#Tail horns and clawed limbs

[radiance1]

Inspired by this post because I have some thoughts about this one au.

So, Damian stuffs his shadow twin into the body of an unfinished clone, and somehow it just got worse really. Danny mostly just stuck to him whenever he was a shadow, and hide from basically everyone else.

But now that he has a body?

Sheer and utter chaos.

First of all, was the Batfamily's reaction to Danny. He explained who exactly Danny was, and it pained Bruce to only know now that he had another son that was killed because he was born with a birth defect.

Meanwhile Danny, feral child who may or may not have shadow powers with the maturity of a ten-year-old and the emotional maturity to match. Does not give a single care of what Bruce or anyone that isn't Damian feels.

Damian, meanwhile, is trying to stop him from putting a rat in his mouth because, as much as he loves his brother, he does dislike his specific trait to put basically anything in his mouth.

As a shadow creature? That would be fine.

As a human? No. He does not want his brother to get a disease.

So he is currently trying to wrangle his brother and trying to get him to spit out the rat, and he succeeds, and the rat runs off. Only for a spike of shadow to spear the rat right one through, leaving Damian stunned, and in that time frame the spike whipped back, the rat went in his brother's mouth, and he swallowed.

He looked down at Danny, only to find a tail of shadows peeking out from his back, horns and clawed hands and feet covered in shadows.

And him chewing on the rat.

Damian, did the only thing he could even think to do at that moment.

He smacked his brother's head and chided him for eating something who could have been who knows where.

[your-local-narcs-emojis]

I made various phantom limb emojis

Phantom tail

Phantom ears

Phantom horns

Phantom claws

Phantom wings

Phantom fangs

I might make some more emojis for different phantom tails.

[yearningaces]

So...

You know how if you're (American) in another country, and find another American and all the sudden it's like 'Hey! Friend! Friend! That's my bestie!' That person could be from an entirely different state but all the sudden you're similar around the unfamiliar so you're buddies!

Does that happen with monsters?

Better yet-

Say you're a human, the only human being hired onto a large cargo ship that travels planet to planet through space. Most of the others you work with are so different in appearance and species you sometimes don't know even if some of them have eyes, or just use a form of echolocation.

Still! It's a nice job, you're given respect due to your status as (a deathworlder) a human, and you're settling in nicely the first few days.

There's a pack of aliens you haven't met yet though, The Aslai.

Huge creatures with a semi-humanoid appearance paired with patches of striped fur across varying parts of them. A maw that unhinges in three distinct separation points, fur tipped tails that vary with color, and slightly elongated limbs.

Of course, the Aslai are the engineers. They work in the sub-floor deck where the machinery and engines are stationed. Heavy creatures with prehensile tails that can lift just as much as their long, burly arms. Creatures made to be strong, and with vast intelligence, the Aslai are perfect for such jobs. Most times they flock to them, truthfully.

Like how winged and levitating aliens prefer jobs that involve them leaving the ship where they can move freely through open space with the right gear.

The first time you see one of the Aslai, they're walking with heavy boot steps to the mess hall. You both freeze in the hall though.

For you? It's got a human-ish face and you're experiencing one hell of a level of the uncanny valley effect in real time.

For Hesh, you look like a softer, mini version of the Aslai. Their tail flicks in excitement and with heavy steps they draw closer. A brighter fur pattern than their fellow Aslai, they're noticeable by anyone. They croon in a low gruff tone, reaching out and prodding at your arms, legs, cheeks, happily babbling in some method of communication you can't exactly understand.

It's when the other three Aslai suddenly appear with different fur patterns and facial structures, mimicking the first one that you seem to realize they're 'cooing' over you. Like if you saw a stray cat on the way home...

You're about to say anything when one of the botanist -a Threxacord by the looks of its mandibles- speaks sharply, "Don't you have somewhere to be, human??"

Technically it's right... You're not at your post, but you were told by your immediate boss you could go on lunch. You don't have a chance to explain that though, not when the second largest Aslai lifts you up and sets you on its shoulders.

"Don't talk to our human that way." The rough, crackley voice is a shock to anyone who hears it, but the pack of Aslai seem comfortable. You can only hand onto the horns atop it's head to keep in place as a different one continues, each on the same thought process.

"Drunum, shouldn't you be tending to your artificial soils?" It's more of a throaty growl than words, but the irritation is clear.

It's only when Drunum hisses as it retreat when the Aslai you're semi-surrounded by relax, looking over at you with bright, fanged grins. They seem to each be muttering variations of the same phrases.

"Oooh, little Aslai! Honorary Aslai!"

"Are you a meat eater too? I bet you're a meat eater-"

"You're warm blooded, that's great! So am I!"

"Look, you've got five fingers too! No claws, but that's okay!"

The pack easily brings you to the mess hall, deciding then and there you're one of them. Just a tiny version. Practically cousin species!

I was going somewhere with this

[deepspacenova]

a soul cast in shadow

small moments with you that make Sylus realize that maybe the distance between his life with you in Philos and his life with you now aren't as far apart as they seem.

read on ao3

➻➻ ABOUT | 2000 words. sylus x gn!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | light angst. banter. hurt/comfort. modern day. references to Sylus' myth.

NOTE: A small and self-indulgent little thing inspired by this ask. It's also Sylus Month™ and I'm finding that dragon!sylus is plaguing my mind a little more than usual.

Sylus had long since accepted his new reality. The absence of horns and tail, the vulnerability of his missing scales and wings, the dullness of human nails in the places his claws should’ve grown. Gone were the days of flight and fire and fight, towering over civilization and reveling in raw power in his truest form. 

In their place stood the burden of fitting the jagged contours of a dragon’s heart and torn soul into a fragile layer of human flesh.

He’d gotten used to it over time, of course. The phantom traces of those limbs were like smoke after a fire, diluted by air and time until he could inhale with almost no trace of his past self tainting his breath. 

And while he was now indistinguishable from mortals on the surface, could now walk among the sheep in their own clothing, there were a few moments when he couldn’t help but let the past waft through his senses — the clattering sound of bullet shells that reminded him of counting gold, the bitter scent of fear that tempted the predator inside to chase, the feeling of phantom heat curling in his lungs when emotions flared. 

And then there was the sight of you. 

The one who’d once been his treasure and his heart all at once. 

With you the past was a wildfire, a smoke so all-consuming and dense in his lungs that it was almost impossible to concentrate on anything but the past. 

On the way your eyes used to melt around him like sunshine, the way your hands used to gently lay flowers on his horns, the way your lips stamped kisses into his scales. It was bigger than him, this feeling. So tangible, that the thought of you not feeling it across lifetimes never even crossed his mind. 

Maybe he’d been a fool to believe that what you had could transcend time. That what you shared could ever be forgotten. 

But as he ducked his head into your bedroom and took it in for the first time, that foolishness seemed to dissipate before him. 

There was a bookshelf by your bed, acting as more of a display stand for well-worn fantasy novels than book storage. Each cover was beautifully bound, embossed with horned beasts, wings spread in majestic flight. 

Artwork adorned the wall around your desk, displaying dragons of all kinds — fire-breathing beasts, silhouettes flying serenely in the moonlight, oversized reptilian bodies curled protectively around sleeping maidens.

Small figurines of dragons crafted in ceramic, glass, and metal were scattered across surfaces like small sentinels guarding your domain. 

You were surrounded by dragons.

“What are you staring at?” you asked, your voice cutting through his thoughts.

His eyes darted over to you, watching as you tucked your boots into your closet and hung your bag over your desk chair. Loose strands of hair framed your face, damp with the rain drops you got caught in a few minutes ago.

“Your obsession, kitten.” He gestured to a figurine of an onyx-scaled dragon by your door. “Don't you think it's a bit... pervasive?”

You grinned, making your over to him and adjusting it. “I'm not obsessed, I'm fascinated. Dragons are powerful and majestic and protective of what’s theirs. What’s not to like?”

Sylus’ exhale sounded more unsteady to his ears than he was comfortable with. He shook his head in response. “It’s just that most people would stop at a book or two. A statue. You, however…” He glanced around, eyebrows raised, “This is something else entirely.”

Tilting your head, you look up at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Well that’s rich coming from a man who collects jewels and weapons and displays them in literally any free space he has.” 

Sylus chooses to ignore that, cocking a brow in a wordless question instead.

You ran a hand along the spine of the onyx-scaled dragon between you. Sylus ignored the phantom shiver down his own spine as you continued, “It’s just… always been like this for me. I drew them all the time when I lived with Gran. I even had dreams about dragons. I couldn’t remember anything when I woke up, but it felt so… real when I was asleep.” 

His mind raced with the impossibility of this. Of how, even without knowing, you’d still found a way to remember something about the connection you had with him. Still managed to find the piece of him he gave to you.

You’d surrounded yourself with a synthetic imitation of those memories and yet, you were entirely unaware that you were standing before the only dragon that you’d ever truly owned. 

It was after a long mission that Sylus found himself tending to your wounds. 

He knew it had been a good call to invite himself along when you’d mentioned it was on the outskirts of the N109 zone, no matter how many times you’d protested otherwise. Your missions were becoming more frequent, he’d noticed. The Wanderers more aggressive. Tonight had been no exception. 

And while his wounds and scrapes had mostly healed themselves, yours were still bleeding by the time you both made it back to the safety of your flat.

Uninterested in craning his neck while he tended to you — or in verbally sparring with your protests — he closed his fingers over each side of your waist, lifted you onto the corner of the bathroom counter, and turned you to face the wall, opening the gash on the back of your shoulder to his view.

“Sit still,” he muttered, dabbing a wet cloth over the torn skin.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, hissing at the scrape of contact.

“You’re still bleeding, sweetie,” he shot back, unimpressed but unsurprised. “That’s the opposite of fine.”

You grumbled something under your breath but let him work. He couldn’t help but study the way your muscles flexed under your skin, a tapestry of tendons and sinew that weaved together to move you through the world delicately, gracefully.

A complete contrast to the way Sylus moved through the world. He plowed through it, direct and forceful, conquering anything that didn’t move out of his way in time.

You were flesh and bone, more fragile than most, yet full of fire. Sylus was a creature of violence, fierce and unyielding. And yet here, with you, he was something pliant, something… softer.

With you he felt a need to shield, to hold close, to be the one to move you out of the way. And with every pass of his fingers, he realized he would conquer the world itself if it meant preserving you from harm. 

It wasn’t until he reached into your cabinet for the bandages that he saw it. An inked dragon flying across the middle of your back, tucked under the sheet of your hair and normally hidden beneath your clothes. 

His hand, which had paused mid-air, tightened around the bandages he held as he took it in. 

Its wings were extended, its tail coiling down the knobs of your spine. The details were intricate, painstakingly precise, as if the artist had been given detailed instructions on the way you wanted to memorialize this particular beast. 

But it was the shape, the tilt of the horns and the familiar pattern of the scales that zapped a bolt of something through him. Something sharp and aching. Something like… homesickness.

Noticing his lack of movement, you craned your neck and teased, “Everything okay back there?”

Sylus forced his limbs to move again. Though he swore he could feel blood surging through his veins slightly quicker than it had a moment ago, within one blink, his expression returned to its usual casual stoicism. 

“Just admiring the view, kitten,” he drawled. He leaned in, so close that his nose nearly brushed against yours, your breath warm against his lips. The slight lowering of your lids told him he’d succeeded — you’d forgotten his brief hesitation.

“Now, sit still,” he murmured, nudging your chin with his finger until you faced the wall again. “And don’t make me say it a third time.”

The sight of the tattoo had struck him harder than he expected, a visceral reminder of the past you had shared. You had no memory of it, of him, but some part of your soul had clung to the essence of that lifetime. This tattoo was proof.

