#Dark and mysterious melodies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reilemon · 2 months ago

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🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety. He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel smut #lads smut #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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meowtifullycute · 1 year ago

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A Woman's Journey through the Enchanting Night!

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faebled-stories · 11 days ago

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Unbroken Connection

Kinkvember Day 18: Voodoo Magic

Aespa Karina (Yu Jimin) x Male reader

The house was everything you and Karina had dreamed up over whispered conversations and late-night plans—a beautiful, old-fashioned structure with a story in every corner, as if each creak and crack held its own memory. The red brick walls were cloaked in ivy, its tendrils winding upward in lazy spirals, giving the house a sense of timelessness, like it had stood for centuries, watching quietly as generations came and went.

“This place is perfect,” Karina whispered as she stepped onto the wide porch, running her fingers lightly along the railing. The wood was cool under her touch, its carvings faint but intricate. “Can you imagine the kind of lives people must have lived here?” Her voice carried a mix of wonder and nostalgia, as though she could already feel the house’s history soaking into her skin.

“Long ones,” you joked, gesturing to the ivy. “Look at this stuff. It’s practically holding the bricks together.”

She smiled, her eyes tracing the ivy’s twists and turns. “I like it. Feels alive.”

In the gentle evening light, the porch radiated a kind of quiet charm, the sort that made you imagine warm cups of tea and conversations that lingered long into the evening under skies painted by the sunset’s last, tender hues. A faint scent of lavender drifted in the air, subtle yet persistent, as if it had seeped into the walls, lingering from some long-forgotten garden nearby.

Inside, each room seemed to come alive with your presence. The wooden floors groaned in protest beneath your feet, their creaks echoing through the empty halls, creating a melody of movement that felt almost like the house was speaking to you, welcoming you home. The walls, bare and waiting, seemed to listen as you and Karina unpacked, your laughter filling the rooms and softening the house’s quiet, almost eerie solitude. Together, you unearthed each piece of your shared life from the cardboard boxes, placing cherished objects on shelves, letting them claim their new spaces.

“Do you think this place will feel like ours?” Karina asked as she set a stack of books on the mantle. She glanced at you, her head tilting slightly. “Or will it always feel… I don’t know. Like someone else’s?”

“It already feels like ours,” you replied. “But maybe I’m just biased because of how much we’ve already carried in.” You gestured at the half-empty boxes, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughed softly, but her eyes lingered on the empty space around her. “I guess we’ll see.”

Shadows began to settle into corners as the evening light faded, casting the rooms in a dim, golden glow. By the time most of the boxes were empty, you felt an irresistible pull to explore. The house, despite its warm charm, held an air of mystery, as if there were stories yet untold in the very walls.

Wandering from room to room, you found yourselves by the staircase, where a small, unassuming door, almost camouflaged within the dark wood paneling, caught your eye. Its handle was worn, gleaming slightly in the low light, and the door itself was so inconspicuous that you might have missed it if not for the slight draft that seemed to drift from the tiny crack at its base.

Karina frowned. “That’s… odd. Did you know this was here?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Maybe a closet? Or a pantry?” You reached for the handle, but her hand shot out, stopping you.

“Do you think we should? I mean, what if it’s locked?”

“It’s not,” you said, testing the handle and feeling it give way easily. A narrow stairwell descended into darkness, carrying a faint, musty smell that hinted at old things left undisturbed.

“I don’t like this,” she muttered, her fingers brushing through her hair in that nervous way she always did when something felt wrong. “This is how horror movies start.”

You grinned. “Come on, Jimin. It’s probably just storage. Let’s take a quick look.”

Her sigh was audible, but she nodded, reluctantly following as you descended. The steps creaked loudly underfoot, and with each groan of the wood, your own confidence waned just a little. At the bottom, the basement unfolded before you—a space cool and dim, filled with shadows that seemed to stretch and shift in the weak light. Dust motes floated through the air, and rows of shelves lined the walls, each one crowded with jars of indeterminate age, filled with strange, murky substances.

“What is this stuff?” Karina whispered, her voice barely audible over the stillness.

“Looks like… I don’t know. Old preserves? Or potions?” you joked, though your tone carried none of the confidence you were aiming for.

She shot you a look but didn’t respond. Her attention had shifted to the center of the room, where a table stood oddly clean amidst the dust-coated surroundings. Something on the table caught her eye—a doll.

The figure lay whole on the table, its shape unmistakably human yet profoundly unsettling. Its smooth, seamless form lacked any definition—no fingers, no toes, no musculature. The limbs and torso were entirely featureless, as if sculpted from an unbroken piece of clay, leaving an eerie impression of incompleteness. This blank, unformed body served only to emphasize the haunting precision of its face.

The skin of the face was painted with disturbing realism: faintly flushed cheeks, delicately drawn veins, and a subtle sheen that mimicked the warmth of living flesh. Its eyes were closed, the lids resting softly as if in peaceful slumber. The stillness of its expression, paired with the intricate detail of its features, gave it an unnerving lifelike quality that felt profoundly out of place against the blank canvas of the rest of its body. The contrast between the intricate face and the featureless form created an aura of quiet, disquieting intent, as though the doll were waiting to be brought fully to life.

“Who would leave something like this in a basement?” Karina murmured, her voice breaking the silence, sounding small and uneasy against the stillness of the room. Her gaze lingered on the doll, her hand tightening instinctively around your arm. “It’s… wrong.”

“It’s just a doll,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Probably an old collector’s item. Some people are into creepy things.”

“Some people need better hobbies.” Karina reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, the motion an automatic gesture of unease. Her fingers caught on a stray tangle, and she tugged lightly, smoothing the strands into place. A few locks cascaded back over her shoulder, catching the dim light as they settled. She took a step back, her face pale. “Let’s just leave it.”

You nodded, slipping your hand into hers. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As you turned to leave, you didn’t notice the way her hair shimmered faintly, glimmering in the dusty glow of the basement light. The strands that had fallen from her fingers seemed alive, slipping from her shoulders and moving against gravity. They floated as if drawn by some invisible force, a deliberate motion that defied the stagnant air. The golden threads stretched toward the doll, weaving through the stillness like a gossamer pulled by an unseen hand.

The faint draft that had ushered you down reversed, the air now tugging gently in the opposite direction. It brushed past you with a quiet insistence, carrying Karina’s drifting hair closer to the doll. The motion was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably deliberate, as though something in the room had claimed the strands for its own.

The strands seemed to hover just above the doll’s porcelain surface, quivering slightly, as though testing the boundary between the living and the inanimate. Then, one by one, they disappeared. They didn’t land or settle—they were absorbed, sinking seamlessly into the doll’s cold skin. The process was slow, almost reverent, each thread vanishing into the porcelain as if it were feeding on them, consuming their essence. The doll’s surface showed no disturbance, no trace of the hair’s presence, yet a strange energy began to ripple faintly through the room, subtle but undeniable, as if the very walls shivered in recognition.

Upstairs, the laughter you shared was nervous but genuine, both of you clinging to it like a lifeline to push back the tension left in the wake of the basement. Karina wrapped her arms around herself as she stood in the hallway, her gaze darting toward the closed basement door. Her unease lingered, etched into the slight furrow of her brow and the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Next time,” she said lightly, her attempt at humor wavering in her voice, “let’s stick to exploring things with actual light switches. Maybe some windows too.”

You chuckled, trying to match her tone, but the unease clung to you as well. “Agreed. No more basements. Definitely no dolls.”

She gave a half-smile, though her eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before she turned away. The house seemed quieter now, its warmth tempered by something you couldn’t quite name.

But below, in the still, heavy air of the basement, the doll’s porcelain surface began to glow. The light started faint, a barely perceptible pulse deep within its core, like the flicker of a distant flame. It ebbed and flowed in slow, deliberate beats, each pulse growing stronger, its glow intensifying with a sickly greenish hue that cast long, jagged shadows across the shelves and floor. The air in the basement thickened, heavy with a strange, metallic tang, as if the space itself were reacting to the doll’s transformation.

The doll’s eyes, closed in serene stillness, caught the flickering light in a way that made the lids seem faintly translucent. At first, it was a subtle effect—a play of shadows beneath the painted lashes. But as the glow swelled, the closed eyes appeared to hold a deeper presence, as though something beneath the surface stirred. The lids, once simple and lifeless, seemed to press outward faintly, hinting at a restless energy concealed behind them.

The strands of Karina’s hair, now fully absorbed, had vanished without a trace. Yet, the doll’s features began to shift. Its porcelain skin, once flawless and cold, took on a faint warmth, a suggestion of pliability that hadn’t been there before. The faint blush on its cheeks deepened, almost imperceptibly, as though the glow from within was kindling something beneath the surface. The contours of its face grew more defined, softening subtly, as if sculpted further toward perfection with each pulse of light.

The house seemed to hold its breath. The faint creaks and groans of its old structure stilled entirely, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake. Even the distant hum of the wind outside faded, as though the world itself had paused. In the suffocating quiet, the rhythmic flicker of the doll’s eerie light became the room’s heartbeat, steady and deliberate, an ominous reminder of its growing presence.

Its aura now exuded a quiet, watchful energy—no longer dormant but active, as though waiting for something. The shadows cast by its light danced across the walls, twisting and shifting unnaturally, their movements disconnected from the flicker of the glow. And deep within the stillness of its closed eyes, there was a stirring—fragile yet undeniable, an unsettling whisper of awareness beginning to take shape. The doll no longer felt like an object but a vessel, and the silence of the room seemed to anticipate the moment when its transformation would be complete.

------

The next morning, warm sunlight slipped through the bedroom curtains, casting a golden glow over Karina as she stretched and let out a contented sigh. You had left early for work, leaving her alone in the quiet intimacy of the morning. The scattered, unpacked boxes around the room hinted at new beginnings, but her thoughts kept circling back to the basement—to the doll. Despite the unease it stirred in her, a peculiar curiosity tugged at her thoughts. It was like a whisper, faint but insistent, calling her back.

After tidying a few last things, Karina found herself descending the narrow stairs once more. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath her feet, their sound amplified in the heavy stillness of the space. Cool, stale air wrapped around her as she stepped inside, carrying the faint tang of dust and metal. Shadows clung to the corners of the basement, stretching ominously toward her as the dim light flickered. She shivered slightly, her gaze drifting over the jars, cobwebs, and forgotten relics lining the shelves before settling on the table in the center of the room.

There it was. The doll lay silent, unmoved from the night before, yet somehow it felt different—like it was waiting for her.

Her steps slowed as she approached, her fingers hovering just above its surface. She hesitated, taking in its vague, incomplete features. The blank, mannequin-like body contrasted starkly with the face, which, though detailed, felt unfinished. Its closed eyes added to its unsettling stillness. Slowly, Karina extended her hand, her fingertips brushing against the surface.

She froze. The material wasn’t cold and lifeless as she’d expected. It was warm, soft, and faintly pliant—almost like skin. Her breath hitched as she instinctively pulled back, her heart pounding, but curiosity rooted her in place. Tentatively, she touched it again, her fingers trailing across its surface. A faint warmth blossomed under her touch, sending ripples through her skin, as though she were brushing her own body.

Her hand moved down its neck and across its vaguely defined chest. As her fingers lingered, the contours began to shift, the undefined surface molding into shape. Karina gasped, her hand trembling as she watched the doll begin to change. Her breath quickened, and she pressed her palm against its shoulder, marveling as the smooth joint took on a lifelike slope.

She trailed her fingers down one arm, the surface firming and refining beneath her touch. The blank limb transformed into something natural, each joint and curve forming with startling precision. The doll’s hand became delicate and human-like as her fingers brushed its palm, her pulse quickening with the impossible reality of it all.

Her movements grew more deliberate, her hand gliding across the torso. The blank plane of its chest yielded to soft ribs and a curved stomach. Karina lingered, pressing lightly into its sides as though testing its reality. Each pass sharpened the details further—faint muscles, a subtle navel, even the texture of skin. Each touch sent an echo of warmth spreading through her, a mirrored heat that made her shiver.

Her hands drifted lower, trembling as they explored its hips and thighs. The surface molded seamlessly beneath her fingers, becoming impossibly lifelike. She ran her hand down one leg, tracing the length as a knee, shin, and the curve of an ankle appeared. Each detail emerged with precision, her breath hitching as her fingers brushed its inner thigh. The texture was so warm, so realistic, that it sent a wave of heat coursing through her.

Karina swallowed hard, her hand returning upward, her touch almost compulsive now. Her trembling fingers brushed the doll’s chest again, the faint curves she’d noticed earlier now fully formed into soft, rounded breasts. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the surface before tentatively pressing against it. The material shifted under her fingers, warm and pliant, as though responding to her touch.

As she lingered, the blank surface of the doll’s chest changed further. Subtle lines formed beneath her fingertips, the soft material shaping into peaks that were unnervingly lifelike. Her fingers grazed the newly formed nipples, her breath catching as warmth surged through her, sharp and electric, as though she’d touched herself. Each gentle brush sent a thrill rippling through her, leaving her trembling and flushed.

Her breath hitched as her hand hovered over the last undefined part of the doll’s form. Slowly, she pressed her fingers to its lower torso. The blank surface beneath her touch shifted and molded, forming folds and curves with startling precision, mirroring her own. Her legs shook, and a low moan escaped her lips as an intense warmth radiated through her body, her cheeks burning as she clutched the edge of the table for support.

When the transformation was complete, Karina stumbled back, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. The doll no longer looked like a lifeless figure. It was her—exactly her. Every curve, every line, every detail was replicated in unsettling perfection, a hauntingly accurate reflection that left her rooted in place.

Her heart raced as vulnerability crept over her. Seeing her own body laid bare in such an intimate, uncanny way sent a shiver down her spine. She hugged herself instinctively, as though shielding her body from her own gaze. Desperate to cover the doll, she turned away, her hands trembling as she rifled through one of the boxes on the floor. Her fingers brushed over soft fabrics until she pulled out one of her favorite dresses—a pale, flowing piece she hadn’t yet unpacked.

Karina carried the dress back to the doll, her hands shaking as she slipped it over its shoulders. The fabric fell into place with unsettling ease, fitting the doll’s body as if it had been made for it rather than her. The way the dress hugged its frame sent an eerie shiver through her, the intimacy of the moment uncomfortably surreal. She stepped back, catching sight of herself in the mirror across the room.

Her reflection stared back at her, but so did the doll’s. It sat upright on the bed, its face now fully hers. Its closed eyes seemed more deliberate, its lifelike features so vivid they felt alive. The uncanny mimicry unsettled her, daring her to look away—but she couldn’t. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the air in the room heavy with an unnameable energy.

The doll, now clothed in her dress, sat motionless, yet its presence filled the room entirely. For a moment, Karina thought she saw the faintest movement—a slight tilt of its head, a shift of its hand—but when she blinked, it was still.

Her knees brushed against the edge of the bed as she backed away, her mind spinning. The longer she looked, the more the doll’s presence seemed to mirror her own. It wasn’t just wearing her dress—it was wearing her.

-----

The days following that intimate reveal of the doll Karina had hidden it in her room unsure of what to do with it, she decided to brush it off and distract herself from another full day of being an idol. After an exhausting but exhilarating practice session filled with music, laughter, and sweat, Karina and the other Aespa members gathered in the conference room, their energy palpable. The lingering rhythm of the studio beats still hummed in her mind as she followed her bandmates, feeling the collective excitement that seemed to bubble just below the surface. Giselle, ever the source of contagious enthusiasm, nudged Ningning with a teasing whisper that sent them both into quiet giggles. Minjeong leaned forward, her curiosity piqued, her eyes darting between their manager and the others as they settled into their seats.

The manager entered the room with his usual steady presence, his hands folded and his smile warm. The girls instantly hushed, their attention snapping to him in anticipation.

“Your recent comeback has been a huge success,” he began, his voice beaming with pride. “You’ve topped charts and we couldn’t be prouder of each of you.”

A ripple of pride swept through the group. Minjeong shot Karina a thumbs-up, her grin as wide as ever, while Giselle reached across the table to squeeze Ningning’s arm, the two of them laughing in disbelief. Karina couldn’t help but smile, soaking in the joy that filled the room. It was moments like these that reminded her of why they worked so hard, pouring themselves into their music and performances.

But the manager wasn’t finished. “That’s not all,” he added, his excitement unmistakable. “We have even bigger news for you—you’re going on tour!”

The room fell still for a moment as the weight of the announcement sank in, then erupted into a cacophony of celebration. Minjeong let out a delighted squeal, practically leaping from her seat as she clasped her hands together. Giselle’s mouth hung open for a second before she broke into laughter, her eyes shining with disbelief. Ningning gasped, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration, and she turned to Karina with a wide-eyed look of joy.

Karina’s heart raced as she imagined the roar of crowds, the thrill of stepping onto stages in cities around the world, and the energy of fans who had waited so long to see them perform. It was everything they had dreamed of, everything they had worked for. The thought of sharing their music on such a grand scale filled her with a rush of adrenaline and anticipation.

But as the manager began listing the tour dates, Karina’s excitement faltered. Her mind snagged on a detail she wished she could ignore: the tour would overlap with her anniversary with you. A pang of guilt and regret twisted inside her, dulling the edges of her happiness. She forced herself to stay present, laughing and celebrating with her friends, but part of her was already mourning the time she’d lose with you.

That evening, Karina returned home with a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. She couldn’t wait to share the incredible news with you, but the weight of the tour dates pressed heavily on her chest. As she stepped into the warm comfort of your shared space, she found you waiting for her on the couch, your face lighting up at the sight of her. The familiar scent of home—a mix of her favorite lavender candle and the faint aroma of dinner—embraced her, soothing her nerves, if only slightly.

“So,” she began, setting her bag down and fidgeting with her fingers. Her voice wavered as she tried to balance the excitement bubbling within her and the regret tugging at her heart. “There’s some big news.” She paused, drawing a steadying breath before the words tumbled out in a mix of pride and hesitance. “The album’s doing amazing, and… we’re going on tour!”

Your face broke into a smile, your genuine happiness for her shining through. Relief flooded her, but the feeling was fleeting. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as she continued. “But,” she added softly, her eyes dropping to the floor, “the tour overlaps with our anniversary.”

Your smile faltered for just a heartbeat, a flicker of disappointment crossing your face before you quickly masked it. “That’s… not ideal,” you said, your voice tinged with understanding. “But baby, when I asked you to be my girlfriend, I signed myself up for all of this. I’d never want to hold you back from that.”

She looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with gratitude as you reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. “I hate that it’s on that day, but… thank you for understanding.”

You pulled her close, wrapping her in a firm embrace. For a while, neither of you said anything, letting the silence hold the depth of your love and the ache of the separation that loomed ahead. The soft beat of your hearts seemed to sync as you held each other, anchoring yourselves in the present.

The lead up to Karina’s departure were a mix of sweetness and sorrow, a countdown neither of you wanted to acknowledge but couldn’t escape. Each moment together felt heavier, charged with a need to make it last. You and Karina spent every spare moment with one another, finding solace in the routines and small joys of your shared life.

Mornings became sacred. The two of you would wake up early, savoring slow breakfasts at the kitchen table. You teased her about her favorite coffee mug—a chipped, mismatched thing she adored despite your insistence that you’d buy her a new one. Her laughter echoed softly, her smile brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.

Evenings stretched late into the night. You’d sit tangled together on the couch, your conversations meandering through memories of your favorite moments together. She told you how your first kiss still gave her butterflies, and you shared how proud you were of everything she had accomplished. When the words ran out, you stayed wrapped in each other’s warmth, the quiet hum of your love filling the spaces between.

There were moments of vulnerability too—nights when you found her staring out the window, her thoughts far away. She confessed her guilt about leaving on such an important day, and you reassured her with soft touches and whispered promises.

------

Karina’s departure day dawned with a quiet that felt unnatural, as though the house itself understood what was coming. The air seemed heavier, thick with an unspoken finality, and even the sunlight streaming through the windows felt subdued. Her footsteps on the hardwood floor carried an unusual weight, each one more deliberate as she made her way to the door. In her arms, she cradled a large, carefully wrapped box, its presence as significant as the moment itself. The neat bow atop it added a touch of care, and she carried it with a reverence that spoke of its importance.

Her cheeks were dusted with a faint blush, and her lips parted into a nervous smile as she looked at you. There was something shy and uncertain in her expression, a contrast to the confidence she usually exuded. She set the box down gently on the coffee table, straightening her posture before turning back to you.

“I… I wanted to give you something before I left,” she said softly, shifting the box slightly and holding it out to you. Her eyes flicked between yours and the package, searching your face for your reaction.

You took the box from her carefully, surprised by its weight. It wasn’t heavy, but it had a certain gravity that hinted at its significance. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as you placed it on the table and began to open it. Lifting the lid, you peeled back the soft protective wrapping, and your breath caught as you revealed what lay inside.

A nearly life-sized doll, sculpted with uncanny precision, stared back at you—or would have, had its eyes not been closed in a strange, serene expression. Its resemblance to Karina was startling. Every detail, from the gentle curve of its cheekbones to the cascade of long, dark hair that fell over its shoulders, mirrored her perfectly. The doll even wore one of her favorite dresses, the fabric draping over its form in a way that felt disturbingly natural.

You blinked, taking an involuntary step back as you tried to process the sight before you. “Honey… this is…” Words failed you for a moment as your eyes darted between the doll and her. “It’s… so real.”

