popcorn!

word count: 2k

a/n: if you've ever wanted me to write a sequel for fics like "take the reins" and "don't pretend", this is for you. i can't believe this is my official return to fic writing LMAO, but we're pretending like i never left! (yes i know i posted my last fic in april.) i hope you enjoy, please give me some feedback for this one!

//////

“Gooooood fuckin’ girl.”

You struggled to hide your wince as Eddie harshly slapped your cheek again: you were on your knees, your face raised to look at him as he knelt over you, directing your face in whatever way he wanted it to go. Some parts sweet, some parts rough - whether it was pulling your hair until your cunt twinged with need, or spitting in your mouth when it got too dry for him to fuck, or how fucking good his cock felt when it was shoved into your mouth, you took all of it enthusiastically. 

You hadn’t heard Venom’s commentary in a while, but at least Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself.

“That’s great, honey,” Eddie gasped as he slipped the tip of his cock in your mouth again: you sucked on it dutifully, slathering your spit over his already glistening length, but throughout all of it, your eyes were locked on his face.

He was almost out of breath just from watching you. “Jeez, that’s fuckin’ nasty…”

Overachieving, you responded by taking his whole length into your mouth until the tip of his cock slammed into your uvula and you were forced to gag.

You meant to stay there, but Eddie’s hand was buried in your hair very suddenly, tugging you backward: he evidently hadn’t been expecting that.

“Easy, honey,” he told you. “It’s not every day I got a girl jumping all over me, y’know.”

You sat back on the bed and stuck out your tongue for him, grinning widely. “Sorry.”

Inside his head, Venom scoffed.

PUSSY.

“N-no, don’t be sorry for anything,” Eddie managed to say to you as he allowed his cock into your mouth again, determined to keep Venom at bay inside his thoughts. “Feels so fucking good, just like that…”

Sucking him off until he came had to be the plan, you figured, so you kept going, keeping your tongue flat along his length as he fucked your mouth. His cock was so goddamn thick, and your tongue kept brushing along a prominent vein as you went. The best part was his hand, firm in your hair, ensuring he was using you in whatever way he wanted.

Meanwhile, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

SHE LOOKS SO GOOD LIKE THIS, EDDIE.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Eddie decided he wanted to move: he was off of you in an instant, but he was grabbing your leg, indicating he wanted you to move with him.

His voice was soft, almost sweet, keeping you wet. “Up, honey, c’mon.”

Breathless, your heart pounding now that there wasn’t a hand in your hair anymore, you got off your knees and, following his direction, rolled over on the bed.

“Shit,” Eddie commented appreciatively, just before he spanked you harshly. “Pop that up for me, honey.”

Grinning sheepishly, you buried your face in the pillow and lifted your stinging ass in the air for him.

“Fuck,” he gasped as the palm of his hand brushed over your pussy - yeah, you already knew you were dripping, and the humiliation of it made you flush. “You always get this wet just having a dick in your mouth?”

“It’s just you,” you mumbled weakly, which earned your another spank.

“Just me, huh?” Eddie replied, mockingly, making your face burn. “Not V? You’re telling me this pretty pussy’s dripping just because of me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he’d spanked you directly on your pussy this time, making you moan weakly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, burying your face in the pillows. You had a feeling that Venom would’ve teased you endlessly if you moaned for him, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it when your pussy was already this wet, but God, you’d never been more tempted.

Inside his head, Venom was sounding impressed, but he hadn’t revealed himself yet.

KEEP GOING, EDDIE. YOU WILL BREAK HER.

Keeping your head in the pillow, you spread your legs wider for him, trying to expose as much of your pussy as you could. Spurred on by Venom’s praise, Eddie grinned.

“Fucking glistening,” he laughed, running a finger delicately along your drenched pussy, sending sensitive nerves haywire. “What a pussy. I mean, Jesus…”

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your damp inner thigh, and that simple, two-second touch had your mind speeding out of control with obscenities. No doubt about it, spreading your holes like this turned you on: you could feel your slick running down your inner thighs, and if your brain wasn’t jammed, you would’ve been begging for Eddie for Venom to come out, to finally fuck you.

Breathless with anticipation, you grabbed a fistful of pillows instead and waited patiently, keeping still.

Inside his head, Venom was chomping at the bit, too.

WHEN WILL YOU LET ME OUT, EDDIE?

Just give me a few more minutes, Eddie’s thoughts responded, a bit urgently.

He opted to pretend as though nothing had happened, keeping his control over you.

“Spread your legs more, baby. I want to see how turned on I made you.”

Moaning weakly, you did as he said, spreading your legs to reveal your glistening wet mess of a pussy: you had yet to touch yourself, or do anything to stop the spread of heat in your most sensitive spot, but you felt like if he didn’t touch you soon, you were going to go into cardiac arrest.

You closed your eyes and listen to him move closer.

Eddie’s hands were warm around your thighs, and you could feel him kiss both of your inner thighs - dear god, he’s about to kill you - before he kissed your clit, enveloping it with warmth. 

Everywhere. Oh God.

You gasped weakly. “Oh, Eddie…”

Again, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

YOU ARE UNRAVELLING HER, EDDIE. KEEP GOING.

“That feel good?” he whispered, kissing you softly again.

Well, fucking obviously: you were clutching the pillows above you with all your might, doing your best not to squirm in pleasure. “Eddie, please…”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t finish that sentence, but Eddie knew what it meant, and Venom did too.

LET ME OUT, EDDIE. YOU KNOW SHE WANTS IT.

“You need V, honey?” Eddie whispered from between your legs: he sensed from the growing warmth in his abdomen that he wouldn’t have control over his body for much longer, so he was determined to savour it for as long as he could.

You nodded weakly, flushed with pleasure - Eddie’s tongue may have been a natural, non-monstrous length, but it was pressed to your clit nonetheless, and it would’ve made anybody come after long enough. “Give him to me.”

That did it: Venom came out with a flourish, enveloping Eddie’s body entirely in black goo until he wasn’t Eddie anymore, but tendrilled and sticky and terrifying and one hundred percent Venom.

You almost came at the sight of him. “Oh, V…”

Venom’s tongue protruded from his mouth, licking clean his impressive row of fangs. His milky white eyes might’ve caused others to cower, but you stared directly into them, breathless. It was fascinating, really, how quickly Eddie had disappeared.

Venom’s voice was a deep purr, deeper than anything you’d ever heard.

DID YOU MISS ME, SWEET ANGEL?

“I did, V,” you gasped as a glittering black tendril snuck up your leg, “God, I - I want you so bad.”

Venom cocked his head to the side, watching you intently, like a predator watching its prey.

I TELL EDDIE THAT ALL THE TIME.

You gasped as the appendage finally breached your cunt, pulsating and sticky, giving you exactly the feeling of fullness you wanted. “Oh, Venom…”

The pillow you were clinging onto was gone in a second, replaced by two tendrils pinning your arms onto the bed. Before you knew it, two other tentacles were wrapping around your ankles, fully restricting your ability to move, and there you were, trapped on the bed as Venom was leering above you, his cock sliding in and out of you.

His pace was relatively slow, but you soaked up every pulsing inch succeeded inside of you, and every now and again, he’d make the tendril twist, bringing you closer to the edge every time.

I DON’T EVER THINK I’VE SEEN YOU THIS WET, SWEET ANGEL.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, your thoughts responded incredulously, but all that came out was a choked, “Ngh!”

You were coming, you knew it, and it still hit you like a fucking freight train: the orgasm rushed through you as blood thundered to your brain, euphoria crashing over you at maximum intensity. Everything welling up inside of you just burst, and nothing had ever been so lovely.

You went deaf for a moment as the only thing you could hear was your heart absolutely pounding and the shrill ringing in your ears, but you knew you were gasping for breath, completely overtaken by this orgasm. You’d never tell Eddie, but it was Venom who knew how to pull orgasms from you like this, and only Venom, his glittering black cock absolutely destroying you from the inside out.

Of course, it was then Venom suddenly decided to slam his cock into you at full force, overstimulating you beautifully.

The confidence in his voice never wavered.

I KNOW YOU CAN TAKE IT, BEAUTIFUL GIRL. I HAVE SEEN YOU TAKE IT.

“Oh, Venom,” you were gasping over and over, but you couldn’t fully hear yourself over the ringing in your ears and the sounds of Venom’s glittering black tendril sliding in and out of your drenched, abused pussy, filling you up to the maximum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He did the pulsating, twisting thing inside of you once again, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head: when he was pinning you down like this, you had nothing to hold onto, it was just you, the cock inside of you, and the threat of this monstrous creature swallowing you whole. “Oh my god, Venom!”

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EDDIE SEEING THIS, SWEET GIRL?

“Oh, fuck, Venom…” you moaned from underneath him, incoherent now as his cock pistoned in and out of you. You were blathering, but the message was clear: don’t fucking stop!

Venom was smug, now.

HOW DO YOU FEEL KNOWING I CAN TAKE YOU BETTER THAN EDDIE EVER COULD?

“You’re better than Eddie,” you mumbled incoherently as Venom ramped up speed, “Loads better than Eddie, I just - oh fuck - holy shit, V, keep going!”

WILL YOU COME FOR ME, SWEET ANGEL?

Yes, I will, your thoughts responded immediately, but actions spoke louder than words: your second orgasm ripped through you as your legs shook, you were pushed to the point of insanity. This one really took you by surprise compared to the first, but you revelled in it, your vision flashing with white as Venom fucked into you. You could feel your body sinking into the bed despite the restraints, spent, and you almost thought it was over, but–

Venom, of course, didn’t care.

COME FOR ME AGAIN, BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

“V,” you whispered weakly, your entire body damp with sweat from your last orgasm, “I - I don’t think I can, I just came.”

Above you, Venom absolutely snarled, and his tongue slithered down to force your legs even further apart.

WHEN I SAY COME, YOU COME!

A second, bigger tendril sank into your ass this time, and you gasped: you were filled, completely and utterly filled, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t feel so fucking wonderful.

“I - I’m gonna come,” you blathered, blinking hard as the realization set in: you were about to come faster than you’d ever come in your life. “I - I’m gonna come, V, holy - oh my god-”

The words I’m coming were lost in your throat, but it didn’t matter: in a matter of seconds, you’d came for a third time, and the euphoria this time around was still there, yet with a bitter and harsh edge. Your body was exhausted, but your pussy was drenched, and all Venom knew was to keep fucking going, so–

You were gasping, half-deaf with your vision flashing with white, trying to make peace with the reality that Venom was going to fuck you until you passed out.

#venom #venom x reader #venom x you #venom smut #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x reader smut #eddie brock smut #tom hardy #tom hardy smut #venom let there be carnage #let there be carnage #venom imagine

[silkjade]

WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ a/n: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.” 

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor? 

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders. 

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips. 

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist. 

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust. 

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity. 

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips. 

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting. 

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips. 

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance. 

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked. 

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress. 

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom. 

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed. 

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp. 

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts. 

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh. 

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile. 

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..” 

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark. 

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls. 

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight. 

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb. 

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.” 

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles. 

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source. 

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place. 

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy. 

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.  

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more? 

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips. 

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire. 

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.” 

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size. 

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round. 

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips. 

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin. 

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst. 

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts. 

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure. 

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet. 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars. 

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering… 

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone. 

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything. 

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life. 

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.” 

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart. 

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed. 

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again. 

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven. 

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him. 

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.       

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him. 

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing. 

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more. 

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.  

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is. 

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting. 

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over. 

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.” 

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...” 

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure. 

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself. 

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused. 

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.” 

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please. 

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers. 

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name. 

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette. 

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless. 

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.” 

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his. 

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention.  Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming. 

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does. 

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly. 

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.   

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.” 

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about. 

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm. 

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth. 

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white. 

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable. 

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face. 

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.” 

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.  

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

a/n2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #tw monsterfucking

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

can't fight the moonlight

kinktober, day twenty-nine

a/n: this one was a fantasy that was so fuzzy and took a surprisingly long time to figure out, but the hazy dream of it kept me going till i solved the puzzle

summary: it didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into. 

warnings: werewolf!bucky barnes x reader, smut, bucky's wolf form is very humanoid looking (think more teen wolf, less twilight), dubcon/noncon, predator/prey, established relationship, monsterfucking, little to no foreplay, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, cock drunk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, belly bulge, size kink, size difference

word count: 2345

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“…and you’ve got some water in case you get thirsty and-, oh! Do you have something to eat? A snack or something?” you blabbered tensely as you helped lock the heavy chains that your partner snaked securely around his own limbs, bolting him to the cold basement for the night, “because I could go make you-”

Letting the iron in his grasp suddenly fall to the floor in a loud clang, like a volcano he exploded, “no!” heatedly throwing his hands up as he fumed, “I don’t need a fucking snack, would you just-…” catching your wide eyes, his sudden anger thawed a bit as he finally heard his own words, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you clutched your hands close to your chest, the keys tight in them dug into your palms.

Head lightly tilting to the side, Bucky let out a sigh, “you’re just trying to help and I’m-”

“It’s okay, I know,” you reassured him, “it’s the moon, I get it, don’t worry, darling,” you averted your gaze, staring down at the cold concrete floor, “I’m sorry about freaking out, like I do every month, but I just wanna do something that can make this better for you, even a little bit, anything, even though I know that there isn’t anything that can, I still can’t stop trying because I hate this,” you heard your voice grow thick and tears begin to blur up your vision, “I really really hate this.”

“Y/n…” you felt his fingers gently graze your cheek, bringing your glossy gaze back up to his, “you are helping, more than you even know. Before I met you, before you moved in and started being here every full moon, I was always terrified of getting out, terrified that I couldn’t detain myself enough and someone would end up getting hurt or worse… but I’m not scared of that anymore. It hasn’t happened once since you’ve been here to bolt the chains I can’t get to on my own and lock the doors from the other side. Plus knowing that you’ll be here when the sun eventually comes up, I hold onto that, no matter how painful it gets or how much I disappear, that fact doesn’t, it stays with me, keeps me somewhat sane throughout the night.” 

Letting out a shaky breath, you blinked away the mist in your eyes, trying to be brave as you uttered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he exhaled, gazing at you as you leaned in to seal the final padlock with a click. Getting up to your feet, you stepped towards the door, but your fingers froze on the knob as Bucky’s voice filled the cellar once more, “try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

Glancing over your shoulder at his shackled frame, sitting against the wall, skin already glistening from the pending trauma, you promised, “okay,” even though you knew this night wouldn’t be any different from the rest. 

You could never sleep when the moon was full, never even relax enough to rest for a bit. Even though the layers of resources that encased the basement silenced Bucky’s screams of agony from the rest of the neighbourhood as well as your own ears, just the knowledge that only one floor below where you were trying to slumber, there your beloved laid in pain as every single bone in his body had to break before he could turn into a monster of the moon, that awareness kept you up better than any caffeine could. 

Locking the solid steel door behind you, so you repeated with the one atop the wonky staircase, the rest of the house suddenly feeling so cold without his presence. 

Still clad in garb you’d worn to work, you couldn’t bother to change out of it even if the dress and stockings weren’t the most comfortable clothing to do an all-nighter in, you just seized the grey cabled cardigan draped over the armchair by the fireplace and shrugged it over top.

Holding the kettle under the tap to fill it up, your weary vision locked on the ominous sphere looming in the night sky clearly visible from the kitchen window. Losing yourself to the sight, too absorbed by the troubling thoughts it brought on, you only snapped out of the trance when cold water began to flow over the side of the pot and soak your hand that clutched it. 

“Oh, shit…” you mumbled as you hurried to turn off the water and pour some of the abundances back out into the sink. 

Placing it down on the stovetop, you listened to the gentle clicking that emanated before the eventual flame as you turned the knob. The slight heat radiating beneath the kettle persuaded you to shift into the living room and with the flick of a match, light the fireplace, granting yourself more of that soothing heat to help battle the night. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the water came to a boil, kettle whistling like a demon to relay the message. 

With a mug of tea in your hand, you curled up in the chair by the fire and picked up the half-read book discarded on the small side table. 

This was the routine, even though you never could concentrate, you still at least tried to distract yourself. 

A sudden bang ripped your eyes away from the page they had glazed over four times by now. Your vision instantly trained on the door to the cellar, clearly visible from where you were sitting. 

As the door then began to rattle rhythmically from an unyielding force, your body jumped at every thud, the novel in your grasp tumbling to the floor. 

Frozen in your seat, you watched as the door splintered, swiftly losing the short-lived battle and flying off its hinges.

With heavy footsteps, Bucky’s visage stepped into the light, except it wasn’t the Bucky you knew, not one you’d seen with your own eyes, but only ever heard tales about.

At first, you thought he still looked like himself, but as the firelight flickered across his form, you finally noticed just how altered he was. His natural body hair had quadrupled, fuzzing up his visage and the rippling muscles that hid beneath it, those as well seeming to have swelled up making his frame nearly unrecognisable. Though he always towered above your comparative stature, his height now was something else entirely. The sight of his eyes chilled you to the very bone, the calming blue was completely drowned out by a sea of black, with only a tiny golden flicker in the middle differentiating the obsidian. Nails long and tough like claws, broken chains still clung to his form as you watched his lip curl, a low growl rumbling throughout the room and letting you catch sight of his sharp teeth. 

Scarcely breathing at all, your hopes of him not noticing your presence began to fade as he predatorily sniffed the air. 

Your eyes suddenly grew wide as you spotted a part of him begin to swell up and come into the light. Throbbing, his unusually grand length intimidatingly curved upwards, it too haven grown just as the rest of his body had. 

Finally breaking through your terror, you sprung up and tried your best to run, though you didn’t get far as, within mere seconds, the natural hunter caught up to you and tackled you down to the ground, shredding the cosy knit you wore in the process. 

Cheek smooshed against the floorboards, you trembled beneath his beefy form as his flaming chest pressed against your back, knowing full well that if you made one wrong move, aggravated him in any sort of way, he could snap you like a twig. It didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into. 

As your eyes flickered to the front door, it dawned on you that if he could break not only the chain that bound him, but also the strong basement doors, then the last barrier that kept him from the outside world wouldn’t even make him break a sweat. 

Growling directly in your ear, you felt his agitated breath fan across your face as his nose buried itself in your hair. Starved sniffs slowly travelling south, your heart nearly burst out of your chest as you felt him rip your clothes to shreds. Dress tattered and hanging off of you, your underwear swiftly disintegrated completely as only your stocking truly survived the attack, still clinging around your quivering thighs with only the smallest of tears to tell the tale. 

Grinding desperately against the curve of your form, his monstrous girth nudged against you, catching you off guard as even in this petrifying form, you still felt your body respond to him. 

“Bucky, Buck!” your voice squeaked in an attempt at breaking through to him, “it’s me! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” wildly flipping you over and roughly aligning himself with your core, you desperately tried to catch his dark eyes and try again, “Bucky, please!”

Joints locking up at the sound of your shrill cry, a flicker of reignition washed over his haunting glare, softening it slightly as you finally heard him speak, “…Y/n?” his voice was much lower than you’d ever heard it, though very much still his, “oh, fuck… I-…” a shaky breath escaped his lungs as he hovered above you, the tip of his cock nuzzled between your folds, “…I don’t think I can stop…” he grunted, his hand right beside your head digging into the floorboards and leaving splintery scratches in its wake, “I can’t fight it, I’m trying, but-”

“It's okay,” you carefully reached up and touched his cheek. You couldn’t let him run out that door and take some innocent lives. At this moment, all of his focus was aimed at you, so if it could just stay there and not stray till the sun came up, if you could distract him for only a little while longer, then the night might end without any unnecessary bloodshed. So, therefore, you gave in, “I love you, I love you so much,” your glistening eyes blinked up at him as you tried to speak with confidence, “you’re not gonna hurt me, I know you’re not. It’s okay, it’s-” 

Plunging into you, an almost animalistic noise accompanied his harsh action as the beast he’d become seized exactly what it desired. All of the air got pushed out of your lungs as he buried himself in you, stretching you out beyond belief and forcing a shuttering cry to tumble from your lips. 

Never mind the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom, a thing the two of you had always been careful about, that detail fought to penetrate through the fog he sent you into. Stunned that you could even take it all, the sensation of him made your mind melt. You felt all of it. Every vein and every ridge, every jaw-dropping detail that decorated his monstrous cock drove you to madness.

“Fuck!” he snarled, bucking his hips so hard against yours that your whole body shook, the sloppy clapping of skin against skin filled the home as he greedily rammed against the deepest spot inside of you, “do you have any idea how long I’ve tried to break out of those chains?” leaning down closer, he inhaled deeply, “I can fucking smell you…” you shivered as his nose ghosted against yours, “all the way down in the basement, no matter where you are, I can always smell you… calling for me, begging me to come and rip you apart…”

Leaning back again, his bruising grip found your hips and plucked them up, holding them tight as the rest of you still laid melted against the floor like a puddle before him. Like a ragdoll in his grasp, he moved your body, fucking your drooling pussy like the ravenous beast he was. 

As your eyes fluttered down to where he virtually split you in two, the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower stomach at each and every one of his ruthless thrusts caught your attention, the vision making you dizzy. 

You had never felt like this, never felt anything so intense in your whole life. He was just so menacing, so magnetic, so massive. Your own enthusiasm caught you by surprise, especially as your cunt soon began to cry out around him, showing your living room floor in your want as you squirted all over his rock-hard girth. 

Usually, Bucky would slow down and give you a moment whenever you had an orgasm, but in this moment, tonight, it wasn’t your Bucky that was pounding the living hell out of you, it was someone else, something else, and that creature only seemed to get even more riled up by your lewd display as he picked up his speed till his gravelly groans grew louder and his efforts began to go sloppy. 

“Please, Buck,” you mumbly pleaded, picking up on his telltale signs through your cock drunk haze, “not inside.”

But he didn’t listen to you as he just kept on fucking you till he pumped your pussy full of his cum. 

Panting and puffing above you, he still kept up shallow thrusts, rocking you against him and pushing his load out of your overly sensitive cunt with every piercing plunge. 

“Buck?” you heard yourself uttered as you found his dark gaze, though what stared back at you was not your love anymore as there was no recognition to be found in his eyes at all. 

Slamming you back against him hard enough for it to sting, you shuttered at the possibility that he was nowhere near done satisfying his carnal desire. 

But just before he could ruin you completely, a sliver of light began to dawn on the far side wall. Glancing out the window, you barely managed to spot the morning crest over the treetops in the distance. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #werewolf!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #werewolf!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes au #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you

[symbiotic-slime]

Heat like Fire

a/n: happy halloween my fellow monsterfuckers!! couldn't have a spooky season without blessing y'all with a spicy venom fic

pairing: Venom/Host!Reader [AFAB, Gender Neutral]

word count: 1.5k

content: NSFW, developing relationship, mating cycles, tentacle sex, mild dom/sub, tentacle bondage, biting, degradation

Mature Audiences ONLY

You sat on your cracked leather couch, staring at the screen of your TV. A cheesy Hallmark-style movie was playing, though you weren't paying attention. You felt sick. Your body ached, your skin was clammy, and the worst was that nothing you did seemed to help. The ice pack did nothing to cool your body, the meds hadn't put a dent in the aches.

And someone was being... decidedly quiet.

"God, Ven, what's going on?" You groaned, your head woozy. "Are we sick? I feel like I've got the worst flu of my life."