As he resumed tending to your wound, you remained still, breathing even despite the sting of antiseptic in the air. All the while the dragon on your skin seemed to watch him, its eyes eerily alive in the dim light.

“Nice ink,” he said casually, finally breaking the silence.

You smiled faintly. “He’s beautiful isn’t he? I got it done a few years ago. Remember those dreams? This dragon was always there like I’d… seen him before? Figured if he wasn’t going to stop haunting me, I might as well keep him close.”

Sylus swallowed down the words forming in his mouth and made his focus narrow to the simple ministrations of tending to you. Wiping away the last of the antiseptic. Gently pinching the torn flesh together, securing it with a butterfly bandage. Placing a bigger bandage over your shoulder blade. Savoring your breath hitching when his fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your side.

He could say nothing—what would be the point? It wasn’t his place to force memories upon you that you no longer held. Telling you the truth would only confuse you, or worse, push you away. And after all this time, after everything, losing you again was not something he was willing to risk.

So he simply said, “It suits you.”

You huffed a surprised laugh. “It does?”

He’d already come close once when he’d first found you again. Before he realized that not only did you not remember him, you didn’t remember yourself.

“Hm.” A small twitch of his lips. “You’ve got a lot in common. Stubborn. Dangerous. A tendency to leave a trail of destruction in your wake…”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “If anything, I clean up your destruction.”

He’d searched for you across lifetimes, certain that when he found you, you would look at him and know. That something in your mind would stir, that your heart would recognize his, that the piece of his soul within yours would call out to you. 

But when your eyes first met his in this lifetime, there had been no flicker of recognition, no echo of the bond that had once tethered you together. You didn’t look at him like his sorceress, not even like his archnemesis. You’d glowered at him, angry and disgusted, like every other human that had ever set eyes upon him. 

You turned to face him when you no longer felt his touch on your shoulder, giving him an unguarded, eye-level view of the happiness that conjured your smile. “So if I’m the dragon.” You nudged his knee with yours. “What does that make you?”

It had been a cruelty he hadn’t been prepared for. To find you again, only to realize you had been wiped clean of everything you once were. The memories, the love, the weight of all that you had been to each other — gone. 

But after all this time, after finding you only to realize the past was his burden to remember, he knew some things were better left unspoken. 

Some part of you had brought the dragon back, only in your mind, on the surface of your skin. And if that was all he could have, he won’t risk losing it.

“Maybe we’re both dragons,” he mused, hiking your shirtsleeve back over your shoulder. Tucking away your source of pain. Tucking away his. “Maybe we’re meant to be stubborn and dangerous together.” He wrapped an arm around you, laying his palm over the resting place of the ink-born dragon. “And the things we thought we destroyed just cleared the way for a kingdom of our own.”

➻➻ MASTERLIST

[heliosunny]

Hi, hi, hi!

I know he's not from Honkai but I saw that a long while ago you did a Neuvillette post. So I was wondering if I could get a Neuvillette Lucky Egg?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

You had never believed in luck. If you did, your life wouldn’t be what it was now—stuck in a tiny apartment with your childhood friend, Melis, who made sure to remind you of every single bad decision you’d ever made. She wasn’t cruel, exactly, but she had a way of making you feel like an idiot.

So when you saw the Lucky Egg Dispenser at the back of a convenience store, promising "A once-in-a-lifetime blessing!", you almost walked past it.

But something about it made you stop.

It looked old, the paint chipped around the edges, but the golden lettering still shimmered under the fluorescent lights. A sign above it read:

"One egg per person. No refunds. Your fate awaits."

It was probably a scam. A cheap plastic trinket inside, or some useless charm. But before you could talk yourself out of it, you fed a few coins into the slot and turned the crank.

Clunk.

A round capsule tumbled into your waiting hands. The plastic casing snapped open, revealing—

An egg?

It was smooth, cool to the touch, and a pale blue color, almost pearlescent. Strange, but… oddly pretty. You turned it over in your hands, half-expecting a hidden button or compartment, but it was just an egg.

Three Days Later

The egg sat on your nightstand for days, untouched. Melis had scoffed when she saw it.

"Really? You wasted money on that?"

You ignored her.

Something in you didn’t want to throw it away.

Then, on the third night, you woke to a soft crack.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you turned toward the sound and saw the egg trembling, thin fractures spreading across its surface. You barely had time to react before the shell split apart, breaking open like a delicate flower and something small tumbled out, landing in the nest of blankets you’d unknowingly made around it.

A child.

No—a dragon.

He looked human, mostly, but too otherworldly to be mistaken for one. His silver hair curled softly around his face, and from his head sprouted two smooth, curved horns. A long, sinuous tail flicked behind him, twitching as he adjusted to his new surroundings.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head—his purple eyes locking onto yours.

"You" he murmured, his voice like distant thunder.

The little dragon boy—because that’s what he was—blinked up at you, his eyes filled with something… old. Too knowing for a child. And yet, he was small, barely bigger than a toddler, his limbs still weak from hatching.

His tail flicked, curling slightly around your wrist where your hand had instinctively moved forward. His warmth seeped into your skin, gentle but noticeable.

"You’re the one who called me here" he said.

"I… I just got an egg from a machine. I didn’t—"

Your heart pounded. This was insane. But the weight of him, the warmth of his tiny body, the way his delicate claws curled into the fabric of your shirt—

He was real. And cute? Extremely cute.

And now he was your responsibility.

The First Day

By morning, you had accepted two things:

You had somehow acquired a baby dragon.

Melis could never find out.

So far, you were lucky. She had left early for work, grumbling about her awful manager, and you had time to figure things out.

Your new… companion had been surprisingly quiet. He sat on your bed, watching you with eerie patience as you gathered whatever food you had—some bread, a few leftover scraps from last night’s dinner.

"Do you eat?" you asked awkwardly, holding out a piece of toast.

He stared at it, then at you. Then, very deliberately, he leaned forward and bit your wrist.

"Ow—!" You yanked your hand back, but he barely broke the skin. It wasn’t an attack, more like… an experiment. His small fangs left the faintest indentations before he pulled away, licking his lips.

"Strange" he murmured. "Your energy tastes different than before."

Your what? You stared at him, but he only blinked, as if you were the one being weird.

"I require no food," he finally said. "I only need you."

The Second Day

By the next morning, he was taller.

Noticeably so.

The clothes you had scrounged together for him—a too-big hoodie and some old shorts—fit better now. His limbs were longer, more proportional. His horns had grown slightly, and his tail swayed behind him with more control.

"You… grew."

"Yes." He looked at you, unbothered. "I told you. I only need you."

What did that mean?

The Third Day

You had a problem.

Not just because your mysterious dragon child was now nearly a teenager overnight, his voice deepening slightly, his presence too much for your small apartment—

But because Melis was starting to notice.

"You’ve been acting weird," she said over dinner, narrowing her eyes. "And why is the place so damn warm? Are you messing with the thermostat again?"

"I haven’t touched it" you lied smoothly, forcing a smile.

Neuvillette—he had given you his name the night before—was hidden in your room. But even then, you swore you could feel him listening.

Melis huffed. "And where’s all the food going? I just bought groceries, and half of it’s gone! I swear, if you’re sneaking in some loser boyfriend—"

"I’m not."

She leaned forward, glaring. "Then what the hell are you hiding?"

Before you could answer, a faint sound came from your bedroom.

Melis’s eyes snapped toward the door.

And then—she stood up.

Your heart stopped.

"What was that?"

She took a step forward.

"Nothing," you blurted out, moving to block her. "Just the wind. Or—"

Melis reached for the doorknob and it swung open on its own.

Neuvillette stood there.

Not as a child. Not even as a teenager.

But taller now. Older.

His horns had grown sharper. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his pupils slit like a predator’s. He tilted his head, looking at Melis like she was something insignificant.

Something inhuman curled in his voice when he spoke:

"You should not be here."

Melis froze.

And for the first time since you had known her—

She looked afraid.

The morning felt strange.

You had woken up groggy, expecting to hear Melis grumbling about the bills, the temperature, or whatever new complaint she had for the day. But instead—silence.

It wasn’t until you shuffled into the kitchen that you noticed the note on the counter.

I’m leaving. Don’t bother looking for me.

The handwriting was hers.

It wasn’t that you’d miss her exactly. She had been exhausting, always watching you like you were one bad decision away from ruining your life. But… leaving without even saying anything? Without fighting first? That wasn’t like her.

You stared at the note a little longer. Something felt off.

But you had work. You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The moment you left, Neuvillette stirred from where he had been lounging on the couch.

You had grown more comfortable with him—enough that you no longer questioned how much he had changed, or rather, how fast he had changed.

Your strange little friend was gone. It had been easy to remove them, even easier to mimic their writing. You hadn’t suspected a thing.

But… there was something missing.

Even as he sat there, waiting for your return, he felt restless. Hunger, but not for food.

For strength.

Something called to him beyond the walls of your home, something old and brimming with power. He followed it.

He hadn’t expected to find a dungeon.

The entrance was tucked away in the city, hidden beneath the ruins of an abandoned building. The air shimmered with faint, magical energy—ancient, untouched.

The moment he stepped inside, something stirred in the darkness.

A goblin—small, filthy, and sneering.

It laughed when it saw him.

"Hah! A lost little human?" It bared its crooked teeth. "You won’t last a second, boy—"

His claws tore through the creature’s throat before it could finish its sentence.

Warmth flooded his body, like a surge of raw energy. The moment the goblin died, something deep within him awakened. His strength sharpened, his magic expanded, and for the first time—

He understood.

This place was meant to be his.

One by one, the creatures fell.

They thought him weak. Human-like.

They were wrong.

Each battle only made him stronger. Magic pulsed beneath his skin, ancient and limitless. The dungeon itself seemed to acknowledge his strength, bending to his will as he carved his way to the top.

And when he reached the end, when the last beast knelt before him, trembling—

Neuvillette smiled.

He was no longer just an intruder here.

He was the ruler.

And when he returned to you, stepping through your front door like nothing had changed, he was stronger than you could ever imagine.

Dinner felt… strange.

You weren’t sure when it had started, but something about Neuvillette was different now.

It wasn’t just his appearance—though that was the most obvious. He looked fully grown, his body lean and strong, his movements refined. His silver hair was longer now, and his once-uncontrolled tail was nowhere to be seen, no horns, either.

If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he was entirely human.

You swallowed another bite of food, trying not to stare. He wasn’t looking at you anyway—just calmly sipping his drink, completely at ease.

"You work every day" he said suddenly.

"Yeah? That’s normal."

"And what do you do?"

That was an odd question. You had talked about work before, but maybe he was just curious.

"Nothing exciting. Just a regular office job." You shrugged. "It pays the bills."

"I see." His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. "And the machine? Where did you find it?"

"Machine?"

"The one that brought me to you."

Oh. That machine.

You leaned back in your chair, thinking. "It was at a small convenience store near my office. It looked kind of old, like no one had used it in years. Why?"

"No reason."

You were deep asleep when he left.

The world outside was quiet, the streets bathed in the dim glow of streetlights.

Neuvillette moved silently, his presence blending seamlessly with the shadows as he arrived at the convenience store. The Lucky Egg Dispenser sat in the corner, just as you described.

From a glance, it seemed ordinary.

But when he raised a hand to feel its power, he felt nothing.

No energy. No magic. Just cold, lifeless metal.

His brows furrowed. But then-

A system board flickered to life in front of him, glowing with strange, shifting symbols.

[NAME: NEUVILLETTE] [RANK: ???] [LEVEL: 62] [TITLES: DUNGEON RULER, ???, ???]

