#demon fucking

[eldritch-spouse]

Can we get Santi making his match ~Properly~ apologize after they gave in and resummoned him after banishing him?

[Ohhh I'm gonna hurt you good. Fem reader.]

TW: Manipulation; Brief but descriptive past gore; Struggling with trauma; Angst and abuse.

Ironic, isn't it?

You did it. You successfully banished a high-ranking demon from your life. Not just any high-ranker, one that claimed to be your "match". You had assumed that was just another appeal to emotions back then, a trick to wrap your around his pinkie further, but you've done a lot of research in order to successfully pull off what you did, and there's no lie to be found in those words.

Few humans can drive their matches away for good, very few. You have the scars to show for it, certainly. The ragged rifts on your limbs from when Santi had sunk his claws so very deep into your flesh, raking them down and tearing your muscles apart in the process. You have a bad eye. It's not blind, but it's definitely not as good as its twin. Lastly, of course, there's the dead and withered mark on your mons... Faded, but still there, still visible, still mocking you every single time you look at yourself in the mirror.

It's been years.

Yet you still scrub at it ruthlessly, hoping that it'll disappear little by little, like a grease stain. The nightmares remain, feeling it throb through your entire organism, glowing that hellish magenta, signaling the nearness of your personal castigator. Your unrequited pest that, much like a cockroach, refuses to die.

It's been years...

And he's still haunting you.

He's in Hell, probably in Lust if you had to guess, where he belongs- And he's still fucking up your life. Poetic, a true demon.

The exhaustion you felt the moment Santi successfully got phased back into the fires has stayed since. It dug roots into your soul, hugging it possessively, his parting gift to you- Numbness.

You reinvented your life.

New hairstyle, new fashion, new place to live, new interests, new friends. It felt like the only way to be free of the incubus was to become anyone but the person he claimed to have fallen in love with.

No matter what you did, what new hobby you took on or what personal goal you achieved, you never felt accomplished, never felt good. Psychologists treated your supposed chronic depression with every tactic they had, only succeeding in making you feel even more pathetic when every single one of them failed.

It was clear you were not in the mindset to begin any type of relationship, but... Your libido demanded it of you. It's unclear what changed your appetite. Was it the mark? Was it the constant sexual contact you had before? Or is it just that you can't satisfy yourself anymore? Maybe all.

You tried sex again once.

It was... A monumental disappointment.

Enough to make you swear it off, and live in a gross state of constant frustration, unsolvable no matter how much you pushed yourself into new spaces to attain new sensual experiences. Maybe, maybe you just had to try something different, right? Try a few kinks.

No, not even the almost shameful collection of toys you've amassed since Santi's been gone have done a single thing to relieve you properly. Every orgasm feels dull and requires too much effort.

You started hating yourself when the only thing that seemed to make you cum faster was thinking of him.

The image of your very own abuser above you, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear and moaning as he sunk his cock into you. The thought of his skin on yours was enough, it was effective- And the wave of pure self-hatred that rolled over you when you orgasmed crying his name was strong enough to make you break down into screaming tears, naked and soaked and humiliated.

You'd wake up in fetal position, throat hoarse, the crust of your own pleasure sticking to your thighs, numb as per usual.

It's been years, of this.

And today, you've given up.

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, of course not. It was more of a slow spiral into hopelessness.

Is this misery going to be the rest of your life? This insupportable existence.

You'd rather never live another day than allow it to continue. And if, to fix it, you need Santi again... Then you need him again.

Is it weak of you, to do this? Maybe a stronger, more dignified person would choose death. But you've been worn down, you've never recovered, you're still on his fucking palm!

Were you ever truly free of Santi?

What does it matter, right? If you're still going back to him after all this.

Making a summoning circle is easier, certainly more so than cleverly hiding a banishment circle. Droplets of shame drip down your cheeks as you arrange it, as you come to terms with your defeat.

In spite of his rank, there's no need for a big offering. Santi will know it is you who's calling him, because of your blood. You're letting him know preemptively. An orgasm should suffice.

There's no need to think about his sigil, the very shape of it is embedded on your frontal lobe, a pesky cattle tag clipped onto your body. It's on your fucking cunt, the blasted thing.

There's a long moment of contemplation where you stare at the spacious circle in your living room. A brief streak of resilience has you wanting to put everything away, except your legs don't budge, stone-like.

Once more, your mind says no, but your body says yes.

Bile rises in your throat, yet if there's anything you've learned to do by now, it's swallowing.

There's an exhausted grimace in your complexion as you sink to your knees before the circle, pushing panties aside, and fall into your guiltiest pleasure. People use the term very loosely these days, you've noticed.

It should disgust you how easy it is, how quick you approached a peak, how the anticipation of feeling his hellishly delightful touch brought you that much closer, that much faster, that much wetter- You're a loser.

And maybe you deserve this. Whatever comes of this.

As soon as you orgasm, the circle pulses, your blood seems to sink into the demonic sigil, and a stillness follows, lulled by the hum of a portal waiting to manifest.

Torpid hues study it. Seconds pass. A minute maybe.

A hysteric little giggle escapes as you wonder if he'll deny you now. Reject you.

No. No, he wouldn't- That filthy piece of scum would suck the grime off your shoes sooner than reject you. Because that's all he is, a worthless fucking worm who should be grateful you're letting him see your face again.