“No, we're not.” They sounded defensive, like there was something they were hiding from you.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on? You seem to know," you snarked.

Silence.

"Ven? I just want to know what the fuck is going on with my body."

"We are in heat," they said, their voice heavy with guilt.

"We're in WHAT?" You demanded, springing out of your seat.

"Heat, [Y/N]."

"Like some kind of fucking animal?!" A sharp pain shot through your stomach, and you were forced to sit back down. "No... no no no this can't be happening. Humans don't go into heat."

"Symbiotes do."

"Fuck." You buried my head in your hands. You shifted your weight, moaning as slick rolled down your leg. "What are we going to do? It's not like we can just go out and find someone who's willing to fuck us through this."

"You could always call that person you were seeing before."

"Alex?" You asked incredulously.

"Yes," they hissed. "I'm sure they'd love to see you like this."

"I don't think someone who ghosted me would want to help with this. God, I don't even think I could explain this to them," you groaned. "Even if I could, I don't think I'll be able to wait long enough for them to get here. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

There was a tentative pause, an odd silence in your head.

"We could always help you with it," they mumbled, their voice subdued, almost nervous.

Were they offering to have sex with you?

"You mean like... making it go away?" You laughed nervously.

"If we could make this go away, morsel, we wouldn't be here."

They were definitely offering to have sex with you.

And you weren't... opposed to it.

Your body quite liked the idea. Blood rushed to your cheeks as your legs spread further apart. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of their tendrils wrapping around your skin, toying with you while you're completely helpless.

You told yourself that was just because of the heat. It wasn't that you was actually attracted to them, you were just reacting weirdly because your body needed to be fucked.

That was totally what this was.

"What... what would that be like?" You fidgeted, my hands tapped against my thigh.

"It could be anything you want," they purred, sending shivers down my spine.

You moaned, loud and obscene, and quickly shoved a hand over your mouth.

"You need to be somewhere comfortable, morsel. A nest."

You cocked your head to the side. "Like a bed?"

"Yes, that would work."

"Can you take us there, love?" The pet name just slipped out, but it felt right. "I feel like my legs are gonna give out if I try to stand."

"Of course." Your body was rigid as they seized control of it. Their movements were jerky and uncanny, but you didn't collapse into a heap on the floor. That was a bonus.

They laid you down on the bed gently, removing your clothes as their tendrils delicately wrapped around your legs.

You moaned and arched your back, desperate for any sort of friction.

Your face grew hot when I realized what you'd done. You squirmed. "Fuck," you groaned. "Why am I like this?"

"It's because of your heat, [Y/N]. We already established this."

You sighed, exasperated. You couldn't take it anymore, you needed them inside of you. "Venom. Please just shut up and fuck me."

More tendrils slinked out of your body, pulling your hands above your head and pinning you to the bed. You tugged on them, testing their strength. There was no give to them.

"We know exactly what you want," they purred into my ear. "What you crave."

You whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow.

The tendrils around your legs tightened, keeping your legs spread far apart. The rest spoiled over your body in a shibari-like pattern, claiming you as theirs.

"We know our morsel likes this," they said as their tendrils played with your nipples, twisting and pulling until you were a moaning mess beneath them.

"Please, Venom, I need you to fuck me," you whined.

"Beg for it."

Usually you would be mortified by the idea of that, but you beyond embarrassment.

"Please," you whined, your slick soaking the sheets beneath me. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Ven, I need you inside me."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

You moaned as Venom's tendrils traced up my thighs, caressed every inch of your body. One of the ones playing with your chest split off, wrapping around your neck to form a collar. You squirmed and tried to bring yourself closer to them, but the bonds didn't budge.

"You can squirm all you want, morsel, but you're powerless against me. You couldn't stop me even if you wanted to."

You whimpered. You were so weak in comparison to them, so powerless, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

A tendril found your clit, rubbing it ever so gently. A jolt of electricity shot through your spine, your back arching into the sensation.

One of their tendrils finally eased its way into your cunt. You moaned as another joined it, pulsating inside of you.

"You're so loud, slut. So eager. If we had our way, we'd be making you scream." Their voice was low and lust-ridden as their tendrils forced their way into your mouth. "But we can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?"

You sucked them further in, loving the feeling of them gagging you. They chuckled darkly and indulged you, pushing themselves further until you were choking.

And fuck it felt so good.

They pulled back in my throat, letting me breathe as they slowly began to thrust into my pussy.

You tried to buck your hips up into them, only to not be able to move. You needed more, more of them inside of you, pounding into your pussy and breeding you.

They must've sensed this desire, as they started thrusting into you at a steady pace. Their tendrils stretched you so well, so perfectly.

Their tendrils pressed deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot.

Your moan was muffled by the tentacle in your mouth, one which was coated in your spit. Drool rolled down your chin, landing on the pillow beneath your head.

"You take us so well, sweet one," Venom purred as their tendrils continued to fuck into you. "It's like you were made for us."

Venom wasn't lying when they said they could give you anything you wanted. Their tendrils pounded into your sweet spot every time. Their tendril on your clit, rubbing and sucking, brought you closer to the edge faster than anyone ever had before.

The heat was building in your stomach. You felt your stomach muscles tense, ready to release.

Tendrils pulled away from your chest. Their head emerged, fangs bared in a feral grin.

"We can tell how close you are morsel," they growled. They moved their head closer to you until their fangs brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "We think we know how to push you over the edge."

Their fangs sunk into your flesh, drawing an obscenely loud moan from you. You threw your head back as you came, your toes curling. You shook softly as the feeling enveloped you.

You collapsed, your body like a dead weight. The tendrils holding you in place loosened. Some retreated back inside of you, while others gently caressed your form.

The tendrils inside of you pulled out slowly, drawing a small moan from you before retreating back into your body.

"Did you enjoy yourself, sweet one?" Venom asked.

"I think that's an understatement, dear. God, we might just have to make that a regular occurrence." You smiled, pulling their head in to kiss between their eyes.

They blinked, uncharacteristically quiet as they healed the bite mark on your neck. They left just enough of a mark that it looked like a hickey, a reminder that you were theirs.

They stared at you for a moment before purring, nuzzling into your face.

"We love you, [Y/N]."

"Love you too, Ven."

#venom #venom x reader #venom symbiote #venom movie #exophilia #terato #monsterfucking cw #monster fucker #venom x y/n #venom x you #tentacles #tentacle smut #venom smut #monster lover #venom comics #venom fanfiction #cw degradation #tw degradation #1k #2k

[revehae]

party monster

pairing ↠ best friend!jennie x (f) reader (but not really)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, thoughts of noncon, sub!jennie, oral, noncon recording, monsterfucking

summary ↠ for years you’ve crushed on jennie kim, your best friend, the queen of queens, the party monster. but it seems that you’re not exactly her type.

wc ↠ 3.3k

a/n ↠ this is my first time writing this kind of fic in 6 months so i am unfortunately quite rusty…

don’t like it, don’t read.

she looked like royalty on top of him. 

you couldn’t deny it - you could never deny jennie anything. how could you? she was funny, enchanting, downright beautiful, and she was your friend of many years.

your best friend, to be exact. it was a title you were proud to claim, one you had never taken for granted. you had always been there, whether she needed to laugh or she needed to cry, and you would always be there for whatever she needed. 

but apparently, she didn’t need you for this.

it was not your intention to find her this way, to be fair. in your search for an empty bathroom, chance had led you to the one connected to the bedroom your best friend and her boy toy occupied. you had only come here in need of relief, but in her own way, jennie yearned for something similar.

yet so different all at once. you knew her voice when it came to your ears, even if it was at a pitch and with a breathlessness you had never quite heard, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. they must have been too lost in the haze of their arousal, because they never seemed to notice they’d left the bathroom door open for all the world to see.

and you did see. you saw her on top of this nameless boy, her cashmere dress in a heap on the floor, sweat gathering at her soft skin and glimmering in the moonlight like precious pearls. you saw how pleasure took her by its gnarled hand, her lips crying the cries of angels. you saw how his greedy hands were all over her, touching her, surely not knowing just how lucky he was. 

you could only stand there, trembling with the intensity of an emotion you had never known this deeply. there was a hot throb in your chest as cruelly it tightened, and in the same moment you could hear this nameless boy swearing about how tightly she was wound around him.

in that moment, she had taken a form you had never seen of her before, becoming a thing so violently unknown to you, and all you could think about was how none of it was for you. it was certainly not the first time she’d whored herself out to someone that wasn’t you, but seeing it happen in front of you was different than being regaled on the tales. 

those boys were faceless, something you could convince yourself never existed as you pictured only jennie’s cries of ecstasy. even now, this nameless boy wasn’t so nameless anymore as you heard it fall brokenly from her lips.

but it’s okay, you consoled yourself, turning away from the door. you could fix her.

that had been three months ago at least. you were still doing everything in your power to come up with something to salvage your broken heart with, in spite of already knowing jennie got around, but you had come short of viable options.

and like that fateful night all those months before, you were at another party, because nights in new york were when party monsters like jennie came to life. and as to expected of her, she’d strutted inside sporting this lacy dress, the same vibrant red color as her lips. 

she was stunning in red. 

it was something you had told her more than once. you took your role as jennie’s best friend as though you were the queen’s aide, and in a way, that wasn’t so far from the truth. she was the queen of queens, the party monster, and a woman of her caliber had to look nothing less than like art at every party she set foot on.

that red cashmere dress lived in your head. you had been the one help her decide, and yet some boy had been the one to take it off.

“hey, where’s jen?” rosé asked, poking her head around the corner. 

“no idea,” lisa said, finishing what was left of her exquisite wine.

the two girls glanced toward you. of course they did; you were jennie’s best friend. apparently, you were supposed to know what she was up to at all times.

you sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and sitting your drink on the table. “i’ll look,” you started. “but if she’s somewhere getting dicked down again, you’re going to make an enemy out of me.”

rosé blew you a kiss. “thanks, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, giving your drink one last longful glance as you stepped out of the room.

you took a guess that rosé had come from the main hall and if she hadn’t scouted jennie there, then there was a fair chance she was in one of the upstairs rooms. getting dicked down, you thought disheartenedly, but you searched nonetheless.

you had only seen her that way once and it was something you surely never wanted to see ever again. the memory of the thunder in your chest still lingered and maybe the feeling itself hadn’t exactly faded.

what would it take for her to understand that she was yours? she may not have realized it yet, but you were everything she needed. you could please her in ways she’d never imagined, take her to heights that’d never before been. 

you stilled when you heard her voice, almost walking straight past the door. it was of some kind of relief that there were no moans, and she seemed to be quietly chatting about something. with the door barely open, you slipped inside, hoping that it wouldn’t creak.

it took all of two seconds to recognize her, standing at the edge of the bed, but there were no words to describe the horror on your face when you saw the thing next to her.

deep black in color, draped in some slick, indigo substance that coated it smoothly, and towering two feet over her. teeth that could kill with one slight graze. it didn’t look of this world. and yet, jennie didn’t seem afraid; she looked exasperated.

“i thought i told you to stay home,” she hissed, glaring up at the creature. whatever the hell it was.

the alien-like creature seemed indifferent, from what you could make of its features. “hungry,” was all it said.

jennie didn’t seem impressed. “you were fed before i left.”

“hungry,” it repeated, raspier, brushing a long finger down her dress.

jennie slapped its hand away, shaking her head. “no, not here. there’s people, carnal.”

carnal said nothing, overcome by a need that went beyond the bounds of human desire, and returned its finger to her dress. for a second, you thought that it would tear it to shreds, but instead it unzipped the back quicker than she could dispute.

you could hear her whining, but carnal was intent on taking and little would come between that purpose. jennie gasped when it took her by the arm and tugged her onto the floor, silently demanding in its approach, all the while her pretty red dress was tossed into oblivion. 

for whatever reason, the sight hadn’t troubled you like it did not too many moons ago. it intrigued you. part of you wanted to emerge from the cloak of the shadows to rescue her from this creature, but the other wanted to watch and see how this would unfold.

jennie’s eyes burned fiercely of ire. “i won’t do it.”

carnal glanced down at her and you swore the sight gave you shivers, but jennie didn’t move. “no?”

“no.”

you had to restrain yourself from gasping when carnal grabbed jennie by strands of hair at the back of her head. it forced her mouth onto its cock, a death grip on her tresses. her whimpers of protest were muffled, meaningless little sounds that no one would bother to hear.

it would be a lie to do otherwise, and thus you had to confess to yourself that you were bemused by the sheer size of its girthy cock. jennie could hardly fit anything an inch longer than the tip into her mouth. it stroked her limits, sped right by them.

but the part that bemused you even further was how after a minute or three, jennie didn’t seem to hate it. there was no way in hell your eyes were making up the way she sucked in every bit she could take, eagerly bobbing her head.

the muffled cries waned into muffled moans, and for no good reason. no efforts were being taken to please her in return. she was this meek little thing on her knees before an otherworldly creature with a name far too apt.

carnal did not react too strongly, but you had to assume that jennie’s potent greed did a number on it. she wasn’t going anywhere, yet the death grip on her hair only got tighter. what she couldn’t fit between her stained lips, she took in her hands and kneaded between her supple fingers.

your mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stretched across a plane of thought. you were strangely immersed in the horrors in front of you, but your questions wandered. every moment that passed, you wondered if maybe you’d had a little too much to drink.

this was a dirty little secret that even you never knew your best friend had. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how this strange creature could be more than a figment of imagination, and you decided that it wasn’t. it would spare you the headache.

you could see the indent on jennie’s hollowed cheeks, hear the wet noises coming from her lips. perhaps it was stranger that you didn’t hate it. only moments ago you had been prepared to curse whatever idiot of a boy you found her with, and now you were quieter than a mouse.

jennie looked like a pebble at its feet. the beast was more massive than you cared to admit aloud, with a strength that spoke for itself, and a cock that promised total destruction and not anything less. it must’ve been part of the allure for her, because you had never seen her so eager.

and why would she be? the queen of new york city herself never had to ask for anything twice, if at all. it would be an honor for anyone to behold her bare form, but none of that power manifested here in this bedroom. she was sucking carnal off like a common whore begging for a dollar.

your memories reeled back to some instances, not many but a few, where you had noticed her visibly adjusting herself after what you could only assume had been a brief sexcapade in a closet somewhere. and for a moment you stopped to wonder if those faceless people you imagined her with had not been boys, but this damned beast.

it almost made you angrier, trying to fathom how this thing had better chances than you did at pursuing her, and all it took was a little force. had you known that, you would’ve staked your claim to her already.

greed was heavy in the air and you saw carnal seize control after allowing jennie to do as she pleased with it, fucking her mouth harder than she could manage. you couldn’t help but be aroused at the sound of her harshly choking. but she didn’t give up, taking every thrust.

quiet sounds escaped carnal’s mouth, raspy to the ears. it did not have much to say, you’d noticed, and it didn’t need to say much either. you could tell that they’d done this countless times before, because they slipped into this as though it was routine.

maybe you were making it up in your mind, but you could’ve sworn that the room had soared a thousand degrees hotter. part of it was ire on your end, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your core. to see her this way, meek and pliant, brought out an insatiable hunger within you.

by the second carnal’s thrusts were becoming more erratic, its self control seemingly unraveling hard. you were impressed that jennie hadn’t begun to choke again, in spite of the relentless pace. you were certain her jaw strained from the effort, but she still made herself a perfect little toy.

you recognized the brink of ecstasy when you saw it and carnal was at the very cusp. its groans even became a little louder, coming from the back of its throat. the only other thing you could hear was labored breathing and the wet smack of jennie’s lips.

you wouldn’t have wanted to cum that way, you would have wanted to be buried every inch deep between her legs, but after a short moment, the thrusts came to a still and carnal growled. given your angle and the darkness, it was hard to see, but you partly saw the leftover cum she couldn’t swallow drip from her chin.

jennie pushed her mouth off, wiping her lips. her naked chest was heaving for breath. when she stood, you could see the shimmer of tears in her misty eyes. she looked like a train wreck. 

not a moment later, carnal tore her towards the bed and she gave a high squeak of surprise. your gaze was fixed to her every movement. on the bed, carnal hoisted her into the air as though she was featherlight and sat her over it. jennie reached for its shoulders.

but carnal, on the other hand, had reached for something else. to your surprise, it began to lubricate her comparatively smaller cunt with its own indigo slick. jennie whimpered, arching into its long, thick fingers as they ran across her folds. there was no doubt that she had become aroused simply by pleasuring this creature, and you could only imagine the ache in her core. 

it must’ve been similar to yours. this incessant throbbing that yearned to be soothed; a hunger to touch or be touched.

“carnal,” jennie whined. “please, please…”

carnal didn’t seem to be listening to her borderline anguished cries of desperation, its fingers stretching her cunt open, almost like it was preparing her to take something much larger. but nothing was enough for an insatiable little minx like jennie. 

“i don’t care if it hurts,” jennie added, to your shock. “i just want you to fuck me. please, carnal?”

carnal slipped its fingers out of her lubricated pussy and jennie made a noise of discontent at the emptiness, in spite of it being what she had asked for. it was too dark to be certain, but you swore that for half a second, there was a dark gleam of hunger in its heavy eyes.

the alien-like beast hoisted jennie up in a single arm and steered its cock to her entrance in the other. it was still stiff in its palms, and you got the feeling that it would take far more than one orgasm to sate a beast of its nature.

it didn’t seem to be concerned with taking its time or allowing her room to adjust to the stretch, but the look on jennie’s face told you that it was what she wanted. there was pain on her lips and pleasure in her eyes, the two being bred into something lethal.

“oh my god,” jennie moaned, tightening her grip on carnal’s shoulders. 

carnal grasped her hips, using her as though she was merely some kind of toy rather than a human capable of being wounded. it lifted her up and down its thick shaft, leaving her to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

you swallowed hard. when she was being used by a beast two times her size and infinitely stronger than herself, your best friend looked less and less human. she didn’t look like something worthy of respect or dignity. had you not known any better, you would’ve thought she was just some whore.

this was something that you had never seen, something different than before; when you saw her then, she was taking her power, but seeing her now, all of it had been reaped from her body.

deep, guttural grunts escaped the back of carnal’s throat as it rutted into her savagely, at a rhythm that rendered her thoughtless. jennie’s tears stung her eyes yet she kept babbling incoherently, addicted to the agony. there were red lines on her skin from where its nails had dug into her, but from how tight she clung to it, carnal was bound to have plenty of its own.

maybe in some sick, twisted way, the pain and the fear heightened the sensations of ecstasy that it tugged her nearer to every second of every minute. there was no pleasure without pain, and the promise of both had tempted jennie far beyond the point of no return. she was a fiend, you realized, for things that were bad for her.

somewhere in the midst of your astonishment of watching your best friend getting railed by nothing less than an unworldly beast, you remembered your anger, your frustrations. a thought a struck you then, selfish in nature, but bound to work in your favor. 

you pulled your phone from your rear pocket and opened the camera, getting it to focus on the two unlikely partners that were showing one another other worlds. if jennie knew you had proof of this tryst, she wouldn’t turn you down for anything. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of the idea sooner.

jennie threw her head back, calling out for carnal. “harder,” she whispered.

carnal silently obliged, but it appeared more like it had lost whatever remained of its self-restraint. jennie’s sounds became louder then, higher in pitch, and you couldn’t miss the way her brows furrowed together. 

your camera didn’t, either.

the sound of sex filled the room at an unfathomable intensity. there was a very obvious wet, slick squelch of their skin meeting that anyone could have heard if they walked just shy of the door. jennie’s cunt had already been drenched with arousal on its own, but the addition of carnal’s slick didn’t help.

you almost couldn’t stand it and that feeling was inexplicably amplified knowing that whatever this thing was she surrendered herself to wasn’t even human. but you were embraced by the comfort that you would be its place soon, whether she wanted it or not.

you were imagining it. if you closed your eyes and listened only to the sound of jennie’a pretty little voice, you could picture that it was you she was making all those pitiful sounds for.

“fuck, i’m so…,” jennie trailed, unable to even get the words off the tip of her tongue. 

but she didn’t need to say it. carnal saw it. you saw it. hell, anybody half as curious as you were could have been right here, about to witness it. she was on the brink of climax, the cusp of ecstasy, and it was unkind.

and as much as it angered you, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away for a minute. you had to know what it was like, to see her truly unravel, to lose herself in the highs of pleasure and the throes of sex.

jennie brought a hand to her naked chest, pinching her own nipple. you could see moonlight shimmering on the beads of moisture that clung to her, dancing on the misty haze of lust in her eyes. 

it was at that moment you saw the party monster for what she really was. the intensity at last was too much for her to handle and jennie shuddered with climax, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her toes curling. she cried out the prettiest whimper, singing a name that wasn’t yours.

and somehow none of that mattered, because the beast she let ravage her wasn’t finished. it tossed her onto the bed and continued, fucking her like an animal, like a monster.

you had seen enough. you had what you needed. with the promise of satisfaction vying against the contempt simmering deep within you, you slipped out where you had came.

too soon to see her eyes fade pitch black.

#jennie smut #blackpink smut #gxg smut #girl group smut #jennie kim smut #revehae fics

[dex0s]

Merman Getou x M Reader

⋆｡°✩!WEEK TWO - MONSTERFUCK! 𝄞

A/N ummm this is fucking embarrassing I thought I post this last week, ummm here I guess- NOT PROOF READ + I got lazy at the end *insert a good apology* like why didn’t you yell at me?! Fake all you fake 😭✊(male reader)

“te, mate~, MATE!” Shooting your eyes open too your right you see a male with a… fish tail. Long black hair with brown eyes and the a black tail. “What are you” you asked when backing up but you didn’t get to far due to the male grabbing you leg. “Well, I am Suguru Getou, and you my dear mate~” he answer while getting closer to your lips.

You quick pushed him away and stood up, “I think you’re confused.. you’re a um- I don’t mean to be rude but a fish or something along the lines of that and I’m a human being. With legs!” You pointed at quickly and all you get is a smile in return. “Um well I get I should get going-“Going where. This is where you will stay mate. He grabs your leg for a second time and brings you down to his level.

“I didn’t just go through the pain and suffering to going up to the surface and see all those monkeys just to get my mate only to find out that he’s already to leave me. No, no, no, that can’t happen dear” his arm slowly moves up your leg to your waist then he leans over to your ear and whispers. “Even tho mating season is not around I will still breed you like the good boy you are.”

You are shaken up from the threat that you just received, “I-I well how can you even do that I don’t even think fish have that type of body part.” You scarily talked out, “Well let me show you then” Getou said with a smile when him taking in your face for a kiss.

You try and move back but he puts his hand on the back of your head. He slowly wraps half of his tail (the full tail length is 6 feet) around your legs to ensure you’re stuck. Unlocking from the kiss and hearing your cry’s for him to stop.

Licking your tears away, he turns you over to your stomach (his tail is still around you but due to the mucus on the tail he can turn you around) putting his fingers in your mouth saying “suck them”. Now taking them out your mouth, sliding down his hand into your swim trunks, then shoving two fingers in your ass.

You let out a cry and Getou shh you up. “I know it hurts but soon it will be a pleasant feeling”. Soon you started to feel the pleasant feeling that Getou was talking about and moan, “See~ now continue moaning for me and you will get your award.”he added another finger.