Karina let out a soft, nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, it’s a little unusual,” she admitted, her blush deepening as she shifted on her feet. “But I had it custom-made, just for you. Since I’ll be away for a while, I thought… maybe it would help you feel like I’m still close.”

You stared at the doll again, your chest tightening with an unplaceable unease. Its closed eyes made it look peaceful, almost restful, but its lifelike features made it feel as though it could wake at any moment. The dress only added to the strange feeling—a version of Karina that was simultaneously here and yet absent.

“Jimin…” you began slowly, glancing back at her. “I don’t know. This feels… like a bit much. It’s just… so realistic.” You tried to manage a smile, hoping to soften your reluctance. “Maybe too realistic?”

Her smile wavered slightly, and a flicker of vulnerability passed through her eyes as she stepped closer. “Please?” she asked softly, taking your hand in hers. Her voice was tender, her gaze imploring. “I know it might seem a little strange, but… I really want you to have it. Since I’ll be away, I thought it might bring you some comfort, knowing that even though I’m far away, you’ll still have something here with you. A part of me.”

Her hand tightened on yours, interrupting your thoughts. “I know it’s not the same,” she said quietly. “But I thought it could help. I just… I don’t want you to feel alone. Even if it’s a little strange, I want to leave you with something that reminds you of me.”

Her tone softened, and her eyes glistened with unspoken emotion. “Please, just try. It’s okay if it feels weird at first. I just… I really want this for you.”

You sighed, the tension in your chest loosening slightly at the sight of her vulnerability. Her intentions were pure, even if the gift itself unsettled you. “Alright,” you said gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll keep it.”

Relief washed over her face, and she broke into a warm smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. She lingered there for a moment before pulling back, gesturing toward the doll. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “Look closer.”

You hesitated, then reached out. Your fingers brushed the doll’s cheek, marveling at its texture. The material was soft, warm, and faintly yielding—eerily lifelike. Your hand moved lower, skimming over its collarbone and down its arm. As you brushed against its hand, you glanced at Karina, noticing how her chest rose and fell more quickly than before. Her lips parted slightly, and she pressed them together as though to stifle a reaction.

“You okay?” you asked, watching her closely.

She nodded quickly, her blush deepening. “Yeah, it’s just… weird seeing you touch it,” she lied, her voice barely audible. “But go on.”

You turned back to the doll, curiosity tugging at you despite your discomfort. Your hand drifted lower, tracing the subtle curve of its waist. You couldn’t deny how precise it was—every contour felt real, natural, even though you knew it wasn’t. When your fingers brushed over its chest, you froze, startled by how soft and pliant it felt. The sensation made you glance back at Karina, who was standing rigidly beside you, her hands clenched at her sides.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and for a moment, her lips trembled as though she might speak—but she didn’t. She stayed quiet, her cheeks flushed as she visibly tried to steady herself.

“Jimin…” you said cautiously, watching her reaction. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird for you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. Her body remained stiff, her fingers curling into her palms as she tried to mask her reaction. “Just… finish.”

You hesitated but continued, brushing over the doll’s arm again before moving lower. Your fingers trailed over its legs, the texture as lifelike as the rest of its form. Karina shifted beside you, her breaths uneven but controlled, her eyes fixed on your hand as though trying to focus on anything other than the sensation it might evoke in her.

Finally, you pulled back, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “It’s… impressive,” you admitted reluctantly, though the unease hadn’t entirely left you.

Karina nodded, exhaling shakily as she stepped closer. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s strange, but I wanted it to feel like I was still here with you. Even if it’s not the same.”

Her hand found yours again, her fingers lacing through yours as she rested her head on your shoulder. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured, her voice soft and wistful.

You kissed the top of her head, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “And I’ll be here, counting down the days until you come back.”

-----

The days without Karina stretched endlessly, each one a slow ache that deepened the longer she was gone. Though you spoke every night, the absence of her presence—the warmth of her touch, the sound of her laugh filling the room—created a void that even her most loving words couldn’t quite fill. The doll she had left behind sat untouched, a silent reminder of her, but you hadn’t found the will to reach for it. Instead, the house felt emptier with every passing day, its stillness amplifying her absence.

When your anniversary arrived, it brought a bittersweet mix of excitement and longing. Determined to make the night special, you poured yourself into preparing the space, setting the table with flickering candles and the bottle of wine she had excitedly suggested weeks ago.

Her request had come during one of your nightly calls, her tone warm with affection. “Promise me we’ll eat the same thing,” she had said, her voice carrying an almost childlike excitement. “Same cuisine, same dishes. That way, it’ll feel like we’re together.” You’d agreed without hesitation, ordering her favorite dishes from a restaurant she loved back home. Unknown to you, she had gone a step further, arranging for someone she trusted to deliver a special instruction to the chef.

When her face appeared on the call that evening, it was as if the ache of her absence melted away for a moment. She looked radiant, her soft waves of hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips curving into the smile that always sent a warmth straight to your chest.

“Happy anniversary, love,” she said, her voice tender and filled with emotion.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you replied, your tone matching hers. “You look… incredible.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So do you.” Her gaze flicked to the setup behind you, and her expression softened with appreciation. “You really went all out. It’s beautiful.”

“Only the best for you,” you teased, pouring the wine and raising your glass. “To us.” “To us,” she echoed, lifting her own glass with a bright smile. The synchronized motion, small as it was, closed the miles between you, making the distance feel just a little less insurmountable.

The evening began with lighthearted conversation, her laughter spilling from the screen as she shared stories from her tour. She described the places she’d been with an almost childlike wonder, painting vivid pictures of crowded streets, twinkling cityscapes, and quaint cafés.

“When we were in Japan, there was this tiny café,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “They served these adorable matcha parfaits shaped like bears. It was so cute I almost cried.”

“You? Crying over a dessert?” you teased, laughing. “I would’ve loved to see that.”

“You would’ve teased me the entire time,” she shot back, giggling. “But it would’ve been worth it.”

As the dinner progressed, the playful chatter softened into something warmer, more intimate. The food, rich and flavorful, carried an unexpected heat—a subtle, lingering warmth that began to spread through your body. It wasn’t just the wine or the meal itself; it was the way Karina’s voice felt closer, her laughter sweeter, her gaze through the screen more magnetic. Every detail drew you further into the moment, as if the distance between you no longer mattered.

She leaned closer to the camera, her smile softening as her voice dipped into a quieter, more vulnerable register. “You know,” she said, her gaze holding yours, “this tour is amazing, but it’s nothing compared to being with you. I miss the way you hold me, the way you look at me.”

Your breath hitched, her words weaving a spell that wrapped around your chest. “Babe…”

“I mean it,” she continued, her voice dropping further, taking on a sultry edge. “I miss the way your hands feel on my skin. The way you touch me like I’m the only thing in the world.”

Her tone shifted, her words slowing as her lips parted slightly. “You don’t know what it does to me, being away from you like this.” Her voice dipped into a low, intimate whisper. “I think about it every night—your hands on me. How you feel. How you make me feel.”

Heat flared in your chest, her words igniting a visceral need that had been dormant for weeks. You shifted slightly in your seat, your voice thick with longing as you murmured, “Jimin, you’re not playing fair.”

“Who said I was playing fair?” she teased, her smile widening. She leaned back slightly, her eyes half-lidded as her voice took on a deeper, sultrier tone. “I’ve been thinking about you every single night. How your mouth felt the last time you kissed me, the way your hands made me forget everything else…”

She let out a soft, breathy moan, her cheeks flushing as she watched your reaction. “I wish you were here to touch me, to remind me what it feels like to be yours.”

You froze, the sound of her voice and the sheer intimacy of her words leaving you speechless. Your heart raced, the image of her filling your mind with every heated word, the space between you shrinking as her tone drew you closer.

“I need you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jimin, I…”

“I need you too,” she replied, her voice dripping with longing. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About how much I want you right now.”

Her lips parted, her breath quickening as if she could feel the tension that pulsed through the screen. You leaned closer, captivated by the intensity in her gaze, your need for her overpowering the distance between you. The connection felt real, visceral, until the sharp ring of her hotel room phone shattered the moment.

She sighed, visibly frustrated, and glanced toward the phone. “Hold on,” she said, picking it up.

For a moment, you waited, unsure if she’d return quickly. But when she did, her expression was apologetic, her voice laced with regret. “The manager needs me for something urgent,” she said softly, her tone tinged with disappointment. “I’m so sorry, love.”

The flicker of frustration must have shown on your face because she leaned closer to the camera, her voice soft and reassuring. “I love you. More than anything. And I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”

Before you could respond, the screen went dark, leaving you alone in the charged stillness of your room.

You paced back and forth, your body still thrumming with the heat her words had stirred. The ache she’d left behind was relentless, her voice and the way she’d looked at you replaying in vivid detail. Your gaze drifted to your phone, lingering on the memory of her, when a notification lit up the screen.

A message from Karina.

Your heart leapt as you opened it. The photo hit you like a wave—a shot of her sprawled across the bed, her tousled hair falling in soft waves over one shoulder. Her skin glowed in the warm, muted light of her room, every curve illuminated with an alluring softness. Her lips were curled into a sultry, knowing smile, and her arms were draped in a way that hinted at modesty yet revealed enough to leave little to the imagination. Her bare chest was exposed, the subtle curves and smooth skin drawing your eyes helplessly downward. The photo was bold and intimate, a perfect balance of suggestion and revelation, pulling you deeper into her web with every detail.

The caption read: I hope this is the start of my apology.

You stared at the image, your breath catching as a mix of desire and longing surged through you. The ache of her absence felt sharper than ever, and now her words, her teasing smile, and this image stormed through your thoughts like wildfire.

Far away, Karina leaned back against her pillows, her lips curling into a sly smile as she imagined your reaction. She ran her fingers lazily through her hair, the satisfaction of her plan unfolding exactly as she intended. “Let’s see how long you last without me,” she murmured, her voice tinged with playful mischief.

Your room felt stifling, the air thick with tension as you lay on the bed beside the doll. Its lifelike features caught the soft glow of the bedside lamp, eerily close to hers yet unreachable. Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, teasing and sultry, her plan working perfectly as you struggled with the void she’d left behind. The space beside you felt impossibly empty, the absence of her touch a gnawing ache that the doll’s uncanny resemblance only amplified.

Your hand hovered over the doll’s face, brushing against the smooth, synthetic skin. The texture was startlingly lifelike, warm under your fingers, and as you traced its delicate features—the familiar curve of its lips, the softness of its jawline—it became harder to separate the illusion from the reality you craved. Karina’s name slipped from your lips in a quiet murmur, your chest tightening with longing.

Inside her hotel karina laid on her bed, her bare skin kissed by the cool air drifting through the room. She had orchestrated everything—the doll, the setup, even the lingering ache she hoped would drive you to her gift. She had imagined every step, every reaction, and her body hummed with anticipation as she pictured you succumbing to the desire she’d left behind.

Her lips curled into a smile as she ran a hand lazily along her stomach, letting her fingers trace idle patterns. She could almost feel your touch, phantom sensations that made her skin tingle. “Finally” she whispered, her voice low and breathy. Her thighs pressed together as the anticipation coiled tightly within her. She imagined your hands, your breath, and the way you’d surrender to the distance that had stretched too far.

In your room, you sat up, running a hand through your hair as the ache inside you became unbearable. Your gaze flicked to the doll again, its serene face illuminated in the dim light. Hesitation flickered through you before you reached for the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube. The coolness of it sent a shiver through your body as you prepared yourself, the vividness of your desire making every movement feel charged with electricity.

Karina shifted against the sheets, her eyes narrowing as a pang of doubt crept into her thoughts. What if you didn’t use it? What if her plan had been too much, too bold? Her confidence wavered, and she sat up slightly, running a hand through her hair. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as she whispered, “Did you stop? Was it too much?”

Her mind raced, imagining you hesitating, putting the doll aside. A ripple of frustration and sadness swept through her as she bit her lip, staring at her dark phone. “Don’t pull away from me…” she murmured, her voice laced with longing and desperation. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself against the quiet ache of disappointment.

But then—she gasped, her body jolting violently as an overwhelming sensation ripped through her. Her eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing, as she clutched at the sheets. Her back arched as her entire body shuddered, an unmistakable pressure filling her completely, so vivid and intense it left her breathless.

“Oh my God,” she cried out, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her thighs quivered as the phantom sensation of your length pressed deeper into her, deliberate and slow, making her toes curl. Every nerve in her body was on fire, pleasure rolling through her in powerful, unrelenting waves.

Back in your room, you positioned the doll carefully, the weight of its form adding to the vividness of the illusion. Your body moved instinctively, your mind entirely lost in the fantasy Karina had spun around you. Each motion, each moment felt electric, her name a quiet mantra on your lips as you surrendered to the overwhelming need she’d left behind.

Karina’s chest heaved as her body adjusted to the sensation, her hands clutching the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Oh, fuck…” she whispered, her voice cracking as she felt you move inside her again, slow and steady, leaving her gasping for air. The intensity of it made her whole body burn, her skin tingling with the phantom connection that defied explanation.

“You’re… using it,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice tinged with equal parts triumph and desperation. Her lips parted as another moan escaped her, her head turning to the side as she let herself fall deeper into the moment. Her back arched as her body responded instinctively, her hips moving subtly, as if to meet the sensation halfway.

The thought of you, so far away yet so intimately close, sent another wave of pleasure crashing over her. She shivered, her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I knew you couldn’t resist…”

The air felt oppressive, thick with the heat and tension that had built throughout the night. Your body moved with a desperation that bordered on animalistic as you thrust into the doll. Its lifelike softness under your hands, the way its core clung to you with an almost pulsing grip—it all blurred the line between reality and fantasy. Every sensation was heightened, vivid to the point of overwhelming, and you couldn’t hold back.

Your hands roamed over the doll’s body, gripping its breast roughly. The synthetic material gave under your fingers, yielding in a way that felt startlingly real. Normally, when you were with Karina, your touch was controlled, measured, careful. She was an idol, and every step in your intimacy came with a layer of deliberation. But now, with the doll’s unyielding silence and perfect mimicry, you felt none of the restraint you would have with her.

Your palm struck the doll’s breast, the sharp sound echoing in the room. A red flush appeared on its synthetic skin, and you smacked it again, harder this time. The sight of your mark left your breath hitching, your body trembling as the roughness spurred you on.

Karina gasped as the sensation of your touch reached her. The sting of your hand on her breast sent jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through her, her back arching off the bed as her chest heaved. “Oh, my God…” she whimpered, her voice cracking with the vividness of it.

Her hands moved to her chest, instinctively covering the marks she felt there. The roughness of your touch, the sharpness of each slap, only heightened the pleasure building inside her. She could feel every movement—your palm squeezing her flesh, the sting as your hand struck her, and the pressure of your fingers digging into her skin.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, a futile attempt to temper the overwhelming sensations radiating through her body. The motion only heightened the intensity, amplifying the heat that coursed through her. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, her entire body trembling as she whispered, “You’re so rough tonight,” her voice tinged with disbelief and raw arousal. “I can feel all of it…”

In your room, your breath came in shallow gasps, your grip tightening on the doll’s hips as your thrusts grew more erratic. The lifelike core pulsed and tightened around you, gripping you with a vividness that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. Each rhythmic contraction drew you deeper, coaxing every ounce of control from your body, the intensity building with each movement.

Normally, with Karina, you would use a condom. It was an unspoken rule—one born of mutual care and caution, knowing how carefully she had to protect her image as an idol. But now, the rawness of feeling completely bare was intoxicating. The doll’s warmth, its pulsing tightness—it all overwhelmed you in a way you’d never experienced.

You groaned her name, “Jimin,” your voice thick with desperation as you leaned over the doll. Your free hand came down on its breast again, the slap harder this time. The synthetic skin flushed under your touch, and you pinched its nipple, twisting with a force you wouldn’t dare use on Karina.

Karina’s back arched violently as her skin mirrored your actions. She could feel your hand gripping her breast, the sharp sting of the slap followed by the rough pinch. A cry tore from her lips as pleasure and pain mingled, the intensity leaving her gasping for air.

Her body burned, her skin alive with sensation as if you were truly there with her. Every motion was perfectly synchronized, every rough thrust and squeeze sending her closer to the edge. Her chest heaved as she clutched at the sheets, her voice breaking as she cried out, “Yes… just like that…”

The doll’s core pulsed around you again, gripping you tighter, almost pulling you deeper. The sensation was surreal, unlike anything you’d felt before. It wasn’t just the warmth or the tightness—it was the way it seemed to respond to you, as though it were alive. The rhythmic squeezing was enough to drive you mad, and you could feel your climax building with unrelenting intensity.

You buried yourself deep inside it, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. The rawness of being bare, of releasing fully into the doll’s impossibly realistic core, sent shockwaves through your body. Normally the condom muted the sensation, a necessary precaution you’d both grown used to. But now, the sheer vividness of the feeling left you trembling. The pulsing tightness of the doll clung to you, each pump of your release magnified, each pulse drawing out the intensity.

“Ugh fuck,” you groaned, your voice breaking as your body gave in completely.

Karina screamed as the sensation of your release surged through her, a shockwave of impossible vividness that left her gasping for air. It was as if you were truly inside her, every pulse of your release tangible, every rhythmic pump filling her completely. The feeling was overwhelming, raw in its intimacy, breaking through every boundary she had known before. It was not just physical—it was all-encompassing, lighting up her senses in ways she had never imagined.

Her back arched violently off the bed, her legs trembling as the sensation spread through her. Instinctively, her thighs pressed together, her body desperate to contain the fullness, but it did nothing to slow the relentless tide of pleasure. The startlingly real pressure claimed every inch of her, leaving her utterly breathless. Her hands gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white, her body reacting instinctively to the connection that felt like nothing she had ever experienced.

Lost in the feeling, Karina’s hips began to move of their own accord, grinding upward in a desperate attempt to meet you. Her movements were met only with air, the stark reminder of your absence making the sensations even more surreal and maddening. The futile grinding only amplified her need, her body seeking a closeness that wasn’t truly there yet felt undeniably real.

“Oh, my God!” she cried out, her voice breaking as the intensity of it overwhelmed her. The rhythmic pulses of your release felt endless, each one sending another jolt of pleasure through her. It was as though her body recognized this as something forbidden, something she had never allowed herself to feel—a complete surrender to being filled, claimed, in a way that shattered her carefully controlled world.

The sensations opened something inside her, a deep well of vulnerability and raw, unfiltered pleasure. The feeling of being filled wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, a connection so profound it left her trembling. “I can feel you,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, the awe and disbelief clear. “Every bit of you…”

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, each one more intense than the last. The fullness inside her heightened everything, making her body hyper aware of every nerve, every sensation. It was unrelenting, a tidal wave of ecstasy that consumed her completely. Her thighs quivered as her body tightened around the phantom sensation, her hips lifting instinctively as if to take more of you, to hold you closer.

Her climax ripped through her like a storm, an overwhelming, earth-shattering moment that left her crying out in ecstasy. The pulses of your release seemed to synchronize with her own, amplifying the pleasure as if you were truly connected. She could feel everything—the heat, the rhythm, the way you filled her completely. It felt endless, the connection between you growing stronger, the distance between you evaporating in that moment of shared release.

As the sensations finally began to ebb, her body collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her trembling and flushed. Her skin was damp with sweat, her hair clinging to her face as she stared at the ceiling, her mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “You couldn’t resist.” Her voice was soft, filled with triumph and affection, her body still buzzing with residual pleasure. Her hand trailed lazily over her flushed skin, the memory of the sensations lingering like a brand.

She closed her eyes, her mind swimming with thoughts of you. “Good,” she murmured, her voice a mix of possession and tenderness. “You’re mine… just like I wanted.” The feeling of being filled, of connecting with you so deeply, had changed something in her. It was more than just a physical experience—it was a claiming, a bond that would linger, no matter how far apart you were.

Karina felt boneless, her body trembling violently as wave after wave of aftershocks rippled through her. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her thighs quivering as she struggled to regain control. She could feel every inch of you—the impossible fullness, the lingering warmth of your release pooled deep inside her. Her entire body felt raw, too sensitive, and yet her arousal continued to build. Every slight movement seemed to push it deeper, a constant reminder of how thoroughly she’d been claimed.

Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she bit her bottom lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill from her. Her inner walls throbbed uncontrollably, her body clenching as if unwilling to let go of the overwhelming sensation.

Her back arched off the bed as a sharp sting spread across her chest—a hard slap on her breast. The sound reverberated through the quiet room, and she cried out, her voice muffled as her face pressed into the pillow. Her nipples throbbed, hypersensitive as your grip returned, kneading roughly, tugging and twisting with no mercy. Another hard slap landed, and she gasped, her chest heaving as the pain blurred into pleasure.

Her mind spun as the sensations intensified. Her legs fell open wider, her body yielding completely as the rhythm grew more relentless. Each tug on her nipple sent jolts of heat straight to her core, and the fullness inside her felt like it was expanding, stretching her impossibly more. Her breath caught as she felt your tongue on her skin—wet, warm, and insistent. It circled her right nipple, the pressure teasing and building as you sucked hard, making her toes curl.

“No,” she whimpered weakly, her voice trembling. “No, I can’t—” But her body told another story. She arched into the phantom touch, her breaths growing faster as her nipple throbbed under the attention. The flick of your tongue sent shivers through her, the combination of pleasure and overstimulation pushing her closer to the edge. When suddenly.