Eventually, a rift cracks through the floor, widening, the symphony of Hell echoing out in a scream of triumph. A hand pushes through, as dark and large as you remember it, sinking into the first anchor it finds. Soon, a great body is pushed through.

Santi.

... Santi?

Your breath catches in your throat.

He looks... Off. Turned away from you, crouched in the circle, it's hard to put your finger on what's changed, but he feels different. His horns have grown bigger, sharper.

Motionless, you watch a thick tail twitch. He rises to a stand carefully, joints cracking when he rolls his neck. God, that's not his usual posture at all. And then, you get to see his face. Gaunt cheeks, a larger, darker mouth with unnatural teeth. Santi's charm had been, in large part, his ability to toe the line between handsome and monstrous, taking advantage of his inhuman abilities to impose and using his sightly features to cause a "scared but horny" effect. That line has been long eroded, if you had to guess.

What strikes you the most are the eyes.

His stare has changed completely. The demon looks... Horrifying. Where once there had been something sharp and seductively warm to hide the evil beneath, there's now a corrosive transparency oozing off him, an animal carelessness. The left eye is particularly dulled, having lost pigment, the pupil won't move, lodged in an upwards position as if midway through rolling back into his skull. The whisker on that eye is also damaged, it looks to have been cut.

Certainly, it wasn't just you that changed.

You both look like complete shit. Well, he looks like shit as much as a concubus can...

Still, once he's fully turned towards his summoner, Santi attempts to put on a familiar mask.

The result is a far cry from the past.

" Minx. "

The incubus nods, his gaze blazing into you, unreadable.

Your mind wars between fear and irritation. The nerve of this motherfucker, to immediately address you the same way he did when you were but his mindless cur! When he did unspeakable things to you in the name of love. This anger is tempered by the shock of his rougher tenor, by the simple fact that you hadn't heard Santi's voice in so long- It feels too real, it feels like he can hurt you just with it.

Returning the favor, you call him by something that'll make him feel vulnerable.

" Noph'ae. "

A slight wrinkle.

Success.

His chest inflates. You think Santi's about to start shouting at you, but he just exhales afterwards. This happens a few times before you realize he's smelling something.

" It's been a while since I've been to the surface. The smells are so different, the lights, you take it for granted until it's stolen from you. "

He stole a lot of things from you that you took for granted too.

When Santi's tongue snakes out, it becomes clear he's now just trying to catch whiff of your recent arousal. Whatever trace of it still wanders.

Surprisingly, all the incubus does afterwards is just... Sit down, in the middle of the circle, continuing to look you up and down, as placid as can be.

You hadn't expect this, needless to say. You assumed there would be anger, indignation, a vicious desire to maul you or demands to let him free. Mockery even. Not this. Not nothing.

Your attempts to stare him down and coax some kind of response -Not that you even know what you want to hear from him. An apology? A justification?- Are fruitless. He just stares back, and speaks when he pleases.

" I see life has treated you harshly. Pity. "

" Shut- " The anger lodged in your throat like a knot makes you choke. " Shut the fuck up. "

He does, waiting. A few seconds pass before you can gather enough calm to say anything.

" I hate you. "

Santi blinks slowly, the words having no effect on him. God knows you've screamed them a hundred times and they never amounted to anything. Why would they now?

Still, the fact that he seemingly won't react to them drives you mad enough to pull at your own hair in a small tantrum.

He smiles faintly at the show.

" Would it please you to hear me say the same? " Santi interrupts the pain, making you all but glare venomously at him.

" It would make you happier if I said I hate you too, right? After you banished me. That I only exist to make you hurt. That I answered your call just so I could wait for a moment to kill you. " He sighs. " That's what you want. "

" But that's not the truth. "

When Santi's expression softens, and he spends several moments openly observing you in an almost nostalgic manner, a pit of dread forms in your stomach.

You start shaking your head. " No. No, don't you fucking dare- "

" I love you. "

A shriek bursts out of you. " You piece of shit! You don't know what love is, you know fuck all about love, all you know is how to break someone down to nothing! "

New tears follow tracks already left behind. " You can't even apologize to me. You're just soulless, aren't you? "

" If ever there was someone I loved, it was you. " He taps the floor with his clawtips as he speaks. " I only wanted us to be. You felt it too, but you kept fighting it. I would never willingly let you take away the best feeling I had ever felt. It was my paradise. "

" It was my Hell. "

He frowns.

" Don't lie to yourself. "

Before you can bark anything else at the demon, he continues.

" It was 'your Hell', but here you are, calling for me again. " Silence. " Doesn't add up. "

There's so much you want to say. So much you want to shout at him. Too many ways to contest his arrogance, his shamelessness, too many ways you'd like to torture him. The rage fueling you, generating those fantasies, dies when you realize it's all pointless.

Santi won't ever believe he's wrong. He won't ever say what he did to you wasn't justified. You could probably kill him, he'd still think he was right all along.

It rips the small, sick joy you could attain from picturing him groveling for all his mistakes. Talking to Santi about this is like debating a brick wall. It's time to move on.

He reads the defeat on your face plainly, wisely deciding not to poke further.

" What happened to your eye? "

The incubus tilts his head. " Concerned for me, love? " Again, he hardly allows you to inhale. " I felt that we should match. "

Confusion and anger is a very bad mix. " Is that your idea of a joke?! "

" No I... " Santi has the decency to look away, if even for a second. " I wanted to punish myself. It was never my intent to blind you. "

You huff, then make a broad gesture over your face. " And the rest? "

He lets the question hang for a while, then shrugs. " I've changed. Didn't you? "

As much as you want to deny it, squish it like a bug, reality is that he's been miserable too. It shows. This should make you happy, but all you can feel is a mysterious frustration.