So this was the truth behind his existence.

This machine wasn’t just luck. It was something more—something that had brought him to you for a reason.

But what was that reason?

The board flickered again, shifting—

And then, a new line of text appeared.

[NO ADDITIONAL EGGS AVAILABLE]

So… there wouldn’t be another.

There wouldn’t be another like him.

That meant one thing.

You were his.

And there would be no one else.

----

The whispers echoed.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry."

The voice was distant, layered with something ancient, something aching. It wasn’t just words—it was a feeling. A pull deep within his very being, like something forgotten was trying to resurface.

The darkness in his dream twisted—

He woke up. His body jolted upright, breath uneven, sweat clinging to his skin. His heart pounded, the lingering sensation of the voice still curling around his mind.

"Neuvillette?"

His head snapped toward you. You were sitting beside him, your brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?"

You were here. That was all that mattered.

Forcing a smile, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It was just a dream."

But deep down—he knew it was more than that.

----

Neuvillette had grown stronger, but it still wasn’t enough.

The moment you left for work, he sought more. More power, more understanding—more of what he was meant to become. He followed instinct, the same strange pull that had led him to the dungeon before.

But this time, it led him to water.

A large, secluded lake, untouched by the city's influence. The air here was heavier, richer with something old.

A creature surfaced. A strange otter, sleek and dark-eyed, watching him intently. The creature did not flee. It did not fear him. Instead, it gave a small chuff and turned, swimming toward the center of the lake.

Then—it dived and vanished.

Neuvillette stepped forward, the water lapping at his ankles. Then his knees. Then his waist—

Then, with a final step, he let himself sink.

The water welcomed him.

He found the ruins at the lake’s bottom, hidden beneath the shifting currents. Stone pillars jutted from the depths, covered in carvings that glowed faintly when his fingers traced them.

The moment he touched them, something awakened.

A pulse—deep, rushing power.

And then the water moved. It bent at his will, swirling around his arms, surging through his veins. He lifted a hand, and the currents obeyed. He pushed outward, and the lake trembled.

The sheer force of his ability sent a wave rolling across the surface—too large, too noticeable.

Figures stood on the shore now. He had revealed too much.

It was time to leave.

The house was quiet. Neuvillette sat, fresh from his bath, dressed in a loose white shirt and dark slacks. His hair was still damp, strands falling over his shoulders as he leaned back against the couch.

He was waiting. But the night stretched on, and you did not return.

Not until much later, the door creaked open.

You stumbled inside, your movements slow and unsteady, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to you. Your pupils were blown, your gaze unfocused. Behind you, a man lingered in the doorway.

"Who—"

The man’s smile faltered. "Oh, uh—hey, didn’t know you had a roommate."

His hand was still on your waist.

"I’ll take them now."

The man hesitated, then forced a chuckle. "Come on, I was just—"

Neuvillette moved. Faster than the man could react, he wrenched you from his grasp, pulling you into his arms.

The man stepped back, startled. "Whoa—relax, man. I was just making sure they got home safe—"

"Leave."

"Tch. Whatever, dude." He turned, muttering under his breath as he left.

Neuvillette watched him go.

Then, once you were settled, breathing softly against his chest—

He followed.

The man was still muttering when Neuvillette found him.

He hadn’t gone far—only to the lake’s edge, kicking at the dirt, grumbling about “weird possessive freaks” and “wasted effort.”

He didn’t notice the water stirring.

Didn’t see the way the waves rose.

A sudden wave surging forward. The man barely had time to scream before it dragged him under.

Neuvillette stood at the shore, watching, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

The man thrashed.

Neuvillette lifted a hand.

The water tightened.

Bubbles surfaced, erratic at first—then fewer. Slower. Until, finally—

Nothing.

With a flick of his wrist, the water carried the body further—deep into the lake’s heart, where no one would find it.

At least, not until it was too late.

Three Days Later

"Did you hear?"

You paused mid-sip, blinking. "Hear what?"

Your coworker leaned in, lowering her voice. "They found a body. In the lake. Some guy—totally eaten up. They think he drowned a few days ago."

You set your cup down carefully. "That’s… awful."

"Yeah." She made a face. "I mean, what kind of freaking fish do we have in there?"

----

The weekend arrived with an unbearable heatwave. You had spent the afternoon outside, running errands beneath the scorching sun. By the time you got home, you were practically melting.

"Neuvillette, I’m back!" You called out as you kicked off your shoes, holding up the bag in your hands.

He emerged from the other room, his expression unreadable as always, but his gaze immediately flicked to what you were holding.

"Ice cream?"

You grinned, pulling out one of the containers. "Figured you'd like something cold. Want to try?"

Neuvillette took it carefully, staring at it as if it were something foreign. But after a small, experimental bite—his pupils dilated slightly.

"…It’s pleasant."

"That’s it? Just ‘pleasant’?"

He hummed, taking another bite, letting it melt slowly on his tongue. His expression remained composed, but you noticed the way he leaned ever so slightly into the sensation, as if savoring it more than he let on.

A rare sight.

You chuckled, opening your own and sitting beside him.

"Guess I’ll take that as a win."

It was later in the day when it happened.

You were standing. Walking. Moving through the house with no real thought, no resistance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

There was something you needed to do.

Something important.

The bathroom door was open. Steam curled from within, the scent of fresh water pulling at you.

You stepped inside.

The moment your foot hit the tile— The trance broke.

You blinked, the haze lifting from your mind. Your breath hitched slightly as you realized you were standing in the doorway, fully clothed, about to step into a warm bath—with Neuvillette sitting in the tub.

His sleeves were rolled up, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders. He was waiting.

And he looked surprisingly unfazed.

"…What am I doing?" you muttered, shaking your head.

Neuvillette tilted his head slightly. "You wanted to shampoo my hair."

What?

"I… wanted to—" You stopped yourself.

That didn’t sound right. That didn’t even feel like something you had decided. But there was no sign of deception in his gaze, no indication that he was lying.

It was weird.

The heat had left you sluggish, and thinking too hard about it made your head hurt.

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. "…Whatever. Just—move over."

Neuvillette did, watching in quiet satisfaction as you stepped forward, kneeling beside the tub.

Your fingers combed through his hair, lathering the shampoo, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. His lashes fluttered at the sensation.

You didn’t see the slight curve of his lips. Didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched—resisting the urge to pull you in completely.

----

Your office was always a mess of rushed deadlines and overworked employees. The company thrived on exploitation, squeezing everything it could from its workforce before discarding them like broken tools.

Today was no different.

"Did you see the latest report?" One of your coworkers, Kael, whispered as he slid into the seat beside you. His hands trembled slightly, holding a file.

You sighed, not even bothering to look up from your screen. "Which one? They dump a new crisis on us every hour."

"The dungeon." His voice lowered further. "The one that just appeared."

That caught your attention. You finally glanced at the report in his hands.

A massive fluctuation had been recorded at a previously empty lot on the outskirts of the city. A dungeon had emerged overnight, far more dangerous than expected. The first wave of hunters and warriors sent to clear it had suffered heavy casualties. The survivors reported unusual conditions—monsters that grew stronger after each battle, as if they were learning.

But the company didn't care. They just sent in more people.

"How many deaths so far?" you asked quietly.

Kael hesitated. "Too many."

You stared at the screen, unease curling in your stomach.

Something about this didn’t feel right.

Far beneath the dungeon’s surface, Neuvillette stood in the heart of his domain.

His gaze swept over the carnage left behind—the remnants of another failed attempt. Weapons lay shattered, armor broken, bodies scattered across the cold stone.

He stepped forward.

The air hummed around him, the essence of the fallen swirling into his being.

Another level gained.

"Foolish," he murmured. "They send their people to die… yet they do not realize they are only feeding me."

He exhaled slowly, his body adjusting to the newfound strength.

He was still growing.

And soon—

He would be unstoppable.

----

You barely made it through the front door.

Every muscle in your body ached, exhaustion settling into your bones like lead. You dropped your bag, kicking off your shoes with little care as you stumbled further inside.

The damn company had kept you overnight. Again.

Piling up more work, more pressure, more demands—until you were left wrung out and barely functioning. You were too tired to even be angry. All you wanted was sleep.

"You're late."

You managed a weak chuckle. "Tell that to my boss."

He stood near the couch, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. You could feel his displeasure—palpable, simmering. But before you could say anything, he stepped forward, placing a hand on your forehead.

Warmth—no, energy—seeped into you, flowing through every aching limb, easing the tension in your body. It was like stepping into cool water after burning under the sun.

You barely had time to register what he’d done before sleep pulled you under.

Neuvillette watched as you finally rested. Your breathing was slow, steady, free of the exhaustion that had plagued you moments ago.

How many times had they done this to you?

How many times had you come home like this—drained, miserable, struggling just to stay upright?

"This world does not deserve you"

If it was unworthy of your existence—if it continued to break you down—

Then he would rebuild it.

Piece by piece.

A second dungeon appeared—then a third, then dozens more, blooming across the city like festering wounds. What was once a rare phenomenon became unstoppable, warping the landscape into a nightmarish battleground.

From the depths of each dungeon, Neuvillette’s forces emerged.

Creatures of the abyss—twisted beasts, eldritch horrors, dragons that roared with primordial fury. They poured into the streets, overwhelming police, military, and the so-called “heroes” who thought they could reclaim what had already been lost.

The city fell apart within days.

And through it all—Neuvillette watched from above, his eyes as cold and endless as the ocean’s depths.

The world had tried to break you.

Now it was his turn to break the world.

---

You woke up in a different place.

The suffocating weight of exhaustion was gone, but something felt off. The air smelled of rain, fresh and crisp, yet there was an eerie silence outside.

You sat up.

The room was luxurious, but unfamiliar. You swung your legs over the bed—only for the door to open before you could take a step.

"You're awake."

"Where… are we?"

"The outside world is no longer of concern to you. This is our home."

No longer of concern?

You moved toward the window—only to feel an invisible force halt you mid-step.

"There’s no need to leave," Neuvillette murmured. "Everything out there is beneath you now. You only need me."

His fingers brushed against your cheek.

"And I will never let them take you from me again."

"Neuvillette, stop this."

Your voice was firm, but your hands trembled as you pushed against his chest.

"I don’t need protection. I don’t need you to tear everything apart for me. I’m okay."

"Okay?" he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. His hands trailed up your arms, "You were never okay. They drained you. Used you. You just didn’t realize it."

You shook your head, frustration building. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean you get to decide for me!"

He sighed.

"You don’t have to decide anymore."

Before you could react, his hand cupped the side of your neck—then he bit down.

A sharp sting bloomed where his teeth sank into your skin. You gasped out of pain, but he didn’t let go—not until he was certain his mark was there to stay.

When he pulled back, his lips were tinted red.

"Now, even if you run…" He brushed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood. "I will always find you."

Your vision swam, the pain dulling into something hazy, sluggish. He was doing something.

"Sleep" he whispered. "It’ll hurt less that way."

Your body betrayed you before your mind could protest, the exhaustion swallowing you whole.

Even in sleep, you weren’t safe.

Soft lips traced the curve of your throat, pressing lingering kisses against your skin. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers through your unconscious body, his breath hot against each fresh mark he left.

His hands moved with deliberate reverence, tracing the shape of your collarbone, your shoulders, the delicate lines of your pulse.