Knock, knock.

Her heart leapt, panic surging through her. Minjeong’s voice came through the door, her tone hesitant. “Unnie? Can we talk for a minute?”

Karina froze. Her mind swirled in panic, her body still alight with your touch. She fumbled for her robe, struggling to gather herself. The fabric clung awkwardly to her damp skin as she tied it hastily, her trembling hands betraying her desperation. She forced herself to rise, but the moment she stood, an invisible grip tightened around her neck.

Her breath caught sharply, her head tilting back as the hold constricted her throat. She stumbled forward, her hand bracing against the wall as she gasped for air. The pressure made her lightheaded, yet it only amplified the arousal coursing through her. Her body betrayed her, her chest heaving as she struggled to take another step, each movement sending the fullness pressing impossibly deeper inside her.

“Oh, God,” she choked out softly, her knees wobbling as she reached the door. Her fingers gripped the handle tightly, and the constriction eased just enough for her to force the door open. She leaned heavily on the frame, her face flushed and damp with sweat, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Minjeong,” she managed hoarsely, her voice barely steady.

“Unnie, are you okay? You look… really flushed,” Minjeong said, her brow furrowing.

Karina forced a tight smile, clutching her robe around her. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice strained. “What’s up?”

Minjeong hesitated but stepped inside, her expression uncertain. “I just needed to vent,” she began softly. “I messed up during the performance yesterday. It’s been eating at me.”

Karina froze, her body still trembling as the sensations rippled faintly through her. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “No one noticed.”

Minjeong sighed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “But it was during my highlight part,” she continued, her voice heavy with guilt. “I missed the cue, and I could feel everyone looking at me. I feel like I ruined the whole song.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Karina said sharply, her words tumbling out too fast. “The crowd loved it.”

Minjeong tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Unnie, you’re talking really fast. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Karina snapped, her voice cracking. She crossed her legs tightly, her thighs clenching as the lingering pressure inside her made her shift involuntarily. “I just… I think I left some medicine in my bag in the bathroom. Can you grab it for me?”

Minjeong hesitated, her gaze lingering on Karina’s disheveled appearance, but she eventually stood. “Okay, I’ll check.”

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Karina collapsed back onto the bed. Her legs fell open as her body gave in completely. The grip on her neck tightened again, and her head tilted back as she gasped for air. Her chest burned, her body trembling violently as the phantom rhythm built to a breaking point once more.

Her climax surged violently as your teeth grazed her nipple for the first time. Her back arched sharply as the biting sensation left her trembling, and the wet flicks of your tongue soothed the sting, coaxing her higher and higher. She grabbed the pillow, pulling it over her face as her voice escaped in a strained scream, muffled against the fabric as the grip on her neck tightened further.

Her entire body convulsed, the intensity overwhelming as she felt the fullness inside her deepen with every movement. Her cries turned into desperate, broken moans as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

When Minjeong returned, Karina barely managed to pull herself together. Her robe was haphazardly tied, and her face was flushed and damp with sweat.

“I couldn’t find anything,” Minjeong said, her tone skeptical. “Unnie, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve been running a marathon.”

“I’m fine,” Karina said quickly, her voice shaky. “I just need to rest.”

Minjeong frowned but eventually nodded. “I’ll go down to the lobby and see if they have anything.”

As the door clicked shut, Karina collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she let out a shaky breath. A weak, triumphant smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “You’re impossible.”

Back at your house, you sat on the edge of the bed, the doll resting before you. The soft glow of the room illuminated it's eerily lifelike features, a testament to the unsettling craftsmanship. Its warmth radiated faintly under your touch, and its pliant texture added an almost unnerving realism. As you worked carefully to clean it, your hands moved methodically, though your mind couldn’t help but linger on how strange and lifelike it felt.

Your fingers brushed against its core, and the unexpected tightening startled you briefly. You shook your head, muttering to yourself about the doll’s unsettling realism. As you continued, your movements remained methodical—careful scoops to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Each curl and shift of your fingers felt oddly precise, the warmth and give of the material blurring the line between artificial and lifelike. You adjusted the angle instinctively, focused entirely on the task while marveling at how well-crafted it was.

Again, Karina jolted violently, her thighs clamping together in a futile attempt to contain the storm of sensations coursing through her. A broken gasp tore from her lips as her fingers twisted the sheets, knuckles white with tension, her back arching off the bed in a mix of helplessness and need.

Each deliberate motion of your hand, precise and unyielding, sent waves of overstimulation rippling through her. Your fingers pressing and curling inside her felt so real it made her toes curl. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, rising and falling as she struggled to process the overwhelming intensity. She couldn’t escape the unrelenting pressure that pushed her to the brink, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath its weight.

“Stop…” she whispered faintly, her voice shaky and laced with desperation. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, the overstimulation dragging her into a haze of pleasure and vulnerability. “Please…” she choked out, her plea barely audible as her hips moved restlessly against the bed, seeking relief but finding none.

The pressure built relentlessly, her inner muscles clenching involuntarily, her body betraying her at every turn. Her face pressed into the pillow, her muffled whimpers spilling freely, each sound tinged with a mix of desperation and surrender. Her body bucked slightly, her thighs quivering as she tried to resist the sensations flooding her, but every shift only drew her closer to unraveling completely.

Then, suddenly, the sensations eased, leaving Karina collapsing into the mattress. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath as relief mixed with exhaustion, her body trembling in the aftermath of the intensity. The storm had passed, but her emotions churned restlessly beneath the surface. The earlier anniversary dinner weighed on her heavily—a night cut short, the guilt of leaving the call unfinished pressing uncomfortably on her chest.

Unable to bear the feeling any longer, she reached for her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled to your name and pressed the call button. The line barely rang once before your familiar, warm voice answered.

“Babe?” you said, tinged with surprise and concern. “Is everything okay?”

Karina smiled faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just wanted to check in,” she began, hesitating. “About earlier. Leaving dinner like that—I felt terrible. I wanted to hear your voice… to make up for it.”

The soft chuckle on the other end sent a soothing wave of warmth through her chest. “I miss you,” you admitted, your tone gentle and full of affection. “It’s been hard without you here.”

“Tell me about it,” Karina murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I feel it every second.”

A brief silence passed before you spoke again, hesitating as though deciding whether to share your next thought. “You know,” you started softly, “that doll you left behind… It actually helps. I don’t know who made it or how it’s so realistic, but holding it… it reminds me of you. It’s comforting in a weird way.”

Karina’s heart raced at your confession, but she kept her tone steady. “Then hold it,” she said gently. “Cuddle it, like you normally do with me.”

There was a pause on your end, followed by the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted yourself. Karina closed her eyes, imagining you settling into the bed. Then, like a spark igniting, she felt it—an unmistakable warmth wrapping around her, soft and steady, just like your embrace. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her body easing into the comforting sensation as her chest filled with an indescribable lightness.

She could feel the gentle pressure of your arms encircling her, the way they always seemed to ground her, pulling her close and making her feel safe. The phantom weight of your hand rested on her back, warm and reassuring, while the faint brush of your breath against her hair felt so real she could almost lean into it. Her body sank deeper into the mattress as she surrendered to the illusion, her heart swelling with a mix of longing and relief.

“It’s perfect,” you said after a moment, your voice rich with affection. “Almost like you’re here.”

Karina hummed softly, her mind drifting into a haze of peace and contentment. She tilted her head slightly, as though nuzzling into your chest, and the sensation met her as if you were truly there. The phantom pressure of your heartbeat against hers resonated, steady and soothing, its rhythm lulling her into a rare sense of calm. Her breaths deepened, syncing with yours as she felt the warmth of you—not just physically but emotionally—envelop her entirely.

Her legs relaxed against the bed, the earlier tension melting away as the embrace seemed to tighten around her. She could feel the way you would normally hold her, firm but tender, your hands moving subtly, like you always adjusted to make her more comfortable. It was so vivid, so intimate, that she couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. The connection she felt—the closeness—bridged every mile between you, anchoring her in a love that felt as tangible as the bed she lay on.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics—your plans for the week, a funny story about something that happened at work, and little observations about the house—Karina hummed absently, her voice soft and dreamy. Her body felt lighter, weightless even, as if she were floating in the comfort of your arms. Her shoulders, always tense from the pressures of the tour, eased fully into the mattress as her lips curled into a faint smile.

“You should’ve seen it,” you said with a laugh. “The way it played out, it was like something out of a sitcom.”

Her hum grew fainter, the embrace and your voice working together to lull her further into relaxation. She could feel the warmth of your chin resting gently against the top of her head, the comforting sensation of being fully encased in your love. The faintest brush of what felt like your fingers grazed along her arm, and her body responded instinctively, her skin tingling as she leaned further into the feeling.

Unbeknownst to her, back in your room, you shifted closer to the doll, your body responding instinctively to the memory of Karina’s warmth. The moment reminded you of all the quiet times you’d shared before, when she’d curl into you, content and serene, indulging in the quiet intimacy.

It had always been her way of staying close, of feeling connected without urgency, and the thought tugged at your chest. Without thinking, you pressed deeper into the doll’s lifelike folds, its warmth enveloping you in a way that felt startlingly familiar. Pulling it impossibly close, you murmured into the phone, “Do you know how much I miss this? Just holding you like this.”

Karina didn’t answer; her hum had faded into a faint, contented sigh. But the moment you settled fully into the doll, she felt it—a slow, steady fullness building inside her, grounding her in ways words couldn’t describe. Her breaths deepened, your touch wrapping around her like a cocoon. The sensation of you filling her wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a tether binding her to you.

Her legs shifted restlessly, her body reacting instinctively to the steady warmth coursing through her. The subtle pulsing from within deepened the haze of comfort and security enveloping her. It wasn’t urgent or demanding—just a steady, grounding presence that filled her with a connection she hadn’t realized she craved. She melted into the sensation, her body yielding completely as a quiet, contented sigh escaped her lips.

“I miss you so much” you murmured again, your voice tinged with longing and affection.

Karina didn’t answer; her body was too relaxed, too wrapped in the comfort of your embrace and the subtle rhythm inside her. Moments later, the faintest, most delicate snore reached your ears, and a warm chuckle escaped your lips.

“Sleep tight, baby,” you whispered into the phone, your voice brimming with tenderness. “I love you.”

Back at your house, you remained there for a while, holding the doll as the call stayed connected. The sound of her calm, even breaths filled the quiet room, creating a sense of closeness that bridged the miles between you. You smiled softly to yourself, knowing she’d finally found peace. It was the best sleep Karina had since the tour began—a sleep steeped in love, comfort, and the feeling of being wrapped in your arms, no matter the distance.

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ninthprime · 2 months ago

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now that hxh is officially coming back here's my attempt to count how many plots are going on at once right now

a plot: the kakin royal family, joined by beyond netero, has chartered an expedition to the forbidden dark continent on a huge whale ship with thousands of civilians. the hunter association signed on to join with the plan of actually sending the ship to a fake “new continent”, dropping off the family and civilians there, and then continuing to the real continent. the problem is the king of kakin is also using this expedition to force his fourteen (legitimate) children into a death match, with the survivor as heir

b plot: kurapika has discovered that kakin’s fourth prince tserriednich is in possession of the remaining scarlet eyes and, in order to get close to him, has signed on as a bodyguard to the fourteenth prince, baby woble, and her mom queen oito. as it turns out all the princes have autonomous nen beasts so this is a more complicated job than it looks. by which i mean at one point he gave up a substantial part of his life to possess a cockroach

c plot: to get more specific, kurapika has been trying to keep the peace by inviting the servants and bodyguards of the other princes to come to nen classes taught by him (read: he and fellow bodyguard bill are just forcibly opening their nen abilities), but a mysterious nen construct called “silent majority” killed most of woble’s other servants and now keeps killing people in the classes. there are apparently multiple people who can use nen in the classes already and who are mostly not telling him.

d plot: the three big mafia families of kakin (the hei-ly, xi-yu and cha-r) have been invited onto the ship mostly because their leaders are all illegitimately related to the king and been told to not cause any trouble…but the king’s illegitimate daughter morena, the new leader of the hei-ly and certified #gamergirl, actively wants to the destroy the world and is breaking the peace by spreading nen to her followers using her ability and letting them gain “levels” by killing people on the ship.

e plot: the phantom troupe has shown up knowing that hisoka will have followed them here and are trying to track him down and kill him. they’ve split into groups and the only group we’ve followed- phinks, feitan and nobunaga- have teamed up with the xi-yu and cha-r to deal with both hisoka and morena. during this we get an extended flashback about how the phantom troupe used to be tween anime dubbers and originally became criminals to track down those who killed their friend.

f plot: unbeknownst to the phantom troupe, the xi-yu’s underboss hinrigh has already met with hisoka (or at least someone who looks a lot like him) and given him a passage to the top level, where the royal family is, because the mafia knows a fight against hisoka will be more trouble than it’s worth while also trying to stop morena. in other words: hisoka is going to where kurapika is

g plot: tserriednich, the previously mentioned guy with the eyes, is also a misogynist serial killer and has gotten interested in nen, so his bodyguard theta has decided to teach him nen herself in order to slow him down and potentially stop him. unfortunately he’s a nen genius and has already developed an ability that lets him see into the future and overwrite reality by reacting accordingly, which he used to get out of theta shooting him. his nen beast has now marked theta for lying to him twice and will make her “no longer human” if she lies a third time.

h plot: melody, hired to be here by kurapika, attempted to sneak the teenage twin tenth and eleven princes off the ship only for the tenth prince (and the other hunter she was working with) to be killed, revealing the princes cannot leave the ship. thankfully the tenth prince kacho’s nen beast is basically her ghost. melody is now likely going to have to deal with an investigation into her actions and has also noticed that eleventh prince fugetsu is rapidly having her nen depleted. kaiser, a member of the justice bureau, claims to have fallen in love with melody after she performed her music for the ship and intends to help her, but melody doesn’t trust him and thinks he’s using manipulation nen on himself. oh and a large amount of the princes have invited her to perform for them, including tserriednich.

i plot: first prince benjamin, a nen user, has control of the military and has used his customary status as firstborn to send one of his guards to each of his younger siblings, which in at least one case led to a successful kill (the eighth prince). he’s in lockdown currently however because second prince camilla, also a nen user with an extremely powerful ability that seems to prevent her from being killed, attempted to kill him herself, and the justice bureau on the ship is trying to figure out who started what.

j plot: camilla has a group of ultra-loyal guards from the lower caste who have developed nen curses to kill her siblings in exchange for their own deaths. their captain, sarahell, has been developing a curse on woble and intends to attend kurapika’s class to deploy it.

k plot: ninth prince halkenburg, a baby marxist who progressive civilians and the younger princes both see as a potential savior, tried to kill his father and then himself after the first death in the succession battle and got stopped by nen beasts both times. he has responded to this by going apeshit and developing an ability that appears to allow him to put the souls of his guards into other people. his testing of this involved having one of his men shoot himself while in the body of one of benjamin’s men, so benjamin has him arrested now too.

l plot: third prince zhang-li’s nen beast is dispensing mysterious coins and zhang-li is dispensing said coins amongst his guards as well as to melody, whose performance he liked. zhang-li also appears to be hiding that he’s actually the son of the king’s illegitimate half-brother onior, the head of the xi-yu, who he’s asked to look into the last succession battle.

m plot: hanzo and bisky, also hired to be here by kurapika, were working as bodyguards for the twelfth and thirteenth princes until the twelfth prince was the first death of the war. the kindergarten-aged thirteenth prince’s stress in response to his sister dying now appears to have led his nen beast to trap their group in some sort of reality bubble. bisky had to reveal her battle form to head servant vergei to explain nen and what was happening, which has mostly just led to vergei getting a mad crush on her.

n plot: izunavi and basho are also here on kurapika’s behest guarding the sixth and seventh princes, who both have not done much yet; sixth prince tyson has a mysterious religious creed that izunavi has convinced her to pass onto her father and seventh prince luzurus mostly likes to smoke weed everyday but seems surprisingly perceptive and, more importantly, apparently funds the cha-r.

o plot: despite being a deranged maniac, tserriednich has a group of childhood friends working fairly standard military guard positions on the lower floors; they’re trying to find out more about nen after picking up that the hei-ly, which tserriednich was allied with before morena took over, are using it.

p plot: fifth prince tubeppa, aware she has few allies and little knowledge of nen, has been trying to meet with kurapika for a while. the literal last thing teased before this hiatus was her bodyguard longhi revealing to kurapika that she knows nen and kurapika agreeing to meet with tubeppa.

q plot: the rest of the phantom troupe has split off: machi and franklin are both on their own (but nobunaga wants to go get franklin), chrollo is making a plan with shizuku and bonolenov that appears to involve a disguise ability bono has, and illumi joined the troupe on hisoka’s request so they could have a yaoi death battle and is with kalluto. speaking of which:

r plot: mizai ran into illumi and kalluto and has them staying in a room in the quarters the zodiacs are using. he’s currently trying to figure out whether he should be telling kurapika the troupe is on the ship or not, knowing it could risk the well-being of both woble and kurapika himself. (he also secretly gave melody clearance to try to save the twins.)

s plot: beyond netero is still in lock up and being watched by members of the zodiacs. he hasn’t done anything yet, but it has been implied he’ll try to escape at the fake “dark continent.”

t plot: ging and pariston have a group allied with beyond who are going to the dark continent themselves; ging joined because he knows pariston must be up to something. it remains ambiguous whether they have their own boat or are on the whale somewhere.

u plot: leorio and cheadle are working at an understaffed clinic near the zodiac headquarters, meaning that once again Leorio Is Just Offscreen

v plot: a random member of the cha-r is trying to get the autographs of the phantom troupe members. this has been used to dispense plot info about how far we are from being out of contact with land. pray for his success

TOTAL PLOTS COUNT: 22

#hxh personal tag #hxh spoilers #mcp spoilers #long post -#idk if people still tag for that but i think the vibe of this post requires a lack of read more.#i drafted this post originally in july lmao #i had to remove the bullet points. tumblr wouldnt let me have them.

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deunmiu-dessie · 8 months ago

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ⅲ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 ⁾²

part one

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₇˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, demon/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus (both receiving), overstimulation. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: with your escape from your kidnapping, you find yourself now stranded in a world unfamiliar to you, how will you get home?

꒰m!demon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝒴 ou find yourself lost in thought, pondering how long you've been sitting outside. Your trusty (albeit broken) silver watch stubbornly displays midnight, but time seems irrelevant in this alternate world where minutes stretch into eternity. The rhythmic patter of raindrops keeps you company on the balcony, drawing you in with its soothing melody. Despite the allure of a cozy bed mere steps away, you remain entranced by the stormy night. Rain has always been your sanctuary, a source of comfort in turbulent times. And much like the rain, you find beauty in the fog that accompanies it, shrouding the world in a veil of mystery and distorting the passage of time.

In this enchanting world, you find yourself drawn to its allure. The raindrops fall delicately, resembling glittering diamonds, while the thick and mesmerizing fog gracefully enveloped everything in sight. Despite its seemingly monotonous nature, the sound of rain became a melody that resonated with your soul, especially during the serene nights when your neighborhood fell into a peaceful slumber. However, you were no longer in the comfort of your own home. Instead, there was a certain allure in venturing outside in this strange world during your unconventional waking hours, embracing the rain as it transformed the radiant light of the two moons into a muted glow amidst the stormy clouds. The lantern lights shimmered briefly, casting a magical glow before fading away. This was the embodiment of tranquility.

Your eyes trail to where the last lantern light on the garden flickers out, and your body turns rigid as something, tall, lanky, and dark comes slinking your way, well not necessarily your way, but down the path in your direction. The rain intensifies, drumming against the balcony railing and soaking your legs and feet. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you? You were stressed and scared. A crashing sound of thunder startles you, a trail of goosebumps crawling up your arms. The sensation of them developing sends a quiver down your spine, one that leaves your bones rattling and achy.

As the rain continues to pour down heavily, the path ahead becomes a blur, even with the faint light of the moons flickering through the clouds. You can almost feel the wetness of the soil beneath your feet, the sensation of it squishing between your toes. The raindrops relentlessly peck at your face, while the gentle rustling of the trees creates a comforting hum. It's as if Mother Nature herself is embracing you. Suddenly, a sharp pang of unease shoots through your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open.

You raise your head from its tilted position and peer down the path below the balcony. It's not a long stretch, the length of a car and then some. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot something peculiar. The figure that had been walking along the trail earlier, which you had dismissed as a figment of your fear, now stands at the end of your balcony. It is drenched and covered in a mysterious black substance. Although still tall, it no longer possesses its unnaturally thin appearance.

A terrifying grin stretches across its mouth, revealing a multitude of razor-sharp teeth, causing an uncontrollable scream to burst from your lips. In a frantic scramble, you seek refuge within the confines of your room, desperately hoping to evade the horrifying sight. The name you scream had meant to scream was Elmira, but out came, "U-Ulysses!" Your body turns into a puddle of goo, hot, sappy goo when a large hand settles over your eyes to obscure your vision. "Well aren't you a troublemaker?" he remarks, his eyebrows minutely creasing at the warmth emanating from your forehead and skin. As your hand rests upon his, he takes note of the clamminess of your palm.

"Do you like the rain?"