You can feel a cock or two against your ass yet before you can ask he shoves the cocks in your ass while his fingers are still there. Screaming his name and Arching your back. Without warning Getou starts to pound you, “I-I never knew this is what you would feel like mate~” picking up the pace with you moaning like there’s no tomorrow.

You can feel Getou starting to get sloppy with each thrust and before you know it you can feel hot cum or in his words eggs fill your stomach. Slowly closing your eyes for can hear Getou whispering in your ear

We’re not even close to being done my dear mate~

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #male reader #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen #smut #geto suguru #getou suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk geto #geto x male reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere #jujutsu geto #apologies #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[beskarandblasters]

Mothman Fever

Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!

Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow. 

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat. 

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks. 

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background. 

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details. 

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant. 

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on. 

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices. 

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends. 

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it. 

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time. 

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man. 

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around. 

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave. 

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her. 

“And what about it?” you ask. 

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks. 

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs. 

“Agreed,” Tara nods. 

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly. 

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction. 

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt. 

And now you feel self conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname. 

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!” 

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends. 

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind. 

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks. 

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks. 

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says. 

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions. 

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison. 

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse. 

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!” 

And with that you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music. 

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.  

“You would?” you counter. 

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs. 

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far. 

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now. 

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out. 

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?” 

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state. 

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar. 

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street. 

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him. 

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual. 

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs. 

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later. 

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you. 

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes. 

The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again. 

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl. 

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud. 

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp. 

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs. 

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next. 

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter. 

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm. 

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you. 

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh. 

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.” 

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night. 

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded. 

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces. 

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says. 

“I lost track of time!” you reply. 

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds. 

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed. 

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say. 

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there’s flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him. 

-

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word. 

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it? 

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter. 

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel: 

Hey, will I see you tonight?

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly. 

Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel. 

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you. 

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look. 

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found. 

You type out: 

I don’t see you. Where are you?

He replies: 

Look behind you.

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found. 

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday. 

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel? 

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you. 

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes. 

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable. 

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice. 

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him. 

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him. 

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief. 

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough. 

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine. 

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious. 

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you. 

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless. 

Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you. 

-

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone. 

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there’s still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs. 

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags. 

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state. 

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.  

They both shake their heads no and you sigh. 

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using. 

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag. 

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

Until next time, Luna🦋

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition. 

Part two

End note: Hope y'all liked that!!

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #pedrostories #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

hot in sarajevo ii

[ part one ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of “y/n”) / 7.3k words / NSFW

cw: body modifications in the form of könig's split tongue, references to monsterfucking, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, actually pretty sweet all things considered. a.n.: this literally kicked my ass during the two months it took to write it, and i sincerely hope you enjoy! sweet to the first half's sour, with a little surprise at the end if you read between the lines. ETERNAL thanks to @dotcie for beta-ing this for me, it wouldn't have been half as lovely without you, and to @parttimeprophet for helping me with my german so i wasn't making silly mistakes <3

The safehouse is a two-story, narrow shed shoved between two other, significantly older, significantly more robust stone buildings. A shithole that looks like it was made of tinder and afterthoughts, but it’s as glorious as an oasis after ten miles of hiking east over craggy, stony hills under a searing sun-fall. 

The fading light cooks your back, and there is an uneasy, but needy tension between you and König in the aftermath of a successful and gruesome assassination. Neither were strangers to such orders handed down by KorTac, but you were both experts in carrying them out with bloodthirsty perfection. 

When you’d left the campsite staging area in the center of the forest–where König taken you into his lap and fucked you senseless–he hucked you up on his back and hauled you through the forest without asking.

He was not a difficult man to read, at times; he’d felt bad for making your cunt sore. 

The thirteen hours of broiling under the harsh Adriatic sun in full-body ghillie suits didn’t ensure an easy or pleasant slog into the city proper. After the maniacal fuck that König required to jailbreak his emotional regulation, you were lucky you were walking at all. 

It seems to your eye that, sometimes, he views the world as an iPhone in the hands of an angry fourteen-year-old, and all his ailments are caused by wanting to watch porn outside of their parents’ childlocks. He could do that, and easily, if only he could aim his destruction at the proper target. Holding that thought, you have to remind yourself that König didn’t have any kind of a phone until he was eighteen. 

His parents had been of an older generation and had little interest in advancing technology, and no interest in throwing their scant money toward any of it. They’d continued to stagnate in the past–rotting in a poverty-burdened, filthy hoard house, amongst kennels of well-bred Doberman dogs that were better loved than he–while König had moved into the city and the modern era. But he still enjoys jailbreaking his iPhones, if only because he can. 

Maybe because he hates restrictions and authority. Maybe because they are the only concepts he understands, even as he struggles against them–though he always ultimately succumbs. 

Well. He hates restrictions and authority that doesn’t make him cum. 

You’re both dressed down to hiking civvies, and he’s got a black cotton gaiter pulled up his face. You’re sweating in sheets that cascade down your breasts, stomach, and back. Your thighs soak the legs of your pants, and every stride renews the raw, dull ache of chafing skin. There is not a stitch of clothes on your body that does not cling disgustingly to your overheated skin, making you feel beastly. 

By looking at König, and his sweat-blackened shirt and narrowed eyes, you can tell he feels the same. A shower cannot come soon enough. 

The exfil vehicle that had been waiting after the hike has done well enough of a job, but the closer you got to the safehouse, the narrower the roads became. Ultimately, it has to be abandoned several streets down. Left in a back alley, you pull yourselves out and pop the back hatch, where he pulls the strap of a surplus rucksack over his shoulder. He also  takes yours without asking, and adds it to the weight.

“What the fuck are you doing,” you say, not even allowing the end-pitch of a question.

“You can carry the case,” he replies. What an utter gentleman, allowing you to slug your own equipment, like you hadn’t spent years and years humping full packs across the hottest hellholes on the planet under active fire. You’re too tired, and too close to heatsick to argue it too much. The streets around here are mostly dark, quiet and full of Bosnians that mind their business. 

Baščaršija is a beautiful place. The old town is full of ancient mosques and minarets on stone-paved streets, some narrow, some wide. There’s one slim street in particular that you pass down, by far older than the necessity of wide paths for motor traffic, where the shops lining it are all broad, tall windows, the lights from within warm and softening the darkness fading into the city. 

You pass antique stores, bistros, couples and gaggles of friends crowding around each other, listening to music from their phones, smoking cigarettes, laughing. It’s nothing like home, a completely different animal, but it pulls you in. No one in this city knows that you and the man you walk beside are the cause of four monstrous deaths in the hills. 

You are two strangers, finding solace in hands reaching for hands, a moment of exhaled relief when contact is made by the tentative and exploratory brush of fingers. For a brief moment, you let yourself buy into the thought that you are just a backpacker, finding your way to lodgings with your boyfriend, carrying an odd case that could be anything. 

König’s grip becomes more insistent, a thick layer of dependence in its tight hold, and he looks dead ahead, head lowered, shoulders bunched. You give him three quick squeezes–I love you–and he answers it back with four–I love you, too. You now turn your attention to getting a read on him.

Normally, he is amped after a successful mission, but he was already needy. His jaw is set hard, and his eyes are flat and flinty. He’s looking, but not seeing. You know that he’s turned against himself.

The pair of you had fallen together in a frenzy. To call your fall for one another an orbital strike would be an understatement. Yours was a crash site made home, and the months of settling under the strange, but welcome and cherished atmosphere of a relationship had begun to peel away the dermis, revealing the sensitive nerves and muscle below.

There lives a hatred in König’s soul that often turns inward. Would that he could rip himself to shreds like a sheet of paper folded and twisted under nervous hands. And he does. You still haven’t found a way to break through those walls–hell, you don’t think he even knows how he erected them, because he would also see them crumbled and turned into utter wreckage. 

If you were going to pull logic out of the chaos that’s occupied his body since he was thirteen, you would have to admit to yourself that there isn’t anything you can do. That he’s the one that has to somehow find away to break apart and rebuild the way he thinks, nearly on a molecular level. 

With no other help to offer, feeling weak and useless in the face of his battle, you hold his hand, and you walk beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he says after two blocks of walking. Spits it out sudden-like, not meeting your eyes. His posture is fucked, slumping him forward. 

“Stop that shit.” No heat, you never use heat with him; the man’s been burned enough. “Wouldn’t I tell you if I didn’t like the way you handled me?”

There is a telling pause, you can feel the lie he’s building on his tongue become too big to swallow or spit. He grinds it down between his molars, and his hand grows tighter around yours in desperation. 

“I think you would lie to make me feel better.” 

It’s an earnest and brave bit of truth–the man developed a frightening skill with white lies through his life to survive all of the shit hands he was dealt, and his skin crawls under the admission. But your love is dissection, vivisection: it has given you months of slow, thorough study, and an understanding of what patterns his thoughts led him down to land on that conclusion. 

It is what he would do to make you feel better.

“Lee,” you say, using the part of his real name that he finds acceptable, and only from you, “you know I give more of a fuck about your security than your comfort when it comes to shit like this.”

The blunt admission makes him stifle a wince, but he holds tight when you slip out of his hand to wrap your arm around his waist, his arm around your shoulders.

The moment you’re through the threshold of the safehouse, the Steyr’s case hits the floor, along with your packs, and out come the sidearms. You and König slide right into formation, clearing the building room by room, call and response in flight like crows. 

He takes the lead, and you follow–as much as he might not like the designation dumped in his lap, he is good at it, running hot with his jaw ticking, eyes engaged and unblinking. It was a barb during the fuck, calling him an insertion specialist, but there is not another soul at KorTac that you would trust with your safety on the ground the way you put your life in his hands.

After the building is confirmed clear, it comes time for your speciality. Both of you are experts in urban warfare, but where his skill lies in blunt force, yours burns brightest in paranoia. 

Paratrooper by training, guerilla tactics by experience, tearing apart the house in search of bugs or aberrations. Anything wrong, anything out of place. It takes longer than the clearing, König helps, and at the end, the safehouse is as spotless as it can be from a tactical standpoint. 

Standing in the attic bedroom, you stretch your back. “I’m radioing in. You hit the shower.”

He shakes his head and makes an argumentative noise. “Nah. Give me your pieces, I’m breaking down and cleaning everything,” he says, holding his hand out expectantly. 

He presents his .50 GS–a literal hand cannon, and a fraternal twin to your own–without asking, and holds it out to you by the barrel. You do not like the way your hand feels wrapping around the checkering on the grip. You do not like that it’s aimed at his stomach. 

You take it anyway, holding it loose in one hand with your finger on the trigger guard, and pass him your P99 and matching .50 from the holsters under your arms. There is sore white all around his eyes, and he is not blinking. 

“Where are you setting up?” he asks, voice tense like a wire-plucked.

Your initial report runs smoothly, getting in contact with Majka on a secure, encrypted line on the tablet usually kept in König’s possession. For this operation, your call signs are Schakals. Jackals. Wild things, unafraid of humanity. Wandering far too close, with teeth too ready to reveal under peeled chops.

König stays close, breaking down your guns a mere cushion away on the couch where you’ve planted your ass, hips aching and thighs tight now that the aftershocks of sex have long, long faded. His head remains bowed, and his gaiter remains in place. Every few minutes, he rolls his shoulders back. Forcing the blades of bone together, trying to release tension that will not let go.

When your report closes out, and you move to sit forward reaching for your cigarettes and lighter, König jerks as he turns to you. “Where’re you going?” His question is brittle, and keyed-up, eyes darting over your body as you settle back a bit.

“Nowhere, calm down,” you tell him, lighting two cigarettes. “Can I pull down your mask so I can give you this?”

He responds in a subtle nod, and you reach for his trappings to tuck the cigarette into the corner of his scarred mouth. König tries to follow your hand when you pull away, a nigh-unconscious tell that gives away his endless desire to be near you, always. It’s a level of wantedness you still grapple to understand–and it’s gut-turning fear mixed with crushing want that makes you pull your hand away instead of cupping his jaw.

You were never told what to do with the parts of yourself that somehow remained soft through the abuse of years. You’re stuck having to teach yourself, and it is not an easy process, though König has helped break an innumerable amount of those barriers. 

He looks kicked when you sink back into the armrest of the couch, until you shove your feet under his thigh, flicking your eyes toward the neatly disassembled handguns on the trunk-cum-coffee table before him, a silent nudge of keep going. 

Some peace washes over him as he cleans the broken-down guns, heeding your urging. 

His eyes don’t ever soften, not that you’ve ever really seen–except for rare moments, when he looks at you, and you wonder what visual information his brain is processing from his retinas. It puts you in a wondering state: curious if he thinks of you in the poetry of weapons engineering, or nuclear physics, or the black shine of blood spilled at night–but his gaze isn’t dagger-edged in concentration. 

Neither would you call it contentment. You know König is only content when he’s burned through all of his bad energy, and all the screaming in his head has died down to guttering, airless moans.

“Do you want to go out and get food later?” you pose to him, thinking back on the smell of kebabs roasting over burning coals overwhelming your memory and empty gut, and he nods again. Neither of you speak Bosnian or Serbian, but his Croatian is conversational, and passable enough. 

“Saw a couple booths doing Turkish coffee on the way. You’ve ever had that?” he asks half-mumbled, his attention unevenly divided. 

“You can do it on a stove, but it’s not the same as…,” he says, drifting, and your mouth twitches toward a smile when you realize he’s moved past the other half of his sentence. A good half inch of ash clings to the end of his cigarette, and it falls on his thigh, utterly unnoticed as he slides the guns back together slow as syrup. 

It’s a bit fun to watch as he pours his attention into the flow of his hands. On the field you’ve seen him breakdown and rebuild these same guns in seconds when demanded. There’s some measure of novelty in watching him take his time.

Your guns are handed back to you, cleaned first and checked over for defects. You slide them back into your holsters, just like coming home as you silently observe him moving onto the Steyr. 

The god-killing gun falls apart in his hands–pulled piece by piece in diagrammatic sequence from the molded foam from a case twice as expensive as your monthly rent–as if waiting for his attention, spread across the coffee table in a way that seems almost indecent to your eye. 

Maybe it’s a situation of projection–identifying with the horrendous and heavy weapon that, just today, took four lives in one of the most brutal ways imaginable. Thinking of yourself in precision machined pieces, willing and eager to disassemble under König’s hands, because you know he will dedicate himself fully to your continued existence and function. 

The Steyr’s all spread out before him like you often are, a pile of components unmade at his hands: unscrewed barrel, its bipod assembly, its scope and sights and grips, its magazine and receiver.You feel yourself pulse, clit throbbing in time with your increasing heartbeat. 

Maybe you should be more open and honest during your next psych eval, if you’re getting this wet over thinking of yourself as similar in nature to a rifle.

This process takes longer, but when König is finished, handing you the cigarette butt to put out, he puts the pieces back into the appropriate slots in the case. He stretches back, smelling like the slick, oily residue of DW-40 and the metallic odor of the faintly acidic oils on his skin reacting with the weapon’s metal. It clings to and pinches your soft palate like the sting of a sweat bee, something you can feel just under your eyes. 

His spine cracks, releasing a hard, meaty sound as the joints give, and he grunts in relief, turning his head toward you. He looks like he’s about to say something, but stops right before the words can gather behind his teeth.

Shit, you must be obvious. Can’t help the pull on your lips as you look up at him, shifting your legs, your thighs pressing together, amplifying the thump of your blood. “Hey.” Stupid thing to say really, but your come-on lines have never been all that stellar. But he’s always excited you, made you feel giddy and frivolously young and unburdened. Like you’re finally able to have all the things were denied as you grew into adulthood, shoved aside in favor of trauma that demanded the attention more.

“Hey,” he says, laughing a bit. He pulls what he can of his scarred lips between his teeth, wetting them, his brow furrowing. “I’m going to wash my hands. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Briefly, there is a twitch in your stomach, watching him go, and the anticipation and giddiness twist for a moment toward sickness. Sometimes, you worry he will leave and not come back. That he’ll have decided that he’s had enough, even with his threshold as high as it is, and he will simply be gone.

But, true to his word, he’s not gone long at all, just gone to the kitchen on the other side of the room, and you are bad off all over again. Watching him bow his head and hunch slightly to fit his hands under the stream of steaming water, soap foaming clear up his wrists, is making your mouth flood and your throat clicking dry. Big bastard, he’s doing it on purpose, hitting all of your buttons.

And the way he maintains eye contact with you all the way back, his hips loose and rocking, his pants already beginning to tent. His deep breathing gives him away, nevermind the fact that he hasn’t pulled his gaiter back up.

He sits back down, turned toward you, and pushes his hands under the hem of your shirt, his palms warm and soft from the wash and scrub. His thumbs knead into your skin, and his lids droop as his fingers tuck into the waistband of your pants. The pressure in his fingertips is possessive, greedy, starved like a street dog. He savors your skin, tracing patterns where he knows your tattoos live beneath your skin, pressing the heels of his hands into your hips.

Your tongue feel like lead. Everytime he touches you like this, it reads loud and clear that he’s holding onto something–someone he considers his. He’s surveying the scope of his lands, his dominion, and, dear god, does he love this country he calls home. 

“Bitte, Schatzi,” he mumbles, leaning forward so minimally anyone else in the world would need a micrometer to measure the distance moved, “let me have your cunt. I’m starved, and you look like you’re having fits.” A wicked smirk flickers over the corner of his mouth as his eyes darken, and his hands grip tighter where they’ve slid to your waist. “I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole, but I can’t stand to just watch you suffer because of me.”

You pull your tongue along the bottom edge of your teeth, thinking of how he was in the woods earlier–sharp-edged and demanding, unrelenting, holding you in place over his cock as he rammed into you over and over, until you literally saw stars and couldn’t breathe. Aggression, all claws, borderline unfit for human companionship, all under a soft gold sunset. And, here, you still would not say the man before you is a different man at all. He’s just König. He’s just Leopold Königsbacher, from Schladming, Austria, who juggles kitchen knives to make you laugh.

“You just wanna sink down there til you grow gills or something?” you ask, a bedroom, sliding your leg into his lap, soaking up the look of relief on his face. His hands slide farther down, cradling the swell of your hips, as you undo your belt and zipper, pushing your pants and boxers down. 

He helps pull them down as far as either of you can, looking fucking ridiculous as your clothes can’t go farther than your boots. Doesn’t pay to take them off, no matter how long you’re going to be here, you might have to run, and it’s easier to keep everything within pulling distance. 

Flicking his eyes over your body, a small, caught-out smirk touches his lips. “Hah. Yeah, jawohl. Would live between your fucking legs, if I could.” His hips roll against nothing, rubbing his hard cock against the strain of his pants. You know there’s an anxiety in him that screams to fuck and to fuck now, and it’s raising its head. 

König has the sort of anxiousness where if the things he desires do not happen immediately, they will not happen at all. His mind works in such a way that even small things become so desperately escalated into needs, he can hardly function without answering those demands.

On the best of days, you’re not much for words, and he has no natural talent for them–he can talk at screeching speeds, expelling high levels ideas that are baffling or frightening with ease, but his delivery is lacking, and leaves his listeners shifting uncomfortably or looking for exits. You, on the other hand, are simply not good at them. Too cold, too strange. Too blunt, or removed. But König understands you as you understand him, and he coaxes sweet nothings out of you more than anyone else has ever managed.

Despite the sweetness that spills from your lips being an understood language between you,  none of your words are the soft, looping things most would like to hear muttered into their skin. In the bedroom-dark safety of bodies-meeting-bodies, you and König still snap out the sounds of predators, and anyone scenting as prey would fail to find the beauty in your phrases as he does. 

And, beyond that, you’re not sure you could even find words. Not with him towering over you between your legs, though he bows lower. Not with the light from the kitchen behind his head hitting the wheat-colored curls escaping from his hair tie, illuminating him like a saint. Lord, he looks like dreams you used to have. 

You reach for his neck, and you tug him down, permission passed without even parting your lips, and the relief that relaxes his eyes is colossal. Like he’s walking his way home in the dark on a path he would know blind and numb, he finds his way to your cunt with the ease of muscle memory. 

But König is still König, and his anxiety will always outweigh his softness tenfold. He lets out this nervous, pitchy hyena laugh of excitement. Not waiting for permission and not giving a second of preamble, he licks you from asshole to clit in a broad, wet swipe with his long, split tongue.  

Electricity shoots straight up your spine. Almost immediately, he buries back in, massaging the halves of his tongue around your clit like he’s painting in brush strokes. 

He ropes an arm around your leg and over your pelvis, weighing you down, and fits his free hand into the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Using that as extra leverage, he pulls himself further in, and pushes your legs further back–hobbled as they are by your clothing around your ankles. Your skin burns like an oil derrick in flames every spot you’re touched, and his mouth is volcanic; you only just this moment realizes how badly you needed to thaw.

You were a barracks bunny before König and your mutual, supermassive possessive streaks; always easy to put out, wet on your own command, perpetually bored and looking for fun stolen minutes at a time. You can easily say sex is a sorely jaded topic in your roster. 

But, holy fuck, every time he hits his knees to devour you feels new, and alien, and strange. 

Not only his tongue—practiced, clever thing it is now that he’s been able to take his natural talent for it to use with you, drawing figure eights and pinching and pulling at you, teasing your hole and your clit at once—but his utter, sustained greed pitched against his plain desire to serve. How he gets more focused and desperate, sucking on your lips, groaning into you, sounds become wetter by the second. 

“Pretty, fuck, your pussy’s so pretty,” he mutters, panting, pausing to kiss your seam. Between your cunt and thigh, your perineum, making you squirm and whine. His dogmatic fervor has always been borderline chilling–you’ve never been handled with this level of desire, or needed so fiercely you function akin to air that is needed to live. 

No one has ever loved you this way–no one before him. If you could wrap the threads of fate around your forearms like the reins of horses, to exert your horrid and steely control over them, he will never have a successor. 

It will always be only him.

You reach down and grab him by the hair at his temples, which you’ve never ceased to be charmed to find is gray before his years. “Fuck me—with your tongue, right now,” you command him, and he complies, only reaching up to hook his thumb in your shirt and bra to ruck them up over your breasts. 

The instant stretch makes you dizzy, squeezing your thighs tight around his head. Don’t his cheekbones just cut right into your muscle, and doesn’t he just moan and heave a whole body shudder under you?  Greedy fucking man, pushing his tongue deeper, scissoring the halves of it wide in all directions, curling against your walls as he finds an angle for his neck that fits him to thrust in and out of you. Feasting, feasting, feasting.

It’s a fullness you’ve only recently gotten used to with him–too much dexterity, too fluid and swirling, and it reminds you shamefully of all the times you’ve masturbated to the point of wrist-aches with tentacles, and aliens, and monsters on your mind. Fevered, otherworldly, inhuman beasts dying of desire, with the sparkling-sharp sentience to know exactly how to slake their thirst and sate their hunger. 

His hands grip tighter, nails digging into your flesh, and you know it’s going to leave bruises, but you don't care. It only gets better when he cracks his eyes, a picture of anguish and ecstasy, moaning deep and rumbling in his chest. 

It seems he brings himself under some form of control. His mouth turns pliant, and the way he tastes you turns indulgent, slow. The only man you’ve ever met who could self-soothe by eating pussy. And, shit. Doesn’t that work out perfectly for you.

Your hands soften, brushing over his tied-back hair, playing with loose ringlets. Staring down at him, watching the creases fade from his forehead and from around his scars, he looks satisfied, and at peace. It’s a look you’ve seen only rarely, not even in his sleep. 