"Mine" he murmured between each press of his lips.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, ruthless s*x, dom!Dabi, demon!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, ass spanking, clit spanking, pussy fingering, dirty talk, unprotected p in v

Synopsis: you shouldn’t be playing with a Ouija board, but the need to know if something truly lurked on the other side outweighed your fear. Surely, you never expected a demon born of flame to answer your call. What starts as a desperate moment of desire quickly spirals into a brutal, inhuman claiming — because you called for a demon, he came to consume you

A/N: this fic was commissioned through my Ko-fi by @within-eyesight - thank you so much, sweetheart! If you enjoy my writing, please consider leaving a tip ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA - 3

You’ll never dare summon a spirit again — not after this.

The sizzling shimmer of the portal snaps shut behind the creature, sealing your fate.

Smoke clings to the corners of your room, curling in ghostly tendrils as the air thickens — dense, hot, pulsing in waves that beat like a second heart. The figure standing in the shadows radiates that unnatural heat, its silhouette tall and lean, humanoid at first glance, but wrong in every detail.

He looks like a man scorched by the fire — his skin marred with horrific burns, raw and stretched taut between metallic staples that hold his broken flesh together. A pristine white, coat-like garment hangs off his shoulders, half-destroyed. Beneath it, his chest is bare — scarred but shredded.

The creature wears torn white pants, a size or two too large, slipping low on narrow hips. He’s barefoot. Just bare, silent feet pressing to your floor like he’s already home.

Your gaze flicks upward again and catches on the strange, curved horns — thin, arching back from his skull, razor-edged like obsidian blades. Behind him, a long, pointed tail sways lazily through the smoke-heavy air, as though the creature was some infernal cat, too amused to strike just yet.

He stands there, head tilting slightly, those eerie, turquoise eyes flicking around your bedroom with disinterest, like he’s deciding whether to burn it down.

The scarred demon stretches lazily, limbs too long, fingers tipped with blackened claws that scrape softly over your floorboards. His joints pop with deliberate slowness, one by one, the crack of bone like distant thunder. Blue flame coils around his shoulders and ribs, licking along the jagged patchwork of stapled flesh. His pale, unmarred skin glows faintly in the dark — eerily pristine, yet stretched taut like the flesh of a corpse clawed back from the depths of hell, and sewn together with nothing but rage to hold it upright.

And his eyes — gods, his eyes — gleam turquoise and raw hunger, locking onto you with the gaze of a starving predator who knows its prey can’t run.

“You’ve got no idea what you’ve done, inviting me in,” he murmurs, voice gravel and cinder, every word crawling out of his scarred mouth with heat. “Fucking around with your little Ouija board, whispering into the void, hoping someone’s listening.” His lips curl into a slow grin. “Guess what, sweetheart? Hell answered.”

Your back hits the wall when you try to retreat, fingers fumbling for the doorknob that suddenly isn’t where it should be. 

He laughs — low, amused, devilish. “You ain’t running. Maybe you’re not scared... maybe you’re just stupid,” he notes, tilting his head. His next words are a growl, blistering. “I’ll burn the innocence off your bones.” His smirk curls cruelly. “Wanna dance with me in hell?”

Before you can speak — before breath can even return — he’s on you.

“You didn’t say no. How sweet. I’ll take that as permission.”

His knee shoves between your thighs with a sharp, precise motion, forcing your legs apart. 

Instinct seizes you before thought can catch up. Your hips move on their own, grinding your clothed pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh, desperate for friction of any kind. Heat pools low in your belly, shame already rising and painting your cheeks in a pink hue, but you can’t stop. Your body betrays you in full, trembling with a hunger you don’t want to recognize. Is this how this creature toys with your mind — twisting your thoughts until all you can do is crave him? You can’t tell. 

Why are you like this? You, of all people. The sweet girl among your friends. The one who giggled nervously at dirty jokes and flushed red at movie scenes that showed too much. The girl who believed sex was something soft and quiet — done in the dark, under blankets, in missionary only, with someone who said “I love you” first. The same girl who once touched herself in silence, terrified, ashamed even to explore the heat between her legs — only daring to rub her clit in secrecy, once or twice, before guilt took over.

And now?

Rutting shamelessly against this otherworldly creature like some desperate, hungry bitch in a heat. A needy little thing reduced to nothing but aching flesh. Acting like the kind of woman you used to judge with cold disdain. Acting like the very image of what you swore you'd never be.

You feel filthy. You feel utterly degraded — you’re reduced to being a whore. And yet — you don't want to stop.

The demon chuckles darkly, smoke curling from between his lips as he leans in, breath scorching your cheek. “Look at ya,” he hisses, claws trailing along your thighs. “Soaked already. I can smell how needy you are, your arousal smells like a ripe peach just begging to be bitten into,” the demon growls, locking eyes with you. He then turns his head so he can whisper directly in your ear, “Makes me want to drag my tongue over that pretty, slick little cunt and see if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

The sound of his voice — its deep, rasping timbre — makes every fine hair on your neck stand on end. Your mouth parts, desperate for air, but it’s like you’re already suffocating under the weight of his presence alone.

Demon’s clawed fingers slip beneath your skirt, slow and possessive. You shudder when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties — and then they’re gone. Not torn. Burned. The cotton material sizzles and smokes as it melts away under his touch, and your knees nearly give out.

He drags his claws through the slick heat between your parted legs. The rough pad of his index finger taps your clit once… twice… a third time, just enough to make you twitch. A low chuckle rolls from his chest as he feels that sensitive bundle of nerves swell beneath his touch, hardening in response like your body’s begging for him. His grin widens — cruel and carved across scarred lips — as he watches you unravel for him, knowing he hasn’t even fully started yet.

You barely gasp before he lifts you off the floor with ease, your legs locking around his hips like you were made to fit there. 

His tongue — long and split — drags slow and hot along the column of your neck, tracing from the edge of your collarbone to the shell of your ear. Every inch he licks leaves your skin tingling. Then his fangs sink in — sharp nips, deliberate, cruel — each bite sending jolts of stinging pleasure through your spine.

“Mmmhhmmm,” he hums darkly against your pulse point, voice thick like a suffocating smoke. “Call me Dabi, the Blueflame demon — since you were so eager to summon me, doll.”

He shifts you in his grasp with inhuman ease — one clawed hand improves the grip on your ass, holding you firm and open for him, while the other palms your breast through the thin cotton of your shirt, kneading it like he owns every inch of you.

“Didn’t think I could smell it on you, huh, little one?” Dabi murmurs, lips brushing your jaw between possessive kisses. “That ache between your thighs? That slick, desperate scent of your cunt soaking through? You're dripping for me already.” His grin curls against your throat, feral and amused. “Someone’s enjoying this far too much. You like the thrill, don’t you? That’s good, that’s good, I like it as much as you do, filthy little thing.”

Then he drops you down, flips you over with ruthless grace, pressing you back against the wall so hard your breasts press flat against the cold paint. You cry out at the force, and he hums in approval, pressing his body to yours, heat scorching through your clothes like fire through parchment.

“Stay still, doll,” he rasps, voice rough against your ear. “Don’t wanna tear you up too fast.”

He yanks the hem of your skirt up without ceremony, bunching the fabric around your hips as he spreads the soft swell of your ass open with both hands, thumbs pressing deep into the flesh. “Well, well, well… Would ya look at that,” he drawls, voice soaked in mockery and hunger. “This little pussy’s clenching on nothing. Human females, always so needy. Always aching. You think you can use those sweet cunts of yours to twist men around your finger — and you indeed can. You can easily weaponize your bodies. The scent alone could drive any male mad.” His lips graze the back of your shoulder. “But now the tables turn.”

Before you can reply, one long, clawed finger pushes into your slick heat, stretching you slowly. Your forehead drops to the wall with a soft thud as your hips arch back instinctively, offering him better access without thinking. “Yes, yes,” you whimper, voice breathless and broken. “Oh my God…”

Dabi’s low laugh curls against your ear like smoke. “God’s not here, doll,” he growls. “But hell? Hell has a monopoly on every filthy pleasure you’ve only ever dared to dream about.”

Your room echoes with the wet, obscene sound of his finger sliding deep inside you wet pussy. You sink your teeth into your lower lip, trying to hold back the desperate sounds building in your throat.

He thrusts his finger slowly in and out of you with a relentless rhythm, a feral grin spreading across his scarred face each time your walls clench tightly around his digit. After a long, torturous minute, the demon finally withdraws his finger, bringing it to his lips to lick it clean, savoring your slickness.  “Oh, fuck,” Dabi breathes, laughter rumbling in his chest, “You taste as good — no, even better — than you smell. I’m going to tear that sweet little pussy of yours apart.”

You don’t see what he’s doing next, but the sound of his pants unzipping reaches your ears, followed by the unmistakable noise of him jerking himself. Curiosity tempts you to glance back, to see the demon’s cock, but fear roots you in place — you have no idea what horrors to expect from something so utterly otherworldly.

Shortly after, you feel the head of his cock — thick, hot, and heavy — press against your entrance.

And then he pushes in.

You sob at the stretch, your walls struggling to take him. His cock is inhumanly veined. It isn’t overly thick, but it’s long enough to brush against your cervix, which makes a tear roll down your cheek as the pleasure is too immense for you to take.

Dabi groans, low and primal, hips snapping forward as he buries himself inside you, inch by inch. One hand clamps firmly around your throat from behind, holding you captive against the wall, while the other grips your hip with a bruising intensity. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he snarls, driving into you with a brutal, savage rhythm. “I knew you were made for this.”

Your scream catches and chokes in your throat, swallowed by the relentless pounding, and it only fans the fire burning in him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dabi growls, voice thick with lust. “Scream for me, doll.”

His clawed fingers trail up your body, catching beneath your chin to tilt your head back. And you see him — really see him — his body flickering with blue flame, skin taut around surgical staples. He’s a walking corpse lit by hellfire.

His lips crash down on yours like a storm of vengeance, teeth dragging across your bottom lip until the metallic tang of copper fills your mouth. His tongue forces its way in — scorching, greedy, ruthless. His free hand tightens around your throat, thumb pressing just enough to blur your vision.

You can do nothing but moan for him, your nails scraping the wall, gouging shallow marks into the paint.

Dabi quickens his thrusts, then releases your throat, sliding his hand down between your legs, rubbing and spanking your aching clit with fierce, demanding strokes. “Bounce on my demon cock,” he growls. “Show me how much you crave the pain and pleasure I’m giving you.”

Like the obedient girl you are, you obey, rolling your hips, grinding your ass tight against his crotch. A needy, desperate whine slips from your lips, raw and unrestrained. “Just like that, just like that, ah!”

Dabi spanks your ass hard. One hand yanks your head back by the hair, forcing your throat bare, and he sinks his teeth into the exposed skin like a starving beast marking what’s his. 

A dizzying heat blooms in your core. Your pussy is soaked, dripping, flooded — whether it’s his unnatural surge of precum or if you’ve already come, over and over, without even realizing it, you can’t tell. 

“Oh, how I’ll miss this sweet little cunt,” the demon purrs, voice dripping with wicked delight as his breath fans hot against your ear. “It’s been a long time since a human made me feel this fucking good.” He laughs darkly. “But don’t you worry, doll. Summon me again, and I’ll drag you back into this abyss of pleasure. I don’t tire. I don’t need a break. And watching you beg me — sobbing, shaking — for mercy while I fuck you past the edge again and again?” His tongue flicks your earlobe. “That will be the real fun.”

Dabi suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you aching and empty, only to spit on his long, veiny cock. His hand wraps around the shaft, spreading the mix of your slick, his saliva, and dripping precum along every inch with a slow stroke.

Then he slams back in — hard, deep, relentless — his pace turning savage, feral, like a beast unleashed.

Your pussy aches, a raw, stinging pain blooming with every thrust, and you already know you’ll be bleeding after this brutal claiming. But you don’t care. You’d let him ruin you all over again. And all you can do is surrender — hips bruised beneath his merciless grip, legs trembling, voice lost, pussy dripping — because this demon doesn’t just answer your call.