Only in the ensuing silence do you begin to hear the gentle pitter patters of raindrops on the windows. A soothing sound, hushing the turmoil in your racing mind for a fraction of a heavenly beat.

" Will you break the circle, love? " Santi eventually concedes, leaning the least bit forward.

The fact that he's the first to address the matter of his summoning is a small victory for you, one that doesn't please you that much, though you still eat it up. It must be hard for him, seeing you after so long, yet not being able to touch. Must be torture. Good.

There's an avenue of power you'll always have over Santi, a double-edged sword actually, but he's more affected by this than you are. As his match, you are the incubus' most favored meal, and just being in front of him in nothing but your panties is likely chipping at his composure in fast swings.

Not that you are faring that much better, your current arousal may be buried under the scent of your orgasm, but it will fade soon, there'll be nothing to mask the want then. Even if he's endured some changes, the demon before you is still the one that made you reach platforms of pleasure previously unfathomable to you. Even when you didn't want it, even when... The mark...

How can you still want him, even after all this time?

" No. "

The answer comes easily.

" How am I to offer my services then? "

" You're not touching me! " Of course he will, who are you even lying to anymore?

Santi rolls his neck, tail thumping idly while confusion writes itself on his complexion.

Wordlessly, you reach for the waistband of your underwear, removing it slowly. The cloth is aimlessly twirled around your index, then thrown half-heartedly into the circle.

Predictably, pathetically, Santi swipes it before the thing can even make contact with the ground, bringing it to his face instantly. The sound he emits is like a sobbed groan, he rubs himself on it like a house cat, breathing it in, drooling on the fucking thing as he appears to damn near drug himself on the scent of your pussy.

It's satisfying.

It feels powerful, in a depraved and unhealthy way.

Which is why you never expected him to turn to you with a look that gushed utter vitriol.

" Break this circle. " He demands, finally using a voice befitting of his rank and infernal authority.

It's always a shock when Santi does this. The demon so deliberately maintains his tone to a seductive lulling purr, that when his patience chips just enough to let the real beast slip, it thunders through your composure.

" N- No! Be silent! "

Even to yourself, you sound like a frightened bleating animal.

" Pathetic! " The incubus laughs, straightening, leaning those great horns forward just to have you watch when he hooks your panties in the left one. Like a prize. " You summon me out of desperation, then play footsie and cocktease like a coward- "

" Desperation?! " Your own anger rises like burning bile. " Typical of a fucking demon to think so highly of yourself! "

Santi pauses to look at you quietly, wordlessly and petulantly asking you if you're sure that's your answer. A challenge.

" I don't need you for anything! "

" Are you hearing yourself, Minx? Why am I here, then? " A dark finger wags. " Better yet, why did you summon me and not another concubus, hm? "

Wracking your brain for answers that are anything but the truth takes time, time Santi won't offer you.

" I'll tell you why. Because you made a hotheaded decision and you've been living with the consequences of it for all this time. And you can't take it anymore. "

White knuckled fists begin to quake.

" So you banished a high-ranker, ooh la la, quite the feat! " Sardonic clapping rings across the room. " But you don't know how to get that out, do you? "

When Santi points at the mark previously hidden by your panties, goosebumps cover you from head to toe.

" You don't know how to make your mind forget me, much less your needy, luscious little body. " That pointed index moves from your pelvis to your chest. " I rocked you to the very core! The same way you took me by the neck, woman. "

All you can do is gulp, and all he can do is watch the motion of your throat.

" And it's not so easy, shattering our bond, love. We have a beautiful thing, that you've tried to ruin. I still don't know why... But what I do know, is that you've put us both through torture, isn't that right? Or do you think you were the only one miserable all this time? "

For some reason, no matter how angry you are and how much you want to say, the words won't leave your mouth.

" Was it fun? Tell me, did you have a good time? " He's already laughing. " Was it nice to never feel relief, to crave pleasure you could never achieve on your own again? This isn't like smoker's withdrawal, it doesn't go away. Did any body you ever sampled after mine offer even a tenth of what you had? "

It feels like your airway is tightening.

" No. Of course not. You never got it through your skull that neither of us had a choice in this. There are some things in life we don't get to choose, right Minx? We're each other's matches, and we have real chemistry together. That scares the living soul out of you, doesn't it? That you'll always want me. "

A choked cough makes it past your lips. He's as close to you as he can get from within the carved, advanced circle. No salt here, Santi would bulldoze through it immediately.

" As much as I love you, my sweetest delight, you are selfish. More than me. Because you never stopped to put yourself in my shoes. I am just as much of a slave to you as you are to me, there's no denying that. "

The next words he throws at you lash welts into the very fabric of your being.

" Even worlds apart, with all the wards and circles and magical aid, you will still be mine. And I will still be yours. "

Hearing him say what you had recently come to realize makes you deflate in a way you can't even describe. It's the final nail on the coffin you had no idea you were inside of. The last embers of a flame before wind blows it away. He's silent while the waves of defeat wash over your figure.

Several seconds later, Santi resumes with a somewhat calmer lilt.

" We'll never be free of each other, not without the type of pain that would make you rather die than keep breathing. That's what I've been trying to tell you from the very start... So, why don't we start over? "

You hadn't realized that you had begun glaring at the floorboards in the middle of his speech, only now cautiously rising your gaze to the agitated demon trying to gather his own calm.