He sighs and groans, kneading your thighs, when he makes you come on his tongue, sliding it in and out of you as lazy as late, humid afternoons; rumbling deep in his throat when you arch off the cushions, groaning and clenching your thighs to keep them from squeezing around his head again.

“Aw, fuck, Kö—,” you half-whine, making him hum a nasal laugh, pulling out of you agonizingly slow. The lower half of his face is a mess with your slick, shining under the light, and his pupils are dilated to the size of fucking 10-cent pieces. 

There’s a proud, giddy cut to his expression, his scarred-crooked mouth pulling into a lopsided grin, chest heaving. 

“Did you like that, Schatzi? Did it make you feel good?” he pushes, his hands coming to your knees, fingers pressing firmly into your flesh. 

“Yeah,” your voice drags as you speak, laughter raspy. Your racing heartbeat is only just starting to slow, and the whole of your body pulses in time. There is delight in being rocked by ground-shaking tectonics of pleasure. There is divinity in the way he looks down at you–starving, an acolyte wanting to worship. “Have a condom on you?”

A quick nod is your answer, and he starts to pull up your body, dropping your legs. It’s ridiculous and hurried, and the laugh that bursts out of you is huge, taking on a life uniquely its own when he starts climbing in between your legs and your pulled-down pants, “What are you fucking doing?”

“Path of least resistance, even though it looks like the path of most resistance!” he barks in return, laughing too loudly and frenetically, filling the room. He hikes your pants up over his ass and onto back, yanking you further down the couch, and deeper into his lap. As simple as if you were just a jump harness he had to wrestle into. “I’m thinking on that fifth dimension shit right now! You have to catch up, Schatzi,” he says, giving you a maniac, you get it? grin. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you accuse him, but you’re beaming and cackling all the same, unfastening a chain from around your neck with zero thought, working a fully blind impulse. 

“No, you’re fucking an idiot,” he shoots right back, “really, Liebe, you have to at least try to keep up.”

Oh, and what the fuck. This is König–the one that you dream about, the one you go looking for when the world wants to crush you in its titanic fucking grip. Thinks himself so dog-ugly, dog-tired. Distempered, foul, and unworthy of anything but beating. 

He’d probably sneer, roll his eyes, and insult you if you compared him to the sun, but the thought remains firmly anchored in your head as your hands slide the thin, cheap chain around his neck twice, fixing the clasp at his nape. König’s too distracted to notice much more than lifting his chin to afford you access, as he pulls out his cock and rolls the rubber down it.

When he lines himself up with your cunt, looking too eager, the two fingers you keep tucked between a strand of the chain and his neck tug, tightening the links around his skin. At once, you’ve got his full attention, his chest heaving as he holds himself above you.

“What’s that?” he asks, licking his lips, beginning to tremble, leaning into the pull of pressure. “What’re you doing?”

“I was thinking about playing with your air a little bit. That okay?” you purr, giving the chain another small tug. “Nothing big. I won’t cut your breathing off completely. But I thought you might like it.”

“Oh, fuck.” He starts up laughing again, but it’s dripping with a rotten core of sudden need. “Bitte–think you have to, now. Can’t just tease me with that shit and not deliver.”

It was in your head to pull him down over you, but your breath catches in your throat looking at him. With half your body bound to him by tangled clothing and your own greedy legs anchoring tight to his sides, each of you flush with laughter and arousal, your heart is a bleeding stone on your tongue. Instead of staining your teeth as the blood rolls out of your mouth, it spills in reverse, and you can hardly drink your fill of it before you begin to choke. 

“I love you—” It snaps out of your mouth and dies, the harsh need to hide away your face makes you pull him down, moaning as he slides deeper, and, fuck, it hurts. You’re still so tender, and bruised, and god knows what else from this taking just barely managing to handle the way he’d fucked you that afternoon that anything but slow, sweet, and shallow was going to be an agony endured. 

His hips buck and jag, entire throat filling with the moan of your real name. He tries so hard not to fuck into you fully, planting his hands on either side of your arms as if he’ll bar himself from giving into his own body. 

“Don’t do that, don’t do that, don’t do that,” he begs and rambles, shuddering, breathing in shallow, clipped laps as if freezing. His hips and legs shift, nearly nervous–a horse spooked and dying to run. “Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he pleads, hanging his head, trying hard to catch his breath.

The chain is so easy to use, and he listens to the summon of pressure, sucking in a breath to hold it tight. His body sways, buffeted by arousal as if he is a ship on deep-rolling seas, and his head ends up sunken within whispering distance of your lips. So close you can smell the sweat cooling through his curls. So close you can taste the copper-tinged scent of his skin without ever licking him.

“You’re so good, Schatz,” you say, tapping on a name you rarely call him, borrowing his language. “Such a good boy. Such a loving boy.” The pain dulls to a throbbing ache that can be enjoyed, his hips slowing as he rocks into you. Already, he runs ragged, but his rhythm is bursting with devotion and slow-melting sweetness. 

There is a monster that lives in your chest, cradling, always, the molar-cracking force with which you love König. The beast beneath that calls your ribcage a prison and a home does not know a single way to handle things in half-measures. There are no lengths you would hesitate to go for the man above and inside you, head bent and buried into your shoulder in supplication.

Your pillow-talk starts to spill out, eyes sliding closed, as you revel in the breath making your skin humid, “I couldn’t stand seeing you with anyone else, Schatz. If you ever left me–ever started fucking another person–think I’d kill ‘em. I’d lose my shit, not being the last person you ever took to bed.”

“I wouldn’t–oh, sheiße–Schatzi, I would never,” König vows in a moan, the sound filling the dip above your collarbone like collected sweat or blood pooled from a spilling neck wound. 

He loses sense of his rhythm, rutting like an animal in heat. It becomes difficult to ride it out with him, timing his peaks with the pull on the chain, forcing him higher and higher. You’re too sore to cum like this again today, but his mouth had seen to it that you were finished. Now it is a matter of making him match as he rides you, pressing more and more of his weight down.

“Cum. God dammit, König, you need to cum,” you command him, breathless, pulling the chain taut now. It’s been entirely too long now that he’s been keyed up, desperate for your cunt, gripping you to his body like he needs the touch to simply survive. The way he breathes, when you allow him, is the heavy heaving of brittle-dry sobs. His skin burns against yours, sliding with the sheer amount of sweat pouring from his body. 

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back, listening to him whimper, “I’m trying, I’m trying, bitte, Liebes, I promise,” his voice unraveling into an escalating, hysterical, almost panicked moaning. 

“I know–I know you are, honey. Christ–fuck–you’re killing me. Love how you fuck me. Love how hard you get when you kill people. How you act all fucked up, and vile, and need to cut loose,” you gasp, more of the vulgarity breaking out of you as your ragged pants barely manage to pull air into your lungs. “Know this isn’t that. I know you’re–being gentle on purpose. Fucking me like you need me, ‘cause you do. You couldn’t move on from me–there is no one else, is there?”

There is one last ruthless constriction of chains against his throat, holding him tight. This time you really do cut his air, metal biting into your fingers. The last stretch of his desperation draws longer–long enough you wonder if it was a mistake–as every roll of his hips slides him deeper. 

A sound chokes in his throat, and he holds himself rigid, his shoulders quaking with suppressed trembling as his wrapped cock kicks inside you. He’s not even breathing, obeying the constriction around his neck, and he rocks the longer it draws out. For a stupid moment, you wonder if he’s somehow blacked the fuck out in his frozen state, until the links holding the chain’s clasp give, the necklace snapping.

He pulls in a huge gust of air and collapses on top of you, forcing your chin to slot over his shoulder as his weight crashes down, pushing the wind out of you.

“Shit–damn, baby, was it that good?” you ask, relieved and shaking in time to match his. You didn’t cum, but you didn’t need nor want to. You find yourself perfectly satisfied, the heady, filthy contact of skin sticking together its own prize.

“Shh,” he admonishes you, taking a huge breath, sloppily kissing your neck. 

“We didn’t even shower.”

“Shh,” he now insists, lazily lifting a hand to cup it over your mouth, and he rumbles with contentment as you place your teeth on the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

After an indecently thorough shower, you both dress in the small cubby of a bathroom afforded to you. It’s a slow process, König seemingly spending more time kissing you and touching you than actually dressing. The sadness and desperation had gone out of him with the sex–it could even be called lovemaking, but. Well. You’re both on the far side of skittishness when it comes to naming something so gently.

But, in turn, you are softer. Kinder. Thawed. When his hands slide into yours, you massage his palms and the heel of his thumb. You squeeze his fingers, and brush the soft veins of his wrist with your fingertips. 

Your love is dissection, vivisection, but there is a reason that flesh is cut and dermis, fascia, and muscle are pulled apart. 

It is to learn the body beneath your hands, and you are so acutely learned in König. When you kiss his palms, he breathes in tightly. When you put a hand over his chest, as if to hold his oversized heart, you swear he would let you cradle it to calm the slamming it produces.

“I love you,” you say to him, sliding your eyes up to his, liquid-smooth, flowing. This time it is said with intent. It is not a burst of confession in the midst of blistering heat, where it feels guilty and fraudulent. This is a surety. This is your heart speaking with a projected voice.

He takes your hand off his chest, his face softened with a weak expression and glittering eyes, and he presses his lips to your knuckles. After the kiss, he holds you there, simply nuzzling your skin. “Ich liebe dich, auch, mein Liebe,” he murmurs, lids sitting heavy over that blue you know so well.

Baščaršija had awoken as you two had hidden in one another’s bodies. The sky is dark as pitch, and the light pollution from the bazaar blots out the stars, but the air smells spiced and warm, with a faint tinge of sweat-touched skin leftover on the locals who had spent their days under the sun.

While waiting in line for the coffee König had mentioned as he’d broken down and cleaned your guns, he examines the snapped length of your necklace. “It’d be an easy fix. Might have to wait until we’re home, but–no, yeah–two minutes, tops,” he says, pinching the stretched-out link that had caused the failure below the free edge of his thumb nail.

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, looking down at his hands. “It’s cheap, I’m not worried about it. I have to have a dozen and a half just like that in my junk jewelry box,” you snort. It’s an easy let-go. It’s garbage silver over copper, and it’s not worth the money that made the tag that once hung from it. 

“Always with the shitty jewelry,” he sighs, bemused, but it’s not a real jab. He still winds the chain around two of his fingers to make a little bundle, and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s not going to let it remain broken, simply because it’s yours. He’s quiet for a moment, though he hums warmly when you turn around and press your back into his chest, your boots between his boots while you wait in the queue. But he starts, “You know…”

You press back into him, humming, “Hm?” in answer.

“I could buy you jewelry, if you want. Real jewelry,” he begins to venture, tone a completely different animal than you’re used to meeting eyes with. It’s almost hesitant, and isn’t that just so massively strange when it comes to this man. “Or…a diamond.”

The word lands like an anomalous warhead–something gargantuan and frightening, that does not detonate on impact. It’s still a terrifying occurrence, but not an instant death as should be feared. Your back straightens against him, and you fall into a controlled breathing pattern in the same way you’d fall into a plummet when running off the back of a cargo plane. Good god, you hope your chute opens.

“Do you like diamonds?” he queries further, soft and anxious. He begins to shift and fidget. He’d hoped for a faster answer to this question-beneath-a-question.

Reaching behind you, you draw your hand down the length of his arms, until he pulls out of his hoodie pocket. Relaxation floods his body the moment you lace fingers with him, squeezing him tight, three times, I love you, and his four beat answer comes quickly. 

“Diamonds are pretty,” you start, slow and careful in navigation of the thoughts ricocheting around your racing heart. Exhilaration? Dread? Hope? You can’t possibly tell, but you know exactly what he’s asking. “I’d want a lab grown one, though. Think we have enough blood on our hands without jumping for something mined,” you further, in small beats. “What about a, uhm. What do you think of a sapphire? Maybe…something heirloom.”

Callused fingers brush your knuckles, and a scarred mouth hidden by a black cotton gaiter lowers to your ear, nuzzling your hair. “I’d love how you look wearing a sapphire,” he murmurs in utter reverence. It makes you scoff a little under your breath–he holds you in higher esteem than he’d ever held any god–but you reach up and offer benediction in the form of your free fingers sliding into his freshly washed curls.

“Maybe that’s something we’ll talk about more coming up, huh?” you ask and assure. It is not a no, you are not putting out his flame completely, but this is something that should not be spoken of while clocking hours with kills. You’d rather not have anything between you and König defined in a setting where blood could shower at any moment. You’d like neither blood diamonds, nor blood proposals. “But, yeah, Schatz. I’d wear your jewelry.”

He presses a kiss to the spot in front of your ear, and quickly pinches your ass, laughing hyena-pitched once again. “Good. You wouldn’t get to take it off, you know. I’m going to put it on you, and a mortician is going to have to remove it.”

You rub the spot he’d pinched, giving him an eye roll over your shoulder. “Ah, I see, so you’re also telling me that you get to die, first,” you deadpan, though you can’t stop the smirk that curls your mouth.

“Of course. Why would I want to hang around any fucking place you’re not?” he throws your way, and in the pit of your heart, you know he means it.

tag-list: @alittleposhtoad @bitchoftoji @jaredhopworthsknickers @kastlequill @miyabilicious @moths569 @pssytrux <3

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work

[a-certain-romance]

(Belated) Kinktober fic #3: Ei + monsterfucking

Characters/Ships: Demon!Ei x fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, gentle & rough sex, fingering, mirror sex

A/N: Yae next as the finale! I started writing those two at the same time. This got finished this first, & I hope y’all like it :)!

You didn’t plan on buying the ouija board, but you couldn’t look away from it. The thing was purple! And stained a pretty lavender color! Best of all, it was marked down for 75% off. Which in hindsight would’ve been a red flag, but it looked so pretty.

A few days later, it sits under your couch, unopened. You were brought out of your haze of your impulse spending when you realized the implications of what you just bought. You’ve heard the stories of how playful tricks attracted unwanted guests. After hours on end contemplating, you decide to might as well crack it open and give it a chance. You could always return it later. Or dump it somewhere if things go to shit.

The board came with a small how-to pamphlet. You look over the book briefly, experimenting with the little triangle shaped tool and moving it curiously around the board. The whole thing feels uneventful. Nothing scary has happened, and frankly it’s starting to bore you. The tool has yet to move on its own without the help of your impatient fingers.

You huff in frustration, mindlessly spinning the tool around until it suddenly haults in the center. Your attempts to move it are futile. Finally. The guide advises simple communication once you’ve made contact: common questions like asking the entity its for its name or how it died. You opt for the first. Tentatively, you ask the spirit its name.

The tool moves to B. Then to E. E again. It glides swiftly around the board until you speak out the name it showed you. “Beelzebul?” The dimmed lights flicker anxiously around you. The walls shake violently, making the doors rattle in distress. Shit.

A warm hand grazes your shoulder and you jump with a scream, and you end up falling to the floor with a loud thud. A woman appears before you. She’s tall. A thin pointed tail sways back and forth behind her. She has 2 horns protruding from the sides of her deep purple hair. They’re dark with ridges, and somewhat curled near the tips.

“It’s my official title. But you may call me Ei.”

You feel yourself from the shock. “You’re the ghost I was talking to?”

“Demon is the right term”

She bends down a bit, tilting your chin up with her index finger.

“You’re more adorable than most humans,” she muses, “How do you wish to be served?”

“Served?”

Her eyes narrow in confusion, “Is that not why you called upon me? That is usually the purpose for my summonings. I used to be used for power, but now I’m best known for sating one’s sexual drives and desires. It’s why I come up to earth, to pleasure others.”

“What about your pleasure?”

“My pleasure…?”

“Yes, yours. Doesn’t at least a few summoners want to give you pleasure before their own?”

She shakes her head, and looks almost shy at her confession. “Let me be the first then.”

“You, you wish to serve me instead?”

Your affirming nod makes her ponder. “No one has every asked this of me before. I am always the one to give…”

You ask for her hand. In doing so you lead her to your room upstairs. Your lay on the bed and beckon her over to cuddle with you, “C’mere.” Ei stiffly cuddles up close to you. Her pointed tail curls by your leg.

“I’ll be gentle”

And you were. For the first round that is. But Ei desired a stronger fix from you after getting a taste of what it’s like to be spoiled.

“Make me feel good again” She presses your fingers down to her aching folds. “Need you inside me~”

Ei rocks her cunt further into your hand, inserting only 1 of your fingers. With the way she clenches around just one, you slide in another to make her shudder. She greedily takes everything you give her. Ei’s warmth spasms as your digits penetrate that sweet spot you found in the first round.

The side of her face bounces into your chest with each passing thrust. The position forces her to look at her reflection in the mirror across from your bed.

You grin, and grab her chin to watch your movements through the reflection. “Look at that fucked out expression” you groan.

Her gaze drops down to where your fingers are stroking her core. Ei bites her lip at the way you’re absolutely wrecking her, worshiping her in a way no one else has. It makes her breathlessly cry out and cum all over your fingers. Her hand slides up from your neck to your cheek, gripping you with inhuman strength.

“I need more of your devotion”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ei x reader #ei x y/n #ei smut #raiden shogun smut #💋

[usetheeauthor]

This Isn’t You (18+ MDNI)

Mindflayer!Billy Hargrove x Plus!Fem!Reader

Summary: An old childhood friend, Billy, is possessed by the mindflayer. One night, he climbs through your window demanding you to submit and join Vecna’s side. You do all you can to bring Billy back to you.

A/N: Billy is trash but his sex is on fire

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: billy and reader over 18, mentions of abuse and parent death, billy is a warning himself, nasty, filthy smut, blood kink, possible virgin!reader, spit kink, catholic!reader, scratching, biting, cum eating, face fucking, nipple play, rough doggystyle, hair pulling, spanking, rough to sweet sex, if you squint billy cries during sex, daddy kink, lot of pet names, small degradation kink, drooling, graphic language, multiple orgasms/creampies, breeding kink, hints of monsterfucking

You were busy doing some homework at your desk when you heard a few pebbles hit against your window. Who could be visiting at this time of night? Rushing over to the window, you slide it up and look out and around then down. Billy’s looking up at you with a large smirk. It’s not uncharacteristic of him to have such a mischievous smile on face but there was something sinister behind it and his wildness in his eyes were no comfort.

“Billy? What’re you doing here?” You asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“What’d ya mean, princess? You know I always come by your place when I need an escape.” His smile never falters.

“Yeah, when we were kids. We haven’t spoken to each other since.”

“If you let me in, I’ll let you explain everything.”

You contemplated for a moment. This was Billy. An old friend. What could go wrong? So you nod your approval.

“Okay, I’ll go downstairs to answer the front door but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“No need for that. I’ll climb up to you.” He points to the lattice on the side.

“Okay, but be careful. You’re not a little kid anymore so that lattice could crumble under all that muscle.” You teased. Although, you were discreetly admiring said beefy body from where you stood.

He climbs up, eyes not removing from yours as if keeping his eyes on his prey. Once he reaches your window, you help him anyway you can slide up the window higher for his entrance. One leg, then the other, then the torso and finally his wicked handsome face.

He’s standing tall before you, hovering over your short frame. Billy just stares down at you. This time, his smile is completely wiped.

“A-aren’t you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Now that you got a better view of him under your bedroom’s lighting, you notice some blood on his shirt and no matter where you looked you couldn’t find the source. This blood did not belong to him.

He twitches a little. “Remember when we were little and you used to let me into your room all cut up and bruised from my dad wailing on me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You were a true friend. Caring for me when I was in need,” He twitches again, slowly approaching you as you backed away. “I think you’d still take care of me even today.”

“Your dad…d-did he hurt you?” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Not anymore.” He chuckles darkly, it sounded like an overlap of laughter like it wasn’t only him.

Your back hits the bedroom door, hand on the knob. You stare up at him, confused what’s making him act this way. This wasn’t the Billy you knew. Sure, he was a fucking douche but he was a product of his father’s abuse.

“What do you mean by ‘not anymore’? Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“Nevermind that,” He growls before clutching his stomach, hobbling over in pain. “I need you to take care of me again, princess. I’m—fuck—I’m losing energy. You’re the only one that can give me what I need.”

“I-I don’t think I can. Maybe if we get you to a hospital—“

“No!” He growls again, sounding like a demonic beast. His eyes were pitched black.

He continues. “You’re the only one. I came to you because I know you wouldn’t say no. I’ve seen your dreams, your fantasies…” He presses his raging erection against your tummy. “…your deepest fucking desires. You want me and I need you. All of you.”

His hands roam your curvaceous body, landing on your ass and squeezing. He bites his lip noticing the way your mouth flies open at his touch.

“This isn’t you, Billy.” You gasped, feeling his surprisingly sharp nails prick through your pajama shorts.

“This is all me, baby. New and improved. And I can make wishes come true, too. All you gotta do is help me out. You don’t want me to stay in pain, do you?”

“What’ll I have to do?” You whispered, slightly turning the knob.

“All that I asked is that you serve Him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Just know that he’ll spare you. He’ll give you power and anything you wish for. All you’ve gotta do is say yes. If you follow him blindly, then he’ll know you’re true.”

“Spare me? What the fuck are you talking about, Billy? You’re scaring.” You feel your eyes well up with tears.

“No, no. Shhh,” His hands come up and you briefly spot his sharp claws before he cups your face. He’s caressing your cheeks, wiping it of any tears. “Don’t be scared. I came here to save you. You were the only one who I ever gave a shit about. He says I can save one person from the rapture. I chose you because you’ve saved me once. You’ll make me stronger.”

“Billy,” You grip his face. “Come back to me! You wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. What about Max? What if she gets hurt? You couldn’t live with yourself.”

“I’ve already made peace with that. She’ll be joining us soon, too, but as his vessel.”

“Stop talking like this!”

“Why are you trying to fight this?! You could finally do whatever you want. No rules. No Bible. You’ll never have to worry about sinning or going against God. He’ll be your God now!”

“No!” You turn the knob, trying to make a run for it into the hallway when Billy quickly grabs you back against his chest, wrapping a hand over your mouth.

Dragging you back into the room, he hisses in your ear, “You just made him very upset.”

You notice a light switch in the hallway through the crack under the door. Then, there’s the shadow of feet shuffling in the hall. There’s a knock on your door.

“Is everything okay in there, Y/n? I heard yelling.” Your mother asks, concerned.

“I’m gonna remove my hand from your mouth. You’re going to be a good girl and tell her everything’s okay…or I’ll kill her,” Billy threatens. “You’ll be good?”

You nod, frantically. He slowly unclasps his large hand over your mouth. You take a shaky exhale.

“I’m fine, mom! I just had a nightmare.” You call out through the door.

“We could pray about it together. It’ll help you feel at ease.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I prayed on my own. Going back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, love. See you in the morning.” Then, the hallway lights shut off.

Billy waits for the familiar shut of a door before he’s shoving you onto the ground on your knees. He stares down at you with a teeth-gritting grimace.

“You almost lost your entire family for that stunt!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’ll be real fucking sorry,” He winces again in pain. He’s getting weaker. “Say a prayer.”

You just stare up at him, confused. He grips you by your hair, making you rise a little to reduce the pain.

“Now!” He says, expressing this as his final warning.

You hurriedly clamp your hands together in front of you. Eyes squeezed shut.