He claims you, owns you, and devours every part of your being.

@pixelcafe-network

[eshithepetty]

posing practice, with my dear Enaur,,

[ID: doodles of worker ENA from ENA: Dream BBQ in various poses. They are done in clear lineart with slight shading, but no color, save for her blue eyes and blue and red markings, the background being beige, and she doesn't wear her hat in most instances. The doodles include: her looking at the camera, arms crossed up to her face, one knee raised; her laying down with her head in her hands, smiling, pelvis twisted so that it can lie flat on the ground with one knee raised; her standing and holding her hat up to her face, white side hidden, smiling; her stretching and reaching up, face to the sky, smiling, red outlines of demon wings, tail and horns doodled onto her; her kneeling on the ground, knees apart, arms limp, looking up with her head tilted slightly; her smiling and looking up with her head tilted 45 degrees, clawed hand over her head, the other arm detached to rest at her hip; and lastly, her sprawled on the ground, limbs haphazard, hair dragging on the floor as she looks up, expression unhappy with her hat askew. End ID.]

[leggerefiore]

do you think.. the dragons' horns are sensitive...

yes a bit lol

cw: 18+ content, suggestive

characters: Longan, Pitaya, Ananas, Lotus, Lychee

👁Longan Dragon Cookie🌟

To be allowed to touch the Ivory Dragon's horn is an honour like no other. No one else is allowed to, and even daring to may result in a grizzly end. The length and shape of the horn may seem quite odd – more like the limbs of a tree than anything else. But, you were allowed. It was welcome, in fact. Such a thing was reserved almost solely for a mate's touch. And you were Longan's mate.

The horn feels like wood under your touch, ridges much bark. The dragon's eyes are squeezed close – a rarity – as you let your hand travel the length of it. They seem to be holding their breath. You explore the horn curiously, utterly fascinated by how it was shaped. Longan lets you do as you please. Until – suddenly – a clawed hand caught your wrist and put an end to your actions. Their eyes had opened once more. All six, including the dragon eyes, gazed at you intently. A dark colour bloomed on their cheeks. “… You do not seem to recall what this leads into,” they spoke, “… Perhaps I should remind you.”

You were carried to their nest. Nothing more was said.

🗡Pitaya Dragon Cookie🍉

There had not been a soul that grasped their horns and lived to tell the tale. Pitaya was far too protective – much more than they were over their tail. Though, granted, you were allowed to. Now, it was a bit hard to see them, but they were a part of their helmet. Really, it would have been weird to deny you the right to touch their horns. It was commonplace with mates… even if you did not have any for them to grasp in turn.

The horns were warm, much like the rest of them. The tips were sharp enough to gore – a reminder that they could also be used in combat situations, but thankfully that never really seemed to come to pass. Your gentle prodding and grasping made the dragon groan. Suddenly, you were on the ground with the Red Dragon hovering above you. “That'sss enough…” they hissed, “Let'sss get on with it.”

Alas, the dragon had not actually informed you that the horns were sensitive in all the strangest ways.

🍍Ananas Dragon Cookie🏖

It was rare the Golden Dragon let anyone touch them – much less such an intimate part of them. Their horns were a little difficult to distinguish in their mortal form, too. A certain headpiece enhanced the look of their horns. But, of course, you were an exception. Their beloved mate was allowed to do whatever they pleased. Really, horn touching was an important mating activity.

The horn was oddly warm to the touch, but nonetheless smooth. Ananas's eyes close as you trace a finger to the tip before running it back down to the base. The way they just run into their scalp so naturally was fascinating. As you brought your other hand to grasp the second horn, clawed hands grasped your waist. Your attention went to their face, where flushed cheeks caught your attention prominently. “My darling,” their voice was low and raspy, “I need… more…” Your waist was pressed down into their lap.

A panted breath and lips pressing to your own answered any further confusion. Intimate really meant intimate.

🪷Lotus Dragon Cookie🌊

Their horns were not exactly overly visible in their mortal form. Mostly because their flower was on their head, but it was the “leaves” to the flower. Next to no one was allowed to touch them in general, so anyone in range to touch their horns likely knew better than to do so. Now, of course, you were allowed to touch them as you pleased. They would not be so cruel as to deny their mate such a thing. Your curiosity was adorable, in fact.

They were definitely hard, but still held an oddly plant-like feeling. Your fingers trod the curves and shape curiously. They disappeared under the lotus, but you dared not touch. A glance at the Blue Dragon's face revealed darkened cheeks and lidded eyes. Suddenly, you were pulled down and held to them. “Enough, my treasure,” their voice was low, “… Let us go to our quarters to continue.”

It was only then you learnt that dragon horns were extremely sensitive. Perhaps, even worse than the flower itself.

💜Lychee Dragon Cookie🍇

This dragon did not mind touch – but they really did not allow more than what they felt they wanted. Horns were a no-go. No matter how much interest was expressed by mortals that they were using, they denied it. But, you? Weeeeell, Lychee supposed this was a different circumstance. A really different one. It was normal for mates to touch horns, so to Lychee you were finally accepting your place at their side. A giggle could only leave them.

In the mortal form, their horns were not too big, alas. The two little nubs on their forehead were what became of their horns. Even still, you curiously felt the area. It was fascinating how the hardened skin still held a certain softness to it. You even pinched it, which made the dragon cry out. Suddenly, Lychee threw you to the ground and crawled atop you. Their cheeks flushed. “Alright,” their clawed hands found the bottom of your shirt, “Let's get onto the main event, kyahaha!”

Lychee enjoyed your bewilderment about what horn touching actually was.

[diejager]

Imagine that the hybrid 141 was getting a teammate and that teammate was a hybrid and Laswell wanted it to be a surprise for the team what they are as in hybrid was and soon as they get off the aircraft and onto the tarmac, the boys realize that they’re with another dragon hybrid and her “heat” would be soon upon her (dark blue in to black better for stealth or, whatever you prefer, she also has her wings) how would the boys handle that you can take the story anyway you want 

This… I might make it self-indulging because this idea has been clawing at the back of my mind for a long while. Cw: mating/heat cycle, fire/water magic, tell me if I missed any.

Laswell had Price wait for the surprise she had planned, the secret she kept from them when they received your file. It had all he asked for in attributes and skills, but all things personal that should have been on it were scratched out in black. He was told that it was a need to know basis, your name, age or species wouldn’t be divulged unless you told them yourself. He knew you from words from mouth to ear, ad read of your skill and efficiently but nothing he heard and found told him an ounce about you as a person. Your character was a mystery he died to know.

So when he got word from Laswell that your ETA was just over half an hour, he had the boys reconvene to the airstrip, watching the aircraft carrying you land not too far from them, the rotors slowing to a steady thrum. The anticipation that bubble din his chest made this moment crawl at a snail’s pace, the ramp lowering too slowly for his liking and the droning sound of the aircraft’s irking his ears. Then, seconds after the ramp fully dropped, he caught sight of blue horns, tines growing from a singular robust beam, segmented like those of a scale. Your head, covered by a custom made helmet to let your antlers peek out and sit comfortably on your head (at least you wore something, unlike his constant frustration with finding one that wouldn’t bother his horns), followed after you walked out, decked in your gear and a bag slung over your shoulders. 

You weren’t what he was expecting, not exactly. He read that you had a masterful experience in hydromancy, stealing water from the air and humidity and contorting it to cause havoc in the field and cutting through the enemy. He and the others shared their theories, one possibility made you into a water witch, a leviathan, or one of those creepy monsters from the deep sea. Not what… whatever you were. You had elk-like horns painted in the deepest blue he’d ever seen and a tail covered in scales of the same shade, glistening under the light like it was wet with tufts of hair - or was it fur? - crawling down the base of your fourth limb to create a silky and soft end with long, slowing locks. 

What were you? What was that smell? It got sweeter the closer you got, a softness that clung to his nose and made him salivate. He wondered how strong it must be for the Soap and König who’s noses were more enhanced and sensitive than any others, they’d probably sniff the source - you - out and answer his undying question.

“Captain Price,” you nodded your head, a small smile gracing your lips, your slitted eyes narrowed in greeting, “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

That sweetness lingered around you and stuck to his hand when you shook hands, giving him a firm shake and stronger grip that he could admire for the strength you showed. Had you face been as bright as it was a few seconds before? Perhaps it was the musk that oozed off you, it was uneasily addicting and pleasing to his lizard brain, slowly moving the cogs of hos old machine. He watched you take a step back, making some distance between his Task Force and you, and his mind got clearer, nose less stuffy and cheeks wash away the slight flush. Then it hit him, the sweetness, the dazed perception of you and the growing need in his body, he was reacting to you. 

“Sorry, I was told I’d be off for the week once I landed,” you cocked your head, sharing an apologetic smile, “My cycle follows the Lunar year.”

Ah, everything made more sense now, the gracefulness of your beautiful tail, the glistening of your scales and the sharpness of your horns. He had agreed to welcome another dragon to his Task Force, he was fortunate that Asian dragons were calmer and benevolent than his European counterpart. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[bisousie]

spring baby. | sylus qin and his mama

saw a post with a reminder that Sylus was abandoned by literally everyone in his life as a child and that made me physically ill. i need him loved at every point in his life, so i wrote about him and his mama.

short read :)

lol watch me write like i know ANYTHING about dragons

AGAIN I AM NO WRITER!! just for funsies!

xxox

KITCHEN FAN LULLABY by claire boyer

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• ∞

It is early spring, and a mother waits with bated breath.

Her muscles coil and uncoil with restless energy, steam curling from her nostrils as she watches the others’ eggs splinter open under the red moon. She tries to stay still, but her tail lashes, claws kneading the nesting stone. Her own egg—her runt—is smaller than any she has laid before. Smaller than any in the entire flight.

Still, she remains close. Protective. Hoping.

This is not her first clutch—but if fate favors her, it will be her first to survive past hatching.

But the night stretches on. One by one, hatchlings chirr and screech their first breaths, limbs flailing as they learn to find footing on trembling legs. The chorus of life cuts at her like ice.

Hers remains still. Unmoving.

A dead egg. Another wasted season.

But she stays. Just one more night. She coils around it beneath the red moon and stars, pressing her body close. If nothing changes by morning, she will leave it behind. Let the scavengers and ground-things take it. That is the way of things.

Dawn spills over the nesting cliffs. The flight stirs, hatchlings mewling as sires and dams prepare to migrate toward new hunting grounds—fresh territory to raise the fledglings until they grow strong enough to brood clutches of their own.

She gives the egg one last nudge with her snout, reluctant, slow. The shell is cool, still. She should leave.

But then—crrk.

Her head snaps back. Another crack—soft, but certain.

She crouches low, eyes wide and unblinking, breath held so tightly it burns in her chest. The scent is faint but sharp: wet, new, hers. Her talons twitch, tail curling tightly around her paws as she watches.

The shell splinters again. A tiny fist pushes through, pink and trembling. No claws. No sheen of scales. No horns. No wings.

Just... soft skin.

She snarls, confused. Recoils slightly. The hatchling’s scent is hers, yes—but what is this?

It whimpers. Then cries. A sound like pain, like need. It punches into her gut in a way she doesn’t expect. Her body reacts before her mind does—move closer, cover it, warm it, protect it.

But it’s wrong, isn’t it? It doesn’t look like her. Doesn’t sound like the others. Doesn’t smell of fire and wind and ancient stone.

Just her.

She leans in, nose brushing over the tiny body. He is warm. Fragile. Breathing.