" After you apologize to me, naturally. "

Finally, your mouth opens. " A- Apologize? "

Santi huffs. " Well yes, love. None of this would have transpired if you had just listened to me all those years back. I rather think I deserve this much, don't you? "

You hate him. You hate him so much. But, most of all, you hate that he's right.

Your fate had already been decided long before you could begin to make a choice. You won't get rid of him, because just like Santi says, even when he's away, your body will torture you to find him again. And it doesn't stop, because you don't have the means to make it stop. He said it perfectly, which might mean he's been mulling over this conversation as many times as you have mentally imagined it.

You're just so tired. Even if every ounce of rage in your heart demands that you send him back into the fire and tough it out, even if it kills you- Another part of you craves rest, comfort, calm. It wants the normalcy and modicum of well-being you'd sometimes feel before.

It wants this to end, at any cost.

Maybe you do have to learn to live with him.

Because it's not a choice for you. For your health or mental stability.

Maybe if things are done just right, you can mold him into a more tolerable person, you can teach him to be more than he once was. It's disgusting that you have to fix Santi, but it's the only way, isn't it? That's the only way to make it work and spare yourself unnecessary torment.

And, to fix him, you first need to make amends.

" I'm... " It's as if your tongue won't move to form the rest of the sentence. It has to be forced. " I'm sorry, Santi. "

Perhaps the only thing that makes it sound sincere is the fact that you're already emotionally exhausted.

The demon hums. " Very nice, that's a start. " You quirk a brow. " But for a proper apology, you should break this circle. "

A denial almost slips off your tongue without thinking, making the demon's gaze harden. Realistically, there's no escaping this. You're going to have to let him out one way or another, might as well have it be a gesture of cooperation. For a better future.

Sighing, you reach behind the slightly shifted couch, knocking three glowing crystals out of the specific order they were previously in. These same crystals were the ones you used to create a circle not even a high-ranker like Santi can break through- They were incredibly expensive, and acquiring them without raising his suspicion proved to be one of the most anxious episodes of your entire life.

Instantly, the glow that once contained Santi and limited the summoning rift's width fades away, leaving only hasty chicken scratch markings on the ground. He looks mildly bewildered that you actually followed through, but the expression wipes itself away quickly.

There's barely enough time for you to turn before Santi's all but prowling after you, a massive body colliding with yours while restless hands instantly dart everywhere.

He seems to want to do everything at once. In his desperate longing, the incubus crushes you against him, palms grabbing the globes of your ass then squishing the fat of your sides as he buries his face into your neck and snarls hard enough to make you quiver like a leaf in the wind. One second he's rubbing your legs luridly, the next he's rolling your tits and trying to lock his teeth around your neck. It's too much too fast, but exactly what your body had been craving for endless time. It wanted his attention, wanted his soothing- Your whines fall somewhere between frustrated and inconsolable, largely drowned out by his vaguely intimidating calls of delight.

Beastly in his want, Santi licks your jaw to a humid, tingling mess before forcibly crashing his lips unto yours, easily weaseling his tongue inside. Traces of your own arousal linger, but are otherwise negligible compared to the euphoria of his kiss. It's just as powerfully addictive as it was the very first time he selfishly stole the gesture.

And, if there's one good thing about Santi's irresistible nature, it's that his pheromones and fluids won't allow you to feel guilt for enjoying this. What a wonderful excuse, to let yourself sink into the experience bereft of all shame.

You can't hope to halt the noise of animal pleasure that rips itself out your throat, something he moans for, happily receiving and encouraging it. Santi's fevered hand eventually snakes downward and palms the faded mark still clinging to you, before reaching further and offering you just the briefest feathered brush against your clitoris. He soaks his digits in your generous wetness to make the motions even more fluid, the teasing very quickly has you shifting your hips in between heated kisses and breathless panting.

No matter how much you wordlessly beg him to indulge what you'd both been deprived of for far too long, Santi doesn't cave. In fact, he growls warningly whenever you try to buck, claws digging into your meat so you can't rock yourself on him.

" None will ever compare. " He finally parts, mouth as coated in your drool as yours is in his. There's a dreamy look in those tired eyes. " I wracked the Rings looking for someone that could satisfy me, and I went mad along the way Minx, but it was okay. "

A force on your shoulders takes you by surprise, the ensuing impact of bare knees on wooden tiles sobers you up gradually. Quiet clicks follow when Santi takes a few steps back.

" Because I knew you'd call for me again. "

What a nice way to say he knew you'd come crawling right back like a bitch in heat...

As you kneel there in disheveled confusion, Santi merely beckons you forward with a deceitfully warm smile.

It's obvious he wants you to crawl, but you still try to play dumb and raise a leg.

" Stand and I will be much meaner to that pretty face, love. "

A threat that instantly stills you.

" I'm not discouraging you, by all means, I miss those times where I could feel you try to breathe through your nose but you were so flush to me you couldn't... "

His words alone evoke a myriad of images, flashes of his teeth twisting into pleased grimaces and the oxygen-deprived skip of your heartbeat while spots danced around the edges of your sight. Memories that feel all too vivid now.

Crawling towards Santi is far from the most embarrassing thing you've done, so it's hardly worth antagonizing him about it.

The monster's own anticipation betrays him and he steps forward to close the last bit of distance between you, expression somewhere between manic and endlessly adoring when he whispers.