Amidst the relentless downpour, his voice cuts through the noise, smooth and velvety. It's reminiscent of savoring a fine whiskey, leaving a warm trail down your throat. You can't help but wonder if he tastes just as divine or otherwordly, and that thought alone makes your eyebrows furrow softly. You can feel his eyes on you, curious and searching. Knowing. Your words come out almost incoherent, but he doesn't seem to mind. His hearing is ten times sharper than yours, after all. Your voice, like a serene lake, barely makes a ripple. As your lips part, his eyes follow every movement with unwavering attention.

“I do.”

The rain has been falling relentlessly for hours, the constant pitter-patter on the ground and roof soothing you into a cozy and passionate state. Your affection for the rain is unwavering, it's a love that will never fade. Observing it brings back memories of your dreams, those beautiful dreams where you're standing in a vast field, letting the rain drench your clothes and moisten your skin. It's just you and the raindrops. The rain brings you solace. That's why you have no qualms about watching it endlessly.

“Do you like the rain?”

Your question catches him off guard, yet he craves the feeling of vulnerability you display by trusting and relying on him, despite your previous lack of trust.

“No.”

As your sight remains obscured, you're swiftly hoisted off the ground, the creature beneath you fading from your mind and your heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm. You hesitate to inquire further, realizing you're essentially a prisoner in this situation, with him as your captor.

“Why.”

As you both walk in silence, there is a sense of comfort that envelops you. It's a silence that doesn't make you feel awkward or embarrassed about the lack of response from him. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind - where exactly are you heading? Although the bed assigned to you wasn't too distant, it feels like you've been strolling together for quite some time.

"Where are you taking me?"

As soon as your question leaves your lips, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoes through the room. Suddenly, you find yourself being gently placed onto a much larger bed than the one you were initially provided. "You'll be staying in my quarters until I can resolve the issue with the infestation,"

As your vision returns, you sit upright on the bed and fix your gaze upon him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Are you talking about mice? Or rats?" A blush spreads across your cheeks when he glances at you sideways, emitting a small chuckle devoid of humor. "Sure," he replies.

Sliding off the bed, you cross your arms protectively over your chest. "I won't be staying in a room with you. Find me another one." His eyebrow quirks and his eyes narrow, causing you to take a step back instinctively. "I have no intention of laying a finger on your body, especially considering you're human," he retorts. Offended, your mouth hangs open in disbelief and you take a step towards him.

"I wouldn't let you touch me, even if you begged!" Your words are sharp as he approaches. "Calm yourself, ao bewl ¹, I'll be in the next room over." ( my love )¹ A sudden wave of heat washes over you, causing your vision to blur and your breath to quicken. Ulysses remains unfazed as he steps closer, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, his other hand lifting to touch your chin and check your forehead. "Silly woman, how long have you been out in the rain?"

Ulysses notices your lack of response and tenderly lifts you up from your slouched position against him, carefully placing you back in bed. "The rain in Lomaliue is unlike anything you've experienced in the Upper Realm," he whispers under his breath, his cool hands gently brushing against your forehead and then your neck. You peer at him through blurry eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is this the end for me? Am I dying? I'm dying, right? " Fear grips you as tears stream down your face, and the room starts to spin around you.

The Demon can't contain his amusement and lets out a deep, rich chuckle. "Come now, little human, no need for theatrics. You're not dying. It's simply the unfamiliar weather and atmosphere of the Under Realm that's causing you discomfort. You'll be alright." Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, drenching your hair and clothing, leaving little to the imagination. A wave of intense pain surges through your abdomen, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut. "It hurts, it hurts."

Ulysses sighs and softly caresses your complexion from top to bottom, hovering just slightly over your face. Your eyes slide shut and sleep takes over. He doesn't even startle or rise when Elmira enters the room, eyes worried. "She'll be fine, bring my papers from the office here, cancel the board meeting, and rearrange it a sennight from now." Elmira nods obediently and laces her hands behind her back. "Of course Master." Before she can turn to leave, he he adds, "The Guard, have them hunt down the Helkuma that made its way in. I'll be conducting a border check to identify any lapses in security."

"Yes Master." Elmira leaves the room and shuts the door behind her softly, leaving the two. Ulysses rises from the bed, intending to make his way to the plush velvet couch, but his progress is halted by a gentle tug on his loose tunic. Your small, tender hand clings to him with an intensity that suggests a desperate need for his presence, while the worry lines between your eyebrows deepen. "It seems I've been mated to a clingy human."

For the next coming days, Ulysses spends his time doting on you as you're in and out of sleep, while also doing a lot of the work that had piled up in his absence. Surprisingly, in your drowsy state, you show no fear towards him; in fact, you become quite affectionate and touchy. On the seventh day, your fever finally breaks, and your pretty eyes no longer hold that bleary look of exhaustion and pain; it soothes Ulysses more than he cares to admit. Elmira hands him another stack of reports, her smile tinged with guilt as she notices his exasperated glare. "Just a few more to go, and we'll be done, except for the east wing reconstruction," she says, but stops when he raises one of his hands (from his third arm, the others are busy with paperwork) "Don't remind me."

Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump

The feline demon's ears twitch as your heart rate quickens. "Master, My Lady has awakened," he hums in acknowledgment, placing the two out of the three pens down and rising from the desk he had relocated to the room. "Ask the Chef to prepare a light meal and gather medicine and a sweet treat." Carrying a few crucial documents, he settles onto the plush velvet couch, flipping through them. Elmira nods in understanding and swiftly exits the room, gently closing the door behind her.

"I am aware that you are awake, my dear 'captive'."

He finds your bewildered grunt incredibly amusing, much more than he had anticipated. With a slight chuckle, he resumes his task of signing, paying no attention as you ungracefully slide out of bed and stumble toward the couch farthest from his position. Wrapped in the sheets, you look absolutely adorable, with it trailing behind you as you settle into the comfortable couch. "What time is it? What day?"

"It's been a sennight since you've come down with fever, that makes it Woedenes dæg, and it's noon." He steals a quick glance at his watch, indicating that he's running out of time and you have a feeling that he's about to go. "Which also means I have my meeting soon." And your intuition was spot on.

Ulysses stands up and carelessly tosses the pages onto the table. "Elmira will bring you something to eat. Take a brief stroll in the gardens and enjoy the fresh air. Just remember, not more than 10 minutes. Your body needs time to adjust to this environment."

You give a slight nod, feeling a bit disoriented and not up for a debate, the situation still feeling surreal. A sudden feeling of bashfulness overtakes you, making your cheeks burn. "Have you been here the entire time?" "Yes, the employees here are not accustomed to dealing with humans. You're also mine. My responsibility and I allowed you to become ill, and for that, I am sorry."

Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, but it comes crashing down when he finishes. "I also didn't want to put them through the pain of your snoring and clinginess." Ulysses finds amusement in the glare you send his way, observing as you settle back into the couch, appearing at ease in his presence. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Hurry and get out." His eyes soften and a smile quirks his lips, "I'll come to visit you after." You huff and wave him off with a middle finger. "Don't bother!" Your voice trails off weakly as he walks out, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Just as you are lost in your own thoughts, Elmira enters the room carrying a tray of steaming soup. Her face lights up with a warm smile, and her steps exude a contagious energy. "My Lady, I'm overjoyed to see you recovering. Your illness had the entire castle in a frenzy, and the servants have been sending their good wishes." It's puzzling, isn't it? You were just an ordinary person who stumbled upon this grand castle one day. Your interactions were minimal, and you couldn't even recall the names of those you encountered. So why all the fuss?

Elmira seems to read your mind and responds with a gentle smile. "In the sennights you've been here, your presence has brightened this place. The Gardeners feel like they have a purpose, the Chef gets to cook more often and the other maids love to dote on you." The Garden. The mere thought of dining in the garden brings a smile to your face as you sit up from your previously huddled position. "Elmira, I would like to eat in the garden."

The walk to the Gardens (a place you had never been to) was quick and pleasant, with the suns shining brightly at noon. The knights on patrol greeted you warmly and in a slightly cute and chaotic manner. Stepping outside, you slipped off your new flats, lifted your dress, and ran into the grassy plains with a soft smile and squinted eyes, the sun's rays shining in your eyes and warming your skin. A gentle sigh of contentment escaped your lips as you wiggled your bare feet in the grass of the garden. With a slight breeze in the air, Elmira draped a shawl over your shoulders before heading back to the table to prepare your breakfast.

"Elmira, why is it that I've never been here before?" you inquire, your voice gentle as you lower yourself, your gown spreading over the earth and your hand encircling your knees. The scent of the air is pure and invigorating, a stark contrast to the environment you're used to at home. Your fingers trace the outline of a dandelion-like flower, smoothing over its bright yellow stem before picking it. Raising it to your face, you inspect the pink fluff that surrounds it. The clinking of dishes is the only sound until she interrupts.

"This is the Master's private garden, in order to come here you would need approval. While you were recovering, I told him that you enjoyed being outside and in Nature, and he gave you access to this Garden." Elmira answers, occupied with the dolly that holds the tea and soup that had been prepared prior. As you listen to her words, a soft smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters with excitement. You take in a deep breath and let out a puff, air releasing from your lungs and onto the flower. The pappus soars through the wind, taking flight and drifting further and further away from you. The garden mesmerizes you with its meticulous upkeep, vibrant hues, and the intoxicating fragrance of the dew-kissed plants. Every plant thrives, leaving you thoroughly delighted.

You now longed for a book to read, so you could lose yourself within the garden and experience something you had yet to want until now. But, after realizing that perhaps all the books were in the language of this new world, you would have to ask Elmira or Ulysses to get you something. Ah, you said it so easily, as if staying here was a forever thing, but perhaps it was. Ulysses had hit the nail on the head about your old life - no caring family, a job ready to let you go, and no one waiting for you back home. You weren't living, just surviving miserably. With a soft groan, you rose from your crouched position, hands moving up from your knees as you straightened. Your eyes roamed and landed on a beautiful glass table that Elmira was setting the dishes onto. It was clear, almost see-through. White placeholders were facing the chairs that came with the table. "It's so beautiful here." Your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers glide along the smooth glass surface, the set looking as if water had stilled. It could've been mistaken for ice if the warmth from the present sun didn't beam onto everything in its path. You hesitate, stealing glances at the elegant table, unsure if you should dare to sit. The opulence of the furniture makes you question if you might tarnish it. "Elmira, is it alright for me to sit here? It looks expensive." The cat demon nods absentmindedly, focused on arranging the items. "Certainly, the furniture is meticulously cleaned every day." "Oh," you respond, your brows furrowing. Your gaze swiftly shifts to your hand, a delighted smile spreading across your face as you notice something unexpected. "What is this?" you whisper softly, bringing your hand closer to examine it.

Perched on the back of your hand is a mesmerizing bug, its vibrant blue hue adorned with delicate white spots. At first glance, you might mistake it for a ladybug, if not for its peculiar shading and the menacing stinger at the end of its abdomen. Elmira's expression changes as you inquire about the bug, her face turning pale. With a sense of urgency, she urges you. "My Lady, quickly blow it off your hand!" You look up and away from the bug and glance toward her, panicking slightly at her tone. "What? Why? What's wrong–." Before you can comprehend her warning, a scorching sensation surges through your veins, engulfing your body in unbearable pain. As you glance back at your hand, you discover that the bug's stinger is now embedded in your skin, while the insect itself has vanished amidst your frantic state.

In an instant, you're sprawled on the ground, and Elmira rushes over, tenderly cupping your face in her palms. It's hard not to ponder why a mundane day is an elusive dream in this peculiar world, where nothing ever seems to be ordinary.

"—The Hundyai Region has become overrun with–."

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly turns heavy as a sudden knock reverberates through the door. All eyes turn towards the interruption, their curiosity piqued. It is a rare occurrence to interrupt a meeting with the fearsome Demon Lord Ulysses, it had never been done before, or well, successfully done. Before he can even speak, Elmira enters the room with a sense of urgency, her steps quick and purposeful. Bending down to whisper into his ear, she imparts crucial information to their Lord, causing a ripple of tension to spread across the room. The council members watch intently as Ulysses' eyes narrow and his jaw tightens in response. With a stiff nod, he acknowledges Elmira's message, prompting her to exit the room gracefully. Bidding a respectful farewell to the men at the table, she disappears as silently as she had arrived.

Standing up from his spot at the head of the table, Ulysses straightens his cuff links. "Let's postpone the meeting for now. Feel free to wait in the lounge with some refreshments." There are no protests, no irritation, just unwavering loyalty. "Understood, my Lord." She can't seem to stay out of trouble.

"How long ago was it?"

Elmira anxiously clasps her hands together as she hurries alongside Ulysses, makes his way to his bed in a few long strides."It couldn't have been more than five minutes. I rushed to your side as soon as I could. Ghallahan brought her back here," she explains. Ulysses tenderly cups your chin in his large hand, observing as your eyes glaze over and your lips part to take a deep breath upon his touch. Your skin feels warm and moist with a thin layer of perspiration, causing him to curse himself for his lack of attentiveness. "Bring me something to alleviate the pain and swelling within 10 minutes. Clear out the staff near my room and instead attend to our guests. If I need anything, I'll call for you." Elmira, though reluctant, nods and shuffles out of the room. "What's happening to me?" Ulysses, captivated by the alluring and breathy tone of your voice, shifts his attention back to you. He nonchalantly rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt ever so slightly. "While in the Garden you were stung by a Fern. Their venom can intensify one's libido to a dangerous extent if not treated correctly. It can also lead to swelling in the limbs and even the brain, depending on the specific type of Fern."

In the midst of your poisoned state, your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Your thighs involuntarily clench together as your heart beats erratically in your chest. The overwhelming realization that death may be imminent engulfs you, and you find yourself uttering desperate words, "Oh God, I'm going to die, I don't want to die." However, amidst the chaos, a strange sensation begins to stir within you. Your nipples harden beneath the fabric of your dress, the sensation bordering on painful. Ulysses gently brushes his hand against your, puffy lips sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch trails down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. "For it to stop, I need to pleasure you." Your body tenses at the information and your cheeks flush. "I'll just do it myself. Why can't I do it myself?"

"It doesn't work that way, little dove."

The thought of him touching you so intimately sends tingles of white-hot pleasure down your tummy. Another wave of heat hits and beneath your dress your wet, sticky thighs rub together, desperate for a touch of any kind. You can feel your clit swell and ache as your blood rushes to it. Your panties are damp with your arousal. As you lock eyes with him, his passive yet sharp features, and his deep, alluring red eyes, you sense a hunger that sets him apart from the rest. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple, captivating your attention, and you boldly cup your breast within your small hands, embracing your own provocative nature. It becomes clear that the mere thought of his touch has the power to bring you to the brink of climax.

You can't help but feel a little shy, but there's no denying the effect he has on you. The way his voice rumbles sends shivers down your spine. His deep, sultry tone stirs something deep inside you. "Dove, talk to me." His voice is almost pleading, and you comply with a quick nod, gasping as his lips press against yours, dominating and all-consuming. His tongue dances over your lower lip, relishing the addictive taste of your mouth. His teeth sink in, causing a pleasurable moan to escape into his mouth, your fingers desperately clinging to him; as his fingers trail calmly down your waistline and tickle your belly button. Slowly, they make their way back up to the neckline of your dress, effortlessly tearing it off, and exposing your breasts to the cold air, causing goosebumps to rise. Though his warm mouth chases them away.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, feeling the hot, pulsating bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. The most sultry, erotic moan he's ever heard pierces his ears and the deep, primal groan that he lets out makes you whimper. He lifts his head to gaze into your eyes, seeing the raw desire and intense need reflected at him.

His fingers delve into your hips, reassuring and light as he pulls you closer to him, his mouth continuing a slow, tantalizing assault on your nipples. Each time his teeth nip you, you mewl wantonly and arch into him, hips grinding against him. Tears trickle down your cheeks at the discomfort between your thighs, a fire that slowly starts to eat you alive.

Ulysses' hand caresses your breast, thumb teasing your wet nipple. And you let out the most sinful, obscene moan he's ever heard; and you attempt to stifle it with your hand. " It's only me and you here, dove " He states, kissing down the valley of your breast, eyes flitting upwards to gaze at your tortured face. His breath leaves his lungs in a shocked rush, and a surge of emotions engulfs him when his eyes find yours, they're wet with tears and you down at him through thick lashes, eyes so trusting and yet so scared.

"In this life and the next, you possess the power to consume me entirely." His voice, a mere whisper, and his hands cupping the soft weight of your breast. He bends his head, his teeth scraping over your left nipple. His other arms work on taking off the top half of his clothing, carelessly ripping them away. You sob out, the sound unlike anything he's heard, it makes his cock strain against his pants. Once again, he claims your breast, his mouth unyielding. Suckling vigorously, his tongue dancing across your nipple, while his fingers tease and caress the other. Your cries echo, as you entangle your fingers in his tousled locks.

As he lifts his head from devouring you, his gaze fixates on the vibrant hues that adorn your bosom, and you gasp at the color of his eyes. He knows you see the dark red of his eyes, a lust-filled predator, and yet you don't seem to care one bit. Instead, you yearn for him, your arms entwining around his neck to meet him in a kiss. Ulysses revels in the sensation of your body melding seamlessly with his, surrendering to his dominance as he ravishes your mouth with a fervent hunger, relishing the taste of your fervor. Your mouth, an addictive nectar, surpasses any pleasure he has ever savored in his two millennia of existence.

As your perky nipples graze against the chiseled contours of his muscular chest, a shiver of pleasure courses through your body, leaving you breathless and emitting a delicate whimper. He hungrily devours your sounds, his lips relentlessly claiming yours, until your once tender lips become swollen, evidence of his insatiable desire.

“More," You plead softly. "I need more." You can't help but squirm against him, hips bucking. Hungry. Needy. Demanding. The poison inside you ignites a fiery hunger, and only he can quench it. All you desire is him. His touch, his kiss, rough and demanding. You yearn for the numbness that envelops you when he tilts your head back, dominating your mouth repeatedly. Your cries are filled with urgency, and you don't care if you have to beg him to get what you want. What you needed.

"I can feel the heat of your cunt through my pants, dove," He whispers softly, and to you? He murmurs gently to you. He exudes pure, sinful allure. Temptation. Forbidden and devilish. The brush of his teeth on your neck causes your eyes to close and your lips to part. "I bet your panties are drenched, aren't they?" The question has another wave of slick dripping from your pussy.

He doesn't bother waiting for your response; instead, he plants a series of kisses from your lips to your neck, and then down to your breasts. Every gentle bite or caress sends a surge of heat directly to your pussy. The heat is intense, scorching, pulsating between your thighs, and you can't help but squirm. Your pussy twitches, clenches, and weeps with hunger.

"I want to see for myself," He states, nipping under your breast and then down along your ribs. "I need the taste of you on my tongue, my mate." His sensual words make you flush red, but sends your stomach clenching in anticipation, it goes straight to your core. You weren't certain you could survive. Certainly if he didn't speed up his teasing you wouldn't, you truly didn't want your brain to swell and explode.

His stalling mouth doesn't stay very long but continues to journey down your belly, his tongue dipping into your navel. Gracefully, he slides off the bed and kneels in front of you, urging you to the edge and pushing your thighs apart. "Rest your feet on my shoulders," he commands, his voice thick and velvety. Filled with dark promise. A shiver runs down your spine at the sound and another pulse of hunger shudders through you. There's no thought in your mind that think to defy the edge in his tone. Without hesitation, you comply, soft feet settling over his broad shoulders.

You would do anything for him at this moment. You had never in your 20+ years of living ever felt so desperate or needy. The feeling was so strange but, so intense, your body shook with it. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears and flushing your cheeks. Ulysses' face bore a dark, erotic lewdness. Intense. Savage even. Feral and untamed, it stirred something deep within you, something you didn't even realize was there. You hungered for him so much that you could feel the warm wetness of your arousal smearing your thighs and gathering between your folds in anticipation.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you gripped his locs of hair, your breathing ragged. You were completely bare to him and you should have been embarrassed to have a demon you just met buried between your thighs, but instead, you were all the more desperate for him to do something—anything.

"So wet. So sweet." His gaze fixates on the luscious, soft curls on your mound, damp with heat, his eyes hooded and hungry. With a low, primal growl, he exhales a cool breath directly onto your feverish folds, and you sob, oversensitive and gripping his horns to steady yourself. "You belong to me," he declares. You don't even have time to process his words because he lowers his head to the feast between your shaking thighs. Your cry is hoarse. Broken. Mewling. He doesn't just give a tentative lick. Ulysses takes what he wants like a starved beast. He consumes your mind, body, and soul with a ravenous appetite.

He consumes you. His tongue delving deep to extract the musky, sweet taste of you. He nibbles, sucks. He dominates you with just his mouth and nothing more. Powerless to do anything but hold on, you grasp his horns, his firm hold on your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for his plundering mouth. It was beautiful. So good. Better than anything you could have imagined. Your mind refuses to function, focusing on the sheer pleasure escalating like a tsunami. The sensations are indecent, and arousing, the intensity escalating the insatiable desire within her higher and higher.

He releases a fierce hunger within you, his tongue flicking, diving deep repeatedly, caressing and teasing. His deep snarls only added to the sensations battering through you. The flames roar back with a vengeance, tantalizing your nerves and scorching through your veins, a blaze of passion across your stomach and down your legs, along your spine, and deep inside your sopping pussy. You were so close, the tension coiling so tightly you cry out with need as his mouth envelops your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, he licks just enough to overwhelm you with sensations, but not enough to release you. "Ulysses," You whimper his name in a desperate plea. Begging. Longing. Knowing he would fulfill your desires in his own time. Your body was his. He had claimed it and he was making sure you were aware of that. "Please," You whisper, fingers now clutching his black tresses.