A flicker of doubt coils in her chest—defective, she thinks. And the word burns, foreign and cruel.

Still, her wings shield him. Still, her tongue laps the afterbirth from his skin. Still, her throat rumbles low and soft, instinct wrapping around the little creature like a lullaby.

He squirms, presses into her warmth. Clings to her scales with tiny hands.

And the ache of failure fades.

She doesn't understand. She doesn't need to.

He is hers.

And that is enough.

She takes a moment to look upon her new young.

He breathes softly in his sleep, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm. So small. So still. So peaceful.

She leans close, committing every inch of him to memory. His skin—soft and tanned like sun-warmed stone. A crown of downy white hair, pale as fresh snow on mountaintops. His cheeks, flushed with life, puffed and rosy. And nestled where his heart should be—a ruby gem, dimly pulsing with light. Faint red branching lines fan outward from it like delicate veins of crystal.

It mirrors her own. A mark of true kinship. Undeniable.

The little creature stirs, roused by the gentle hum of the waking world. The scent of earth, the whisper of leaves, the distant call of birdsong. Not born beneath moonlight and fire like the others—but under the dawn, kissed by the first warmth of morning, where dew clings to moss and the world stretches awake.

His eyes blink open—dark garnet, deep and glimmering—and fix on hers. Citrine, ancient, unblinking.

She stops breathing.

Those eyes—so unfamiliar, so human, yet filled with something ancient, something hers. They look into her as if they know her already. As if he’s always known.

And in that moment, the word defective crumbles to dust.

No—this is perfection.

Her little one.

Her first.

A gift. Not from chance. From Astra himself—the god who weaves fate among stars.

She curls around him, protective, reverent. This odd, radiant creature in her nest is not a mistake.

He is a miracle.

She names him Stayrus—a name from the old tongue, one her heart offers without thinking. It means he who lingers in the light. A soul not meant for shadows, but for dawn.

She doesn't yet know what the future holds. Doesn't know how the rest of the flight will react to this strange, hornless hatchling.

But she knows this: she will raze mountains, shatter skies, and burn entire forests if it means he will live.

Because no gem, no gold, no relic could compare.

This child—this wonder—is the greatest treasure her hoard has ever known.

idk if they ever went over what Stayrus means so I gave it a meaning lol

I HOPE U ENJOYED !

[ppaleoartistgallery]

HTTYD Flocking

today on Paleostream we drew HTTYD dragons!!!!

closeups and design explanations/descriptions below:

terrible terror and monstrous nightmare: you'll notice all the dragons arent hexapods, deliberate choice on my end, not much has changed about the terrible terror tbh, it just only has four limbs now, less spikes, longer feet, and a more crown-like horn arrangement.

but ooh the monstrous nightmare lmao, i decided to shrink it down and remove a lot of its spikes, i wanted to make it a sorta chihuahua of dragons, small and feels like it can pick on everything. but relies on its projectile venom to save it. instead of lighting on fire, it lights its enemies eyes on fire by spraying venom from venom glands along its neck, back, and tail at the enemy

for the hideous zippleback, i decided to give them beaks (cause i felt like it) and make it so the double head is an illusion caused by the smaller sessile male who's constantly attached to the female, the female has a smaller crest and horns which makes the male's smaller head but larger features balance out the silhouettes. the male rides on the female's back everywhere being held in place by his claws and her wingtips, i also made the female cursorial because i felt like it again

the rumblehorn, i went for beetle-like wings and elytra-like display feathers, and for the funny i gave it a rhinoceras beetle head, and two toes on each foot

the razorwhip is a really cool design, but i was thinking that it would be a sleek and efficient killer, so i gave it smooth and dark scales that are incredibly reflective, and a parankylosaur macuahuitl. i also gave it bottom tooth-like projections on its bottom jaw

for the whispering death, i made it a derived ray-finned fish because dragons are anything you want them to be (also inspired by Wyatt Andrews' Rodan design). i replaced its eyes with two white bioluminescent display features, and put its eyes where its nostrils usually are and gave it a gulper eel mouth with a loooot of gill rakers to replace the rows of teeth

the red death, i decided to keep its size large, i took a lot of sauropod inspiration from this one. airsacs replaced the posterior two eyes, and i gave it a tail club and tooth-like keratin projections on the lower jaw

we ended with the shellfire, even as a kid i hated the design, at this point i was on four hours of sleep and had been awake for about 12 hours, so i just made an over-sized placoderm with spurs on the side of its head, cause dragons are anything you want them to be

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Dragon krs idea- this is before the start of the novel and before Choi Han reaches Harris Village.

He's warm. What had once been the neutral temperature of his house as he drifted to sleep, after reading the novel The Birth of a Hero, became a warm, wet blanket. It wrapped around him slickly. It feels uncomfortable.

That isn't good. Not knowing something isn't good. The wet was suffocating and he stretched out his hand to find the end of the blanket.

Kim Rok Soo shakes abruptly. He frowns, but finds that his face feels strange. His limbs are cramped in a tight space, but the walls begin to give way under his squirming. He shrugs his shoulders, butting his head forward, kicking with his legs.

The wall which is also wet and slippery cracks under his arms and he pushes up with his feet.

His nose breaks into the cold air. Kim Rok Soo breathes, opening his eyes to a dark expanse above him, the stars looming above him. Except the stars aren't the same as he remembers. And he feels strange, in a foreign body.

He looks down to see what are clawed, red paws, and the remains of a wine-red shell. Whatever he had been thinking was happening... it wasn't this. Was it because of his nature, or the environment he grew up in? He didn't bother to think any further about his body when he still didn't know what was around him.

He was in a forest, regular as any that he'd seen before in Korea. Minus the wavering motions of something in the air. It was an odd, instinctive feeling, rather than something he could see.

It told him that something was approaching.

Without any time to think further Kim Rok Soo scampered over the broken remains of his egg and stumbled with chubby little paws over to a bush. Unfortunately for him, he appeared to only be the size of a small dog, or a medium sized cat. His senses expanded naturally to feel across the forest floor and towards what was approaching.

A bear-like creature-- with purple fur, 4 extra limbs, and long horns trailing down its back and a long tail-- emerged from the growth and quickly went to sniffing his egg shell. Then, Kim Rok Soo's heart dropped, it looked directly at his position in the bush. Well, that isn't good.

Kim Rok Soo jumped out of the bush right as the bear leaped forward powerfully. Moving quickly he loops around a tree right as the bear slams into it and hides in the monsters blind spot, instinctively using the strange movement he sensed in the air before to turn the attention of the bear away from him.

It must only work to confuse the bear because while it doesn't follow the motion, it struggles to catch a whiff of Kim Rok Soo again. He skillfully uses his paws to silently move behind and away from the bears line of sight. It must not have very good hearing, and it ambles around, disoriented. In a moment of instinct alone, he uses something to prevent the grass from making any noise, too.

Kim Rok Soo is panicking about how to escape the bear when a black line suddenly appears in his line of sight, and it pierces the bears skull out of nowhere.

The beast slowly falls over, dead.

The black line moved so fast that not even Kim Rok Soo saw it. His red paws tremble. He looks at the felled bear, revealing a small tree branch embedded in its head, bleeding steadily from the fatal injury.

...

Kim Rok Soo stiffly looks around him. Is he going to end up being a snack for whatever killed that bear? The bear has enough meat doesn't it? Can't it leave him alone? He was just born.

Unexpectedly it isn't a monster but a boy, a teenager, that emerges from the trees and stares at Kim Rok Soo. He's wearing makeshift clothes and holding a rusty knife. Kim Rok Soo shudders. Can he escape from this guy? Then the teenager notices the egg shell on the ground and looks back at Kim Rok Soo.

"You..." he speaks in Korean. "You're just a baby." The Korean teenager lowers his eyes. "I can't kill a baby."

Insulted, Kim Rok Soo opens his mouth to argue. He's 36 years old. He isn't even close to being a baby!

The teenager looks at the wine red dragon blankly. The brief emotion in his eyes falls away like an illusion, and he anxiously taps his knife with a restless finger.

...

Kim Rok Soo sees the dead bear out of the corner of his eye.

Actually, being a baby isn't so bad. This guy looks strong, let's piggy back off of his strength and get a free ride out of this forest.

With his mind set, Kim Rok Soo sits his bum on the ground and curls his tail around his waist to sit on his paws, not the floor. It's comfortable. Should he try to be cute or something?

He yawns, tired from running around immediately after waking up from the egg. This is annoying. If the teenager doesn't take him in, won't he have to survive out here on his own? He doesn't know if the monsters here are edible.

Unbeknownst to him, Kim Rok Soo just displayed behaviors identical to those of a cat.

His eyes closed from yawning, Kim Rok Soo opens them to find the teenager crouching directly in front of him.

Way too scary!

"You aren't trying to attack me. You... is it because you're a baby?"

Kim Rok Soo tilts his head. Does this guy expect a baby to respond to him?

Choi Han swallows. In this place... maybe he can have a friend? It has wings, maybe he could teach it to lead him to people like him.

Choi Han stiffly opens his arms, keeping the knife positioned outward, and though his blank expression is unnerving Kim Rok Soo is tired and hungry, so he yawns again and steps closer. It couldn't be too dangerous, right? The teenager carefully wraps his arms around the small, wine red dragon, lifting it up and holding it as if it were a human baby.

Briefly, Kim Rok Soo wonders if the teenager can properly fight if he's holding something, but he decides to not worry about it. If a dangerous creature comes again like the bear, he's sure the teenager would throw him away or something.

Kim Rok Soo tucks his chin into the teenagers neck and shoulder, appreciating the warmth, and slips into a light sleep. Choi Han strokes the baby dragons back. The scales are slightly chilly. Faintly, Choi Han senses a deep strength within this creature.

Maybe it would be better to kill it young.

Kim Rok Soo sleeps, unaware of the rising killing intent.

Choi Han shifts the baby to one arm and taps his knife handle with the other. He should get it some food. It's a baby, so it'll be hungry. It should be fine without milk, right?

-------

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - ◉ PART 2 - [ PART 3 ►]

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Size Difference; Size Kink; Power Dynamics; Power Imbalance; Power Play; Corruption; Multiple Orgasms; Dom/sub; Fondling; Manhandling; Near Death Experiences; Adrenaline; Flying Sex; Predator/Prey; Tail Sex; Tail Play; Possessive Behavior; Cervix Penetration; Oviposition; Eggpreg; Breeding; Unplanned Pregnancy • wordcount:  3,264 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 2)

V. A fearful Demon King

"You're doing such a good job, little one. Keep rising and falling on me."

Dark shadows enfold the throne upon which the Demon King sits, with you seated on his large cock, steadily fucking yourself on it. His power is great and fearsome, making you dizzy when you try to look into the blurry memory of where you were just a handful of minutes ago or how it all led to this. You just know that if you were given the chance to go back, you'd still choose the same fate.

"Haaah… It's so big! I can't go any faster, my Lord… nghhh…."

From the moment you came to understand that the powerful being has chosen you to service him, you felt far more honored than scared. It all changed when he revealed his monstrous cock to you. With its shiny onyx-colored base and angry red head, mirroring the coloration of the twin horns on top of the Demon King's head, what intimidated you most was the girth of it. You were sure you wouldn't be able to fit something the width of your fist inside you, and you expressed those concerns to your Lord through a series of pathetic sobs, not failing to show him how much you wish you could, of course.

Then he did something unexplainable yet very simple at the same time. He used his clawed hand - the limb elegant despite its inhumanly size and black color - the pointy tip of his blood-red claw tipped your chin upwards so you could meet his demonic gaze. Looking into his crimson irises made all your hesitation go away in a flash, and suddenly you knew it was going to be alright.