" Now, show me you're sorry. "

You know what to do to get the incubus revved up, not that he needs much assistance, seeing as he's practically bursting out his slit.

Keeping eye contact, a reverent kiss to that overheated sheath and a tongue flirting with the edge is all it takes for him to groan, holding your head to the side so you can watch his cock slide out, already throbbing from repressed arousal. Fortunately, nothing's changed on this end. He's still just as mouth-watering as you remember him from all those years ago.

Before you can wrap your lips around him, Santi grabs a soft hold of your hair.

" Tell me about the people you've bedded after me. "

You frown. " I only... Only had sex once. "

The demon tilts his head, mind seemingly shattered by that. " Once? "

After your nod, he nudges you slightly. You get the pleasure of seeing him inhale sharply at the first feel of your warmth around him, a shaky sigh following while he waits for you to worship him properly.

" You poor thing, was it truly that bad? "

There's no answer to be had aside from your slight gag when you attempt to take a little too much of him too soon. Santi pauses just to buck and make you gag again, the gross sound turning him on. He triggers the reflex until your face is flushed and there's strings of drool hitting the floor.

" Ssh sh, that's perfect, just the way I love it. " He murmurs praises when you pull away to cough hard.

" What did you do then, to make it bearable? " Santi appears to forge his own answer. " Did you spend your days fucking yourself to the thought of me? "

Instead of thinking about his words, you just focus on pleasuring the monster, bobbing on him effectively enough to disrupt his train of thought a few times. He makes a guttural sound when you audibly pop your lips and pulses madly.

" Hhn- Did you ever regret it then? In those moments where you were just so close but nothing would get you there... And you knew you banished the only one that could help. "

When you fail to pick up the pace accordingly, Santi rolls his own hips into your now stationary face, occasionally choking you deliberately, but also pausing to simply let himself rest on on your tongue. He intends to languish every moment of this.

" Because I thought of you when nothing and no one could make me cum. I thought of every sound you made and every inch of your stupidly gorgeous skin. " His tone intensifies with his speed, words chopped into tight breaths. " I hope. You crawled. The walls. "

Almost.

" I hope- You screamed. My name. "

You did.

" And I hope. " He pants. " In the end. You cried. "

You... did.

Santi's getting close, you already know all his tells, down to what muscles he twitches when he's nearing an orgasm. Part of being his match is knowing his body well, though not as well as a demon of carnality can read yours.

Instead of wanting to sink as far into your throat as he can, Santi offers mercy to your creaking jaw when he merely has you suck him hard around the most sensitive spot, curling forward slightly in his mounting pleasure.

" That means you learned something from this. So you won't have to cry anymore. "

When his jaw becomes slack, the first rush of sizzling ecstasy hits your tongue, a taste imprinted deep into your brain, like sweet liquor enabling a spiral into total debauchery. You know, somewhere in what's left of your rational mind, that ingesting his fluids will only make you more restless- But this is exactly what you wanted.

You want that hit. The high. The relief. Is it really a spiral when it feels so good?

The incubus refuses to indulge your greedy wish, pulling you off his length so he can make a mess of your already less than composed visage. You hardly have the mind to care about the flashes of warmth as he paints you all pretty, simply smiling contentedly. Santi finds it endearing enough to coo.

" There, my lovely little Minx, aren't things better already? " His claws swipe gently over your cheeks and chin, entering your mouth with another offer of poisonous sweetness you can't decline. He lets you clean him at your own sluggish pace, spare hand pumping a slick but by no means spent cock to the sight.

The rest of it is rubbed across your lips like some perverse gloss.

" I love you so much. " He swoons. " Say it back to me. "

You barely heard his request, too busy hypnotized by his eyes. Even damaged, they're still the eyes of the most captivating creature to ever exist, for your cum-drunk brain.

" I... Mm... " You swallow, every inch of your throat feels sticky. There's something dripping down your neck.

He leans down to mouth the words for guidance, but all you do is try to reach his lips for another kiss, causing the incubus to laugh and shake his head.

" Come one, darling. Three words, I want to hear them from my one and only. "

Although his tone is so sickly sweet it borders on sardonic, you're able to focus enough to at least heed the request.

" ... I love you. "

" I love you, Santi. " He corrects quietly, yet sternly.

" I- " The lustful fog only ever allows you seconds to think clearly. " I love you, Santi? " "

He makes a face that reads something among the lines of 'good enough', grinning in an all too familiar way.

" Then hold on. "

It's a while before you realize he's not telling you to wait. Santi has curved his head just enough that you have access to his horns, and though you give him a slightly puzzled look, all he does is chuff impatiently. Your panties still hang off his horn, you imagine he'd like to keep them on for as long as he can get away with it.

As soon as you have decent purchase on those thick handles, large hands swipe you up by the ass, making you clap onto his thighs. Santi bounces you a bit more until he can stand a little straighter, with you effectively anchored onto him by the horns. Instinct has you quickly crossing your legs around his midsection. He's holding you up as if you weigh less than feathers.

The demon rumbles from the depths of his chest, a feral and drooling Cheshire beam.

" First order of business, my love, is fixing the gift I so kindly offered. "

He uses one hand to smooth over the residual mark and tuts, the distaste written all over his face. Said hand helps him adjust and, in what felt like a blink, he's hilted inside you.

Both of you quiver and call out in tandem.