He looks up at you and you feel the added intensity of his twinkling eyes. Your hips involuntarily thrust against him, craving the tantalizing sensations that tease you just beyond your grasp. His mouth covers your sensitive clit once again, his tongue flicking, licking, pressing with broad, flat strokes and caresses, driving you higher than you thought possible, until you scream your release. The rapid, relentless rhythm pushes you beyond your limits, causing you to surrender to the overwhelming release that consumes you. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, you bury his face deeper into your pulsating core, grinding against his tongue as your thighs tremble with desire. "Ulysses." You sob his name like a prayer. He tenderly traces the inside of your thigh, soothing your senses with his gentle touch. Slowly, your eyes flutter shut, your racing heartbeat gradually returning to its steady rhythm. Exhaustion washes over you, and the sweet embrace of sleep claims you.

With a soft knock on the door, the demon eases you back into bed, pulling the duvet over your body. Elmira glides into the room, placing the requested items on the table. "Escort the guest back to the meeting room, we'll resume the conference."

As you wake up from your poisoning-induced slumber, the darkness of night surrounds you, the castle eerily quiet except for the gentle sound of raindrops. Sitting up in bed, you slowly rub the sleep from your eyes, allowing the events of the day to slowly return to your mind. "Oh God." The events from earlier today rush back to you in vivid detail. You cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief. It must have been a dream, an incredibly lifelike, tantalizing dream. But the dampness between your thighs and your labia tells a different story. "I must have been dreaming."

"Of what?" The deep voice that you were starting to get used to startles you. Ulysses closes the door behind him, striding over to his desk. "I came to check on you after what happened earlier," His muscles tense and a surge of desire flickers in his eyes. Oh, and you were naked beneath the sheets. "So, I wasn't dreaming?" Ulysses chuckles humorlessly. "With the taste of your pussy still on my tongue, I don't think so." You try and ignore his lewd words, cheeks heating, instead you question him. "Earlier, when, yeah— you called me your mate, are we talking like, Australian mate? Pirate mate? Ahoy. What did you mean by it?"

"As in soulmate, predestined. You belong to me as I belong to you." His voice is gravelly and tinged with weariness, and you almost invite him into bed with you. "How? And how do you find me? Why me?" "Soulmates for Demons are rare, not many have them and they usually outlive them. Stumbling upon you was a fluke, but one I wouldn't change." Ulysses studies your reaction with a bated breath, searching and wondering. "I discovered you through your heartbeat. Your emotions. I could sense them all. Your fear, your relief, your longing."

"As simple as that, I got attached. Part of me wanted to leave you there, to never lay eyes on you again. However, your emotions anchored me. The solace you found in the echo of my voice and the sense of security you experienced, impelled me to protect you." Ulysses saunters closer, pausing to rest against the bed frame. "Your clumsiness, magnet to trouble, love of nature, and politeness to the staff, only made you more irresistible."

Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, a rhythmic thump that resonates with the intensity of a confession. "Whether you desire to depart from this place is inconsequential, for I have no intentions of releasing you," Is it sinful that you find yourself utterly aroused? The way his smoldering eyes possessively roam over your figure sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. His eyebrow quirks in a provocative gesture, and his eyes sparkle with a magnetic allure.

You felt your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He knew exactly how to turn you on. It was wrong, but it was also thrilling. The way he gazed at you made your pussy drool. Your clit throbbed with excitement. A part of you blamed it on the poison still gliding through your veins. "I don't see a reason to go anywhere," you murmur, relaxing your grip on the sheet. Ulysses' jaw tightens as he advances, his lips crashing onto yours forcefully, swallowing your moan before breaking away.

"I'll put your mouth to use little human."

The thought of his throbbing cock sliding deep into your throat sends delightful shivers down your spine and the way his gaze darkens lets you know that he can also feel what you think as well. With a hint of shyness, you cautiously approach him, allowing the sheet to gracefully slip from your body, settling on your knees right before him. Craning your neck to look up at him, captivated by his towering presence. At his staggering height, you had no problem being face-to-face with his bulge. Your lips form a sultry pout as he gently cradles your face in his hands, while his other two hands firmly grip your hair, a hold that is both biting and intoxicating, leaving your pussy dripping.

A primal hunger consumes you. He was an irresistible temptation, and you had already indulged in a sinful taste of him, otherworldly and enigmatic. You yearned for more. "Put your hands on my thighs," He says softly, his gaze burning into yours. You inhale deeply, your head shaking in disbelief, your eyes sparkling with desire. "I've never done this before."

"I know." Those two words swirl inside you. Makes you shiver. With his remaining hand, he deftly undoes his pants, revealing his cock.

As you inhale deeply, your throat tightens and your eyes feast upon him. His jet-black hair is elegantly swept away from his captivating face. With broad shoulders and narrow hips, he possesses a striking V-shaped silhouette. His thighs are thick, lean and firm, but your gaze is centered on his pulsing, jerking cock. He's bigger than you imagined a man would be— well a demon. He's long and thick, perfectly matching his purple-grey skin tone, but there is an otherworldly quality to it that leaves you craving more. Intricate ridges and pulsating veins adorn its length.

"Keep looking at me, dove. I need to see you, to make certain you want this."

Your gaze swiftly ascended, locked in a passionate connection, for in that very moment, you were ready to surrender the world to him. He envelops his fingers around the base of his cock, guiding it towards your awaiting mouth, an act so tantalizingly arousing, it surpasses any previous encounters. (Not that you've had many, but…) Ulysses presses the velvety head against your lips, and the sensation of his precum moistening them ignites a pulsating surge of pleasure within your core. Driven by instinct, you part your lips and sensually lick the glistening droplets, taking the offering and savoring his taste.

His groan is deep as the flat of your tongue dances over his sensitive tip. He retreats momentarily, causing you to whimper in protest, which is quickly silenced as he abruptly sinks into your mouth, giving you what you want. He moves unhurriedly, each stroke taking him deeper until he's nearly at the back of your throat, careful of you. But you can feel the way his body responds as you suckle hard. It's orgasmic, the violent way his muscles contract from the burning pleasure. His gaze, dark and intense, follows every movement of his cock as it slides in and out of your mouth; tip and shaft sloppy now, dripping with saliva.

You revel in the sensation of his intense gaze watching your pillowy lips enveloping his cock, and this feeling alone from you has his cock swollen and engorged, so much so that your jaw aches. You sensually trace circles around the tip before lavishly slurping the underside of his shaft. Your eyes lock with his as he spasmodically twitches within your mouth.

"Enough." An order, his voice rough. He can't help himself. He had to have you. The plea in your eyes, the pure fire burning there, swallowing him whole, is too difficult to oppose. With one final thrust, he plunges deep into your throat, holding you there until your eyes well up with tears, before sliding his cock from your mouth.

Ulysses follows you down onto the bed, your arms circling his neck. Your thighs part, thighs glistening and pussy glittering in the soft, dull glow of the moons. And oh, he seizes the opportunity, lodging the wide head of his cock into that fiery haven. A growl rumbles low in his chest as your pussy clenches, squeezing around the tip of his cock.

Your cunt felt like molten lava engulfing him, so intense that he feels he might explode. Ulysses slowly applies pressure, short bursts that push through your resistance. It's scorching. So perfect. Too tight. Strangling him in a vice grip. The sensation is sheer bliss, your body stretching and igniting, reluctantly surrendering to his invasion.

Ulysses halts as he knocks dully on your thin, virgin wall and holds himself still, jaw ticking and hands gripping the bed frame, causing it to splinter. To give your body the time it needed to adjust to his incursion. He wasn't nearly in deep enough. The effort to remain still is almost unbearable. "Dove, look at me." he pleads. He had to see your eyes. Your lashes flutter and then lift. His stomach muscles contract malevolently. His body shudders and his cock thickens, and throbs, desperate for more.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

"I need more," You whisper. "Please, hurry. Please. I'm burning up. I need . . ."

"I know what you need." Three of his arms embraces your hips, lifting you effortlessly. In an instant, your legs coil around him, ankles clasping at his waist, and fingers entwining at the back of his neck, eyes pleading. Ulysses takes a deep breath, for the sight of you is overwhelming.

He thrusts forward, with unrelenting intensity. Breaking through your innocence and forcefully entering your tightness, the scalding fire seizing him, and your tight pussy has no choice but to accept all of him.

You cry out at the bite of pain, but he feels you surround his cock tightly, tugging him deeper until he's lodged all the way, kissing your cervix. Your tight muscles contract around him, gripping and pulsating. Your hips buck. A small whimper of need slips from your throat. The need to fuck hard and deep into you repeatedly nearly sends him over the edge. "Are you ready? Breathe for me, dove." Your eyes meet his. Wild. So untamed, his breath catches in his throat. He holds you still while you try your hardest to grind against him, desperate to move.

"Please, fuck me." Your voice sends him over the edge. He moves then, drawing back and then plunging deep into your drooling cunt. Your tightness, like scorching silk, grip his cock. He feels the last of his control snap and he begins to drill into you. It's rough, too rough for your innocence, but he can't help himself. The pleasure consumes him, almost bordering on pain in its intensity.

He can feel you rising toward your orgasm. Surging toward it. He grasps your hips firmly, holding you, for a moment, savoring your tight, dripping cunt, and then he surges into you over and over with hard, deep strokes. Ulysses feels his balls tighten at the sudden, overwhelming convulsion of your pussy. The intense fluttering around him. Your moans fill his ears—his very being. Pleasure overwhelms him.

Each hard jerk of his thick, creamy cum spilling into you is a wave of pleasure. He raises his head and looks down at you, at the helpless, cute, bewildered pleasure on your face. Your lashes flutter and before you can open your eyes all the way, Ulysses slants his mouth across yours. Gently. Completely at odds with his roughness earlier. And you respond softly. Tiredly.

"Sleep, we have all of eternity."

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sunsburns · 9 months ago

Text

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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ja3hwa · 2 months ago

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♡ 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

Day Eleven - Double penetration

【Synopsis】 : A creature cursed to wander the earth alone, finds himself falling for a sweet little human that finds peace in the lonely forestry.

『Word count』 : 3.52k

-> Genre: Fantasy. Smut. Fluff. 18+

Pairing: Nāga!Wooyoung x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Sappy shit. Both the reader and Wooyoung come from terrible pasts. Lowkey kinda trauma bonding, whoops. Swearing. Fingering. Pet names, [little mouse. darling]. Wooyoung is cheeky. Stupid jokes. Wooyoung literally rips apart the reader's clothing. Cum play? Crying. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex. Anal. Creampie. Breeding. Clit play. Breast play. sappy thoughts at the end cause I can't help myself.

Networks: @illusionnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse @cromernet @k-vanity

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In a quiet cottage, nestled snugly between thick forestry and rolling hills, a secret lurked. The townsfolk in the nearby village went about their daily routines, unaware of how extraordinary the beast just beyond the edge of their small community truly was. No, only a mere myth, a story wandered about the homes of these innocent humans. They called him, Thanatos. A god of death. Not many have ever stolen a glimpse of the creature but some have said that his scales glimmer in the fading light and his eyes that shift from emerald green to a golden yellow, were like nothing they had ever seen. He was a creature born of dark magic and mystery. A whisper of legends, hushed tones speaking of a cursed hybrid trapped in the shadows, fleeing from the world that banished him.

But yet, he was far from what the rumours prey told. He was a gentle soul, with a deep yearning for connection. He was lonely.

That was until one dusk, as the forest and the nearby towns grew to slumber. The only noise left was the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves in the shallow wind. Wooyoung had found himself in a secluded watering hole. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and fresh moss as he listened to the silver streams gushing off the rock's edge. It was here where he watched you, a local artist with an infectious smile, a beauty unlike any he had ever seen, and a talent so vibrant and captivating.

You often found yourself venturing into the woods, ignoring the towns' warnings, to draw inspiration from the magicalness of the surroundings. On this particular evening, you had set up your little makeshift mobile studio to try and capture the colours of the twilight sky. Little did you know, Wooyoung was hidden away among the tree, watching instantly as he felt a twist of longing. He knew so much about you, yet so little as well. He knew of your rough childhood as you often sought the little forest creatures for guidance even though you knew they wouldn’t speak back. You chatted to the sleeping fox about your feelings of outcastedness and the emptiness of being different. You didn't have any friends and your family liked to pretend you weren’t there. You were just like him… Lonely.

He watched your delicate fingers dance over the canvas, and your bright love weaved into a spell that drew him in at every flick of your pencil and stroke of your brush. Each evening, Wooyoung returned to the same waterhole, listening to the melody of your tender voice as you sang softly while you created masterpiece after masterpiece. He felt something awaken within him, a burst of emotions he had thought no longer existed. Each time he found you under the cover of night, his heart swelled more as fear gripped him just the same. What would you think if you knew his true nature? Would he be condemned to a life of shadowed solitude, forever an outcast? Forever to watch from beyond. Never to experience a gentle touch.

Days turned into weeks and then weeks became months. You found yourself being almost enchanted by the feeling of being watched. Like the forest itself was alive. You enjoyed that feeling. A feeling of comfort, not loneliness. Unlike being surrounded by the empty eyes of the village, you felt safe among the blind trees.

The rustle of nature and the flicker of sunlight piercing through the trees ignited the feeling that you were being watched. It was like an unexplained pull to uncover the woodland's secret, and deep in your heart, you knew something mythical was lurking. Something magical, just beyond your vision.

And one faithful evening as dusk settled in, your curiosity overwhelmed you, making you stand up from your work to head towards the waterhole. Your voice ran through the dense forest, making all the creatures within know your presence, "I know you're there. Why are you hiding?"

To your surprise, Wooyoung, who was trembling with equal fear and desire you felt at this exact moment. He revealed himself from the comfortable shadows with arms raised high in defeat. But the moment his eyes met yours, the air tightened with an unspoken tension. A connection of souls. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat, but instead of having an overwhelmingness sense of fear like most people would feel when seeing such a creature, her heart swelled with anticipation and compassion.

"Please..D-do not be scared." He said as if he was waiting for you to flee back to your town. His voice is smooth, gentle even. Something you've never heard from a man before. "I promise I won't harm you."

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes shone with awe and curiosity as you took in every detail of the man in front of you.

"I'm Wooyoung..." he spoke with caution, "Most know me as Thanatos. A creature of magic and myth." He admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his burdening truth. You took a step closer, absorbing every detail of the creature. He was visibly shaking, frightened stilled. He was gorgeous in an otherworld kind of way. A beauty you would take pride in capturing in a painting. A sense of understanding bloomed between you as you both could recognise the same loneliness in one another. Mirrored tragedy.

"Why do you hide?" You knew it was a silly question, knowing that he—a man with a long black tail that was meant to be legs and scales littering his chest, arms, and neck—had his reasons. But your heart ached for him, and you grew curious about his story.

"Because the world is not kind to those who do not reach its standard," Wooyoung replied with a sigh, his voice laced with sorrow. "I'm an abomination."

In that moment of vulnerability, something shifted in you. A feeling so powerful, that you lose control of your own body. Stepping even closer, no longer sensing any kind of hesitation, your gaze never left his as you became only a mere inch away. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen. The only abominations are the people who won't think the same as I."

Time stood still as he tried to see any sense of fear or disgust in your gaze. But there was nothing. Only curiosity and a fluttered heart. This was the start of something neither of you would ever want to stop. Late-night meet-ups in the same spot you met, sharing stories—your dreams of becoming an artist while he told tales of his travels through the ages, observing the beauty of the world behind the hidden corners of shadow. With every word, it was like the world around you began to fade away, leaving only threads of hope that promised acceptance and understanding to each other.

Then, one full moonlit night, you couldn't help but reach out towards the man lying next to you on the large picnic blanket. Your hand grazed the smooth surface of the scales that decorated his chest. Wooyoung couldn't help but suck in a hard breath, afraid to move but yearning for more of your touch. When your fingers moved over his flesh, a rush of warmth consumed you both. Like you had, both had been touched by destiny.

"S-sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper as you gulped, seeing his flinch reaction. His slit eyes found yours quickly sitting up straight with concern.

"No-i..it's okay. It's just. Being touched like that..." he felt embarrassed to admit that a simple touch from you had caused all his blood to run south. He had craved you since the first day he saw you, and now that he finally got to know what it felt like to have you touch him, his mind couldn't help but run wild. "I should be the one to apologise."

You sat up, turning your body to face him. Your hand found his long tail, giving him a gentle gaze. "Does my touch excite you?" You felt your cheeks heat up, your heart so close to beating right out of your chest. "You don't have to apologise for your feelings."

"I..." his clawed hand braces itself on top of your hand while the other lands on the exposed part of your thigh where your dress had been hiked up from how you were sitting. "I don't want to scare you."

"Scare me?" You said almost in a disbelieved tone. His only worry was that he didn't want to scare you? You couldn't help but chuckle a little bit, making the creature before you gaze at you with embarrassment. Without thinking, you moved suddenly, throwing one leg over his tail so you could sit on his lap. He was completely frozen now, his yellow eyes growing darker with every movement. You then brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. "Nothing about you can scare me, Woo. You are perfect just the way you are."

"Fuck.." He didn't mean to swear but as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment he couldn't help but bask in your loving words. Perfect. No one has ever said such a thing to him before. If anyone here was perfect, it would be you. "You can't say stuff like that, darling."

"Hmm, and why not?" You shifted a little, getting more comfortable on top of him. Wooyoung let out a deep hiss, his claws coming to hold your hips tightly in place.

"I wouldn’t keep going if I was you. I'm over a thousand years old, and I have fucked someone in a very, very, long time." He punctuated every word as his eyes snapped open to stare you down. You felt so small in his hold, your mind losing control of your limbs for a moment as you grind your hips against him. The cloth against his hips slowly rode up with every buck, bunching around his waist without you noticing. Your face inched closer, one of your hands falling to his neck, tugging him closer. Your smile dropped as your mouth parted all the while his gaze never left yours. It was like his eyes began to glow a low golden hue as if his scales began to shine brighter. “This is dangerous…”

“I don’t see any danger.” You whispered, lips brushing against his. You were so close, yet so far. Everything was heightened like all your senses had been spiked. His hand slipped between you both, grazing over your covered cunt. His finger pressed firmly against your clit as he sealed his lips against your own. “W-woo.” You moaned against him feeling his tongue brush against you and that's when it clicked. “Oh my...”

You pulled away watching his tongue swipe along his bottom lip, noticing the split in the middle. It was long, pointed and oh how it made your whole body shiver. “Told you this was dangerous.”

Without another thought, you smashed your lips on his again, letting him snake his tongue inside. You could feel it almost go down your throat with how long the appendage was, all the while his finger started to rub faster against your little bud before sliding along your covered folds. You moaned, your eyes rolling backwards as you let him play with your body. Any part he wants. He pulled away from your lips to litter your cheeks and jaw with soft kisses. His sharp claws tore the fabric of your panties, giving him access to sink two fingers inside you. “Fuck, argh. P-please.”

“You sound so beautiful. So cute…” He growled, flipping you over with an ‘oof’. His large tail's weight pressed firmly against your lower half, but his fingers are still snug in you. “You have no idea what you have caused.”

"Why d-don't you show me..." You choked out a whimper at the way he was nipping your skin, leaving little purple marks in his wake. Your fingers travelled to the nape of his neck, tugging on his pitch-black hair.

He simply chuckled at your desperate noises, grinding his hips deeper against yours while he placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing in a slow painful circle. You felt yourself get lost in the pleasure, the way his fingers were snug inside you, the way his long tongue ran down your hot skin. It was like the world had melted away, leaving only you and him.

"Such a pretty thing." His voice was low, almost inaudible, but the sound of rustling fabric drew your mind back, seeing he had thrown the cloth that was wrapped around his waist to the side, leaving him now completely naked. He sat up to spread your legs wider, using the tip of his tail to hold your ankle to the far left while his free hand held your right thigh. This gifted him the sight of his digits knuckle deep inside your pretty pussy. You were sucking him in, and with his gaze on you, you couldn't help but just clench tightly around him.

"Wooyoung..." You felt tears trickle from the corners of your eyes. You were so close. You just needed a little more. "P-please."

"Awe, don't worry, my little mouse. I'll give you whatever you need." His dark tone caused a visible shiver to run down your spine, your eyes opening wide at the seemingly innocent nickname he had given you. His little mouse. His prey. The coil in your gut snaps, unravelling quickly, making you leak all over the creature's fingers and onto the blanket below. Wooyoung chuckled, amused at the way you unfolded around him. You were everything he could ask for, and more. "Are you ready for the real fun?"

In a haze, you almost didn't hear his cheeky tone. Everything felt fuzzy, almost like you were no longer in your own body. But when your eyes fluttered open again, you could finally see what he meant by fun. The slit that resided horizontally to his pelvis had stretched wide and two soaking hard cocks were sticking out of it. You couldn't believe your eyes, you had read stories about snake creatures kidnapping women to mate with them and they had spoken of having two or more cocks but you did not believe it to actually be true. "Oh lord..."