“Magnificent Mother Mary, my redeemer, with a guilty heart I come to you. My mind was weak, I played with temptation and paid the price,” You squeaked in fear when you hear the unmistakable clanking of a belt unbuckling. You squeeze your eyes tighter. “Absolve me of my sins, bring light to my darkened soul. I accept my deserved punishment so I may live in your glory afresh.”

“Open your eyes.” He commands.

You obey his orders, eyes leveled with his painfully hard cock, red in its fury. He’s large and, by the look on his face, he’s looking to tear through you.

“I still need to be taken care of, princess. My question for you: will you accept? You’re free to back out of this but that wouldn’t guarantee your safety for when the time comes. Yet, something in the way you look at dick tells me that’s the further thing from that pretty empty head of yours. Go on and taste. Bet you won’t be able to resist after one lick.”

Maybe if you try and do horribly, he’ll leave you alone. So working up the courage, you wrap a tiny hand around his length. It’s even bigger than you thought. How will it fit in your mouth?

Precum leaks out of the pink head, you stick your tongue out collecting the sticky fluid on your tongue in one licking motion. A long line connecting your tongue and his cock stubbornly drags along with you as you pulled away before breaking off and slapping against your chin.

You lick your lips. He tastes so intoxicating. Before he could even ask you if this was what you wanted again, you lick at the slick head once again then suck.

“Mmm, fuckk,” He groans, head rolling back. “Your mouth feels so good. I already feel the energy coursing through my veins. Think you could take more?”

Cupping the back of your head, he shoves himself deep down your throat. His sharp, nails digging into your scalp overloading your senses as he fucked your mouth. You rest your hands on his thick thighs, gagging around him which eggs him on. Soon, he’s thrusting so hard that thick dripping saliva runs down your chin and form a small puddle on your bedroom floor.

Through all of this, you can feel pooling heat in your underwear at the words and sounds spilling from Billy’s lips. You’d always believed that Billy would be a dirty talker and now you get to hear it first hand.

“Sssss, oh fuu—swallow my cock, baby. Just like that. Choke on that shit.”

You hum a moan, vibrations shooting up his length. Your hand tugs and caresses his heavy balls, looking him in the eyes as to show him that you planned to ruin him just as much as he would you. The tip of your nose is tickled by his pubic hairs each time he makes you swallow him whole.

“Want me to cum down your little throat?” He asks wryly.

He pulls your hair backward, yanking your mouth away from him and allowing you the chance to breathe. He awaits you answer as you cough at the sudden lost, your satin shirt soaked in the process.

“Please, I want it in my tummy. Cum in my mouth.”

“Such a greedy whore,” He lets go of your hair, letting you take the reigns. “Make me cum.”

You wrap your hands around the base barely able to get it around. Doing a twist and tug motion around him, you suck hard on the sensitive tip. From time to time, you circle your tongue around him then lower your mouth again so he hits the back of your throat. Your hands were getting drenched in the process which signaled that you were working hard for his end.

“Goddamn, baby. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughs. “Let me give you what you want.”

Your head comes in contact with the wall behind you. Your hands now in your lap with him thrusting freely into your mouth. Tears and saliva wetting your face at the intensity of the act. You weren’t sure how you weren’t vomiting as quick as he’d been stroking into your mouth but somehow with him you were like a veteran succubus.

His hands rest on the wall behind you from leverage, the sound of the belt resonating the air with each thrust.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum.” He chants, face contorting in utter bliss and your eyes light up witnessing such a beautiful sight.

Then, you feel the sticky substance paint down your throat. It’s slightly salty and hot taste lingering on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed him all down.

Billy pets your hair, smoothing it down as he shoves his cock into your eager mouth over and over and rides the waves of pleasure. Once he pulls out, you stick out your tongue to show him that you’ve drunk all of his essence, not leaving a drop to waste.

“You sure know how to show a guy a good time. I’ll give you your reward. Take the shorts off. Gonna eat that pretty pussy.”

You moan at his vulgarity, pulling off your satin bottoms and underwear as fast as your hands will allow. You were caught off guard when he lifts you off the ground effortlessly as if you weighed the equivalent of a feather.

Laying you down on your mattress, he pulls you by the legs just enough for you to rest near the edge. His eyes as dark as the night sky as he stares at your core, sticky and wet with your arousal.

The sight before him has him buckling down to his knees. It was heavenly. He doesn’t wish for his mouth to be away from it a second longer. Billy dives into you swollen pussy, lapping away with his long, fat tongue.

“Oh, fuck yes! Billy.” You yank at his curls. He’s pleased at this action, smiling as he licked at your cunt. His tongue was inhumanly long and you were convinced that he was some sort of entity. Yet, the way his hands caressed your thick thighs lovingly indicated to you that maybe he’s still human.

Billy didn’t make you feel embarrassed for not shaving either, gripping on to your pubic hairs to pull back your folds and spread you wider for him to taste.

“Tastes amazing, baby.” He slaps a hand on one thigh, causing you back to arch and your pressed further against his face.

His long lashes flutter and eyes close, enjoying the moment and the little whimpers leaving your lips. He sucks and kisses your pussy as if he were making out with it. You realize this was all to entice you to wrap your thighs around his head because when your knees pressed against the side of his face, he began moaning louder.

You feared you’d block his airways should you wrap him in your embrace but as if he read you mind he squeezes your thighs tighter around him, keeping you there.

“It’s so good. Nothing I’ve ever had before, daddy! Oh, god.”

Billy wanted to stick his finger inside of you, hoping he’s get a preview of your tight walls but the evil part of him wanted you to struggle to take his large cock. Instead, he’ll show his mercy by making you cum so that your slick enough for him to slip in.

Each lick of his tongue sent you further and further into madness until he looks you in the eye one last time and like magic you cum on his tongue.

“Oh, god. I’m cumming!” You cried out, writhing against him.

He shushes you, whispering darkly. “Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake the entire house and you wouldn’t like what happens next.”

He doesn’t give you a moment to recover from your shattering orgasm. Billy immediately flips you onto your stomach, bringing you on all fours. Rubbing the tip through your folds, he bullies himself into your entrance and pounds away without missing a beat.

Your face falls into the mattress, gripping the sheets for some comfort from the heavy slaps against your back. He’s still fully clothed only his jeans lowered, too eager to remove them. You wanted him completely naked, feeling every inch of his skin on you. You wanted to look at him in the eyes as he takes you.

“Let me see you, daddy. Please.”

He spanks your ass. Then, he kneads the sore spot only to slap a hand hand hard against your soft ass cheek again.

“But you look so damn good from behind, babygirl.”

“Wanna look at you. Wanna see watch you cum again, please. Please!” You whined, practically sobbing.

“I guess ya earned it for being such a good girl.” He flips you onto your back again and plunges into you causing you the two of you to groan simultaneously.

You pull off your top, giving him a view of your tits as they bounced at the force of his pounding. Thirsty to feel him, you rip at his shirt revealing even more of his chest to run your hands over his sweaty abs.

His large hand grips a handful of your boob flicking a thumb over the hardened nipple. “You’re so fucking wet, Y/n. It’s soaking my jeans.”

“Then take them off.” You mewled.

“I make the orders here.”

You scratched down his chest, sinking your nails into his side and for one moment his sinister persona falters when you lift yourself to kiss his chest.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“You just feel so good. So deep.” You say in a shaky breath. You pull his face down, lips colliding. Your tongues fighting for the upper hand.

When he pulls away, he’s dazed. You’ve come to the conclusion that every intimate touch brings out the real Billy. If you keep it up, eventually he’ll come back to you.

So you attempt another moment of intimacy, sucking and biting on his thick neck and feeling his thrusting get harder.

“Wish I can have you inside me forever.”

“Uh-huh.” He moans, hitting harder against a deep spot within you.

You move your face to look him in the eye once again, hand on his cheek. He moves his hand to your face as well only you drew his thumb into your mouth sucking the tip lightly.

“Oh god.” Billy whispers. His eyes lowers to look between your body’s which was a mixture of your creamy fluids and blood. Had he just taken your virginity? He assumed you’d lost it to your first boyfriend.

He looks up at your face again, you pulling him into another passionate kiss and taking in his spit into your mouth. When he felt like things were getting too romantic, he’d tried to pull away but you wrapped you legs around him taking him deeper into your wet cave. Now you’re nails are in his lower back. If his shirt weren’t in the way, you’d be drawing blood for sure.

“See how wet you’re making me, daddy?”

He’s rendered speechless by you consumed by the warmth of your body. He’s always loved your body. He’d imagined your body against for so long, hoping to kiss your soft belly and imprint his finger tips into your plush ass and thighs. Finally, he gets this time of intimacy with you. Finally, you were under him taking every inch of his throbbing cock.

Slowly, whatever entered him the other night was soon beginning to melt but it was still very stubborn. You were determined to free him even if it meant all night.

Taking his wet thumb, you bring it down to rub at your clitoris. Your foreheads resting against one another, panting as you clenched around him.

“So fucking close.” You whimpered.

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Can you cum in me? I wanna take it all my slutty pussy.”

“Oh shit, Y/n. I think you’re trying to kill me.” He laughs, breathlessly.

“Need it now. I love you so much, Billy. Please come back to me.”

“Unh, god—I’m gonna cum in this pussy.”

“Please!”

He hits into against your spongy button over and over again and you get the feeling like something’s going to burst within you. He rubs frantically at your clit, your juices coating his thumb. You cum hard, the wind knocked out of you.

Billy soon follows behind you, shooting his thick cum into the deepest parts of you. He lets out an animalistic grunt that causes another flood of your arousal to soak his cock.

He’s thrusts a couple more thrusts into you before attempting to get up. You don’t let him go, tightening your legs around him and kissing each bicep.

“Don’t stop cum in me again.” You were insatiable. It went beyond bringing him back at this point. You wanted to fuck him until you could feel him even after he pulls out.

He rocks into you again, catching the bars of the headboard as leverage as well as to keep it from banging against your wall. Your driven up higher and higher up the bed from his forceful thrusts. He catches a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. As sensitive as you both were from two orgasms, you both gladly chased for the third.

You chant your ‘I love yous’ to him. You discovered your breakthrough when he started chanting it back to you. His eyes becoming wet with the intensity of emotions overcoming him.

“God, I love you.” He growls then bites your nipple.

“Cum for me, daddy.”

He slaps a hand on your clit once and your violently convulsing under him, cumming yet again on.

“Fuck yeah. Cream on this dick, babygirl.” His voice strained, signifies his impending orgasm. Not long after he comes inside you once against the squelching and stickiness between your bodies prominent. “Ahh, shit.”

If you were horrible, you’d make him go again. But you figured he’s had enough. You unhook your legs off him but he stays collapsing above you and snuggling into your body reverting back to the old perverted Billy you know.

“As much as I’d love to have you lying on me, you’re really heavy.” You giggled running your fingers through his hair.

“Right, sorry.” He rolls off of you, the lost of contact causing you to whimper. He rests beside you, cock still standing firm.

“Is it really you, Billy?”

“I think so.” He says, looking down at himself.

“What happened?”

“One night, I’m driving. I get attacked . Next thing, I know I’m…different.”

You hugged his side. “At least you’re hear now. Whatever attacked you, won’t hurt you again.”

Billy kisses your forehead. He knee it was far from over. Vecna will soon return and he’ll be right back in his control. For now, he’ll savor these moments for when he’ll be a monster once again beckoning you to the dark side.

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #plus size!reader #chubby!reader #billy hargrove x reader smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things #dacre montgomery smut #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #mind flayer #mindflayer!billy hargrove #dark fic #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #vecna stranger things #stranger things fandom #tw monsterfucking #cw monsterfucking #billy x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things s3 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #kinktober #kinktober 2022

[yeowangies]

Offering

PAIRING: Broly/F!Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: AU, Explicit Sexual Content. WARNINGS: Monsterfucking, Size Difference, Some Spooky Themes WORDCOUNT: 1802

Summary:

Every year, some poor soul got selected as an offering to the beast that inhabited the labyrinth surrounding the city.

And that year, that poor soul was you. 

Notes:

For kinktober! This might be a bit ooc, but it's an AU so I'm allowed I guess? I wanted to write one of my Saiyan boys in their ssj4 form, and I guess Broly was the one for it.

This is one of the submissions that have a spooky theme to it, but it's only a little. There's no blood or gore or horror, but just a heads up!

I'm tagging @carnal-lnstinct cause I know you'll enjoy this 😈

Day 13: Size Difference

You hadn’t been expecting this at all. After all, how unlucky could you be, to be selected as a sacrifice, when your city was so big?

Every year, some poor soul got selected as an offering to the beast that inhabited the labyrinth surrounding the city. Every single person was automatically considered for it, and the offering was drawn by lots. 

And that year, that poor soul was you. 

There you were, dressed in your best clothes, after a whole day of banquets and being given the best treatment, because of course, you wouldn’t be coming back alive. Your mind was still frozen, even when you were standing at the entrance of the labyrinth with nowhere else to go but forward. You must have stood completely still for what felt like an eternity before you decided to move, venturing in whatever was waiting for you in that maze. 

Uncertainty and anxiety flooded your mind the more you wandered, and while you knew there was a way out, you pondered on the possibility of actually finding the exit. Has anyone actually gotten out of there alive? If they did, they obviously didn’t return to the city. Why would they? The people there made human offerings a tradition. 

The sun was still out when you arrived, but it was getting darker, and all you had with you were matches to help you. You had to use them once the night fell, but by then you were already tired and pissed off. Maybe being thrown into a volcano would have been less anxiety inducing. 

Your feet were hurting after a few hours but you didn’t want to stop walking; it made you feel less vulnerable even if it was all just in your head. You still crouched down to rest for a minute, and then you felt it. 

A chill up your spine first. Hair standing on your arms and the back of your neck. Gravity seemingly increasing. 

When you turned, there was something or someone towering above you. 

You gasped, falling back on your butt and backing away desperately, keeping your eyes on whatever was in front of you. It was dark enough to make it hard for your eyes to focus but you didn’t even dare to avert your gaze, in case it decided to attack you. 

But what did it matter if you stopped looking? It might attack you either way. 

When your back hit the wall behind you, you froze. Knowing your feet would fail you if you got up, you stood still, swallowing loudly. The figure in front of you didn’t faze, and the more you stared, the less defined were its traits. Maybe you’d die from a fight if you could really see it. 

You flinched when it took a few steps towards you, and the closer it got, the clearer you saw; he was some kind of man with long dark hair, reddish fur covering his arms and parts of his torso, and a green pelt wrapped around his waist. You didn’t even notice you were trembling until he kneeled down in front of you and reached for you with his hand. 

Closing your eyes, waiting for some kind of pain to hit you, it took ages until you felt his fingers touch your face. Gently. 

“A woman.” A deep and low voice. It took you by surprise that he even spoke, so you looked at him in shock. “It’s been a while since they sent a woman.”

“Yo-You can talk?” You asked quietly. He looked at you, confused, as he pulled his hand away. Seeing his face with clarity, you noticed that he was actually handsome, to your own surprise, with tanned skin, and a scar on his left cheek. “Are you… You are the monster guarding this maze, aren’t you?”

His brow furrowed deeply, and you gulped. 

“Yes, I’m guarding this labyrinth.”

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“Why do your people always think I’m going to do something?”

“Gee, I don’t know, because no one ever comes back?” You rolled your eyes. 

His chuckle caught you off guard, and you looked at him with eyes wide open. 

“Most of them didn’t want to go back.”

“What?”

“I just showed them the way out.”

No way. 

So this creature wasn’t going to eat you, or disembowel you, or whatever? 

“Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He looked perplexed once more, frowning slightly. 

“So you’d… let me go?”

“Yes?”

You let out a long sigh, but the tension in your body didn’t leave you just yet. 

Keeping your eyes on him, you scanned him slowly. Despite his appearance, his expression was soft, and his gaze was gentle. The scar on his chest caught your attention; maybe he wasn’t a monster like you assumed, especially if everything he said was true. 

“How did you get those scars?” You asked him, looking into his eyes.

He only blinked in response, but by simply noticing the shift in his gaze you knew; most likely the offerings had tried to hurt him. 

Strange. You didn’t feel as afraid anymore, but you were sweaty and still slightly nervous from the tension you felt a minute ago. His gaze fixed on you, roaming your body slowly, making your temperature raise; he was huge and that was intimidating enough, but you couldn’t decipher the gleam in his eyes. 

“Are you still afraid?” He asked after a minute. 

“I’m a little shaky… It’s weird that you don’t seem like the monster everyone thought you were.”

His appearance was definitely not human, but even in his deep voice, he spoke so gently. And when he touched your cheek, even his skin felt soft. 

So far, he seemed more humane than anyone you might have known. 

His hand touched your thigh, and you looked at it curiously. It definitely was enormous, even compared to your leg, and the skin in direct contact with his fingers felt even hotter. 

Strange, strange, strange.

“Maybe you’ll feel better if I help.” His voice got lower and his eyes darker. 

Oh. 

You wondered how much you could trust him, no matter that he told you he wasn’t going to hurt you; being intimate with someone you were terrified of only five minutes after meeting him didn’t sound like a good idea. But maybe you liked the thrill of it. You had nothing to lose either way; you definitely couldn’t get away from him even if you tried. You didn’t really want to. 

When his hand slid higher, you let it. As it sneaked under your shirt, you slowly reached out to touch him, fingers tracing over the rough fur on his arm. The more you touched, the more it seemed like an animal’s until you glided your hand over his chest. His skin was hardened yet still smooth.

It took you by surprise when he grabbed your waist, sliding you down until you were flat on the ground. You yelped as he tugged down your pants, getting rid of them and your shoes in the blink of an eye. 

When he lifted your hips up towards his face, you stared in shock. If it wasn’t for your panties, he would be face to face with your sex. You didn’t have the chance to complain before he pressed his mouth over the fabric, making you flinch. 

Your mind was in shambles; you had been wearing your clothes all day and you were sweaty, what he was doing couldn’t possibly embarrass you more but he didn’t even seem fazed. He looked at you through hooded lids, gauging your reaction as he ate you out through your underwear, and all you could do was whimper, thighs twitching every once in a while when his tongue pressed against your clothed clit. 

Moving your panties to the side to get better access, he licked, kissed and mouthed at your sensitive skin until you turned into jelly. Your orgasm had never felt so strong, and if it wasn’t for his hands holding you up, you would have collapsed onto the floor from the sheer force of it. 

Getting rid of his pelt to slide it underneath you, letting you use it as a makeshift bed, you noticed his tail, swaying excitedly behind him. You were still in a haze, but it didn’t even surprise you that he had one. What caught your attention was his bulge before he pulled down his pants. 

Shit. Would that even fit?

His cock was thick, long and huge, commensurable to the rest of his body. At least he didn’t have any fur on it, or you'd be extra worried, but his size still stunned you. That couldn’t be right; he had prepared you extensively and he had done it so well, but there’s no way you were ready for that. 

“I’ll go slow.” He assured you when he noticed your face. The panic in it must have been obvious. 

When he shifted closer, holding your thighs in his hands, you said your name before asking for his. He seemed taken aback that you even asked. 

“Broly.”

“Pretty name.” You said quietly, smiling when he blushed. 

As Broly slowly pushed in, the initial stretch made you moan sharply. It was never ending, you felt completely full at once, but he seemed to still have a lot more to give you. His grip on your thighs grew tighter, surely leaving bruises, and he panted like a wounded animal when his hips finally met yours. 

Your legs trembled as you got used to his size, and you were both afraid and thrilled that it would hurt. His eyes were focused on your face, brows furrowed as he stood still, waiting for you to relax. Lust flooded his gaze, but there was something akin to affection. 

Weird. He only just met you. 

When you sighed, sliding your hands towards his shoulders to bring him closer, Broly snapped his hips forward. You gasped, throwing your head back; it definitely hurt but jolts of pleasure traveled through your veins, making your entire body tremble when he did it again. His cock obviously reached every sensitive spot inside you without even trying. 

Digging your nails into his pelage, you couldn’t help all the noises spilling from your lips the more he thrusted into you, especially as he picked up his pace. He had pulled up your shirt, massaging your breasts as he deliciously slid his cock in and out of you. 

Completely lost in the sensation, no affair had ever been so delightfully painful, and no one had ever made you feel this full. Threading your fingers into his hair, you urged Broly to lean down for a kiss, and he complied, staring at you with the same lustful and gentle eyes as pressed his lips to yours. 

#dbz imagine #dbz fics #dbz fanfiction #broly x reader #broly x you #dbz #broly #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #k2023 #my writing

[honey-flustered]

Eddie Had A Little Lamb (MDNI +18)

Summary: Eddie is trying to be good and with your help, he could be exactly that. But Kas, on the other hand, thrives in all that is unholy and he’ll stop at nothing to bring you and Eddie to the dark side.

Kas!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Religious!Reader

A/N: This is a spicy piece of work. I hope I did this concept justice as this was a request. Please let me know what you guys think since it’s my first time writing kas!eddie. Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Word Count: 8.7k+

Warnings/Tags: Dub con elements, religious themes, extreme blasphemy, possessive!kas and eddie, innocent!reader, whole big bag of (fluff, smut, angst) mentions of mental health, dom!kas, dom!eddie, use of “daddy” and “master”, corruption/innocence kink, finger sucking, drooling, dumbification, belly bulge, blood kink/drinking, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, minor monsterfucking elements, mention of traffic light bdsm system, biting, scratching, face fucking, spit kink, dacryphilia, oral sex (m & f recieving), small breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, doggystyle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, use of fox tail butt plug, anal play, reader referred to as “lamb” “bunny” “angel” , some violence, mentions of minor character death/disappearance

There’s a reason why lambs are considered a symbol of innocence. The poor things nary a clue when they’re brought to the offering table, gloriously prepared to be slaughtered for the pleasure of man.

Kas pities you. For that was exactly what you were in his eyes: A poor little lamb. Eddie hadn’t realize that he was currently wrapping you up prettily—with a bow on top—to be presented before the beast. Nonetheless, Kas will happily accept this offering. For now, he will wait. He’ll let you come closer until it’s too late to turn and run.

“Eddie,” You say, taking his hands in yours with a sincere smile. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come to Bible study. What brought you hear tonight?”

Aside from atoning for my sins, you mean?

“I wanna keep trying with this religion thing. Maybe become a better person. I don’t know if I’ll ever believe in God, to be honest with ya,” He admits. “But I’m hoping to prove everyone wrong about me. I’m more than what’s on the surface.”

Eddie’s consumed with guilt. He’s not been himself lately. A few nights ago, Eddie walked home from Gareth’s home, considering it was not much far from where he live. He was randomly attacked by a rabid bat. Bitten and disoriented, he soon blacked out. When he awoke, he found himself covered blood, the metallic taste in his mouth. Then, the missing reports came in about a missing elderly man. Although Eddie was not certain, he believed to be responsible for the disappearance of that man.

Ever since then, he’s been doing all he could to suppress the appetite and that godforsaken voice. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He was depraved, sick and twisted! That part of him was so far removed, he had a name for himself: Kas.

Usually, staying awake and alert was one way of stopping this undiscovered being within him. Of course, Eddie couldn’t always stay awake. So the next big thing was to sign up for the local church’s mentorship program in which young adult church members assisted the ‘lost’.

“You’re just misunderstood. Sometimes people are afraid of things they don’t understand,” You smile. “Like you must be terrified coming to a place like this. I’m sure everything you heard today sounded a bit foolish to you. I get that everyone outside the congregation thinks we’re all ‘Jesus freaks’ but we’re all just trying to understand things, ya know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been called a freak, too. That never stop me from wanting to join the program. Although, I can admit that this bible study thing’s not my style.”