Your own orgasm is triggered immediately, the cry of an addict reaching delirious heights, your vision darkens for the briefest second as you can only groan senselessly and milk Santi with a grip that might have made him burst if he hadn't only moments ago. Instead, he merely huffs and rasps curses in a tongue you don't grasp.

He drags you off his length deliciously, every ridge bumping its way out, then shoves you back down with intentional force, cockhead kissing spots that have you nearly dizzy. Each disorienting thrust has you struggling to get enough air in your lungs, toes curling hard enough to tease a cramp while your arms fight to keep holding on and your legs don't know where to shift- Not that Santi allows you to squirm much.

" Lords- " He has to loll his tongue out for a second, teeth glistening and chest heaving. " I could die buried in you. Did you miss this, Minx? "

As if you had the wits to answer him right now, grinding your teeth from overstimulation. He laughs when your body freezes every now and then, unable to accompany so much mounted pleasure.

" Save your voice, and save your tears, because when I fuck you full of cum, you're going to feel every inch of that mark blaze to life again. "

And he's right, the sparks are already burning you...

After tonight, there's no going back.

[vaya-writes]

Not Quite A Life Debt - 3

A handful of f reader insert scenes with m demonic love interests. Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smutty shenanigans that lean kind of poly.

You (kind of unnecessarily) tried to save Ludwig’s life. Out of pity, he lets you crash at his place for a few weeks after. It probably wouldn’t be so bad, but he doesn’t live alone. Reader stays with the triplets until she gets back on her feet. Smut, family shenanigans, and possibly even romance ensues.

Mervin is kind of crabby after his heat he gets sick. You begin searching for employment. And Ludwig helps you out on a high pain day. 5900 words.

Content warnings for this chapter include: mild isolation, some blame from the resident pride demon, pain and sickness during menstruation, the briefest and undescribed animal death (Obie eats a pigeon), and smut.

Smut warnings include: consensual fingering and groping whilst menstrating, brief joking/discussion of menstural oral (does not actually occur), soft stuff that turns a little rough, unintentional and unplanned breath play (hand over mouth), nonconsensual biting (from both parties), dry humping, semi-public sexual stuff, lack of aftercare because of an interruption.

Divider by firefly-graphics. Characters by @eldritch-spouse.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous

You get used to living in Perdition.  

Well, it would be more accurate to say you get used to living with Ludwig and his brothers. You’re not allowed to leave the house by yourself; the triplets make no secret of the fact that they live in a bad neighbourhood – a bad ring, as Ludwig puts it.  

It’s frustrating, but you don’t doubt them. It only takes a few brief tours around the area for you to understand. You attract stares everywhere you go. Leers, really. And watching what demons do to each other (both strangers on the street, and the brothers among themselves), you hate to imagine what they might do to a human. 

It’s as if everyone here speaks several additional languages that humans just aren’t fluent with (literal infernal aside). Greed. Hunger. Violence. The first time you watch Mervin and Ludwig descend into a proper argument, you’re horrified. Nothing you’d seen at home – and you were no stranger to domestic scraps – could prepare you for it. Teeth and claws and broken furniture. Mervin draws a gods-damned weapon. You’d seen people fight before. But not like this. You’d dismissed yourself and locked yourself in the spare room the first time it had happened.  

Obie had dragged the two upstairs by the horns and made them apologise for scaring you. 

It’s not the only thing you notice. You don’t put your finger on it for a while. It takes several outings with the triplets, several more incidents and scraps before you start to suspect another key difference between demons and humans.  

It has something to do with their priorities. Their sense of self. Their interactions within a community. Humans aren’t selfless, by any means. But bonds form fast between them. Connections are quickly made, common goals are easily worked towards, and interconnectedness is practically built into our genes. The human instinct for empathy, to help those around us, to lean on each other for support – it's as if demons lack it.  

It truly is survival of the fittest for them. You suspect that if a demon can’t survive alone, they won’t survive at all. You see it in the way they think of themselves first. How Obie might reach for your food, before hesitating. Or Mervin opens his mouth to speak, before thinking better. That consideration, cohesion are learned traits. Conscious choices to practice, and not instinct.  

It scares you more in strangers. That the curiosity is not the first thing demons look at you with, but hunger. You’d feel like prey if you didn’t watch them do it to each other too. Like every person is a mark; looked at with the question ‘what can I gain from using you’ before asking something more basic, like ‘who are you’.  

Long story short, you don’t mind keeping to the house. 

The first time you go anywhere without them, it’s to Sloth, to stay with Katia. The circumstances are odd. Mervin had just come back from one of his extended trips. He’d strode through the door, seen you in the lounge and frozen for a moment, before stamping straight to his bedroom, and shutting the door with a slam. Ludwig had come home early that day and explained that Mervin was sick and needed the house to himself for a week. 

It didn’t make sense to you. But what did you know? Mervin was almost never around. You didn’t know what he was like when he was sick. Still, the hesitation when Ludwig had explained the situation, the look he shared with his mother when he dropped you off at her place – it led you to suspect that a key piece of information was being kept from you.  

It fills you with paranoia. But Katia is lovely. Spending time with her helps ease the anxiety in your chest. Most of her hours are spent at work or sleeping, but the moments of lucidity she spends with you are enjoyable. She shows you how to cook a few new meals. Lets you go through her photo albums and look at baby pictures of her sons. On the weekend she even takes you clothes shopping, and for the first time in almost a month you feel at ease, wearing clothes that you’ve chosen for yourself.  