"I am not the lord. But I'll definitely take you to heaven if you allow me." Wooyoung joked leaning forward slightly to rest both his cocks on your wet cunt. You bit on your bottom lip as he grabbed the cock that rested on the top and stroked it through your folds. You could feel the tip of the other one poking your ass with every grind of the other. Your mind completely clouded over as you basked in the idea of being fucked by not one but two dicks. Never in your life would you have thought you'd end up in such a situation.

"Wooyoung, I want it. Please give me everything." You begged, bucking your hips against him. Your slick coated his appendages as he watched intensely. He slid his tip along your clit, down your slit before tapping your hole, drawing more whimpers out of you with each stroke. He couldn't contain himself any longer, pushing his tip into your entrance slightly.

"S-so warm." He grunts, sinking his cock slowly inside you. Your hips buck as you feel him bottom you out completely, almost winding you at the girth of him. "You're so tight little mouse."

"W-wooyo. Please move." Your eyes were shut tight, and your jaw slack, drool slightly dripping at the corner as your moans filled the forest. Wooyoung obeyed your sweet plea like he was hypnotised. His hips snapped back before shoving his cock deep inside you again, repeating this rhythm until he slowly picked up the pace. His fingers started to claw at the fabric on your body, ripping all of it to shreds, trying to see more of you, feel more of you.

"Fuck, nargh." He hissed, seeing your breasts spring free from your tatted clothing. They bounced in time with his jackhammering thrusts while your nipples tightened from the cold evening air. He couldn't help himself, his long split tongue dipping out of his mouth to your fluffy appendages. His moist muscle danced around your left bud, soaking your breast in his saliva. He found his tail letting go of your ankle, slithering towards your puckered hole. A shiver creeps down your spine as you feel it prod your ass. "I have to prep you a little bit, baby."

Wooyoung sat up, removing himself from your body briefly so he could pull his cock out, stroking it roughly. Some pre cum leaked out of him as he moaned, focused on watching the juices leak onto your asshole. He used his own cum as lube to prep your hole, the tip of his tail smaller than his cock but bigger than his fingers. "Oh fuck,"

You've never left so dirty before before this moment feeling his tail sink inside your tight hole. Once Wooyoung was satisfied, he re-entered your cunt with his second cock, getting it nice and coated with your slick. "You're so messy, baby. Are you enjoying yourself? Enjoy being fucked by a monster?"

"Yes! Wooyoung, I love it." You yelp feeling him exchange his cocks, thrusting a few times before switching again, over and over. It sent your mind into a tailspin, feeling all the different sizes and lengths. His tail finally left your ass, but this time it wrapped around your left thigh, spreading you further to the point that you can feel a gentle burn in your legs.

"Such a good little mouse." He presses his lower cock with your asshole, while he nudges his top one to your cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation, taking a deep breath as he slowly entered both your holes at the same time. You both groaned out, feeling the overwhelment of pleasure, eyes locking, never leaving one another. "You tight so perfectly around me, baby. My pretty human."

The animalistic sound that emitted from deep in Wooyoung's chest was enough to send your mind straight into the fog. Your body feels like it's floating, nothing else around you but him. His scent, the feeling of him deep inside you. Your body was his to play with, his to claim. "Wooyoung p-please. Faster." You managed to choke out.

He obeyed quickly, his hands bracing themselves on the forest floor on either side of you, noticing the blanket was scrunching up around your frame, like a protector from all the leaves and twigs. His claws dug into the soil, feeling the cold damp earth beneath his palm. His thrusts became unruly, and you angled yourself so your legs could wrap tightly around his upper waist. Your screams were muffled by Wooyoung shoving his thick long tongue inside your mouth, his sharp fang-like teeth clashing against yours and nipping at your lip, drawing little pricks of blood.

He drilled into you, losing himself in the feeling of both of your tight holes around him. He was close. Really close. But he needed you to come first. He needs to feel you come around him first. "Come on, baby..." he growled, loosening one of his hands so he could bring it down to your clit. "I need to feel you cream around me, baby. Can you do that for my little mouse?"

You nod like crazy, choking sniffles and cries as tears stain your puffy cheeks. Your eyes rolled back feeling him pinch your clit, his fangs raking over the skin of your jugular before clamping down, biting your soft flesh. Your screams went quiet as your lungs lost all their air and your mind snapped. You came fast, hard, and blissfully clenching tight around Wooyoung. He couldn't hold it, emptying his seed deep inside your ass and cunt, letting you milk him dry.

Your ears were ringing as you could only hear your heart rate slowly starting to lessen. Your chest heaved for air, feeling the tingle of Wooyoung's lips gifting you kisses along your sweaty collarbone. With the little energy you had left, you reached for his head, placing a hand in his messy hair. It was tangled, but you still managed to rake your fingers gently through it. You swore you heard a purr slip out of him from your actions.

The silence was nice for once. The peace of no longer being alone. No, you both knew from this day forward. You were never going to be lonely ever again.

—

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

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muzansfangs · 6 months ago

Note

Mojito + Douma & Kokushibo

Devotion.

Starring: Douma x f!reader; Kokushibo x f!reader; Douma x f!reader x Kokushibo; mention to Gyokko and Muzan;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, public sex, dom!Kokushibo, dom!Douma, sub!reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal penetration, double penetration, bitemarks, hair pulling, reader is a demon, manhandling, blood drinking, violence in battle, consuming humans, dispicable use of blood as a cosmetic, kind of sacrilegious scenary (sex in the shrine area);

Plot: As one of Douma’s most loyal followers, you had some privileges. One of those was being turned into a demon and trained to climb the ranks of the Upper Moons. When Gyokko died, Muzan chose you to take his place. In the middle of a training session with the leader of the Eternal Paradise Cult and the Upper Moon One, you accidentally hit them with your blood demon technique: aphrodisiac blood. Pinned down by your comrades, you were demanded to show them your devotion.

Drink chosen: MOJITO (double!penetration, threesome, anal sex, vaginal sex, marking the partner);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The Moon glowed solitary in a starless dark sky. Under the pale light provided by the satellite, you were sitting on the cold stairs of an ancient shrine, forgotten by the neglectful humans who had built it centuries ago to probably appease the divine wrath of their god. Ivy and dirt blanketed the abandoned building, now deemed a pit of demons and curses by the local folklore. Pitiful. It was nothing but pitiful. You grimaced at the thought of the typical human inconsistency and stupidity.

Still, not long ago, you were a human too. Some memories from your past life still flashed in your mind. Who were you before you turned into a blood-thirsted creature? You were a devoted young girl, living in a Temple in which people disappeared mysteriously from their beds in the dead of the night. It was a ritual, or this is what the Leader of the Cult wanted his followers to believe. Those humans were doomed. Their naivety and faith were their downfall. However, while he deliberately manipulated the whining mass of people seeking protection and blessings from him, he had never tried to hide his identity, his nature, to you. Loyal to him, you had always stood by his side, not manifesting horrified expressions, when he devoured people in front of you. Your fingers were usually threading through his silky platinum blond hair, whilst he fed. Humming sweet melodies for him, helping him to bathe, you had gradually become his life companion, or something close to it. Along with the favors and attentions he required, he did not abstain from asking you to indulge into the bed with him.

Satisfying your Lord, though, did not feel unpleasant. There was something enthralling about the way he broke you down and built you up.

To show you his gratitude, Douma had therefore turned you into a demon to preserve your beauty. It was amusing how you had inheridated some of his characteristic. Your nails, pointy and lilac, were among them. Your devotion intensified. By the time you had trained enough to be capable of not shaking in front of Muzan Kibutsuji, Douma had suggested him to make you one of the Twelve Kitsuki. You felt on top of the world, the glory of finally standing at the top ensnared your senses and you gladly complied to the King of demons’s order to show your loyalty to him.

Standing up now, you detected the subtle attack coming from your left. Dodging it was easy, the golden tessen aiming at your neck cut a mere strand of your hair. You smirked, kneeling a few feet away from your opponent. Pearly fangs shining under the moonlight, Douma waved his hand at you casually.

“Ah, you’ve become so agile, Y/N-chan!” Douma stated, as you casually approached him with a soft smile on your red-painted lips. He, only he or another demon could say what it was smeared over your mouth.

His hand gripping your hair and straining your neck made you wince. His tongue darted out of his mouth, lapping at the dried blood you used to decorate your lips. Your clawed hand gripped his cheek, nails digging onto the smooth flesh enough to pierce his flesh and draw blood. You had become so much rougher with each other since you had become the new Upper Rank Five. Your animalistic and savage nature had kicked in, surprising your carefree friend to some extents.

“And you are perpetually needy” you whispered, lips hovering over his, before you ungraciously shoved him off of you and caused him to tumble onto the ground.

Douma was fascinated, watching as you rested your bare foot on top of his broad chest and bit down onto your wrist. Oh, how much he loved feeding from you. The sight of your crimson blood dribbling down your skin and splattering onto his face made his cock throb into his pants. The need to be inside of you was unbearable. The Upper Moon Two diligently opened his mouth, tongue welcoming the drops of blood you were so generously letting drip from your wound. Once again, you were subservient, indulgent.

His hand slided up your naked calf, squeezing it suggestively, rainbow-colored eyes locking with yours as you sighed and decided to cruelly deprive him of your proximity, of your intoxicating blood.

Douma groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows as your skin regenerated quickly “Ah, come on, what did I say to piss you off now?” he asked you, but he did not receive an answer from you, because the air around the shrine suddenly became asphyxiating. Your eyes grew round, your knees almost buckling under the pressure, upon ascertaining the Upper Moon One had joined you two. You were expecting him to come; whenever Muzan gave orders, he was the only one who never failed his expectations.

Bowing your head respectfully at the highest rank of what remained of the Twelve Kizuki, you greeted him “Kokushibo-dono, it’s a joy to welcome you here. We were just waiting for you to begin” you cooed, breaking the eeare silence enveloping the area.

You knew nothing about him, beside his sense of honor and an incommensurable admiration for the progenitor of your specimen. A rational, taciturn man who hardly ever barged into the unimportant squabbles taking place among those below him. What mattered to that man was the impertubable balance of powers.

An high-pitched gasp from behind you, caught your attention and, in a blink of an eye, Douma was standing right next to you “Ah, Kokushibo-dono, it’s been so long! You have declined all of my invitations to visit my residence… It’s a shame, really! Recently, I’ve taken in a couple of lovely girls. I looked forward to share them with you” the Upper Moon Two ranted, that fake overjoyed smile curving the angles of his lips upwards, while he sneakily swung his arm around your waist, yanking you against his side.

You sighed, a pout on your lips, before you searched for Kokushibo’s gaze to begin your training session. While you were more than capable of taking down a Pillar on your own, you still had some troubles in controlling your blood demon technique and, with the incoming war, Muzan wanted you to be extremely proficient, impeccable. Letting you train along the two strongest demons alive was the best way to improve your skills.

The former Demon Slayer sized you up, hand resting onto the hilt of his katana out of habit “Y/N. — he greeted you, his six bloodshot eyes then darting on the tall man at your left — Hard times require total concentration. There is absolutely no time to slack off and indulge into sordid, deplorable activities. Get in position” he sternly said, causing the younger demon to sneer and plant a kiss on your cheek before distancing himself from you leisurely.

You had no idea of the specific schedule he had chosen for you, yet the moment your nose was pierced by the fragrance of human blood, and your ears heard heavy footsteps rapidly consuming the road leading from the woods to the shrine, you put the pieces together. You looked at Kokushibo, not surprised by his lack of an explanation. Slayers. Those humans running straight to their death were Slayers the Upper Moon One had purposefully conducted to you.

“Oh, is that food? Please, tell me pretty girls in black uniforms are coming for us…” Douma chimed, his smile broadening as he tried to take a step towards the dark forest.

Kokushibo’s gesture of the hand, though, was enough to stop him from doing anything more than watching the scene unfold before his dreamy eyes.

Being the center of the attention had never been more difficult than now. Your eyes scrutinized the area, your nails ready to rip to shreds whomever had the audacity to attempt to slice your head off of your shoulders. A few seconds passed by before you spotted the group of young Slayers running towards you. Ready for battle, glaring at you, they unsheathed their blades. Six humans, not exactly weaklings, craved your head. But before you could just charge at them, Kokushibo spoke out again.

“Use your technique. Focus solely on it”.

His deep voice, for some reason, sent shivers down your spine. Probably, you were just enthralled by the massacre about to take place in the holy territory underneath your feet. Or maybe you were already losing control. Nevertheless, you quickly switched your attention back on the youngs group of humans in front of you.

“Good evening” you cooed, smiling faintly at the now shaking people looking at you and your frightening friends in horror.

“Upper ranks… We’re dead. Tell the crows to send a Pillar” a female Slayer blurted out, sweat beading her forehead as she frantically looked at both her sides in search for possible ways out of this situation.

“A Pillar? Are you fucking blind? We need more than a Pillar here!” her comrade said, eyes not leaving your frame as you sighed and shook your head. It was pointless. What could three Pillars do anyway against three upper ranks? Nothing.

Your eyes glinted, your hand caressing the cheek of the female slayer who had suggested to call a Pillar. You heard them gasp, when they realized you were standing practically among them, not fearing their deadly blades at all. You were blatantly challenging them, awaiting for the right moment to devour them. You giggled, before you disappeared from the small circle around you, holding the young fighter in your arms before you speaking again. Back in your original spot, you were running your fingers through the silky black hair of the girl, her body writhing under your touch as you leaned your face down to your let your lips graze her earlobe. It was time to satisfy your whims and you did not hesitate to activate your technique.

“Blood demon art: the human puppet” you whispered, the white sclera of your eyes fading into black.

Before your victim could even register what was happening, blood threds connected to her joints and she naturally dropped to her knees in front of you. Adoration in her eyes, she hugged your legs, the effects of your aphrodisiac blood driving her nuts.

“What’s happening? What did she do to her?” the head of the group snapped, trying to assess your reactions to figure out what your power could do.

Honestly, you were having fun. There was no pressure of ending things quickly for once. You had all the time in world to enjoy your minutes of glory and you did. You smiled at the girl at your feet, clasping your hands together as you listened to her words.

“How can I serve you?” she meekly asked you, cheeks flushing up as you hummed and gestured at her friends at her back, hunger for blood making your mouth salivate, albeit you tried to get a grip of yourself.

“Those people have offended me. Why don’t you kill them for me?” you asked, watching in glee as she hastily picked her sword back up and sprinted towards them. Ready to defend themselves, the slayers cursed your name as the group had apparently decided to split. You watched in interest three of them charging at you, homicidal instinct in their eyes, while the rest of them sparred with their comrade.

All the while, you had felt Douma and Kokushibo’s eyes on you, studying your moves, contemplating your choices and strategies. They had not bothered helping you out and they did not seem interested in it anyway, at least, until a disaster happened. Trusting blindly in your abilities, you had waited too long before activating your technique. The moment you did, you were forced to block the slash of a slayer with your forearm. The impact was powerful enough to cause your blood to spill, accidentally splattering on your two colleagues faces, staining their lips and inhebriating them.

Faltering, you had no time to apologize that a katana sliced through your opponent’s head. The thud of his body colliding onto the ground was followed by the screams of terror and agony of the others. Soon enough, you were surroundered by bunch of dismembered corpses, no more sounds echoing in the calm forest, if not… Heavy breaths, grunts of frustration. Affected by your technique, the upper moon One and Two were staring right into your eyes, their fangs protruding from their gums, ferally hissing to fight the primal urges of dominating the weakest prey in front of them. It was your fault. The second form of your blood demon technique was literally called ‘primal lust of the hunter’.

Taking a few impish steps back, you tried to comfort them “I promise the side effects are going to wear off in a few—”.

“How long?” Kokushibo growled, planting his sword onto the ground. You had never seen him like that.

“Kokushibo-dono, I… I—”.

A sudden grip on your forearm, yanking you towards them, made you gasp in sheer embarrassment. That look in their eyes, that way of staring you down in hunger promised nothing less than a long night of submission ahead of you.

“How long?” the Upper moon One hissed on your face, his grip on your forearm intensifying, until you confessed the truth.

“Until you reach the peak of your ecstasy” you blurted out, earning an hysterical laughter from Douma, who grasped a fistful of your hair and encircled your waist with a hand. His abs glued to your back, he rotated his hips against your rear, the clothed bulge underneath the layers he wore poking at you with unbridled hunger.

You shuddered, closing your eyes “I can help you! I can help you both!” you fretted, body on fire as their hands began to undress you with urgency.

Probably, this was the biggest mistake of your life, but the famous thing that happened once ever in a lifetime too. Lips devoured yours instantly, the guttural groan escaping Kokushibo lips made your disclose your lips automatically to let his tongue invade your mouth. Your hands threaded your the former Slayer’s hair, tugging at his ponytail to squash his body against yours. Fangs sank onto the crook of your neck, your whimper swallowed by Koksuhibo, as Douma hand slipped underneath your ripped kimono and masterly cupped your sex.

How many times had he done that to you? So many nights, so many nights but not a single one of them could compare to what he was making you feel right now. Douma always took his sweet time in tearing you apart, but his thumb did not indulge much on your throbbing clitoris.

You whined in protest, only for him to take a step back and unbuckle the belt of his pants “Sorry, Y/N-chan, but I feel… Oh, my sweet gods, I feel like I could burst into my own pants, if I don’t fuck that pretty hole of yours. Not much prep today, okay?” he rasped out, sweat running down the valley of your breasts along with the blood still dribbling down your collarbone in irregular crimson lines from his harsh bite onto your neck.

When the Upper Moon One pulled away, his hands discarding his robes onto the ground, finally granting you the celestial sight of his chiseled body, you struggled to keep your composure: the body of a warrior, the body of a divinity. The body of a man who had trained for centuries, in the desperate chase to proclaim himself the strongest slayer alive.

“Her womb is mine” he declared firmly, causing your knees to buckle, when he grasped your hips and made you straddle him easily. Douma surprisingly did not retaliate, kneeling right behind you instead as his hand slipped down between your thighs to collect some of your juices.

He growled, the pads of his fingers collecting the result of your wanton before smearing them onto the entrance of your puckered hole. You writhed, glancing at him from above your shoulder, before pulling him into a sloppy kiss “You better worship the ground I walk on after this” you whispered, only for a pathetic whimper to leave your lips as Kokushibo’s calloused band grasped your jaw unceremoniously and turned your head towards him once again.

“He’s your superior, but I personally don’t see the number one etched in his eyes” the man darkly said, pushing his hips against yours and witnessing to the way you came to realize his hakama were now loosely hanging down his hips. His cock, standing as a ramrod, was probbing at your entrance with arrogance, his free hand angling your hips to favor the penetration.

“I apologize, Kokushibo-dono. — you breathed out, arching your back as he lined the bulbous tip on you clenching hole — Douma and I are familiar with this kind of entertainment” you explained, breath hitching in your throat when the blond man at your back began to slide a finger into your backside to stretch you out a little. He was seething in anger, frustration of not having the chance to paint the welcoming walls of your pussy in white, as he always did.

The Upper Moon Two smirked “That’s right! I think Kokushibo-dono will absolutely love to hear how much of a slut you are when you are stuffed so full of cum that you twitch like a fish dying on the shore” he remarked, your eyes screwed shut as you felt your tight walls swallowing his fingers into your most private parts.

Were you going to be able to walk after this? If they actually injured you, was your demonic regeneration going to heal your wounds?

“Enough talk” Kokushibo flatly said, unsympathetically pinching your right nipple to hear you squirm under his ministrations as well.

And, gosh, you did. What made him groan out in pleasure, his stolid mask slipping, was the way your pussy squeezed him up perfectly when he entered you. Hands planted onto your hipbones, Kokushibo guided you up and down onto his length. The girth had almost made you regret your choice of taking care of their impellent needs, but the way he occasionally let the head of his cock kiss your cervix made you cry out loudly, shamelessly, your head lolling back on Douma’s shoulder as he also began to slide into you.

You had no idea how you had managed to, how your body had adapted to that tempo, to the way they were manhandly you, but when Douma had filled you up to the brim, his pelvis slapping against your arses, you knew you had showed your devotion to them.

“Fuck! I— O my God… — you whimpered out, vision blurry as tears ran down your cheeks copiously — K-Koku, Koku, I can’t” you inhaled sharply, only for him to snort at your face, a powerful thrust causing your whole body to collapse against his.

“It’s Lord Kokushibo to you”.

His words, vivid in your mind, were the only thing you remembered hearing from him after they were done with you. Panting, a mass of sweat and fluids, you were sandwitched between them. Kokushibo came deep into you, arms almost possessively keeping you in place, his gestures so cold and methodical. You wondered, you wondered if a long time ago he had been married, if he had fucked her with the only intention of impregnating her because you were damned if he had not given you that impression.

Douma was breathing heavily, tongue lapping at the umpteenth wound he had left onto your neck, as he softened into you. He had not pulled out as well, you could feel his sperm oozing out from your abused hole as you barely had the energy to nuzzle your head into Kokushibo’s chest.

He did not caress you, neither said a word, but he allowed you to rest like that for a little while. Your training had just begun.

AUTHOR NOTE.