“I’m really happy you did come though. You usually say you’ll come when I invite you but don’t turn up,” You began.

Well, it’s not like he actively tried to avoid. He’d come every day if it meant that he got to look at you. When he was partnered up with you for the mentorship program, it was as if he’s one the lottery. But of course, Kas took a liking to you as well only his desires for you were beyond inappropriate. Kas planned to ruin you. So Eddie avoids you as much as he can all so that he can protect you.

“It’s just really nice to see the effort you make towards this.” You finish, cleaning up the desk of books and placing them on the shelf.

“I get cold feet sometimes,” Eddie explains, stacking the chairs away. “Crowds and events also aren’t my thing. But I figured it would make you happy and since you’ve worked so hard steering me in the right direction…all I can do is try.”

You nod. “So are going to do prayer at your place or mine?”

“Yours, I guess.” Eddie says.

Let her come over to our place, idiot.

No, we’re going to her place that way you won’t be able to try any tricks while her parents are there.

“Oh, umm, I was kinda hoping you’d say your place? I know I suggested mine but my father is little overbearing and I didn’t want to just invite myself to your place.”

“I’m fine if your father’s a little overbearing. My Uncle Wayne was at one point of my life.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love my father but he is ‘spy-level crazy’ overbearing. You’d probably never show up again or would ever like to speak with me either. I would know. It’s happened plenty times before.”

“O-okay. We can do it at my place. Just a little warning, Wayne’s working a late shift so…we’ll be alone.”

“Oh…t-that’s okay. We’ll be on our best behavior.” You laugh nervously.

“Exactly.” He joins in on the awkward laugh.

After cleaning up the church library, the two of you got in his van and head to his home. Eddie’s never been to your home and vice versa but he knew you came from an affluent community. He could only imagine what you must think seeing the trailer park.

“Well, um, this is my home.” Eddie says, holding open the door for you. He’s never self-conscious about showing off his place. Couldn’t give a shit about materialism. But he wanted to impress you.

“It’s lovely,” You smile, having a seat on the couch when you recognized that some pillows and a comforter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this where you sleep? I didn’t mean to—“

“Oh no, no. You’re fine. Sit wherever you like. My Uncle actually sleeps there. My room’s down the hall,” He clears his throat. “W-we could go in there and do the session there. T-the prayer session.”

“Yeah, t-that sounds good.” You follow his lead.

Eddie thanks the imaginary man in the sky for reminding him to clean his room today. He nervous shifts on his feet while your eyes scanned the room, smiling.

“Your room’s really cool.” You compliment.

“Really? I’m sure your room way cooler.” And bigger.

You look at his red electric guitar hanging up on the dresser. “Whoa, I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“You’ve seen me play it?”

“Oh yeah, I watched you perform one time. My parents don’t allow me to listen to that kind of music but…my friend and I snuck into a show one time after you put the fliers all over the school. You did really great.”

The lamb’s got a naughty side.

Eddie disregards him. “Thanks. The band and I have been working on those songs for years.”

“I’d like to hear more music like that sometime. All my cassettes are of gospel music.” You say, almost sounding annoyed.

“I can fix you a mixtape of all the songs I like. Then, you could tell me all about the songs you do and don’t like during community service.”

“That would be great! But I’m not sure if I can bring it home with me. I don’t even own my own walkman. I share it with my sister and she loves to hog it.”

“Sure you can. You can even borrow mine. We could keep it as our little secret.” Eddie says, putting a finger to his lips.

You laugh. “Okay. Why not? I can live on the edge sometimes.”

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, patting the seat beside him. You sit, a small gap between the two of you. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, you hands crushed between your thighs as you avoided his stare.

Why don’t you get a little closer to her? She wants you to. I can feel it.

You’re full of shit, man.

“Should we pray now? Or would you like to talk about the study’s topic?” You asked.

“Not even sure what tonight’s topic was even about?” Eddie admitted.

“It was about repentance. How sincere we are in regretting our wrongdoings. We can do a prayer where we apologize for our sins. It doesn’t have to be out loud if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“You mean, prayer?”

“Yeah, like do I just talk?”

“Exactly,” You giggle, sliding off his bed to lower onto your knees before him. Eddie’s breath hitches at the sight. This was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. You, being on your knees and looking up at him through your long lashes was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. Fuckkkk. Was he really going to pop a boner right now? In front of your fine ass. “You clasp your hands together like your high-fiving yourself and you just talk to him as if you were talking with me. Don’t hold back either say everything. Then, at the end you say ‘amen’. It’s kind of like hanging up the call.”

“Should I keep my eyes open?”

“It’s preferably better if they’re closed,” You lay a hand on his thigh. “You’re probably shy. Not a problem. I’ll just pray for the both of us. Then, next time, you’ll join me.” You squeeze your eyes shut and whisper a prayer.

A lust for a taste. Just one taste.

His legs move on their own accord, standing up so that he’s towering over your small frame. You smelled so fucking incredible. Just…one…taste.

Eddie’s heart beats rapidly, vision blurring as he began to see double. You were oblivious to his inner turmoil, peacefully praying away.And just like that it felt like Eddie had taken the backseat in his own mind.

“Amen,” You finish, looking up at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t feel your presence in front of me. You move as swift as a mouse.”

“And you as gentle as a lamb.” He smirks.

This wasn’t Eddie speaking. No! The being known as Kas has taken over. Eddie being so sleep deprived, he didn’t have a fighting chance against him.

You stand on your feet, checking your watch.“Oh, no. How is it already time to go? We hardly got anything done. I’ll have to go. My parents are probably anticipating my arrival by now.”

“It’s only 7 pm, bunny. Is it your bedtime?”

“I can assure you I’m a big girl who sleeps at anytime I please,” You chuckle. “It’s supper time. My family always eats together.

“You should call your parents. Tell them you’ll be staying for a bit. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to keep you from a lost soul who’s eager to learn about the Lord.”

“I-I…I’m not sure if they’d be okay with that. My father was on the fence about me even coming here. Mother had to defend me.”

“Mama does know best. She knows her little girl wouldn’t do anything Jesus wouldn’t do,” Kas winks before holding out the house phone. “Go on. Let make the call. It’ll only be for one more hour.”

No, Kas! Fuck you! Let her go home!

“O-okay,” You take the phone from his hands. “I’ll just take it in the living room in case the conversation needs to be said in private.”

“Do whatever you wish.” He bows, holding open the bedroom door for her. She exits.

Kas!

If Kas weren’t so proud, he’d laugh. The game of chess has been set in motion. Striding over to his bedroom’s dresser, he looks at the reflection in the mirror.

“You rang?” He smiles a toothy grin, his top canines extended.

“Stay away from her,” Eddie hisses. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like your meal.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have starved me,” Kas grunts angrily. “Besides…she looks good enough to sink my teeth into.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her. At least…not in a way she wouldn’t like.”

“Good luck with that. There’s no way her parents will let her stay.”

You walk in, prompting Kas to turn and face you. A smile on your face as you too your seat back in his bed.

“After a some convincing, my father says that I can stay for just one more hour.”

“That’s fantastic.” Kas says in feigned excitement, silently gloating in his head.

“Although,” You play with your thumbs. “I kind of told a little white lie. I told my father that we weren’t left unsupervised.”

“Probably for the best.”

“I feel so guilty, though. I rarely lie to my Father unless it’s reasonable and even then I still end up telling him. I told him I snuck out to see your concert. It’s probably why he doesn’t…” You quiet down.

“Doesn’t…like me?” Kas finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“No, I understand, bunny,” He sits down, scooting closer to you. “Your father’s justified in wanting to protect you from me.”

You smile. “Why would I possibly need to be protected from you? You’re sweet, funny, and interesting. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Kas smiles at her cluelessness. “Think about it, bunny. Why do you think your father would be worried you being alone with me?”

“Because it’s late?” You say, softly.

“Because he was once my age. Because he could only imagine that i’ll be doing exactly the things he used to do with your mother before they were married.”

“Y-you mean fornication. But that’s a sin.”

“Sinning’s a part of human nature. It says so in the bible: We’re all born sinners and what not.”

“You’re right about that. B-but church folk say that marriage is important first to enjoy things of that nature.”

“What if I told you, you don’t have to marry…to fuck?”

The emphasis on the swear word sends chills down your spine. You bite your lip to keep him from hearing your heavy breathing.

“I mean, come on. Would you really wanna marry a bad lay? With each new generation, sex is more liberating, raunchier and nastier. It doesn’t always have to come with strings attached. That’s what makes it sooo fascinating. You get to fuck whoever and whenever. Why enforce these principles on yourself when there’s always something new to learn about it. Don’t you like fun?”

You swallow hard. “I do but lots of things could be fun aside from…sinning.”

“What could be more fun than feeling the best pleasure you could ever imagine?”

“Going to church could be just as pleasurable.”You try smiling again to keep him from thinking he’s affecting you.

“It could…but you wouldn’t know that for sure unless you’ve been fucked? But not just regular fucking. Hard, fast. The kind that takes your breath away and makes you feel like you’re dying a little.”

“I experience that above worldly pleasures and the physical. That’s why this mentorship program is out in place, Eddie. It shows us how to seek happiness outside of those things. It’s like a spiritual awakening.”

“I can give you that with just my fingers alone, bunny. You don’t need to talk to some imaginary man in the sky when you’ve got one right here willing to show you things that’ll rock your world.”

“Like what?” You weren’t sure why you kept this conversation going. It was supposed to be about God. About today’s bible study topic. Not…this! But your curiosity got the best of you. You were like a scientist poking and prodding for your latest discovery.

“Have you ever played with yourself?” Kas asks, eyes ruby red. You being so lost in his trance, you couldn’t bother to realize that you were staring into the eyes of a monster.

“You mean, touch myself… down there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes,” You breathe. Somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed to admit this to a guy you’ve had a crush on since the 9th grade, never acting on your feelings because your world had never aligned up until this point. “But not directly.”

“What do you mean, bunny?”

“I’ve never put a finger inside or touch there at all when I’m pleasuring myself because I’d feel too guilty if it were by my own hand. So I…” You look away and trail off, afraid to continue.

“Go on. Don’t be shy.” Kas encourages, a hand on your knee.

“I…shove my pillow between my legs and rub against it.”

“That sounds hot as fuck.” He shift closer to you, his knee touching yours.

“It’s shameful.” You whisper.

“It’s natural. I get that feeling, too. You just want some release. You deserve that. Don’t you, bunny?”

“I’m not sure.” You clamp your thighs together, bringing his attention to the hand that’s rested on your knee.

He slithers a hand up your soft, supple thighs and squeezes. You let out a quiet squeak. “I think you do. You’ve been such a good girl.”

His hand move further up before wedging between your inner thigh. “Tell ya what…maybe I can teach you some things, too. It could be my gift of appreciation to you.”

Kas stalks over you, eyes staring into yours while you gradually fell against Eddie’s pillow.

Don’t you fucking dare, Kas!

You’re shaking and Kas places a hand over your heart, feeling it pound against his palm. It was so delicious. You are just so full of life. And blood. Innocent, pure blood.

“So you’re a virgin?”

You nod.

“I can change that.”

He’s being weirdly crass! You thought to yourself.

And yet, you throbbed for him. Your hands have the sudden urge to pull his face down to yours for a passionate kiss.

But Kas makes the first move, lowering his face above yours. The guitar pick necklace dangling above you slots itself between your breasts when his lips are just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, feeling the lightest of touch only to quickly dissipate before you could even register its presence. You hear a pained groan, opening your eyes to see him rubbing his temple, eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry about that, bunny. Got a real pain in my head head just now,” Kas laughs. “I’m ready to continue if you are.”

“Actually, do you think you could take me home,” You reach for your bag beside you, standing on your unsteady feet. “This was…a night.”

Kas exhales deeply. “Why not?”

He sluggishly reaches for the keys of the van, leading you out the door to his van. The rest of the car ride was quiet but the exchanging spoke loud enough. When Kas arrived to your home, you gathered your things slowly almost like you were thinking of saying something.

“Umm, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Kas says, nonchalantly.

“Okay,” You say, discouraged. “Goodnight.”

You pull the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. After couple of tries, Kas leans across your seat.

“Sometimes, you gotta give it a little shake.” He strongarms the handle, popping the door open.

He could here your breathing above him, you really were inexperienced. The slightest touch or breeching of your personal space and you’re flustered.

Kas decides to have fun with this, making sure you can feel his breath ghosting over you skin as he gradually looks up at you. When you felt it tickle against your neck, you shudder. Just as he’d hoped: goosebumps light up your skin.

“Goodnight.” Kas finally says.

“Mm, yeah.” You rush out, going up to the front door. He waits for you to enter and he’s off, cursing himself. You were a lot harder of a catch.

But it wasn’t lost on him that you’d been rubbing your thighs together. You probably couldn’t wait to get back to back to your room to hump your pillow until sunset. Kas prides himself in this thought.

“Thanks to you she thinks I’m some perv.” Eddie complaints.

Kas groans. “Don’t you have an off switch? Besides a pervert is exactly what you are. Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of fucking her, too? I didn’t hear you once complain when I asked her about playing with herself.”

“You won’t be coming near her again, Kas. I fucking swear it. From now on, I’ll be serious with my avoidance of her.”

“We’ll see how long that’ll last. Hell, she’ll probably come looking for us first after the time I just gave her.” Kas winks through the rearview mirror.

Eddie could feel himself slipping into his own mind, trying to find solid ground. If he didn’t figure out a way to find the balance within himself, Kas will take full control. And who knows how many people’s lives could be at risk.

—————

Eddie’s ashamed. After your confessions last night, he touched himself, imagining the way you’d sound moaning as your wet pussy dragged along your pillow. He imagined what words you’d say when you climax. Would you call for God? Would you swear? Would you call out for his name?

The next thing he knew, his hands were down his boxers, stroking his cock and sniffing the parts of the sheets where you were lain against. It was pathetic. Desperate. He hated to admit that Kas had been right. Eddie wanted to fuck you hard and deep, making you take every inch of him.

The next day—as Kas predicted—you were actively searching for him. Eddie made sure that whenever you were entering a room, he was exiting.

He’s been successful for the most part. The occasional times where he would run into you, he’d quickly rush off explaining to you how he’s needed in a different department of the church. But despite that, he was at ease knowing that you’d be safe from him.

That was up until he was reminded of bible study. In which, Eddie had to sit in a room of close proximity to you. You’d try to sit next to him and he’d pounce at the very moment the hear your body radiates against his skin.

He needed to think fast. So when the meeting begun, Eddie made sure to sit in a chair with the seats around him filled. Every now and then, he’d catch your stare. Especially, when the two of you shared a momentary smile at one another when the lead went on about the “devil worshipping game of Dungeons and Dragons”. Once the meeting concluded, Eddie’s attempts to walk out the door when the lead begs him to stay to clean up again along with You like the other day.

He reluctantly agrees, starting in a corner of the room far from you. Every now and then, he’d catch himself staring. Did you have to dress goddamn stunning today? Like a goddamn angel. It wasn’t fair.

You pretend as if you needed something in the section he was hiding in, casually walking around him. “Hey! I was looking to speak with you today.”

“Really? Oh man, I’m sorry.” Eddie wasn’t much of an actor.

“You seem like you’re very busy today. It’s nice to see that you being so active here.”

To avoid all my problems, of course.

“Everyone’s been talking about it,” You continue. “Nobody could have seen it coming. Eddie Munson, church goer.”

“Well, no one’s as shocked as my friends. They still don’t believe it, pictures and all,” Eddie laughs before clearing his throat for a more serious topic. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was being a dick—sorry I mean, jerk.”

You look at him strange.

“Did I say something wrong?” Eddie asks.

“No. It’s just funny that you’re apologizing for cursing,” You giggle. “Yesterday…you were sort of a sailor mouth.”

“Oh, right. I’m not sure what came over me.“

“To be quite honest, I kinda liked it,” You smile, looking down in your lap. “Everyone’s so formal and proper all the time. It’s nice to hear something…different.”

“Oh…” Eddie’s floored.

“Anyway, how’d you like today’s study?”

“Not my favorite, honestly. They talked so much shit about D’n’D being ‘demonic’.” Eddie says, putting on a gravelly demon voice.

“I’m really sorry about that. I know it’s a sensitive. It was very admirable of you not to interject your points even though you could have very well done so with no judgment. In my opinion, it’s only a harmless game. I’ve been curious to play it.”

“You should come by my club sometime, then. I can teach you all that I know.”

“I’d love for you to teach me.” Your smile fades when you’re reminded of the implications of your statement. Eddie catches this, nervously twirling the rings on his fingers. Neither of you meeting each other’s gaze.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence. “Eddie…I have a few questions.”

“Sure, angel. What’s up?”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me? I want you to know that whatever it is that you feel you can’t tell me…you really could tell me. I may not be a great liar but I can keep secrets.”

Yes, actually. I have a lust for blood because I’m a vampire with an alter personality that attacks humans for their blood and now we’re competing to claim you. : Is what he wished to say… instead he simply puts it at a, “It’s complicated. But I don’t think I have much to say.”

“It’s just that you’ve been so different lately. I’ve never know you to remotely care what people think of you. Or go to church meetings and want to learn about the Bible.”

“People aren’t born religious, they find their way. I did.”

“Yeah but it’s like you’re doing it to make up for something. Whatever it is…you should know that you don’t have to deal with it on your own. You don’t have to avoid me. And if it feels like I’m not forcing you into doing this program in anyway—.”

“I chose to sign up for this. None of this is because I’m force to do this. If anything I like being around you, I’m just going through a lot of stress. It’s hard learning to be more responsible and in control.”

“I know what you mean,” You laugh. “I feel like I nearly lose control all the time. Especially…when I’m with you.”

His eyes widen at your bold admittance.

“Yesterday, I was on the edge, waiting to go over. It’s like that whenever I’m near you. Like, I’m hanging on by a thread that just gets keeps getting thinner and thinner, anticipating the moment it snaps.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.” Eddie says, feeling as if a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Is it wrong that I wish for you to teach me those things you said you would? To think such sinful thoughts right here on church grounds?”

He swallows audibly, adam’s apple bobbing. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’ve always liked you, Eddie. I like you. Not whatever constructed version of you that you’re trying to build to appease the masses. I’m interested in you and the things you like and how excited you are when you get to share them with someone,” You close the space between your bodies. “When I think about you…I can’t stop the ache I feel between my legs. No matter how many times I touch myself at night.”

“Oh, angel,” Eddie breathes. “You’re gonna break me down.”

“What I feel is so intense that all I could do is touch myself to get some release. You were right. I don’t want to deny myself of what I need. I need you.”

“I need you, too. So fucking bad. I could never get you out of my head.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?”

“How can I? You’re amazing. And you’re really pretty and nice and you smell like a dream. Whenever I look at you, I just wanna hold you and kiss you.”

“I can’t stand it. I want you now.” You whine, grabbing the collar of his jacket to press your lips to his.

He’s more confident in his kiss with you, tongue running over your bottom lip. You grant him the permission to explore your mouth, deepening the kiss. You even tasted incredible, too.

Eddie feels as if he’s on top of the world and he hopes Kas could see him now.

That’s checkmate, asshole.

You break the kiss, a line of spit connecting your lips before you lap at it with your tongue. A heat creeping up on your lips when you remembered exactly where you were.

“I hope these old cameras don’t work.” Although, something within you says the opposite.

“Come on.” Eddie takes your hand, leading you to the back corner of the library.

He turns you over, your back against the bookshelf as he starts off by kissing your neck. He, then, resumes moving his lips over your pouty ones, his skillful tongue works its wonders. When his hands reach your butt, he cups it and uses the leverage to glide your clothed core over his denim-covered thigh.

“First lesson in pleasuring yourself, if you’ve got a partner…use ‘em.” Eddie says, grinding you down against him causing you to moan out.

You cover a hand over your mouth afraid that you’re being too loud. He quickly removes your hand away.

“It’s just us, angel. I wanna hear you.”

“But what if someone walks in?”

“Don’t care. Show me how you play with that pussy when your at home. Ride my thigh.” His hand collides hard on your ass, the sting hurts so good.

“Please.” You rasp, rutting against his leg like a dog in heat while he sucked on your neck.

He wanted to taste you so badly. Drink of your nectar as if you were the very source of life itself. So, once he felt like he’d gotten his fill, he drops down to his knees before you. You were confused at first until you felt his hands creep up your dress, finding the band of your panties.

It was a blessing you decided to wear nice underwear today.

He slides your pink thong down your legs, hiking the skirt of your dress around your hips. The look on his face was enough to make you feel like a goddess. His hooded eyes, fluttering as he watch your honeyed arousal seep from your puffy lips.

“It so damn perfect.” Eddie groans. Not wasting a second longer, he dives in. His tongue licks a long stripe up and down your slit before taking in the sensitive nub between his pursed lips.

Your knees begin to buckle underneath you, the only thing keeping you up is his hand on your abdomen.

“Ngh..ooo please! Eddieee.” You whine, biting your lip to keep from screaming. In that moment, there was no turning back for you. You’ve now experienced the kind of pleasure your pillow could never compare to.

You almost felt sorry for denying yourself this kind of bliss. But it was worth the wait because now you get to indulge. And indulge you did, grinding your sodden cunt against his face. His arms wrap around your thick thighs, pulling you into him as if you weren’t close enough.

Eddie kisses your pussy like does when he kissing the lips on your face, savoring the feeling against his. He collects your juices on his tongue then spits back onto your throbbing pussy before sucking it off again. It was absolutely filthy. Something you’d never seen which was enough to make you cum hard at the sight alone.

Your walls clench and unclench within you, desperately needing to be filled. As if he’d read your mind, he slips in a thick digit into you. Then, another. You gasp at the sensation. It was foreign but it intensified your orgasm to the point where you reached for the books behind you to ground yourself into reality, knocking them to the ground.

You were like a work of Michelangelo. He watches intensely as you cry out and writhe against his mouth and fingers. The sounds of his moans combined with the suction noises would have anyone fooled that he was currently eating a 5-star cuisine.

“Oh, yess, daddy.” You let out a guttural groan, the whites of your eyes shown.

Eddie liked the sound of that, laughing wickedly against your thigh. He knew he’s won, taking you down piece by piece until you crumbled. He rubs your clit until your shaking from overstimulation, pulling his hand away to breathe again.

He smirks. The little tease. You smile back, panting. Your hair’s probably a mess from all the thrashing.

You expected him to slide your underwear back up your legs. Instead, he sniffs them and groans, pocketing them.

“Mine now.” He claims with a smile.

“You’ve definitely rocked my world.” You praise, now that you could form a coherent sentence.

He chuckles, helping you straighten yourself out. “So did you. I’ve never been so turned eating pussy. Nearly came in my pants like some prepubescent kid.”

“I want more.” You jump him, kissing with tongue and tasting yourself.

He pulls away, cradling you in his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Let me take you out on a date first. Let’s take things a little slow.”

————

He was no better than Kas. Eddie was just as thirsty for you. Just as much to credit for your corruption. There was no slowing down between the two of you. Ever since you’d began dating, things have been intense.

There was lots of kissing for sure and Eddie loved going down on you every chance he got. He was a addicted to your taste and the way you sounded, determined to make you scream his name whenever the two of you were alone.