When Katia returns you back to the common ring, Mervin is still home. He’s currently your least favourite triplet, but you make an effort to smile. “Feeling better?” 

He scowls, and you’re surprised at the amount of vitriol in his expression. “As if that’s your business.” 

You try not to visibly deflate. 

Katia tsks and frowns at her son. She pats you on the back. “He’s just embarrassed, sweetie. Don’t you pay him any mind.” 

She gives you a peck on the cheek before leaving, and sound of the door closing sends a wave of dread through you. You really don’t want to be alone with Mervin. 

But when you turn his expression has softened. If only marginally. He tilts his head. “She likes you.” 

You’re not sure what to say. You shrug as you take your shoes off. “We had fun.” 

You feel his stare on you, even as you cross the room. You head towards the kitchen, hoping for something to eat.  

“She bought you clothes.”  

His tone is almost accusatory. You can’t help but flush, shame starting to weigh on you. “She’s very kind.” 

To your dismay, he follows you to the kitchen. He crosses his arms and watches when you pull out the materials for a sandwich. Uncomfortable, you ask, “Do you want one?”  

He scoffs. “How long are you going to keep eating our food? Wearing our clothes?” 

You don’t let it show, but his words strike deep. You’re more than aware of the position you’re in. You cast your eyes towards the task at hand. Prepping food. “I don’t like it either. But it’s kind of hard to find a job when I’m forbidden from leaving the house.” 

He crosses his arms. “Excuses.” 

 “Did you want to escort me to Earth every morning?”  

“Now you’re asking us for transport too?” 

You’ve had enough. It’s either cry or snap. And you are not going to cry in front of Mervin. Instead you slam your knife to the counter.  

“I didn’t ask for this. I did not ask to be shunted from place to place my whole damn life. I’m sorry if that inconveniences you,” your tone is in no way apologetic.  

He’s silent as you leave. 

Immediately upon returning to your room, you regret the encounter. The last thing you need to be doing is antagonising your benefactors. But still. Ludwig was the one who invited you here, and if Mervin has a problem, he should be taking it up with his brother. 

-- 

You finally get a new job.  

It’s not without its difficulties – transit mainly. One of the triplets has to take you through a series of rifts. One to Earth. One to continent you hail from. Another to a large town. Ludwigs talks about establishing a proper route, about using the most stable rifts, and being prepared for a disruption to travel if any of them close. There’s a lot of jargon you don’t really understand. But he gets you back to Earth. Back to ‘gainful employment’.   

Mervin straight up refuses to be your escort. He’s not around enough anyway. Ludwig handles it most days, but Obie is always available to fill in when Ludwig is busy elsewhere. Neither seem to mind your spotty hours. You tell the triplets when you start and finish, and they’re usually able to have you delivered on time. 

Sometimes you take an afternoon for yourself. Spending time in a human city is good for you. You visit a library. Buy yourself necessities. Even do some grocery shopping. Nobody seems to fault you for it, and Mervin certainly complains less when you start bringing home your own food.  

And so you fall into the new routine. Working four to six days a week. Ludwig or sometimes Obie walking you there, chatting about your day or your plans. Finally starting to feel at ease in their home, now that you’re less of an imposition.  

You’re a shift worker, usually working mornings at a cafe. Your customer service is without fault and you know how to use a coffee machine. It was enough to get you the job. That and your eclectic resume. 

There’re still moments that throw you off. Behaviours from the triplets that take you by surprise, or the occasional week when you’re banished to Katia as one of them comes down sick with something. The three of them are rarely united about anything, but they all seem intent on keeping you in the dark regarding that odd ritual. 

One morning you wake up and are immediately torn over whether or not you should go to work. It’s a little late to call in. And Obie had already promised to take you. But your underwear are saturated with blood and your gut is torn up in cramps. Your period isn’t usually this bad, but you can already tell that today is going to be a hard one. 

You decide to suck it up. It’s just a bit of cramping. Of pain in your joints. Sure, it’s nauseating, and it takes a few minutes before you can stand and walk without limping. But you’ve done this before, and you can do it again. You didn’t survive this long by flaking out of work when things got tough. 

You almost miss the odd look Obie gives you as you head downstairs. Perhaps you mistake it for sympathy. You wear a grimace and make no effort to hide your discomfort. Still, Obie doesn’t say much on your way to work. He seems distracted, focusing his attention on the details around him, often picking up items to chew on.  

You try not to gape at the number of small things that disappear as you pass. A handful of bark flakes from a pot plant. A table number at an outdoor cafe. A pile of junk wrappers from his pockets. (Garbage from the pavement. A handful of leaves and twigs and flowers from any trees you pass. An actual bird that doesn’t have the fortune to flee in time.) He’s not hidden his gluttonous habits from you, from what you can tell, but today he consumes far more than usual. You wonder if he’s unwell.  

You put it out of mind when you get to work, saying your goodbyes and clocking in for the day.  

You don’t last long. It’s probably only an hour or two before you’re curled up on the couch in the break room, banished there after the manager spotted you limping. She tells you to go home. You’re torn between humiliation and gratitude. You send a message off to Obie.  

Unwell. Can you bring me home early? 

He sends you a thumbs up and you’re left to wait. 

His behaviour on the way home is almost distraction enough from your pain.  There’s pretty much always something in his mouth; this time he’d brought food from home with him. You watch curiously as he pulls out several sticks of gum when his food is gone. He only chews for a moment before he’s swallowed them too. It’d almost be funny if he didn’t seem so distracted. Ravenous to a degree which you’ve never seen. 