Next thing you knew, you were piercing yourself on his length, letting it stretch you open and ruin you for everyone else. Not that it matters, you belong to your Lord now - the way he caves a room for himself inside you, you can only feel that he owns you now, body and mind.

The fluids seeping from his bulbous head acted like a lubricant that made your tight hole accommodate him bit by bit until he was all the way in, and you could only writhe in pleasure and haphazardly stroke your clit as the orgasms overcame you one after the other. The fear of doing something so indecent and selfish without his permission made you snap out of it, but your lord only kept the smirk on his face, encouraging you to keep going.

Even now that you've just let him know that the big intrusion inside you is preventing you from speeding up, he seems to be relaxing back in his throne, contently watching you struggle on your own. Your boldness grows with the need to push yourself over the edge in yet another orgasm, and while doing so, you reach for the black, curved horns on top of his head. You're clearly out of your mind to be doing that, so you search for his gaze that will decide your fate for you.

"I allow it."

A moan rips out of your throat, followed by a dozen blabby and brainless thank-you's. The new leverage works in your favor as you spasm and gush around the red-black appendage inside you, feeling it further stretching your walls on every rise and fall of your hips.

Without any awareness of the passage of time, it seems like you've been lost in this euphoric trance for an eternity before he finally grows bored of your pace. The demonic hand that he previously propped up his chin with is now snaking its way down your little human body, having a delectable taste of your soft parts with a squeeze there and there, before finally settling on your waist. His other hand joins too, and suddenly you have no power over your own movements - he grounds you to his lap easily, making you take his cock all the way in, before starting to move you up and down on his own will.

You feel light in his hold, your brain clearing out of any remaining thoughts that you previously had to keep into, when something still depended on you. The new wave of pleasure you're granted is stronger than anything you've felt, and you can only hear the obscene sounds of sticky fluids leaking from the place you're connected, your body locked in an eternal state of climax.

The last thing you feel is an overwhelming fullness deep in your womb that seems to go on forever, before you're finally settled down on the powerful being's torso, a clawed hand stroking the underside of your chin as your consciousness slips away.

VI. A deceitful Angel

The man dressed all in white has been standing out from the crowd all throughout the night, but he's even more remarkable now up close, you must admit. While he talks to you with his harmonically sweet voice, all you can focus on is the way his skin seems to glow under the scarce light of the eerily decorated hall. He's quite friendly, his golden eyes warm and inviting, as he suggests exploring the stairs to the roof of the castle.

You think nothing of it, sneaking off with him like a pair of juveniles as his laughter rings through the narrow spiral staircase. The night sky becomes a beautiful backdrop to his figure, and soon you're enamored enough of him to confess with a little chuckle that he looks like an angel. He gives you a mysterious smile, putting a slender finger in front of his lips, and in the next second a beautiful pair of wings spread wide on his back.

You're mesmerized by the sight, not believing your eyes - the angel-like stranger seems to be reading your mind at that moment because he evidently wants to show you just how real they are.

Namely, by pulling you by the hand where he stands at the edge of the rooftop, making you fall forward ontop of him, and right off the edge.

Your scream is sincere as you rapidly approach the ground, eyes squeezing shut as you say goodbye to your life, but the inevitable impact never comes. Instead, you're airborne, carried on the wings of the now laughing stranger who gave you the scare of your life. He never struck you as someone so cruel, but just as you're about to conclude he's no angel, you're given an even bigger reason to think that way. His wings suddenly strip their white color, feathers darkening as if covered by tar, until they become completely black.

"Are you enjoying the flight? I'd say the world looks far better from above. But we can make the sight even more enjoyable."

The sweet voice whispers those words close enough to your ear to send shivers, as you have no choice but to cling to him for dear life. His hands are free while yours are locked tightly around his neck, and he puts them to good use, moving them down your body and under the layers of fabric, baring you little by little.

"Ahh-Why-"

"Why not? You said that I'm an angel, didn't you? Maybe I just want to show you what heaven feels like, little bird."

If he's an angel, he's for sure a fallen one; someone like him has surely been punished for committing a despicable sin. Yet you can't help but moan at the way you're manhandled in the air, placed over his hot length, as it penetrates you in one long, slow thrust.

"Ahhhh! Nghh!"

You've never been in such a position, feeling so powerless but also feeling so good, your weight naturally falling on his cock with every flap of his wings. The celestial being cradles you close, giving you yet another illusion that he's being generous while in truth just using you for his own pleasure, a warm and tight sleeve to manipulate up and down in the air as he sees fit. Looking down makes you dizzy, as he practically holds your life in his hands, and you will yourself to concentrate on the growing pleasure that inevitably comes with the ordeal he puts you through, one that is greater than anything you've felt before. If you make it out alive, you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

"Aren't you enjoying this a lot, hmm? Don't you want to soar in the skies with me forever? How delightful will it be if you grew a pair of wings of your own, right here?"

He trails a deft finger across your back, dragging it upwards, right between your shoulder blades. It coincides with the fire inside you engulfing you to the point of no return, and you come undone on his cock, clinging to the body keeping you safe.

"It will hurt a little, but it will be all worth it. Don’t you want it? To help create a beautiful world by my side?"

As the angelic laughter rings in your ears, you feel a gush of liquid shoot inside you, and you begin to wonder why his offer seems so tempting at this very moment.

VII. A ferocious Minotaur

Going out in the garden for some fresh air shouldn't necessarily entail getting lost in the hedge maze, yet here you are.

As you turn yet another corner, fighting off the surprise of discovering a new dead end, you tell yourself that getting out of here can’t be that hard. Luckily the party is not ending any time soon, so maybe no one will notice your absence while you're on your own impromptu adventure. You won't speak of it afterward, that's for sure.

However, there's something entirely different that's been bothering you as you walk through the labyrinth-like walls of greenery, and that's the strong sense of being followed that you've been feeling for some time now. Not like eyes on your back, but rather, like a lingering sense of danger that you're about to run into any second now. You approach the next corner with caution, look behind, and relax enough to make fun of yourself in your head. But that only lowers your guard enough to make you scream with surprise when out of nowhere, a hand reaches for your shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. Are you alright? I've been trying to catch up with you for some time now. You appear to be running in circles. Are you lost?"

The man behind you is of large build, the pair of horns protruding from his brown hair only adding to his already admirable height, even if they're more sprawling at the sides of his head rather than from above - not unlike those of a ram. It's strange; for a moment there you had the feeling he'd been hunting you down towards this place in the center of the maze, but he doesn't seem to be ill-intended.

"W-Well- Not really, I just went out to get some fresh air, and-"

It must be pride that prevents you from accepting his help, or the fact that reaching the spacious center of the maze gives you the illusion of having made it halfway out of it without any help. Either way, the man lets out a short, wry laugh, almost mockingly so.

"I see. You are one of those who linger alone in here, looking for fun."

"T-That's not it! I honestly just meant to-"

The man steps in closer to you, his heavy boots coming to almost touch the tip of your own shoes now, and the difference in your builds is intimidatingly evident at that moment.

"How about this. You will try and make it out of here on your own. But if you fail, if I catch you - I will have my fun with you, there on the spot."

You can't believe yourself when the cold sweat beading at the base of your nape is not enough to stop you from giving it a thought. Maybe you were looking for some fun, maybe it was your frustration with failing to find fun that led you out of the hall to "take a breather" and get rid of the irritating arouse you've been feeling for some time - why hesitate just because you didn't expect to find your ticket to the entertainment here, in the garden?

The animalistic aura of the man and his respectable size gives you just enough push to make this fair, to actually give it your all before you fall into his hands. 

***

Well, you can't say that you didn't put up a fight.

The brown-haired man seems to enjoy pinning you down and restricting you just as much as you enjoy protesting in his strong hold, testing the strength of his toned arms. It's humiliating, feeling the cold cobblestone ground under your hands and knees, but you don't want anything to break the immersion of being his prey.

Though, he gives you enough to feed the fantasy as it is. Until you doubt it's a fantasy anymore. Not when something large and tapered and inhuman prods at your hole.

"W-What-"

"You stay quiet and take it, 'lil lady. That's your punishment for getting caught."

You feel your brain beginning to melt with the intrusion of the tapered head of his girthy cock, and you brace yourself for being this monster's plaything, hearing him groan above you as he bottoms out.

You need to think about making it out of the maze at some point too, but right now you're not very capable of that.

VIII. A possessive Dragonkin

(CW: oviposition, breeding, unplanned pregnancy)

You noticed something being amiss the very second you entered the room. This is his territory, that much is certain - and you let him walk you in here willingly. As his grip around your waist tightens, tongue long since down your throat in a breath-stopping kiss, your half-lidded eyes catch hazy glimpses of the space. The moonlight seeping from the windows helps you make up the contours of piles upon piles of objects of various shapes and colors covering every surface. Most of them shiny, intricate, antique, scattered around without order yet clearly kept with purpose.

At the very center of it all, you're being undressed by restless hands that seemingly want to reveal way more of your skin than is necessary for a simple, short-lived tryst between strangers. You expect his touch to be cold, but every part of you becomes scorching hot under his fingertips. His skin is smooth as it glides against yours, the moon making it glow almost, as he aims to maximize the contact between your bodies.

You want to touch him back, but something long, strong and scaly wraps around your middle, lifting you up with ease and suspending you in the air. Is that his... tail? You kick your feet at the loss of gravity, afraid that he will drop you, but he simply watches you squirm and struggle with his slitted icy-blue eyes.

"Mine."

The sudden pressing of his cock against your drenched entrance distracts you from this strange surge of possessiveness. Your limbs tremble as he bottoms out, the blunt tip of his appendage brushing against your cervix and sending electricity through your writhing form, a mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelms your senses.

With every thrust, it becomes easier, as your body not only becomes more pliable towards his size, but it also begins to crave more. It's like the precome smeared on his tip numbed your cervix, because you suddenly don't mind the feeling of him knocking on it on every thrust.

"Mine."

The whisper is followed by a grunt, and it makes you look at the stranger's face again. He's looking at you, yet it's like he's not seeing you; fixated on something underneath the surface, even his mantra of possessiveness is voiced out solely out of his own necessity to say it and not directed towards you. You reach out a hand and brush it against his pale, smooth cheek. Your fingertips graze blond hair locks and aim higher up, where a pair of pointy horns stand tall on the top of his head. They're translucent and blue in color, as if cut out from pure sapphire, and you're mesmerized by the sight, by all of him. Even if his tail wraps snuggly around you to keep you in place, his pace is rather rough, and one particularly sharp thrust has you grasping at those beautiful horns for support.

You're rewarded with a growl, and the sound of it makes your insides squeeze around the thick cock that continues to mercilessly pound your cunt. In a haze, you barely notice how the very tip of his tail snakes its way towards your clit and begins to stroke it.

"Ahhh!" You throw your head back as pleasure rocks your body, a powerful climax ripping through you. As your mind blanks out, you register your need growing tenfold despite having just orgasmed. In answer, he doesn't as much as slow down his thrusts, giving you exactly what you want.

Suddenly, you begin to feel a strange bulb at the base of his cock that presses more and more into your entrance, as if moving higher. The rational part of your brain, barely functioning, sends worrisome signals, but the part that wants this easily overpowers it. You don't need to understand it. You only need to think of the undiscovered pleasure that awaits you with that delicious stretch. Your walls pulsate helplessly around it, an itch that nothing else would be able to scratch, you're ruined for everything else at that very moment. The bulb slowly moves higher, making its way to your bruised cervix, until it finally presses against it, firmly.