You’d asked Eddie to go to the sex shop with you because tonight was the night. You and Eddie have talked about it for these past few weeks now. He was going to take your virginity. Like you’d always dreamed about.

You were looking for your first time to be somewhat experimental but also as loving as possible. You knew Eddie would provide that. But there wasn’t just Eddie Munson who’d partake in your christening…Kas would soon make his entrance.

“You should buy that,” The little devil in Eddie’s mind says, drawing Eddie’s attention to the foxtail anal plug hung up on display. “It’ll train her ass just right for what I plan on doing to her tonight.”

“Fuck off. I’m not letting you get in on this,” Eddie bites. “She’s mine.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come out to play when our girl’s begging for our cock?” Kas says, smugly.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Kas. You’ve caused enough trouble in my life.”

“You can deny me all you wish but it changes nothing. I am your most primal desires and truest of nature. I am you,” Eddie could feel himself weakening. Kas growing in his awareness. “I have you to thank, though. You prepared the little lamb nice and ready for me to partake. Maybe I’ll let you take the reigns…eventually.” Kas chuckles, darkly.

“Eddie,” You skipped giddily over to him. “I think I’m ready to go now. I didn’t get much other than some condoms and lubricant like you said.”

“What do you think of this?” Kas says, picking up the foxtail, curling it around your neck as you look in the mirror.

You giggle. “What is that?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

—————

You made it to Eddie’s trailer and your nerves manifested into butterflies aimlessly fluttering in your tummy. This was going to happen. You were going to lose your virginity to Eddie Munson. But as excited as you were…you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of his van.

A part of you felt guilty. Like you wanted to call it off in that moment. You’ve been saving yourself for marriage but all your views and moral values were slowly unraveling. Was God looking down at you right now?

“Hey, bunny?” He says warmly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Something wrong?”

Your eyes look into his and suddenly you’re skeptical of the man before you. His pale skin contrasted with the darkening around his eyes which in return highlights the ruby red of his irises. “H-hey, um, Eddie?”

You say the name itself in the form of a question, which prompts him to catch onto your suspicion. And yet he smiles. “Yeah?”

“What if I were to say that I’m having second thoughts about this?”

“That’s normal. But that’ll pass. I promise I’ll make this enjoyable for you.”

You grip the edges of your skirt. “It’s just that…it feels so different. Y-you feel different again.”

The moonlight over his faces leaves one side lit brightly against his skin while the other half of his face was shaded in the dark.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s something about your energy that’s… shifted. And your eyes—It’s like that night all over again. The night we almost….” You swallow the hard lump in your throat. “You’re not Eddie, are you? W-who are you?”

The corners of his lips curl. “You’re a clever little lamb, aren’t you? That explains why you ran off that night. Do you always run from danger?”

You frigid in your seat, watching his every move.

“My name is Kas. Think of me as an enhanced version of lover boy who’s, by the way, watching us through these eyes. Right now. Tonight…I’ll be filling in for him by filling in you.”

“You,” You whisper, pointing at him. “You’re the one that’s been influencing me and Eddie to do these unholy things. You’re possessing him.”

“Bunny, you’ve gotta stop reading that fairytale crap. It rots your brain. I’m no demon,” His fangs extend and you’re scared shitless. “I have no part in controlling Eddie’s emotions or yours. He’s been wanting to fuck you since he saw you. I couldn’t blame him. You’re so sexy.” He growls, leaning in.

You hold up the rosemary around your neck. “I’m protected by God.”

He smirks, reaching out to squeeze the pendant between his index and thumb. He bends the copper in half. You’re shocked to see that he was able to hold it without it negatively affecting him in some way. “Your God can’t save you. No one can. And with my cock down your throat, no one’ll hear you scream either.”

“What do you want?” You hiccup, a tear trickling down your face.

“To fornicate.” He mocks.

You try pulling at the door handle but to know avail, resorting to climbing into the back of the van. His manic cackling is a form of torment.

“You’re exactly where I want you, bunny.” Kas chortles, hopping out the driver’s side to yank open the double doors of the van. “I’ve always wanted to pop your cherry under the stars.”

You kick at him but he’s quicker than you, catching your legs and pulling you towards him. He forces your legs open for his body to stand in between. Climbing over you, he crashes his mouth over yours, teeth knocking in the impact. Your mouth opens at the force, allowing him bite down on your tongue and draw blood. You yelp out in pain, which dissipates into pleasure as he suckles on it.

You’re grinding your core into his hardening erection. He pulls away, looking between your bodies.

“Would you look at that? Looks like our girl wants me, too, Eddie.”

“Eddie?” You stopped rolling your hips in embarrassment, prompting him to slap the side of your thigh.

“Hey! Did I tell you to stop?”

“But Eddie…” You whimper.

“Awww, you scared he’s gonna be mad your humping my leg like a desperate little whore? He’ll be a lot more pissed at me for the things I’ll be doing to you.”

He thrusts his hips against you, pressing his erection into you. You whine out. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Don’t be. He’s right here with us. He’ll feel every part of this. I just get to take the lead,” He pulls himself up on his knees. “Would you like to see what’ll be splitting you apart?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re flooding in your underwear at such graphic language but the thought of being impaled by him forcefully was more than inciting.

His shirt is the first to go, chest and abdomen riddled with large scars that made you question his survival of whatever attacked him. You follow his happy trail, his hands just above it before they find their way to his belt. The metal clanking of his belt fills the silence then the quiet zip of the zipper.

He straddles your upper body, the crotch area close enough to your face. “Pull ‘em down.” Kas demands.

With shaky hands, your fingers hook around the waistband of his boxers and pants, lowering them slowly until his cock springs out and hovers over your face with a bounce. You eyes widened in pure horror and fascination. Not only was it huge but it was freakish. Two toned with a rose pink tip, it jumped and wiggled as if it had a mind of its own. As if it were a tendril-like entity.

“Oh my god.” You squeak in shock.

“He looks happy to see you,” Kas smiles. “Why don’t you have a taste?”

You reluctantly stick your tongue out, licking a small strip up the tip. You taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue then rest your head back against the layers of comforters.

“What was that? Suck on it.” He demands, growing impatient.

“But I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen the way you eat popsicles, sweetheart. You’ll do just fine. Here, I’ll even help you,” Gripping your hair forward, he sheaths himself down your throat. The entity of a cock, wriggling inside your throat and forcing you to gag. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He moans.

Kas forces your head down on him over and over. Your trapped between his legs so there was no running. The gurgling sound beneath him eggs him on as he fuck your face roughly. He yanks your hair back for a moment, a thick glob of spit dripping from the tip. You take in as much as air as you could.

“Look how pretty.” He pulls down on your hair, forcing your mouth up and open. Sticking his tongue out, he lets the saliva trail down onto your awaiting tongue.

You aren’t given enough time to compose yourself. Kas shoves his length down your throat once more, adamant on choking you with it. At one point he pinches your nose, using his handle around it to push and pull you down around him. You could hardly breathe but you would not allow yourself to tap out, wanting to please him.

He lets go of his hold around your nose and you learn to breathe through your nostrils, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Now, you’re getting the hang of it,” He says, breathlessly. “Here’s your reward.”

He collects the mass of spit drip between your mouth and his cock. You feel your panties push to the side and then that familiar pressure within you. You clamp around his fingers immediately.

“Ooo, yes please.” Your eyes roll back into your skull like always.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” He groans, pounding his finger into you so deep that you could feel the band of his rings tap against your clit. “What do you say, bunny?”

“Thank you, Master.” Your hips lift up to meet his thrusting fingers, your hand curled around his thick length as much as you could fit to jerk him off.

He circles his finger around something inside you that you hadn’t known you’ve possessed, flicking the trigger repeatedly until the sounds of your wetness echo in the vacuum space.

“I’m close…gonna cum.” Your legs are shaking as you pant for dear life. The pressure building more and more. “Oh god.”

“Not god, bunny. God couldn’t give you this much pleasure.”

You whine and babble, tears running down your face. Then, you’re gasping, eyes fluttering. This was going to be an intense one. One that scared you so much that you nearly ruined it on your own trying to suppress but Kas’s fingers knew how to draw your orgasm when you begged for it to retreat. No way could you handle this and come out sane.

“Unnh, mmm.” Now your toes are curling, arousal seeping and just before you snap…he pulls his fingers.

You’re hyperventilating. You hated him. You wanted to stop this. To give up. How could he be so evil?!

You cry out your frustration and he’s amused, studying features while you threw a tantrum beneath him.

“I was going to let you finish but then I remembered you tried running away from me…again,” He chides. Yet, now you cry and beg for me. So what is it? Are you mine or not?”

Your chest rises and falls, hot and angry tears streaming down your cheeks. “You said I deserve release.”

“Then, prove yourself worthy. Move me.” He smirks.

“I wanna cum,” You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “Wanna cum on your fingers, Master. Please. I belong to you. I’m yours.”

“Alright, bunny.” He coos, shoving his fingers into you again. And It’s like he’d never left. The pressure is there again and somehow there’s layers upon layers of it. One push of a beckoning finger against the pearl within you and you’re gushing endlessly.

You’re wetting the comforter beneath you, calling out into the night without a worry or care in mind as if he didn’t have neighbors. He doesn’t stop his ministrations and your convinced he’s trying to keep the trend of you screaming loud enough for people to think you’re being murdered.

“Just one more.” He says, wriggling against it again and you’re so sensitive that it feels like he’s broken something in you so that all you can do is leak out your arousal.

You tremble and jolt, eyes glossed over. Unaware of him sliding himself off you, it wasn’t until your legs are pried open again that brought you back. You look up at him, his pants fully removed.

“Take off your clothes. I’m done waiting.” He commands.

You oblige, shyly removing your clothing and garments until you lay bare before him. He looks you up and down, the entity-like cock stiffening in your direction.

You expected him to roll on a condom. Instead, he flip you around on your stomach.

“What about wearing a condom?” You panic.

“I’ll be filling you up with my cum. Think I could get your belly all round and swollen for me?”

You shook your head. “No, please.”

“You know how to end this. Say it and I’ll stop right now.”

He was right. Eddie had taught you the colors in case you needed things to stop or go slow. But you didn’t want any of that. You craved the full experience. You silently lift yourself on all fours, pushing your ass against him to show how badly you need him. It was going to hurt going in this way your first time but you weren’t a quitter.

“That’s my girl.” His hands squeezed around your waist, fingertips digging into your belly. The fat tip his cock at the entrance of your core.

You exhale, feeling the pressure and then just as he said…you’re being split apart. “Oh, ffff-“

“What’s that?” He teases, inching into you some more before snapping his hips forward. He’s officially fed you the entire length, stretching you beyond comprehension.

The wind is knocked out of you, your hand searching for something to grip. “Oh, fuck.” You squeak.

“Feels so fucking good ruining you.” He laughs, hitting sharp thrusts into you. Pound for pound, he elicits a noise out of you each time.

Kas smells the familiar scent of blood on his length and his bloodlust spikes. He fucks into you hard and your knees give out, now laying flat on your stomach.

“Oh, fuck, Master. Thank you.” You whine, biting into the sheet below you.

He’s relentless taking you as if you’ve been through this times before. No mercy. Your breath and words snatched away with each nudge of his tip teasing you g-spot. He pulls you up on your knees again and you feel a cool gel ooze onto your puckered hole. His thumb teases the entrance, circling around it until it’s replaced with a cold metal object that breaches through your anal cavity fully.

“Your ass looks so yummy, bunny.” Kas moans, spanking your ass roughly, yanking on the tail.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You chant, overwhelmed by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

“Howl for me.” He says, slapping your ass again.

You don’t even have to try. You were doing that exact kind of noise. His neighbors would for sure voice their complaints.

You feel his cock doing something to your walls that seemed near impossible as it suctions itself to your walls, keeping him snug within you while it searched for its main target.

Kas grunts with every thrust going deeper and deeper into your channel until reached your cervix. You began to salivate, mind numb. Was he in your stomach? You didn’t have to wonder long, feeling him apply pressure near your belly button. Oh yeah, he’s deep in your guts. Rearrange them for a permanent indentation. He’s officially broken you and you’re not understanding your reality at this point.

“You’re squeezing me tight, bunny. You gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” You pant, eyes crossed.

“Then, fucking ask for permission!”

“Please make me cum, Master. Please. I’ve been a good girl. I wanna cum!”

His fingers find your swollen nub, rubbing it back and forth . Your legs give out once again but he doesn’t miss a beat, stroking long and deep into your squelching core. Skin slapping against skin as your ass jiggled at the force.

“I’m cumming!” You cry out, squirting your juices at anything in within range. Kas takes this opportunity to bite into your neck and feed. It all felt so overwhelming. Now you’ve understood it why the french call it ‘a little death’. You’re positive that your heart’s stopped momentarily during your convulsions.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You bite down on your finger, he’s still drinking of your blood.

Kas’s warm seed shoots through your warm channel. He unsheathing his sharp fangs from your neck, mouth bloodied as he pumped away in your clenching core. His moans enough to make you whine again at the sound even though you’re pretty much spent.

Once, he’s sure he’s pushed his cum far enough into the deepest parts of you, he stills and slides out of you slowly. His dick is covered in a mixture of cum and blood. You mourn the loss of him as if his place was meant to be inside you. He collapses in the space next to you, caressing your backside and playing with the tail thats still plugged in you.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

You turn over on your back, panting. “I feel…like I just had a spiritual awakening.”

“Didn’t I tell ya.” He chuckles.

“I’m also really lightheaded.”

“That’s both the orgasm and the blood loss. You’ll need some food to replenish.”

You hum your understanding.

Kas curls into your side, pressing kisses into your shoulder. “Do you like me, too? I know you like Eddie but do you like me?”

“I do,” You nodded. “I like every part of you.”

“Even if there were some…darker parts that you don’t get to see.”

You had to think about that one, piecing together Eddie’s arrival to the church along with the very idea of Kas. “I think that because I like you…I’m willing learn to understand you. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So, if you ever need to feed, I am yours.”

He nudged his head into the crook of your neck. Kas choose not to tell you about the missing man, wanting to start a new clean slate with you. Maybe you had influenced him just as much as he did you.

“Hey, Bunny. Lover boy’s looking to cut into our time. So if I go, just remember that I fucked you better.”

You giggle, playing in his hair. Kas shuts eyes and reopens them and they’re the familiar brown cow eyes.

“Eddie?” You place soft kisses all over his face when you notice his glare. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, angel. But I won’t be so nice either.” He captures a hardened nipple between his teeth and bites down, making you scratch angry lines down his back. His mouth latches onto your creamy pussy, drinking of its essence. You were sensitive but you sigh in delight, hands in his hair as you arched off the van floor.

Should you be a lamb, then you shall serve yourself as a precious offering to your kings?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader smut #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie #innocent!reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn smut #vampire!eddie #dark fic #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson fandom #eddie fanfic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - part 8[***]

A/N: The dream part is supposed to be shocking as it’s a nightmare—there are elements of bestiality and rape featured so if you would like to skip over that, go from ‘It’s been three days. Night has descended.’ to the next ‘————’

Get ready for a major lore dump (I’m sorry)

Warnings: Gore description, monsterfucking, dubcon/noncon themes

-Part 7- -Part 9-

Your head whips to the side, looking at him properly for the first time since he’s brought you here.

But the Priestess pays him no mind, and instead steps closer—toward you. “You were seeking refuge. Come inside. You’ll be safe with us.” She seems warm. Reassuring, even. Like she really will offer you the help you so desperately seek. “Elain.” He tries again, and her melted cocoa eyes flicker with something that’s gone too fast for you to decipher. She turns her attention to the beast at your side, “Azriel.”

She doesn’t lower her head an inch before his towering mass, nor does she cower, nor show so much as a lick of fear as she holds her ground against a creature that could splatter her on the temple walls with a slash of his claws.

You’re startled further when he calms his harsh tone. “She needs to take the Ritual,” he—explains. Her attention returns to you once again, and you’re at once set at ease by the gentleness to her features—the innate serenity to her. “Do you know what the Ritual entails?”

“No, she doesn’t,” he answers for you. The priestess’ eyes harden as she turns her attention to the male, “I don’t believe I was talking to you, Azriel.”

A soft snarl ripples through the air, and you tense, half-turning to him. If he makes a massacre of these people—

Elain’s eyes flick to you, noting your reaction, before returning to Azriel’s with a cold glint. “She has come to my temple, and you will not deny her of its sanctuary. I will take her in for as long as she needs, and you will not step foot past our threshold.” Her eyes seem to glow with an inner light, the circlet on her brow almost shimmering with an iridescent shine. Like—magic.

Azriel doesn’t so much as blink at the Priestess’ sharp tone. “And what if I do? Will that Harvestman of yours come and sweep you away again? Or is it Dayling? I can hardly remember.” The Priestess takes a step forward, knuckles turning bone-white as she clutches her thyrsus. “If you dare step foot in our temple with malicious intent, it is me who you will deal with—and you will not be the one to walk away after.” Her eyes have turned milky, hand wrapping around your wrist as she guides you to stand by her side.

Azriel’s pupils shrink with fury, nostrils flaring as a muscle feathers in his jaw, eyes darting to where she’s holding you. “I once thought your armour to be penetrable, too. All it got me was a fractured heart, and estranged sisters. You will not do the same to her,” she says, icily. He looks about to speak, but she beats him to it, “Ritual or no, she will return when she chooses. Or did I misunderstand your brother’s ethos in the brief time I met with him?”

“It will cost her life,” he snarls, lip curling back from his elongated canines. You retreat a small step, and hate the way the Priestess’ hand tightens on your skin comfortingly—as if she can lend you her strength. “She will do with her life as she sees fit. It is not yours to control or tamper with, as much as you wish it were opposite. It is hers to forfeit, if she chooses.” That word again, choose.

Their gazes lock, and you can almost feel the chill in the wind, the frost glazing their eyes as they stare each other down. Azriel’s teeth are slowly pushing further from beneath his upper lip, claws sliding from his fingertips. Elain’s skin glows like moonlight, hand tightening on her Thyrsus and a strange pulsing fills the air as she regards him with those milky white eyes. She looks as though she should be blind, but instead you feel them hurtling toward that countdown to destruction, can feel time slipping out from under your feet. They’re going to clash, they’re going to collide, and there will be blood. Blood and guts and blood and flesh and blood, blood, blood—

“What’s going on here?”

A man appears at the Priestess’ other side, hand settling subtly at her lower back—a light touch to show he’s there should she want him. His hair glows like flame, the rich embers catching the sunlight and burning like molten steel—fresh from the forge. Her ethereal light flickers, then dims, reining herself back in as the tension gently slips away on an errant breeze.

“Lucien.” Azriel drawls the name with enough bite you can assume they’re not on amicable terms. “Azriel,” the man regards him with equal stiffness, “to what do we owe this…meeting?” The Priestess’ shoulders lose their tension. Well, some of it. “This woman is seeking refuge in our temple,” she supples smoothly, succinctly. You don’t miss the emphasis on the word woman, or how she’s declared the temple as belonging to the two of them, equally.

From a distant part of your mind you recall a time Azriel had mentioned that humans were the only kind that strayed from the male, female labels. For her to be emphasising woman, and to another person no less, as if he would understand—they have to to know what he is. And—Harvestman? As is the disciples of the God of the Harvest, Beron? He certainly looks the part.

“Is there reason to turn her away?” He asks the question to the Priestess, but you get the distinct impression it’s aimed at the male before you. Azriel senses it too, stiffening, darkness writhing across his shadowed form. “No,” the Priestess answers, “there is not.”

Azriel snarls softly at the woman, canines flashing in the sunlight, and the man’s fingers press a little harder to the woman’s spine, as if in restraint. “She has three days,” he snarls, “any longer, and the Ritual will not succeed.” He catches on that last part, as if shifting what he had intended to say.

The Priestess turns to the man—Lucien?—almost in silent question. Something passes between them as he shakes his head softly. She returns her attention to the male, “how long have you kept her for?” Shame flushes your skin at that word, kept. He has indeed been keeping, and it’s taken you this long to realise the problem. It’s taken her mere minutes. Humiliation burns in the pit of your stomach.

But it’s Azriel who purses his lips, as if reluctant to answer. Lucien takes a step forward, though it’s unthreatening, “how long, Azriel?”

He shows no other signs of his distaste apart from his pursed lips, but you can tell, through whatever thread he stitched through your heart, you can tell he’s ashamed. “Barely two months.”

They both stiffen, and you know he’s making an effort not to yield eye contact. Is he…? You know he’s feeling conflicted, but concerning what. You wish you’d tried harder, to figure out what was happening to you, instead of being so…passive. Allowing him to move you as he wished.

“She should have another eight,” Lucien murmurs, and you feel his eyes sliding over you warily. “Why is she fading after only two?”

Mortification settles like a dead-weight in your gut. Azriel’s embarrassed over you.

“That can’t be right,” the Priestess mutters, staring at the male, refusing to take her eyes off him for even a second. “Even I had eight before I had to make my choice.” Silence stretches between them and you can practically hear their thoughts spinning as they ponder your apparent complication.

“What did you do?” It’s the Priestess, and her eyes are burning like pure magma. “Elain,” the man murmurs softly, soothingly. She pays him no heed, staring at the muscle feathering in the male’s jaw, “what did you do to her, Azriel?” Her voice has dropped to a low snarl, each word dragging from the back of her throat.

His lips tip into a rueful smile—no, resentful. Bitter. “Why do you assume I played some hand in my— In her becoming as she is?”

“Don’t play games with me,” she hisses, teeth flashing. “It’s her life on the line.”

He’s in her face quicker than she can blink—still, she holds her ground. “You think I don’t know that, Elain? You think it doesn’t bother me? You think I don’t care that she was born so disgustingly weak?” Beside her, Lucien emits a low growl in warning, something crackling in the air and—and you want to be anywhere but here. Even back in his room, in his bed, even the wastelands.

His grin widens, showing off his too-white, too-sharp teeth. Too many. Shredding. “Either way,” he snarls, low and viciously, “I thought it was her life, Elain. I thought you said it was hers to do with as she pleases.” The Priestess goes rigid with rage at his taunt, “you think I believe you? There must be a reason for her rapid decline.” She insists, but it only makes the guilt sink deeper to your toes, and you’re worried your skin will slide from your bones with the weight of it.

“Elain,” the man tries again, having calmed himself. “Elain,” he repeats, palm pressing fully to her lower back. Until she flicks her gaze to the man’s. “Nesta made it nearly two years without it,” Lucien says softly. “Maybe she is just…” Weak.

You feel the exact moment she begins to accept it—in the way her grip loosens on your wrist, as if disappointed; deflated. But then it tightens again, as if refusing to yield a single ounce of herself to the male. The Priestess straightens, staring Azriel down as she holds her ground, defending you as much as she is her temple. “Then she will spend her last three days here. In the sun, and warmth, surrounded by people who will look after her, and give her what she needs.”

“She will return, and take the damned Ritual,” he snarls, so vicious and gutturally that his shadows darken, and moonlight again glows from within the Priestess’ skin, as if in response. Fury twists his features, feral and wild, animalistic and beastly in their structure. But along that hidden thread between you, you could swear its something akin to desperation crawling beneath his skin.

Something that feels an awful lot like terror.

“It is her decision,” Elain reminds, coldly. “Now that she has entered my temple, you can no longer remove her as you see fit.” She raises her chin, “I will not let you.” It seems to be some line in the sand, some silent declaration that only the two of them understand.