A big thank you to the anon who had submitted this request! I said it once and I’ll say it again: writing threesomes is amusing! Also… I might have a thing for Douma, that’s pretty evident by now. Thank you for your support and see you in the next work!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

x o x o

Dt: @doumadono @mrskokushibo my angels✨❤️

TAGS: @axesfordays @flakeygod @tomatoeshater @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @crystal-freak24 @the-nex @squ4respace @akazas-left-tatted-butt-cheek @wooyugta @ilubplants @the-faceless-bride

#doma x reader #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #upper moons x reader #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo x you #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu smut

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princesssmars · 7 months ago

Text

sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

#rodeo!abby #buckle bunny!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby #tlou #abby x reader #tlou2 #tlou 2 #tlou smut #tlou x reader

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malavera · 4 months ago

Text

Echoes Beneath the Waves (18+) — Logan Howlett One Shot

summary: In which the big bad wolverine gets lured to play with the ocean’s beauty.

pairings: logan howlett x siren!mutant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI. Allusions to smut, naked make-out session.

credit: divider is from @firefly-graphics 🤍

The night was a canvas of shadows, with the lonely moon hanging as its only brushstroke of light. A biting breeze whipped through the darkness, and the relentless roar of the waves echoed against the shore, as if the ocean itself refused to rest. Laughter faded into the distance, swallowed by the night, as Logan drifted away, seeking solace in his own isolation.

Once he was far enough from the others, Logan lit his cigar, the soft glow briefly illuminating his face. He settled onto a large rock, just high enough to keep the waves from reaching his feet, and let the quiet of the night envelop him.

His gaze fixed on the horizon, where the ocean seemed to go on forever. The sky is painted dark grey until he saw a flicker of light coming from the middle of the ocean. His eyebrows furrowed together.

That’s odd, he thought.

Logan leaned forward, the cigar in his hand forgotten as he strained to catch every note of the enchanting melody. The music seemed to weave itself into the night, wrapping around him, pulling him closer to the ocean’s edge. He felt a strange compulsion, a pull that was both gentle and irresistible, urging him toward the water.

The light on the horizon grew brighter, pulsating in rhythm with the melody. It was as if the sea itself was calling to him, whispering secrets in a language he had never known but somehow understood. The world around him faded, the sounds of the crashing waves and distant laughter of his friends all but drowned out by the song that filled his ears and heart.

Without realizing it, he had risen to his feet, his legs moving of their own accord, carrying him closer to the shore. The rocks beneath him were cold and slick, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered was the light and the music, drawing him deeper into the night.

As he neared the water’s edge, the melody became clearer, more defined. It was a song of longing, of promises whispered on the wind. Logan’s heart ached with a strange, sweet sorrow, a yearning he couldn’t place. The light now shimmered on the waves, closer than before, beckoning him with its mysterious glow.

And then, she appeared.

Rising gracefully from the depths of the sea, a figure emerged, illuminated by the soft, ethereal light. The siren was unlike anything Logan had ever seen—beautiful, enchanting, and utterly seductive. Her long, flowing hair cascaded like liquid midnight over her bare shoulders, and her eyes, deep and alluring, locked onto his with a gaze that held both danger and desire.

She moved with an otherworldly grace, her voice weaving through the air as she sang, the melody now clearly coming from her lips. Each note seemed to hold him captive, drawing him in further, until he was standing ankle-deep in the water, unable to resist her pull.

The siren reached out to him, her hand hovering just above the water’s surface, beckoning him closer. The cold ocean swirled around his legs, but all Logan felt was a strange, enveloping warmth as he stared into her eyes, utterly entranced. In that moment, the world around him faded—no fear, no hesitation, only the magnetic pull of her presence.

But as their hands were about to touch, the siren suddenly gasped, choking on her own breath. Logan’s hand, which had been reaching for hers, seemed to move with a will of its own, and now it was wrapped tightly around the delicate, shimmering throat of the beautiful creature before him.

“You’re trying to mess with my mind again, aren’t you, fish?” Logan hissed, his voice low and dangerous as his grip tightened around her throat.

Her wide eyes glistened with a mix of surprise and something darker as she struggled against his hold. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he continued, his tone laced with a controlled fury. “Stay out of my head.”

With a final squeeze, he released her, watching as her legs—now human—settled onto the wet, rocky shore beneath them. She coughed, her breath ragged as she fought to regain control, but a mischievous smile soon curled her lips.

“You know I’ll always have my night dip, Logan,” she purred, her voice smooth despite the recent struggle. “It’s the humans who need to control themselves.”

She laughed then, a melodic sound that echoed through the night, her eyes gleaming with a playful challenge as she looked at his unyielding expression. “It’s almost as if you wanted me to draw you in.”

“M’not,” Logan muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, the siren’s laughter reverberating in his ears.

“Oh, but are you?” she teased, her tone dripping with mockery as she probed at the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

Slowly, she reached for his hand again, this time with a softness that belied her earlier boldness. “Come on, swim with me. Just this once,” she coaxed, one eye winking playfully as she smirked. “I promise, this time it’s real. I’m not going to mess with your head.”

Her words were a vow, spoken with a mischievous grin that betrayed the truth—she was playing her game, but Logan knew better. And yet, despite knowing the risks, he felt himself give in. With a resigned sigh, he pulled away just enough to strip off his clothes, tossing them carelessly aside until he stood before her, bare and unguarded.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the wariness underneath.

Her smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in her gaze as she took in the sight of him. “Perfect,” she murmured, the word slipping from her lips like a promise, as the waves whispered at their feet, the night drawing them both into its depths.

She reached for his hands once more, and this time, Logan didn’t resist. He allowed her touch, her fingers cool and delicate against his. With a coy smile, she began to step backward, gently pulling him with her, further and further into the dark embrace of the ocean.

The cold water climbed higher as they moved deeper, the chill biting at his skin, but Logan felt a strange warmth radiating from her touch, keeping him anchored to her. With each step, the waves lapped at their bodies, until they were both submerged in the icy depths.

As the water enveloped them, the siren’s legs shimmered, transforming before his eyes. What was once human flesh became a beautiful, dark blue tail, its scales glinting faintly in the moonlight. The transformation was seamless, mesmerizing, as if the ocean itself had claimed her once again.

She flicked her tail lightly, the movement graceful and fluid, sending ripples through the water as she held his gaze. The cold, the danger, everything faded into the background. All that remained was her—mysterious, enchanting, and impossibly close.

Logan was amazed. He had never seen anything more beautiful than the vision before him, you floating effortlessly in the water, your dark blue tail shimmering like a jewel beneath the surface.

You inched closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, "Close your eyes." Logan hesitated, unease flickering in his gaze, but something in your voice, in the way you looked at him, made him decide to trust you. After a moment, he let his eyes slowly drift shut, surrendering to the unknown.

A soft breath escaped your lips, brushing against his skin as you granted him the magic of your powers. The change was almost imperceptible, a gentle tingling that spread through him, filling him with a sense of calm and something more—something ancient and powerful.

"Now, open your eyes," you whispered, your voice like a melody woven into the wind. Logan obeyed, his eyes fluttering open to a world transformed. Everything seemed sharper, more vivid, as if he were seeing the ocean for the first time.

You gave him a knowing smile before slipping beneath the surface, your tail flicking gracefully as you began to descend into the depths. Without hesitation, Logan followed, plunging into the cold embrace of the water, drawn into the mysterious world that awaited below.

As Logan plunged beneath the surface, he expected darkness—a murky, cold abyss. But instead, the world around him came alive with vibrant light and color. The magic you had gifted him transformed the ocean into a realm of wonders he had never imagined.

The water, once dark and foreboding, now shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Schools of fish darted around him, their scales reflecting hues of turquoise, emerald, and gold. Coral formations, illuminated by a soft, ethereal light, stretched out like underwater forests, each structure more intricate and beautiful than the last. Logan felt as though he had stepped into a dream, a hidden world that only a few were ever privileged to see.

He swam deeper, following your graceful form as you glided effortlessly through the water, your tail shimmering like a beacon guiding him onward. The deeper they went, the more the ocean revealed its secrets. Strange, luminous creatures drifted by, their bodies pulsing with light, while the distant echoes of the sea created a symphony that filled the silence.

Logan’s senses were heightened, every detail sharper and more vivid than he could have ever imagined. He could feel the gentle currents caressing his skin, the pressure of the water embracing him, the rhythm of the ocean syncing with his heartbeat.

You paused and turned to him, your eyes reflecting the wonder of this underwater world, as if inviting him to share in the magic. Logan met your gaze, a sense of awe and gratitude welling up inside him. He had been drawn into the depths, but now, instead of fear, he felt an overwhelming connection to the ocean and to you, the one who had opened this new reality to him.

And there you are standing in front of him, enchantingly beautiful. Your perky full rounded tits, your sharp shoulders, your wide hips. All of a sudden, he yearns to lay those war-fought hands upon your magnetic body.

You smirked, a playful glint in your eyes as you swam closer to him. Logan watched you, mesmerized by your every movement. When your hands gently wrapped around his neck, his breath hitched, the connection between you two deepening with every passing second. Your fingers traced upward, caressing his skin, until your thumb softly grazed his bottom lip, sending a shiver through him.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like it could drown the world. The water around you seemed to still, the ocean itself holding its breath as you shared this moment. The kiss was tender yet intense, filled with the same magic that had transformed the depths into a world of wonder.

Then, as suddenly as the kiss began, the world around you shifted. The weightless sensation of the water was replaced by the solid feel of land beneath your feet. You were no longer in the ocean’s embrace but back on the shore, the waves gently lapping at the sand nearby.

Logan blinked in surprise, still feeling the warmth of your lips on his, the taste of saltwater lingering. The transition from the depths to the surface was disorienting, but the connection between you remained unbroken. You stood before him, the night air cool against your skin, your eyes still holding that knowing, playful glint.

Logan regained control of the heated moment, his instincts taking over as he flipped you onto your back, the soft sand cushioning your bare skin. Hovering above you, he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he tried to steady himself. For a brief moment, he just watched you, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

But all he saw was that damn smirk, the one that drove him wild.

"I'm not doing anything, Logan," you taunted, your voice a teasing whisper that sent a thrill down his spine. "It's your own hands that want to touch me."

You leaned upward, closing the space between you, your lips hovering just inches from his. The challenge in your eyes was unmistakable, daring him to take what he wanted, knowing full well that you had already captured his desire.

Logan growled before he roughly shove his lips against yours, pushing you back against the ground as his wandering hands begin to wonder around your body. Groping your tits roughly, earning a soft moan from you. You don't want to be useless, you let one hand find its way to his stomach before it lingers down towards the package that you're searching for.

Logan groaned once he feels your cold palm, wrapped around his raging-hard cock. He looks down to your lower body and noticed that your legs are still hidden away, your tail displayed upon him.

"You have two options, kid. Either you change them into that sexy, strong, legs of yours so I could fuck and cum deep inside your pussy. Or, I could just use your mouth and cums down your throat. Which ever do you want?"

let me know if you want this to be a series.. 👀

#Malavera #Logan howlett #Logan howlett one shot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine reader

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nekomanager · 1 month ago

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YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR ♡

- ONE of THREE -

you caught your neighbor and crush KENMA streaming more than just his games {1k+ words} a repost from my old blog; belated happy bday kenma kitty! dedicated to @suosteacup

🔖neighbors, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism // comment on the reply section to be tagged in the next part 🫶

It was raining hard and you’re on your way home. Just like the usual, you paused in front of your neighbor’s house—a sneaky attempt to get a glance at him.

Your cheeky smile was replaced by curiosity when you saw that his gate was left open. You weren’t really planning to go inside, but you noticed that a box was resting in front of his house and was being drenched by the rain. It was a package for him. Concerned, you went through the open gate.

“Kenma?” You called out as you entered his home. It was dark and you were nervous. It was your first time to set afoot in his abode. “I think you left your gate open and you also have an important parcel left outside.” You definitely didn’t want him to accuse you of burglary or trespassing.

“I…I guess I’ll just leave it here.” You said as nervousness ate you up and maybe he wasn’t even able to hear you as it’s heavily raining outside.

You were about to leave when you heard a faint noise coming from one of the rooms. Your head immediately turned to the direction of the sound. “A…Are you okay?” You asked.

Worried, you walked with light steps, approaching were you thought the sound originated. You turned right and saw a light that seemed to be coming from a computer screen. You came closer just right before the door and what you saw shocked you. Your heart felt like it stopped momentarily.

Your eyes were wide and so was the way your mouth hung open. Kenma...

In his screen, appeared what it seemed to be a chatroom. You saw hearts and dollar signs popping as it rang.

Everybody knew that he was streaming his games and was into cryptocurrency, but you never thought he’d be masturbating on-screen and gain profit from it.

His pants pooled on his feet, while his eyes were trained on his lap with one of his hands wrapped around his cock. All of this was being captured by his webcam.

You knew it was wrong to stay here but your feet were glued to the ground. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way he pumped himself. The way his chest rose and fell made you heave in return and so were his long fingers and the intricate veins in his hand. Add to that, the smooth skin of his dick and the little blush on the tip with a bead of pre-cum almost spilling out.

You gulped.

He moaned. The way his sweet voice melodiously hummed was making you feel things you’re not supposed to.

“Aaaah…aaah…mhmmnn…” He kept on breathing and moaning that your face heated up at the sound of him.

Another ringing came from his computer and he briefly looked at it.

Kenma’s eyes became darker as he moved his hand faster along his cock. His head leaned down, eyes ferociously focused on his dick and cheeks bright red. Beads of sweat now started crawling down at the side of his face.

Attempting to muffle the sounds, he bit his lip hard.

You squeezed your thighs together.

A surge of heat and want began bothering you in between your legs. It was pulsating down there completely in sync with the way your heart was beating in your ears.

Reflexively, you ran your tongue in between your lips as the sight of him masturbating in front of you and eliciting those crazy sounds was making you so dry and thirsty for him. Your head was swimming in the thought of sweeping your tongue across his length, swallowing him whole and making him lose his mind as you took a taste of him.

Yes, you had a crush on him but you never thought of him in this way until now. You thought Kenma was cute since the very first day he transferred in your neighborhood. His dirty-dyed long hair, mysterious aura and piercing gaze caught your breath the very first time he locked eyes with you. All about him rendered you smitten and weak for his charms and now he also had you fucking wet for him.

“Aah, aaah, fuck…” Kenma moaned.

You whimpered. Your hand immediately flew to your mouth, trying cover any sound that would involuntarily come out from it.

You weren’t supposed to watch this. You weren’t supposed to be here. This was so wrong. This was so dangerous yet you wanted it. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him and all that he could show.

A lot of ringing sounds came to his computer and his movements became more and more intense.

“Mhmnnn….aah aaah…What? More? More? More?” He chanted as he pumped faster and now not only was he moving his hand, but he’s also grinding his hips briskly and aggressively against it.

You felt your knees melting. Your pussy throbbed as you imagined yourself sliding up and down that pretty cock of his and him fucking you so damn hard like that instead of his hand.

“Fuck! I’m close…I’m close!” He raked a hand through his hair, stopping at the top as his head snapped to lean backward, his mouth surrendered open in that sexy ‘O’ and eyes tightly shut. Hazy fog clouded your eyes as he breathed deeply through his lips. “Aughhh! I’m coming! I’m co-“

You’re sure you came to just by watching him as you felt liquid wetting your panties and perhaps leaking across your thighs. His cum richly overflowed through the tip of cock and how you wanted to feel that spilling so hot inside you.

You caught up with you breathing and so did Kenma. With his head still tilted backward and eyes closed, he rested his hand on his forehead then let it slump down as he inhaled and exhaled. You wondered who could be the person behind his thoughts as he did that. With a performance like that, there must be someone behind it. You couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy.

His eyes opened and you started to feel nervous. He stared off to the ceiling, until his feral gaze slid over to your direction. You froze in place certain that he found you out.

#kenma smut #kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #kenma imagines #kenma drabbles #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months ago

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Yandere Short Stories:

Always Watching, Done Waiting

Yandere Stalker x Terrified Fem Reader

TW: paranoia, psychological horror, STALKING, horror, yandere themes, unhealthy behavior that should never be romanticized, Your STALKER is not attractive

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.” (Your name) wept into her knees when that haunting melody began to echo throughout her home. No doubt from the same radio it had played from countless times before late in the night…

The young woman trembled in the confines of her closet while heavy foot steps echoed down her hall. If she kept herself as small a possible, would (your name) be able to avoid being caught by this psycho?

For months she had been harassed by a mysterious man… a man who would not take no as an answer.

At first it was innocent! It was small bouquets of cheap flowers, the kinds that one could buy at a grocery store for under ten dollars. Then it was boxes of her favorite candies. Simple gifts that once brought her joy since she’s never really received such flattering attention… but then it quickly began to snowball into a darker matter. This was no simple puppy love, this was an obsession.

Notes made from magazine clippings for each letters so he couldn’t be recognized through his handwriting, dozens of intimate pictures of her placed in envelopes, and body parts of the local cats she fed all had littered her doorstep over the last two months. Each ‘present’ inspired dread within (your name).

Then began the break ins, the holes in her walls and ceilings that could fit an eye in there to peep, the notes delivered to her job, the isolation from all of her friends and family, and the paranoia. There was not a single place that felt safe to her any longer… and the police wouldn’t help since her stalker had never done anything to harm her.

What on earth could he possibly want from her? Her first born? Maybe he wanted to harvest her organs and sell them on the black market? No… even someone as dense as a rock knew this stalker was utterly obsessed.

“And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

The nursery rhyme continued to echo down her hall as her pursuer continued to explore her home with agonizing slow steps. (Your name) had gotten rid of her spare key so how was he able to get in? Had he been staying here prior? God, she didn’t want to think about what this sicko was capable of.

Creak!

(Your name) silently scooted herself into the corner of her closet when she heard her bedroom door creak open. The young woman placed her hands over her mouth to prevent any noise from escaping despite the desire to scream. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, her body trembled like she was in below freezing temperatures. Oh god… she was about to die.

And that’s when the door was swung open to reveal a greasy man around her age. His dark hair greasy and his face covered in stubble and acne scars. (Your name) had seen this man before… he was the guy she gave a few sandwiches to last year! He was so drunk and lost, she felt bad for him… oh god. Was that small act of kindness her catalyst to her fate?

“My darling girlfriend!” The man bent down in front of her and set the radio beside him. His hands snatched hers up in a tight grip. He brought her knuckles up to his chapped lips to press kisses on them. “You’re so skittish… it’s just me!”

“W-who are you?” The man threw back his head and laughed before he gave her a small smile.

“It’s me, silly. Malachi? Your boyfriend of a year?” (Your name) remained as still as stone. A million thoughts ran through her head while this mad man continued to ramble. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to fetch you sooner but money has been tight.”

(Your name) was suddenly pulled into a hug, the young woman tried her best not to gag from the heavy scent of musk and cigarettes that permeated from Malachi. “It was hard to stop drinking, but you were worth it! You were always so kind to me with your pretty smile and your sandwiches… I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you!”

“W-what-“ (your name) nearly fainted when her eyes met his crazed blue ones. How could someone hold so much emotion in their eyes?

“I got my life together and I found a nice place for us… it’s perfect!” Malachi pressed his nose against hers. “It’s away from all of the weird men that harass you in the convenience store and away from all those nasty animals. It’ll be our little safe haven!”

(Your name) snapped out of her stupor when he said that. She had to get away… she needed to run!

The young woman tried to pull away from Malachi but his grip on her was stronger than an anacondas.

“I know it’s a really big step, but it’s been a year now! And I’m tired of waiting for us to take bigger steps! I know you liked my gifts! You never threw any of them away!” Because she needed evidence to give to the police! The same people who wouldn’t protect her…

(Your name) gulped when she felt Malachi press his hips into hers. Something large pressed against her that made her stomach drop. “I’ve been watching you for so long… and I’m done waiting.”

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r3starttt · 1 month ago

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STAY SOFT

PAIRING: Hunter! Ellie x vamp! reader

CW: blood. fighting. oral. knife play. unfinished, hurried, horribly written, I WILL DO IT PROPERLY AND DECENT LATER ALRIGHT

SUMMARY: you're obsessed with each other. and alone!

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @roos4lm4 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles @0court @dinakisser @lott6i

| ELLIE TAGLIST: @ilovetaylorrr @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @chlobearsworld @crispers @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee

Blood glistened through your pearly teeth as a guttural moan escaped the man’s lips. You feasted on him, ravenous, devouring his neck without mercy, your fangs drinking deeply from his veins.

He thought he’d finally get to feel your body, to sense the curve of your hips in the intimate closeness that had filled his mind since the moment he first saw you. His grip was firm and leading, but unsteady, and the urgency in his touch felt—was—disrespectful.

Your laugh was captivating, almost like a siren’s song—an immaculate melody that echoed men’s worst desires. When you hummed against their skin, lips just inches away, it drove them mad. With your flawless skin, soft hair, and those eyes holding something dark and mysterious, men were too drunk or too lustful to notice or care. Red or not, it didn’t matter to them. Each time you danced for them, held them close, and led them into some shadowy corridor with your soft voice, you’d ask them to share—did they do this often? They’d always say no, swearing you were the only one, or the forever one.

With women, it was different. You’d hold them gently, push their neck aside, and kiss their tender skin. Sometimes, you imagined men might feel this way about you, and the guilt would almost fade. But when you were feeding on men, you realized how different it truly was. They didn’t submit; they gripped. They didn’t murmur; they shouted and commanded. They didn’t seek eternity like the women did—they sought to drain you, leave you discarded. Women, on the other hand, would quietly thank you with soft whimpers. If they were too weak, you’d look into their angelic eyes, see their pretty lashes flutter, and kiss their last breath away with your cold hands.

Men? They would curse you to hell—if they had the chance.