There is a sense of resistance for a second, until finally, something pops inside. Tears of overstimulation gather in the corners of your eyes, and you feel something small and rounded nestling deep inside, in your uterus. It makes you orgasm on the spot, body thrashing around in the strong hold you're being kept in, as your vision turns to white for a mere second.

A gush of liquid follows, and you open your eyes to see the one doing this to you breathing rapidly as he too reaches his orgasm. His seed floods you, seeping into your dilated cervix without anything to hold it back, and drenches the egg resting in your womb. A rush of realization goes to your fucked-out mind and you just know, with every cell on your body, and by some ancient design, that whatever he put inside you has been fertilized successfully in that very moment.

"Mine."

You hear the wicked mantra leave his lips one last time before you pass out, and you briefly have the opportunity to worry about your future. Is he going to keep you here forever? Or maybe your purpose will end with expelling the egg once it finishes its growth, to add another treasure to his collection. You can't help but wonder, when he says "mine", why is it that you don't mind whether he's referring to you or the good incubator that your womb makes?

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[lipglossanon]

Day 18

Kink: Threesome

Pairing: Las Plagas!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader x Shape Shifter/Wendigo!Leon S. Kennedy

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, threesome, aphrodisiac, noncon, slight body horror, off screen oc death, biting, blood, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), blowjob, cumming in mouth, cum swallowing, facial, unprotected sex, creampie, cum shot

not proofread

The party’s been raging for hours; pockets of people completely passed out uncomfortably close to the bonfire. You’ve had a couple of drinks, but nothing on the heavy side. It’s a cool October night, nearby the forest that’s supposedly haunted (by what or whom has only been whispered about). 

You’ve never put much stock in those old wives tales, especially tonight when some of the locals decided to dredge it all up in an attempt to scare newcomers.   It’s why later, when a crying girl finds you to say her boyfriend hasn’t come back, that you opt to go with her to look for him. 

“He said he’d be right back,” she sniffles, mascara running. “It’s been almost an hour. Do you think he got lost?”

“Maybe,” you push past some low branches, listening to her follow behind. “He may have just passed out or something.”

“Maybe,” her breath hitches. “Maybe that monster got him.”

You roll your eyes since she can’t see your face, “Doubt it.”

Walking deeper into the trees, you miss the movement behind the girl; a too long arm reaching down from the branches above to snag around her neck and yank her upward. A loud snap makes you turn, eyes squinting in the murky darkness. 

“Hey,” you purse your lips, irritated that you forgot to ask her name. “Hey, are you okay?”

She stumbles out from the trees, brushing pine needles and leaves off her clothes. 

“Yeah, sorry, just tripped that’s all,” she smiles and you squint in reply. 

“Okay, well just try to be careful.”

She quickens her pace to fall into step beside you. 

“You said he’s been out here for an hour?”

She hums, “Just about.“

You glance over at her only to see her already staring at you, practically bright eyed and bushy tailed. It takes you aback, slowing your walk. 

“You good?”

You take in her dry eyes and nearly blank expression. 

“Oh, I’m great,” she smiles again and your brows raise. 

“Oookay then,” doubt laces your tone. 

Turning away from her, you turn your attention back to scanning the area. 

“This is a decent way in,” you offer up. “Think he’ll be this far in the forest, away from the party?”

“Oh, he was,” she giggles, so high and lilting that it makes the hairs on your arms stand up. 

You spin around to face her head on, “Was? Are you guys fucking with me? Tricking me out here as some stupid ass joke!?”

“Kind of,” she shrugs, but then her body doesn’t stop moving, a weird jittering overtaking her limbs. 

You bite back a gasp as you watch while her bones crack and fold in on themselves before extending at odd intervals, joints in places that aren’t the norm. Her face melts like a sped up candle and you blink rapidly, mind trying to process what you’re witnessing. In the blink of an eye, it morphs into that of an animal skull with horns protruding from the head. 

The thing in front of you stands tall, skeletal and ghastly. Your brain bleats in terror, but your feet are frozen to the spot.  Movement in your peripheral drags your wide eyes blissfully away from the horror show in front of you. Whatever subconscious hope you harbored dies a swift death as a new monster steps forth. 

Blacked out skin crawling with dark veins end with sharp tipped claws. His face makes your stomach drop out like a free fall ride at an amusement park. The tale of the slit mouthed woman crosses your mind before it disappears with the fervent hope this is all some sort of fucked up dream. 

His lips have split at the corners, stretching up along his jaw like a jester’s grin paired with razor sharp teeth. Black veins travel from his hairline down across his face—he looks like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

A low rasping laugh from behind has you jerking your head back around to the creature from before. 

“She looks like fun, doesn’t she?” It croons, body contorting again until it nearly matches the thing behind you—fringed blond hair and gleaming eyes. 

Now looking like a regular guy, it steps forward, crossing the distance in long strides until he’s standing in front of you. 

“W-what do you want?” You speak but it’s hard pushing the words through your dry mouth. 

“To have fun,” he snickers, night shine eyes flicking up to the person behind you. “We like to compete.”

“He’s right,” the other creature agrees easily, stepping into your personal space, body heat a brand against your back. “We’ll make it fun for you, too.”

Sharp burning pain pierces the side of your neck as needle like teeth sink into your skin. 

“I’m so jealous,” the one in front of you whines, horns pushing through his hair to curl over his head. “Lucky fucking bug.”

The man behind you snarls but whatever he replies with is lost as liquid heat radiates out from the bite mark. You swoon as white hot arousal blazes through your body so fast, it makes you dizzy. Their soft bickering dies down when you whimper, swaying on your feet and into the man in front of you. 

“Aww, she’s feeling it now,” he grins and his sharp incisors make your pussy clench. 

“Wha’—feel weird,” you try to shake your head but your body feels heavy and needy, nipples pebbling into hard peaks under your shirt while your cunt leaks slick into the gusset of your panties. 

“That’s just a little sumthin’ to make ya feel good,” the one holding you soothes, hands twitching against you as his fingers turn double jointed. “That’s a specialty of Leon’s.”

“Leon?” You frown up into the grinning face above you. 

“He likes to imitate me,” Leon answers and rubs a sharp tipped hand down your arm. “Thinks it’s funny.”

“It is,” the other one argues back. “We could pass as twins.”

“Cause you’re a weirdo,” a scoff from behind you. “Shouldn’t we be moving this along?”

“Of course, I’ll take first dibs.”

“We both will.”

“You got the last one.”

“No, you did. You killed him, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” a fond sigh. “He was an asshole, but his bone marrow was so worth it.”

The fear has slunked off like a kicked dog and in its place a lustful haze so potent, you think you’ll claw your skin off if someone doesn’t touch you. 

“Please,” you whine, “I can’t think straight.”

“Poor thing,” Leon murmurs, dipping his head forward and sucking on the bloody mark.

Keening, you rock your ass back against him, clit pulsing like a second heartbeat. He groans and lathes his tongue across the bite, sharp teeth teasing at your skin. 

“Oh god,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as he sinks his teeth into a spot on your shoulder after tugging your shirt out of the way. 

“Fuck, that looks good,” the man in front of you growls, moving up to sandwich you between them.

He copies his supposed look alike— pressing hot, open mouthed kisses from your jawline to your shoulder before savagely biting into the flesh. You cry out into the night, back arching forward, pushing yourself into two hungry mouths. After each monster works the skin with their teeth, they pull away, each admiring their own handiwork.

Your brain feels like it’s melting out of your ears. They’ve done nothing more than sink their greedy teeth into you and yet you’re on the cusp of an orgasm already. 

“I need to be inside her little pussy,” Leon pulls away, grinding his bulge against your ass. “Gotta stuff that hot cunt.”

“Mmm, I just want this soft, pretty mouth,” the strange creature in front of you groans, body stretching tall once more. “Bend over for us, sweetness.”

They maneuver your body like a puppets, stripping your jeans and panties down to your ankles and folding you forward, shivering as your soaked pussy is exposed to the cold October air. 

“Oh, good girl,” one of them moans while a cock notches at your drippy hole followed by one slapping across your lips. 

“Open wide,” a vicious croon ending in a groan as your jaw parts on a keen, lips and tongue eagerly working the cock deeper into your mouth.  

Salty precum bursts across your tastebuds and you suck harder, needing more of that taste to flood your mouth. 

“Damn, fucking gagging for it, huh?” 

Moaning, your eyes well with tears, body pressing back against the fat tip teasingly pushing in and out of your cunt. 

“Ready?” 

“Go ahead and stuff that little pussy, Leon.”

Your fluttering walls stretch around the fat length rocking steadily into your sopping wet cunt. 

“Oh god, she’s so—fuck, so fucking—her pussy’s so hot,” he whines, pelvis coming to rest against your ass, cock buried completely in your hole. 

“Yeah? This mouth is so soft and wet,” a low grunt meets your ears as you hollow your cheeks and suck him off more sloppily. “Fuck, use that slutty tongue, ohhh, there we go.”

You’re totally mindless, completely giving in to the pleasure of having a thick cock in your mouth and cunt, stretching you open wide in different ways. Drool slips from the corner of your mouth to drip in thick strings off your chin. 

The cock buried deep in your cunt, throbs and kicks, leaking precum in your clenching heat. The man fucking your mouth grips your head with both hands, holding you steady as he rocks his hips back and forth, balls slapping against your chin.

“Can you rub her clit?” Leon grits out, raising his clawed fingers up. “I don’t wanna cut her.”

“Oh, I can rub that swollen needy clit,” he chuckles. “Gonna make that fat pussy cream all over your cock.”

You whine, suckling the head of his cock before bobbing your head back down, gagging yourself. 

“Fuck,” he tosses his head back. “Yeah you like that, fucking slut. ‘m gonna shoot my load down this hot throat.”

Your eyes roll back, something soft flicking and rubbing against your clit and making your legs shake. 

“Like my tail? Can feel that pudgy bud throbbing for some attention,” he goads mockingly. “So… slippery.”

Behind you, Leon begins humping your pussy at a rougher pace, cock pistoning in and out of your cunt, a wet plap plap plap that turns you on even more. 

The more you moan the rougher they become, fucking your mouth and pussy with near abandon as one of them plays with your clit. You cum hard, pussy pulsing and fluttering around the cock bullying its way into your hole. Fluid gushes from you cunt, soaking your thighs and the man behind you. 

“God, we got a squirter,” the man fucking your mouth growls out. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum in this fucking mouth. Oh yes, suck me, suck me, oh shit.”

He hisses and hot thick ropes of cum shoot down your throat. You swallow as much as possible until you start to choke, coughing around his dick until he pulls it out, spurting a few more ribbons of spend all over your lips and chin. 

Growling from behind paired with a death grip onto your hips are all signals of Leon’s impending orgasm. He snaps his hips a few more times, sinking into you to the hilt and spilling deep inside your cunt. 

“Yeah, fill that fucking pussy up.”

Leon groans, rutting against your ass as he keeps cumming inside your milking cunt. 

“God, it’s so good,” he pants, pulling out to jerk off the last of his load onto your ass. 

While you’re all trying to catch your breath, you collapse down onto your knees—or you would have if it wasn’t for Leon gripping your waist at the last minute. He fumbles with your panties and jeans until he gets them pulled back up into place. 

“How long til that shit wears off?” The one in front of you looks back to normal—a blue eyed man with not a blonde hair out of place. 

“Maybe another twenty minutes. We should probably sneak her back to that party,” the one behind you steps up next to you, looking identical.

“Let’s head out then, bro.”

Leon rolls his eyes and swings you up into a bridal carry, falling in step behind the other one. Eyelids feeling like they’re weighed down by a pile of bricks, you let them fall shut. You’ll have time to worry about whether or not they’re going to kill you later.