And for some reason, jealousy sparks.

You can feel Azriel’s eyes burning into you, but you keep your gaze away, refusing to acknowledge the ember you’ve already stomped out. Smothered in the dirt.

“Lucien,” Elain murmurs softly. It’s another one of those unspoken commands, ones that are beyond your ears. He moves on silent feet, leaving her side to stand at yours instead. It’s only to him she yields you, allowing the man to bring you further within the temple.

Azriel moves then, as if to reach for you, but the Priestess hit her staff on the floor once. A single strike, and he stops. Seals his features. Once again impenetrable.

It silences any doubts you had in your mind, and you allow the man to lead you deeper into the safety of the temple.

————

She comes to check on you before nightfall.

Some acolytes had been sent to look after you, make sure you were cared for. They had appeared to be twins—both gifted with the same dark, rich skin tone. Both as quiet on foot as they were conversationally. Yet it didn’t seem to be awkward, nor unkind. Just, silence. Beautiful and simple.

“Are you…” You hesitate as you peer at the woman before you, smiling gently over a covered table, two small, chipped mugs of tea set before each of you. “You knew what he was,” you say instead.

She nods, taking a sip of her pleasantly hot drink before returning it to the table, “I did.” Her eyes are no longer cold—no longer that icy brown.

You swallow, raising your own mug to your lips, and blowing softly. You take a sip—it’s good—then another, before setting it down gently. “Who was that—man?” You stumble, suddenly unsure of yourself. “Lucien?” She asks. If she notices your hesitance, she doesn’t show it. “He’s my husband.” You nod, taking in the information. It explains the way they looked at one another; those silent conversations they seem capable of having. “And mate.”

Your brow furrows, “mate?”

She stills for a moment, then resumes the slight movements which are unavoidable with life. “Lucien and I…” she begins, slowly, carefully. Figuring how to phrase her words. Instead, she looks at you squarely, “how familiar are you with the holy books of these lands?” You nod certainly, “very.” If there’s one thing you’re confident in your knowledge of, it’s your religion.

She nods, but it isn’t approving as you would have guessed coming from a Priestess. It seems almost sad. “The Mother rules over everything, from the seven gods of the worlds, to the mortal kings she governs, to a babe fresh from the womb.” You nod, familiar with the story. “Every few hundred years, a god will succumb to the Mother’s gentle hands, and yield their title to a new deity. The seven gods are: Tamlin, god of fertility and nature, who presides over the seed of the earth; the seed of the womb.

“Kallias, god of the weather and the moon, he decides where there will be draught, or bountiful rain.

“Tarquin, god of the sea, who guides our ships to port safely in foreign nations.

“Beron, god of the harvest, who presides over the agriculture of our lands.

"Thesan, god of healing and nurture, who tends to the sick and blesses the deathly with passage to the Underworld.

“Helion, god of the day and written knowledge, who favours the scholars, blessing them with the fruits from his tree of wisdom.

“And Rhysand, god of the Underworld, presides over the dead and decides who is worthy of the Fields, Heaven, the Great Purge, Hell, or the Pit.”

You blink—the great purge?

“Now,” she says, and you sit a little straighter in your chair, “are you familiar with the gods’ lineage?” You shake your head honestly, having never gained access to those books—generally kept for the more intellectual minds of scholars or philosophers. Anyone who had escaped the cave of their mind and made it to the sunlit grasslands, where the true form is revealed to the open-mind, and material form becomes meaningless. “I’ll spare you the history—bloody as it is. Lots of fathers eating children, stabbings and general chaos contained within that line.” She sighs, as if she has personal experience with the gods’ games.

“Lucien is, well…he’s one of Beron’s sons.”

You physically recoil in your seat, nearly dropping your mug. Your mouth is open, but you don’t have it in you to cover it—rude as it is. Azriel had called Lucien a Harvestman, not because he was a disciple, but because he’s the son of a god. You might not have believed her, but two months ago, Azriel was a bad dream—a nightmare, but fiction. A scary story to keep children from misbehaving.

There had been a time were his ilk were regarded as being as true as their godly counter parts, but through the ages they were forgotten, religion softening to what it is now. Rumours tell of when they roamed the lands, taking part in the Great Hunt, preying on humans as they ran wild through the worlds.

“He’s…the son of a god…” you say, slowly, tongue feeling leaden in your mouth. No wonder he’d seemed different. So, Other. A bit like… “What about you?” You ask quietly. “You seemed to…glow. And, before—you said you had ten months before you took the Ritual.” Are you really just a Priestess?

Her smile is small, but still warm. Non-threatening. What you would give to receive just one of those from Azriel. You bury the thought ruthlessly; mercilessly. Drown it in thick mud that clogs its throat.

“Azriel and I have met before. A few decades past, by now.”

Decades? She looks to be around her mid-twenties.

“To make a long story short, my sister fell in love with one of his brothers. She underwent the Ritual to be with him, but in turn left me and my older sister behind—Nesta. There were some…complications, that lead to her being taken to the Underworld, and held out for two years before she had no choice but to make her decision: whether or not she would follow in Feyre’s footsteps and yield her— herself.” Her voice catches, and you get the feeling she changed the story, tweaked it ever so slightly.

“In the meantime of my sister’s struggle, I began to develop an attachment to Azriel. Immature obsession on my part, and foolish desperation on his.” She sounds bitter, even if this took place over twenty years ago. “I— We thought we were perfect together, drawn together by the Mother. But then Lucien came along, and the bond just snapped. At first I rejected it, fought it with everything I had. I’d already suffered one broken heart with a human lover, and finally I felt alive again. Like I had someone to live for. And I was scared how badly it would hurt to fall from the heights he’d taken me to.” She sighs, fingers grazing the chipped rim of her mug.

She shakes her head, then continues. “I ended up leaving Azriel for Lucien—my mate. It was a massive leap of faith, and one I’ve never once regretted.” She smiling faintly now, something secretive in her gaze as she thinks of the man—male. “He made me want to live for myself. Want to do things for myself. And that’s how the temple came about.”

You had no idea. She’d taken life by the throat and made something of it. Something great, and renowned.

Elain takes in a deep breath, then blows it out, sitting back in her chair. “Now I reside up here, on this plane, while my sisters remain below, with their lovers—mates.” Sorrow flickers in her gaze as she stares at the cold mug of tea.

A beat of silence passes, then she’s pulling herself together. “There isn’t enough time for me to tell everything to you, so what do you know about the Ritual?”

You swallow, then tell her of your own story. How he’d saved you in the forrest, shown you the blessed lands, taken you soaring to heights you’d never imagined. Her eyes flicker with recognition at that last part, and you wonder whether Elain had seen those same fields, from the same angles.

You wonder if he’d ever taken her from those angles as he had with you, then quickly strangle your mind into submission.

“So you know nothing of the Ceremony.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. She swallows once…twice. Exhales heavily. Leans forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “The Ritual is a crossing of sorts,” she begins, solemnly. “Humans cannot survive in the Underworld for more than a year—ten months.” You try to push past the sinking feeling in the pit of your gut. …so disgustingly weak.

“Should you decide to undergo the Ceremony, you will become like him.”

Fear should rise, but instead, all you can taste is— “Is that like you? I mean, you said that you took the Ritual. Are you like him?” She has no wings, so you have to wonder truly how similar you’ll become. And how it will truly affect you considering you’re fading after not even a fifth of the expected time. You’re surprised he even wants you to take it, if he finds your weakness so repulsive.

Her lips purse, and you suddenly feel like you’ve overstepped. Greedy, selfish. Greedy and wretched. Wretched; hateful. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive—”

“It’s fine.” She smiles tightly, and somehow you feel like it’s not. “I was Made, like my sisters. Reforged during the Ceremony. Purged until I became raw and molten. Then I was reMade into what I am now. I heal faster, I’m stronger, have a keener sense of smell, acute eyesight, and magic.”

She has—magic.

Could you have that, too?

And maybe its foolish. Foolish, reckless mortality, but you push a little further. “What happens? In the Ritual I mean? What happens?” Because what if you can become strong? What if you can leave behind your human weaknesses?

Elain’s strong—she’d made something of herself. She’s decided to wield her power for good, to create a haven for people like you. And—she can protect herself. She was able to face Azriel and come away unscathed. She didn’t even cower.

How wonderful it would be to never fear again.

————

It’s been three days. Night has descended.

A cold thrill slides down your spine. Something ancient, and filled with malice. Something malignant and evil. Something incessant and nagging. It burrows deep into your mind, worming its way into your subconscious, painting its sickness into the purest parts of your soul. Slowly dismantling your being, corrupting you from the inside out, until you’re the same rotten-hearted wretch as him. Teeth scrape over your neck, and you know he’s trapped you in your dreams again.

Sweat coats your skin, glittering beneath the sallow moonlight. No longer that shimmering silver, but fermenting to the colour of curdled milk, as if the heifer that it came from was rotten to the core, riddled with disease and infection.

You’re in the woods again.

No ties bind your wrists, but something snaps in the distance. You don’t dare move. Not when you can feel its eyes on you. Predatory, and no doubt hidden from the waning moonlight. Leaves rustle to your left, as if disturbed by a wind.

The air doesn’t shift, though. Not even a breeze.

Something cold, and squirming hatches in the pit of your belly, and you’re reminded of the first time he spilled his seed inside of you. What would it do to a human woman—to have his spawn take root in your womb? Would life manifest, feeding off your flesh and blood until it rips itself out with its teeth? You’d never considered it. How strange it had felt to have his come inside. Thicker than you would have expected, as if the eggs were…larger.

Another twig snaps, and a salty bead of sweat slides down your spine.

You know what creature is prowling the woods—the same one that had its entrails flung from its belly, gurgling and choking on rotten smelling blood.

It knows you, too. Knows the taste of your fear, the rhythm of your heart.

It knows you won’t be saved, this time. Because you walked away from him. You chose to leave, and now you’ll reap your own consequences. Shovel mouthfuls of dirt from your grave, then settle in that cold, muddy pit, as the earth slowly fills in around you.

It appears then.

One paw in front of the other as it slowly reveals itself to you. Rows of sharp, jagged teeth, glistening with spittle as its half-rotten tongue lolls out. The jaw goes back abnormally far, reaching below its eyes—as if it’s grinning at you. It’s eyes are mere slits, but they bulge from their sockets, the result of endless time spent in true darkness. Deepest pitch. As if blinded.

It regards you silently, allowing you to consider what it will do. An animal shouldn’t be able to understand the terror of the unimaginable, yet somehow, it knows. Knows to wait a while, letting your mind do the fantasising.

Then it begins its death march.

It’s skin is bone grey from a life without sunlight, and looks vaguely filmy. Thin flesh stretching over sinewy muscle, sharp bones jutting out to reveal its hunger. At least you know it won’t play with you for too long. It’s far too hungry for games tonight.

It springs forward, snarling with carnal starvation, paws pinning your shoulders as you’re knocked back into the damp, worm-infested undergrowth. You don’t have the breath to scream, not as it roars at you, spit flecking your cheeks as hot, damp breath curls over your face.

The creature snarls again, raising its paw, claws glittering in the moonlight as they slash down your chest, freshly tilling the skin of your front. Blood rises to the cool night air, beading then spilling over the puckered edges, saturating your white robe—that damned white robe.

A strangled whimper escapes your throat, nipples peaking in the frigid air, and the creature snarls again, looking over its prize. How it will feast.

Its wet snout—cold and slimy—nuzzles your throat, those sharp teeth grazing your neck, leaving thin lacerations in their wake. Over Azriel’s scar mark. The stamp of his canines. You wonder if it’ll disappear now, beneath the imprint of the beast’s fangs. You don’t know which would be preferable.

You’re a sacrifice, you realise.

A helpless gift, tangled in ribbon to placate the creatures of the forrest.

But when its teeth sink deep into your shoulder, and it shoves itself demandingly between your thighs, you realise it’s not only going to take your life, but something far darker, too.

That same, soul-splitting pain wracks your body. Agony lashing down your spine as you feel something stiff, and slimy at your entrance.

This time, you do scream. A cry of bloody murder that rips from your throat, tearing at your vocal cords, grating on your ears as you feel your world begin to be shredded apart.

Where is he?

Something dark and silky brushes your hand, but you don’t recoil. You know that feeling—the cold glint in those hazel eyes that are always watching you. Long before you ever knew him.

Please, you beg silently, tears blurring your vision. Please…, you pray.

His shadows flick at your skin, and you feel the beast retract its teeth, only to bite down in a different position—deeper. Tears roll down your cheek as agony so exquisite burns your mind, purges your thought. The shadows flicker again, brushing against your skin and you reach for them longingly. Because in this dream-scape, they are safety.

Something slices your fingers.

You hiss, flinching back, but his shadows don’t let you, binding your wrist. They tug, quietly urging, urging you to move while the creature fumbles between your thighs, getting drunk on your blood’s taste. Something narrow and solid slides into your grip, just as the darkness parts—the clouds receding with it. Steel gleams in the moonlight, and you recoil.

A dagger lies just within your reach. The hilt is made of a dark stone—obsidian?—and crusted with runes too ancient to be remembered. You know who it’s come from.

The blade itself is long, and sharp. Its edge is neatly serrated—perfect for sawing. It’s longer than your forearm. Long enough to pierce the creature’s throat, should you try. That’s all it would take. The slightest will on your part, and the blade would slice through its filmy skin. Enough to sever an artery, or at least deal it an incapacitating wound.

He’s asking you to kill for yourself, and you’re stumbling right into his lap again. Dragged closer and closer to that irredeemable edge. Elain had claimed he wouldn’t be able to reach you here, yet his powers seem to have wormed their way into your bones, crawled and infested your skin with his malignancy.

You feel the hard, slimy head of its member press into the soft dip between your thighs, and it’s all the encouragement you need.

Like a knife through warmed butter, the blade slides through its skin, hot liquid bubbling from its throat as it chokes and gurgles. And screeches. Screeches a sound of carnivorous fury that chills the marrow of your bones.

Blood splatters across your face, blinding you as you close your eyes against the scalding liquid that quickly cools in the night air. Its teeth have retracted, but it spasms, shoulders and hips jerking violently, before it slumps. You shove it to your side, the blade gliding out with a wet rasp as it gleams in the moonlight, singing the first notes to a symphony of bloodshed and skull-splitting torture you don’t wish to become acquainted with.

You sit up, staring at the—lamb.

Spotted through with patches of luscious dark wool that are stark against the pure white of its coat. A bloody gash lies in its throat, blood pumping hard until it oozes to a trickle. The earth turns muddy beneath the softly bleating creature, sounds small, and pleading—whimpering.

The dagger is a dead-weight in your hand as it rustles to the floor, disturbing the wet leaves.

Your fingers are trembling, eyes bulging from your skull with such terror they might pop. You can feel the strain behind your eyelids.

Paws scuff in the undergrowth, and you’re met with icy hazel. He takes you in: the blood, the lamb, the wet dagger and your darkened skin. His grin is uncomfortably wide. No mouth should stretch that far. Or have that many teeth.

The dagger is in your hand again, but the lamb is already dead. There’s no point in cutting it again to speed its departure—it’s left.

But the dagger isn’t there to make things easy; it’s there to aid. And right now, your stomach is growling with carnal starvation.

You won’t play with it long; you’re too hungry for games.

————

Cold breath flows into your lungs as you lurch upright from the damp sheets.

One look at the creature hunched at the foot of your bed has you reaching for the chamber pot beneath you, filling it with the contents of your stomach—meat.

Your retching ceases, and you shakily ease yourself onto your back, laying into the thin pillow. Sweat glistens on your body, the robe sticking to your skin in uncomfortable patches. Feeling a lot like blood.

Your hand wipes across your mouth, barely able to summon the strength to do so.

The creature’s eyes remain trained on you, the wet wheeze of your lungs as they haul air through cracked and filmy lips. You’re wasting away again. Except this time it’s no plague that’s ravaging your body—no. His sickness is too deep inside of you, ingrained in your very being. Rotting you to the core.

“What do you want, Azriel?” The question is horse, hardly a whisper, but he hears you just fine.

One taloned hand lowers to the bottom of your mattress, then the other settles further up—by your thigh. The first further: up to your waist. And you don’t have the energy to push away, or struggle. Barely the breath to scream.

He’s on top of you, chaining you to the mattress as if it’s a torture bed.

You need me. The words tumble freely into your mind, stretching across that strange thread that he’s sewed to your soul. You need me to live.

You weakly shake your head, but it’s little more than a tilt of your chin. “No…”

His hand settles on the pillow, and that strange pulse of energy washes through you. The bone-deep chill subsides, as if warmed by his power. As if in answer. What has he done?

If you don’t undergo the Ritual, you will die, he says, in that strange, wordless way of his. You give him a look that you hope him to understand as, I will be happy to cross over, and be rid of you. By the way he stiffens, you think he does.

But then something strange happens: he slides his hand beneath your head, fingers tangling in your hair—tenderly. You will not make it to the hills of those fields, neither the footsteps to the heavens. Blood heats, then chills. Then boils, then freezes. Neither will you make the drop to hell, nor to the pit beneath it. You will rest in between worlds. Unable to breathe. Unable to eat. Unable to feel.

Hazel turns soft, as if—were you to place it on your tongue—it would melt. You’ll be rid of anything that makes you human. No more than a husk, left to wonder the planes as your being carries you. You stare at him, too weak to be disbelieving. You need me to keep you from that. Return to the Underworld with me. Take the Ritual. Become like me.

The thump of your heart grows weaker by the second, despite the increasingly frequent pulses of magic that thrum through your skin. Take the Ritual, and then you can return here. Remain as long as you like. Until the citadel falls to dust, and the rivers become lakes; become oceans. Remain forever, but take the Ritual, so you can see it all, and live.

If you didn’t know better, you would say he sounds pleading. But you can hardly string one thought to the next, so you don’t. Instead, you latch onto that final flicker he’s shielding from the weight of the world, and nod.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#teeth and talons #Azriel #Demon!Azriel #Azriel x reader #Azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #shadowsinger

[twistedwonderworm]

Can i request AFAB smut monsterfucking with azul ashengrotto in his mer form👀

Sorry this took so long and sorry if it's bad. I got swamped by requests and despite that they're still open. So one of my friends helped by writing this for me with me being the one to edit it. So credit to her.

Mating Season (TWST NSFW)

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x AFAB!reader

Warnings: rough sex, mer sex, afab terms, reader wearing makeup (forgot to edit that out, I'm sorry)

Word count: 1,138

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Y/n was heading to the Octavinelle dorm, to visit their boyfriend Azul. The couple were planning on spending the summer together. When they got there, they looked around and saw both Jade and Floyd standing almost in front of Azul’s office.

“Hey guys, why are you standing in front of the door? Is Azul busy?” they asked the two. Both Jade and Floyd looked at each other before they looked at Y/N.

“Well…Azul is having a week to himself as he has been really stressed.” Floyd said to them to try and get them away, but Y/N was determined to see their boyfriend. They eventually got the two to move so they could get inside. Jade tried to warn them but the human wouldn't listen.

As Y/N opened the door, they noticed that it was dark, and they closed the door. When they did so, they could see a blue light but what got their gears going were the soft moans they heard. It sounded like Azul though his voice sounded a little deeper than normal. Y/N walked forward to find their boyfriend. When they did find him, their face heated up as they flushed upon seeing what Azul was doing.

Azul was laying in a water filled tub that the twins probably brought in for him, jerking off almost desperately… and in his Mer form no less. They had to admit that he was actually quite beautiful in his mer form, sleek and toned. The coloring also quite gorgeous. But they quickly shook their head to get those thoughts out of their head. Unfortunately, it was futile. They could only think about him being inside them. About him making them see stars. However, Azul had noticed that they had walked in, and he stopped his hand. He looked back at their red, flushed face. He couldn’t help but smirk and called them forward with a finger. His aura was different when he didn’t have his glasses on, and his hair was a slight mess.

“Ah angelfish. I see Jade and Floyd let you inside. Well, since you’re here… come on and help me out, will you?” He purred seductively to them.

Y/N could only gulp softly, What have I gotten myself into? they thought before walking over and slowly going to their knees. They took his cock into their hand. It was a lot bigger than they anticipated and was quite odd, as they had assumed it was one of his arms. Nevertheless they aimed to please.

Soon enough Y/N started to suck on his cock, using their tongue to play with the tip. They soon took in more as they felt Azul’s hand grip their hair, which caused them to deep-throat him. They gagged in surprise from the sudden action, almost choking. Normally, Azul would be flushing at their actions, but would stay soft and tender. Instead he was rough and desperate to cum. It didn't take long before Y/N felt him twitch in their mouth, and they were pulled off.

He scooped them up and moved them to his desk on their back. While they were still being surprised at how easily he was able to do so, there octomer divested them of their bottoms and underwear. His extra arms wrapped around their thighs, keeping them open as he leaned down and attacked their clit with hard sucks and licks. Because of Azul’s heat he was unable to stop even if they begged him to. Though he knew he would at least try even though they tasted so divine. Once he felt they were wet enough, he pulled away with a pop and smirked.

“Oh, don’t worry, angelfish. I’ll give you what you want…if you beg for it.” He said with a chuckle. Y/N could only blink as they whined trying to move their hips but the tight grip of his tentacles were tight. They wanted him to continue but they didn’t want to beg either. Soon they let out a small yelp as one of his free tentacles smacked their clit. They looked at him just to see that damn smug look. The one they both loved and hated. They bit their lower lip and whined again.

“P-please Azul, please taste your prey.” They begged and boy, did Azul deliver. As he ate them out, he could hear them cry out his name over and over again, getting higher each time. Before long they soon could feel the knot tighten then snap as they climaxed on his tongue.

Azul soon pulled away, licking his lips as he moved up and aligned himself before he thrusted all the way in. This wasn’t the first time they had sex, but it was the first time they did it during his heat and in his Mer form. But even if he was in a lust driven haze, he still allowed them to adjust to his size. His tentacle was slick and smooth inside of them, twitching inside them every now and then. Once they gave the okay, they would soon find out why the eels tried to keep them away.

They were moaning loudly as Azul pounded into them, and he could only laugh at their state. Their hair messed up and over their eyes. The lipstick they wore was smeared and the eyeliner streaked down their cheeks from the tears that fell while Azul was giving them great oral.

What they didn’t know was that Azul was on the last day of his heat as it was the strongest. They soon looked at Azul with pleading eyes as their climax was taken away twice now. They could feel that he was close, and so were they. Soon enough azul’s tentacles moved to action as two touched their chest and nipples while another rubbed their clit at a quick pace that sent them spiraling into a hard orgasm. They screamed out his name and almost passed out from pleasure as their body tensed up. When Azul felt them orgasm, clenching around him and trying to milk his cock, he soon followed. He slammed in one more time before he orgasmed himself, pumping them full of cum. He panted and held them close as he shifted back into his human form. When he was back in human form, he sat down in his desk chair, his legs being too wobbly to stand. Soon Azul chuckled and helped them get cleaned up and smiled.

“Are you alright dear? Did I go too rough on you?” he asked them with a knowing smile. All they could do was nod and smile softly. Even if he was rough they knew the next time he had his mating season they were definitely helping him. Afterall, Mer people couldn’t get humans pregnant…or could they?

#twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #smut #twst smut #gn reader #afab reader #afab terms #twst azul #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto #azul x y/n #horni worm