This one, though, wasn’t your usual prey. He was cruel, harsh, and nasty, and the way he treated her—it sickened you. So you begged for his attention, holding him against the wall the moment you had him alone, sinking your fangs into his vile neck. His sweat, dirt, and alcohol assaulted your senses, lingering on your tongue, teeth, and skin until it was all washed away by his blood. Even that tasted sour.

“Look at me,” you commanded, casting a sharp glance at his fading form. You dug your nails into his cheek, nearly tearing the skin. His eyes, glazed with alcohol, barely registered the pain. He was too weak to fight, but even if he tried, your strength far outmatched any human's. You sneered at his mustache, disgust evident on your face.

“Hey…” you hissed, your fangs glistening in the dim light. He obeyed with a pathetic whimper.

“Good boy,” you taunted. “You like being called that, don’t you?” You laughed as blood dripped from his cheekbones, down his neck, soaking your hand and his filthy clothes.

“Fucking—” he tried to gasp out his last breath, but before you could finish him off, a dagger pierced your body.

The pain was unreal. It wasn’t the sharp agony you inflicted on your victims but something deeper, burning and itching as it spread through your veins. The scream that tore from your throat was inhuman, loud enough to make the walls tremble. The man fell limp beneath you as you clawed at your own skin, trying to rid yourself of the unbearable sensation.

Footsteps echoed, heavy boots against the concrete. A quiet, almost smug “got you” drifted through the air. You forced your eyes open, vision blurred, but you saw her—a woman dressed in black, her face obscured by metal, weapons strapped across her body, a dagger in one hand and a blade ready in her pocket.

A gunshot rang out. Your arm ripped open, burning more fiercely than any bullet wound should. Your eyes flashed red, pupils dilating with a rage that surpassed anything you’d ever felt toward a man. But before she could come any closer, you vanished into the shadows, slipping from her grasp.

Ellie groaned, glancing up at the dark night, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. She lived for you, craved you more than any man ever could. Her mind was as twisted and perverted as a man’s, driven by a selfish desire to own you, to hear you scream her name in agony and hang you on her wall like a prized trophy. She wanted to see the eternal fear etched on your face.

She longed to touch you—just once. If she never captured you, someone eventually would. Her lips parted in a quiet curse as she crouched over the dead man’s body, searching his pockets for anything of value. She found nothing but alcohol, cigarettes, and a few worthless coins. Maybe it was time to quit, become a full-fledged alcoholic—not like she wasn’t halfway there already.

You, the elusive vampire of this small, forsaken town, were her obsession. You were the only reason she kept going, the excuse for her drinking, her nights in underground bars, and her constant hunt. If she caught you, she’d have everything—money, fame, recognition. That’s what every woman wanted, wasn’t it? To be seen, to be known. Ellie was no exception. She had nothing but the hunt and the little money she earned, most of which went to booze or was stolen by the men in her life.

She didn’t hate you, though. She didn’t even want you dead. She just wanted to possess you, to have something that was truly hers, to see her name carved into your skin.

You didn’t hate her either. You understood women—all of them. You knew their desires, their cravings for what they couldn’t have. It wasn’t wrong, but you knew many of them would never get what they wanted. Killing them was a mercy, a twisted proof of love. But you wouldn’t die for them. Not that you could anyway.

You had seen Ellie before, days prior. She was at a bar, sitting beside you with alcohol in hand, staring blankly at the wall. She fiddled with a bracelet, glancing at it over and over, until her thoughts drowned in the liquor. When she finally left, your heart had broken the next night when you found her curled up on the street, hugging herself for warmth. You hid her money, moved the alcohol out of sight. Men would take advantage of anything that moved. You protected her before you knew who she was.

Then the rumors spread. She was hunting you? Your ego swelled, but she didn’t try as hard as the others. Not like the men who occasionally came after you, men you easily dispatched. But Ellie gave you something no man ever could: fear. And it was delicious, as satisfying as any blood.

If she ever killed you, it would be worth it—to die in her arms. A woman would claim her place without her own death involved. You had nothing to lose, but why make it easy? You weren’t used to pain—not like this.

Once, you had loved.

Now she rests somewhere in this town.

You’ve never dared to go near her grave. It would be disrespectful. She was the one victim who didn’t die by your choice but by mistake, by love. It was dangerous, and it was the only time you ever felt regret, any real pain. You can still feel the scratches she left on your skin, the way she held onto you, hoping to be saved—but you didn’t.

She’s merciless. She doesn’t just kill—killing is too simple, too vague, reserved for those who want it quick and clean. Williams shares that distinction with you: she murders. She takes her time, studies her prey, follows silently in the shadows. When she strikes, it’s deliberate, calculated, and brutal. There’s no safety, no mercy in her actions. She makes sure her victims feel it—the pain, the horror. You can hear the screams, the desperate pleas for life, and you can feel the warmth of their blood soaking into your hands. Their eyes, wide with terror, stay with you long after it’s done.

It’s almost admirable, really, to witness a human capable of such atrocities. What money can drive someone to do, you suppose.

Williams is staying in a small, rundown house. A family lives there—large and struggling. The man of the house is gentle, more so than the rest. Williams got lucky with her choice of refuge, but they barely have enough to feed themselves. Children seem to appear with every turn of the seasons, as if the universe—or God—was intent on making life harder for them. A cruel kind of providence, giving just enough for survival, but never enough for comfort.

Ellie wakes up most days around four in the morning, haunted by nightmares. If she’s too drunk or lucky, they’ll wake her at two instead. She drifts back to sleep when her body allows it. On those rare mornings she wakes feeling halfway rested, she showers, though only every other day. She pulls on her boots, layers herself in worn clothes, and hides beneath the massive hood of her coat. The children have seen her a few times, though they keep their distance. Once, the youngest girl, barely old enough to walk, approached her and offered a small cup of milk. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t good, but Ellie accepted it anyway.

She starves herself as long as she can, holding off the hunger until it gnaws at her insides. That’s when she heads to the woods, and that’s where you’ve seen it—the way she hunts. Whatever animal she can catch, she grips it with ruthless force. Her once-gentle hands turn harsh, unyielding as the creatures scream in terror. They hiss and writhe, but she doesn’t care. She silences them swiftly, consumes whatever she can, and moves on.

For her, there’s no room for sympathy, no room for mercy—only survival. And somehow, that made you feel a strange compassion for her. Even when her touch was harsh and painful, when she haunted you with the sole purpose of owning, hurting, and killing you. Her steps sent fear racing through your veins, her hands struck your skin with cruelty, and her bullet tore into you, leaving you weaker each time. Her belongings, her weapons—they were all designed to burn you alive, to inflict endless pain. Even with every bloody, messy encounter, every vicious fight, where her blade threatened to pierce your skin, and her gun was always aimed at you, it was impossible not to admire her.

She never stops until she has you. She wants you just as much as you want her. It's a twisted obsession, mutual and consuming. Your hisses send shivers down her spine, her bites stir a hunger in you, not for flesh, but for something deeper. You can hear her heartbeat as if it were your own, the steady thud of her boots on wet ground, her breath catching when she knows she's close. You notice how her sweat gleams on her skin, how the freckles on her face fade beneath the flush of red that colors her cheeks after every fight or a night spent at the bar.

And Ellie? She loves everything you give her, even when she's the one taking, using you as her excuse. She loves the thrill of being caught in your grasp, the scratch of your nails on her skin, a reminder that she's alive and has something left to fight for. She loves the drunken moments when she sees you, even if she's too intoxicated to act, when she watches you from afar, helpless as you disappear before her eyes. She loves the chase, the dirt, the failed attempts to capture you. She loves that you fight back. She loves that it never ends.

The forest was a living maze, dense and impenetrable, devouring every sound. The air felt heavy, suffocating beneath the thick canopy, where the moonlight barely dared to enter, casting only faint ribbons of silver along the narrow path. Ellie had been tracking you for days, her desperation mounting with each passing hour. This was her last chance. Your fangs were buried in the tender flesh of what had once been a small bird, no more than a brief indulgence, a fleeting snack before the real prize.

You sensed her before you saw her—her presence was a ripple through the stillness. The faint echo of her boots seemed closer than they were, her breath uneven, laced with quiet mutterings as she spoke to herself. The scent hit you next: human blood, sharp with adrenaline, soaked in determination. She was close.

From the high branches, hidden in shadow, you watched her with quiet amusement. She moved with careful precision, every step calculated. The bow slung over her shoulder bounced lightly with her movement, and at her side, a switchblade caught a gleam of moonlight. Tonight, she wasn’t just hunting—she intended to finish it. The way she carried herself told you everything. She needed to end this. She needed to end you.

But you were ready for her. If all went as planned, you would make her task far easier. If it failed, she would get what she had been hunting for so long—her victory, and you. But if it went as you had envisioned—no more than a hasty thought formed when you first saw her step into the woods—you would claim what you desired most. You would give her a reward, one that would last forever.

With deliberate slowness, you brought your fingers to your lips, wiping the blood with your thumb, though it did little to clean the stain. You took your time, running your tongue over your sharp fangs, savoring the last traces of blood. The small body of the bird lay beside you, its once-beautiful brown feathers now scattered, broken by your touch.

A crack in the distance shattered the stillness, and before your mind could react, your body moved instinctively. There she was, as you had expected—clad in that familiar black coat, boots sinking into the soft earth, and her white blouse, filthy and torn, revealing the delicate lines of her clavicle beneath the grime. Her hair was a mess, pulled into a careless bun, stray strands framing her face, damp with sweat. She was armed—too armed, really, for the task. The blade at her side would have been enough, or so she had assured the man whose house she’d passed through. The arrows, the extra gear—they were to frighten the "creature," to keep herself from being caught off guard.

But now, you were closing in, slipping through the trees and onto the soft grass, your movements silent. She was right there—just within reach, waiting for you.

William's breathing was steady but strained, her focus on you- yet elsewhere as she moved cautiously along the narrow path, her back exposed—vulnerable. Her grip tightened around her blade, her steps slow and deliberate, but she hadn’t noticed you yet. Not yet. Her eyes swore to see you, hear you, but it was just the leafs and the hunger for you, she needed to catch you this night. The moon was bright enough to lighten the path and the ambience was quiet enough to hear and distinct any atrocity, any anomaly- you.

Pale skin beung hit by the breeze while it guided you through the underbrush like a shadow, silent, swift, steps and tones attuned to the rhythm of the forest. The woman's heartbeat was loud in your ears, a steady thrum that guided your every step. Her scent guiding you. You could practically taste it.

It was moved silently- your body through the brush, the pads of your feet barely disturbing the soft beneath you.

Her silhouette was clear now—taut muscles beneath her worn clothes, hair falling loose from the messy bun at her neck. You could see her weapon at the ready, but her pulse was vulnerable, beating steadily just beneath the surface. It betrayed her how calm yet unsteady she was. When she'd attack her grip would be stiff- not now.

The feet of your own guided you to pray from behind, not even the rustle of leaves betraying your presence. The hunger thrummed in your veins, not just for her blood but for the chase, the fight. Feel her teeth sink into your skin, her nails digging and her blade itching. Hear her scream and groan- Your hand reached out, fingers barely brushing the fabric of her coat.

In an instant, you were upon her. One hand clamped over her mouth to stifle any cry- quickly bitten as you'd prevented. the other gripping her wrist, forcing the blade from her fingers. Her body tensed immediately, muscles coiling as she struggled against you, twisting with a ferocity you admired.

She wrenched her head to the side, managing to break free from your grip, her body spinning around in a blur of movement. Her eyes locked onto yours, shining and with a dark undertone, wide and wild with adrenaline, her chest heaving as she swung her fist. You dodged her aggressive.

Her lips a cacophony of atrocities and profanity against you while her body hit yours and fought to free from your grip- which left bruises with its every touch.

“Stop following me ,” you hissed, voice low and breathless. Without missing a beat, she reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh, her eyes a determination instance- a mirror of your soon death. You barely had time to react as she lunged at you, the blade aimed at your chest.

And it digged, not enough to pierce but to harm, to make a hole in your clothes and taint them with a beautiful red- unhunmman- unlike any blood Ellie had ever seen. Your skin, as tender and soft as it tasted, it was harsh and strong, and along your force impossible to fight, to kill.

You sidestepped her attack, but the edge of the blade now nicked your arm, then to your face. It made you hate her for an instance. A thin line of blood runing on your skin. The pain was sharp, it burned. Your mouth opened wider than any human could. fangs peeking through as if about to spit the venom to her eyes, you hissed- a cry of pain that hurt her ears and left her blind.

The tip of your nails caressed her freckled skin, covered by the black of her clothes which got ripped with the force with with you caught her and slamed her against the nearest tree, her strength no longer serving her to protect herself. The switch of her blade hurting so much and so deep it made you feel blind and feasty. You almost let go.

The impact rattled through her, but she didn’t falter. She moved with deadly precision, slashing at you with the knife, each strike faster than the last. All on your thighs who seemed to be unpierfecul.

Your fangs slipped through your massive wide mouth, your slick tongue sticking out. It was long and burning. You gave a taste to her neck before digging your fangs into her neck.

The grip with with you held her and trapped her became so sofocating, so allurong she dropped the blade. As if a twosted venom had run through her veins and made her weak.

It clattered to the ground between you, forgotten as your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to expose her throat. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, everything slowed—the pounding of her pulse, the warmth radiating from her skin, the fear that flickered in her eyes despite her resolve.

She bucked beneath you, every muscle in her body straining to fight, but you held firm, your gaze fixed on hers, your breath mingling with hers. Her chest heaved beneath you, her eyes blazing with fury.

She bared her teeth, straining against your hold, she growled, holding on her pain.

"Not fighting back?" you mocked her, a tone grotesque and meant to dizzy her even more. You felt the warmth runing down your cheeks, down your arm and legs, everywhere where her blade had cut, where the dagger had attempt to pierce. As it was minimum scratches, the blood seemed endless in your body, a perfect contrast with the tone of your skin.

You were fierce, more than you'd like it to be. But she wouldn't stay still, her fingers holding onto you to push you away, her feet fighting as you choked her more and more. as your fangs sucked deeper into her skin, opening her skin, leaving her weak and dizzy. "Fucking bitch-" she hissed in pain, her nails digging into the skin of your arms, attempting to push you. Fingers then tangling into your hair, pushing you back with fierce. "You're no better than a man, I see" your fangs pierced your bottom lips, your mouth not drenched with her blood as your eyes grew darker, a weird pupil and red on them. You looked insane, a look that caused her discomfort.

But you didn't care, your hair getting caught on her fingers as she insisted on gripping and you insisted on piercing her skin and sucking her life.

For a moment, you admired her resolve. Her heartbeat hammered in your ears, her skin warm beneath your touch. You loosened your grip just slightly, giving her a chance to fight back, to keep the dance going. But she was too weak for that, too afraid to fight back for the first time in her life.

“Go on,” she struggled to speak, daring. “Finish it.” Ellie’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on yours. Despite the fight, despite the blood and the bruises, there was something else in her gaze—something raw and unspoken. The tension between you was thick, almost suffocating.

“Do it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, daring you.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

"I thought you wanted me" the words echoed against her skin. Your nails now going down on her skin, riping her coat open. Your other hand trapping her neck against the tree. She knew better at this point, if she attempted to move it'll be suicide.

"You dreamed of me, didn't you..." Your voice was strangely comforting, too quiet for her own good. Williams felt like she'd already died. "Don't you wanna-" her breath chocked at your grip and her sudden movement "rest for once- be with her?" Her laugh was mocking, painful. It changed something withing you, and anger you haven't felt in years. "And you, Williams? don't you want to see him?" but you knew how to attack as well.

It was a matter of threatening some people, the vulnerable drink women who've been with Ellie in late nighrs at the bars- A drunk woman who had nothing to loose but all to win was more vulnerable than else. And she herself had allowed a see through of her brain to you, with that obsession she craved to much. All these years alive haven't been in vane, you knew better.

Her face dropped in disgust, a madness that was uncomfortable to see. Scrunched nose, pouty lips, freckles cheeks covered now in sweat, her pupils dilatation and he rfacr showing all the pain now turned into mad.

"Let me do you the favor..." you whispered with that same soothing tone, your nails piercing on her neck. Now dripped with the blood you've sucked out of her and the holes you were digging. "Please?" you leaned closer, pressing a hovering kiss over her lips.

She cried- Ellie Williams cried. The salty of it almost burning the skin of your fingers wrapped around her suffocated neck.

“Look at you,” you whispered, your voice soft, an intimate taunt as you admired the fragile beauty of her surrender, her pulse fluttering like a moth beneath your touch. And as her strength ebbed, her gaze held yours, already resigned.

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll let go..." Your murmur made her groan. Ellie had betrayed herself and others- she was far too gone to deny herself one last chance, one opportunity to do it all again.

You pressed burning kisses on her throat, quickening to collect her blood and taste the salty of her skin. Her uncovered clavicle gentle beneath your touch. The tip of your fingers held the dagger on your hands, feeling them burn in a blinding pain. Your eyes met hers, barely making it to move. The dirt painted your knees and the fabric of your clothing.

Ellie- catching her breath and her struggling to keep herself standing, either her blurred teary eyes, met your gaze. Her eyebrows furrowing in pain.

She watched the small smoke of your skin at the touch of the dagger, your hisses of pain- It didn't elict the pleasure she dreamed of. Her breath was ragid and unsteady, horrified by the sight on instance.

She took the blade withing her fingers, showing the sharpness to you. Her body felt on the floor. next to you- and your eyes followed.

The tip of it digged into your neck. Your eyes teary with a pain no human could endurance. Her eyes showed so much hate, and you would've loved if she killed you. You'd loved to be hers, for her to have and admire each day, for her to be happy for once and all.

"Let go" she saved her blade on her back pocket, taking the dagger off of your hands. You hissed in pain- relieved. "Take me." Her words felt like the warmth you've been craving on for years and years, billions of them. It was cruel really, but you craved it. You've missed her, the woman you once loved- and this was as if the universe had heard your prayers. She was back again, for the story to repeat itself.

And it turned something in you, whose eyes turned into beast-like. Your fangs guided you close to her. "Why won't you just kill me, Williams?" your nails cupped on her skin gently. "End this... take what you want."

"I'm offering you the same thing" your jaw clenched, heartbeat unsteady for a small second- not supposed to happen. "We'll still die anyway." you scoffed at her words, taking her body with gentleness.

Your lips were cold against hers, as if sucking on her life through the kiss. Her hands were quick to get rid of the thin fabric covering your body.

Her body stood up gently, cupping your face with her hands. Your movements were harsh and sloppy, hungry.

What you've craved for ages was In front of you, to take for once. And you didn't hesitate on doing so.

Your tongue lapping at her pussy with no doubt, looking at her pretty face. Ellie gasped, holding the sides of your head as she looked down on you, as if guiding you with the eyes. As much as you craved to kill each other and own the other, the connection you shared was almost tangible. An undeniable aura bigger than any love a human could ever experience.

The blood of your hands drenched on her white blouse, undoing the messy tangling of it with your nails. The revelation was so pure, so tender. Her hardened nipples properly displayed for you to touch.

The palm of your hand rested between her breats, feasting on her pussy with eyes closed, admiring each beat of her heart. You could sense every gasp, every breath, every unsteady inch of her skin as if it was yours.

A whine escaped your lips, thrusting your tongue into her tongue, savoring the wet of her pussy. Your fingers gently cupping her tits, making small circles over her nipples with your thumbs. Then moving them down the sides of her pretty stomach, sensing every inch of skin, scratching every scar on her stomach, drenching it with her own blood.

spit pooled down her folds, your fingers massaging the sides of her thighs, behind her to cup at her ass and then to her inner thighs, scratching at the skin there to then play with the sides of her pussy to keep the pleasure intact while your lips got occupied with her inner thighs.

Your lips kissed over her clit. Her stomach tensing at the sensation, so sensitive it almost hurt. the small kisses around her folds slowly growing into a gentle sucking.

at each lick and kiss on her pussy, her hips would buck into your face and her fingers would tangle harsher onto your soft hair, almost scratching at your scalp. She was whining, it was quiet but oh so pretty.

You shoved your face deeper, teasing her drenching hole with your middle finger, almost scissoring her folds while your tongue sucked on her puffy clit. One of her hands came to cup at her own nipples, almost crying to feel more.

her eyes struggled to look back at you. A puppy-like look on her face: gentle furrowed eyebrows, freckles covered in a brush of red. she looked so pretty like this.

Within each thrust of your fingers inside her, bubbly words would gently hit into your ears while abusing- teasing her creamy hole. She tasted sour, a good mix between sweet and salty, nothing you haven't fantasized with.

Your tongue savours every inch of her. Licking, sucking, kissing her arousal. Teasing it with her fingers and tongue. Your fingers curl inside her so perfectly, and she clenches around you. Her lips let out quiet hiccups and blabers, all small pleads and promises. Ellie is already yours.

Her name falls from your lips as quiet prayers. Over and over again. Her arousal grows to fill your mouth deliciously. Too overwhelmed by her pretty voice, her hands on your hair, her hips looking for more, thighs chocking you- your whines overlap into a sloppy wet rhythm. Her bodh searched for more friction, pulling you closer into her Pussy, rubbing herself desperately while your tongue sloppily licks over her cunt.

Your fingers get sucked in by her sliky hole. faster and faster until you can feel it as if your own- you taste it right after.

She's yours, forever to take and you're hers forever to own.

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