“Are you alright?” You ask at one point. 

He finally glances your way. Shrugs. “Smelt something tasty.” 

The explanation makes sense, if a little understated. You give him a sympathetic nod.  

Obie drops you off at the door before mumbling his excuses and leaving.  

You make a beeline for the lounge, planning to lay down and watch some tv. You grimace as you round the corner – Ludwig is already sprawled across the couch. 

“Is there room for me?” 

“Thought you had work?” He doesn’t quite straighten, but he does change his angle, leaving enough space for you to squeeze in beside him. 

Carefully, you do. “I was sent home sick.” 

Ludwig tenses and turns your way.  “You smell like blood.” 

You grimace.  

You know that demons have superhuman senses, and that such things are normal to them. But you still can’t help but feel self-conscious around them. Every time your heart speeds up, or your breath hitches, you have to wonder if anyone notices. If anyone overanalyses it. If they can tell when you forget to wear deodorant or can smell your lunch on your breath.  

You’d go crazy if you let yourself worry about it too much. After moving in with the triplets you decided to believe that they might notice these things, but they likely wouldn’t care. The same way you’d react if you saw a customer with a large zit, or a coworker having a bad hair day. You choose not to make a big deal about the things people can’t change. 

But if Ludwig is going to bring up the little details, if he’s going to speak without tact, why should you? 

“Probably because I’m bleeding from my vagina.” 

Ludwig winces. “Oh. Oh.” He snorts. "Guess that explains his behaviour.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

Ludwig gestures to the door. “Obie. Your blood. The smell.” He shrugs. “Delish.” 

Your nose crinkles. “Gross.” 

He grins. “I thought humans loved the blood drinking gimmick. Ya’ll go mad for vampires.” 

“Pop culture aside, I doubt many of us want to consider period blood in that context.” 

“Why? Blood is blood.” 

Your lip curls. “It’s different. Different composition. Different texture... Full of waste products... I really don’t want to think about it.” 

“I’ve seen that demon eat literal garbage. I don’t think he’s worried about your waste products.” 

“Don’t say it like that.”  

He doesn’t get a chance to tease you further, straightening when another series of cramps has you tucking your knees to your chest, gripping your abdomen to ease the pain. 

“You alright?” 

Your reply is hoarse. “Just peachy.” 

He touches his hand to your back. “What usually helps?” 

“Heat pack. Pain killers.”  

“I can have Ob bring some home. What else?” 

You clutch a cushion to your chest and rest your head against the couch end. “It’s fine. It’s just pain. I don’t want-” you stop. Restart. “You don’t need to do anything else.” 

Your eyes spring open when Ludwig grabs a fistful of your hair. Starts tugging on it. Gentle tugs, reminiscent of schoolyard teasing. Until a sudden yank that leaves your scalp stinging. 

“Ow!” Impulse has you slapping his hand away. “The fuck is your problem?” 

His voice doesn’t hold a drop of concern: fastidiously sweet. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” The tone drops and becomes resolute. “You should let me make it up to you. Tell me how to make you feel better.” 

You scoff at the ploy. “There’s nothing to do. Unless you want to spend the next few days waiting on me.” 

He pinches your cheek. “What, you want some coddling?” 

You swat him away again. “Your words, not mine.” 

“Hmm.” He rearranges himself. Before you have a chance to protest, you’re pulled between his legs, your back to his chest in an awkward embrace. “How’s this?” 

Your eyes are wide open now, and you’re stiff with surprise. Ludwig hadn’t struck you as the cuddling type. 

You’re still formulating a reply when he wraps an arm around your midsection, his forearm coming to rest against where your cramps are strongest. You note the heat, normally oppressive, seeping through the back of your shirt to relax your muscles. 

“That’s... that’s actually great. Fuck.” 

His chest rumbles with a laugh. 

You frozen, still unsure how to respond to the proximity. You haven’t been hugged in... a long time. 

 He pinches you again. “So what’s this shit about you imposing?” 

“I didn’t say-” 

“You implied.” He adopts a higher pitch, in mockery of your voice, “’You don’t need to do anything, being here is enough because I’m so sad and pitiful, wah.’” 

You mumble out a curse. “I don’t sound like that.” 

“You going to answer the question?” 

Your nose crinkles and you cross your arms. This isn’t a conversation you want to have. “I don’t like relying on other people.” 

“Obviously. Why?”  

You shrug. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome.” 

There’s a silence before Ludwig sighs. His fingers tangle in your hair again, this time to scratch at your scalp. It feels nice. 

“Are you always like this, or did Mervin say something?” 

You scowl, not pleased to have been read so easily. Your silence is answer enough. 

“I’ve lived with those two for decades. Believe me when I tell you that you’re a perfectly pleasant housemate in comparison. You’re tidier, quieter, more polite-” 

You shrug off his words. He’s not wrong. But years of living precariously has instilled into you a deep wariness of getting comfortable.  

“-and I told you that Mervin would talk shit.” He pauses, just enough for smugness to creep into his tone. “He likes you, you know.” 

You huff. “Doubtful.” 

“Yeah, he’d never tell it to your face, but I know my brother. And he’s said some pretty interesting things when you’re not around.” 

You almost turn to check his expression. Your stillness has probably given away your interest.  

“I don’t believe you.” 

Ludwig shrugs. “Believe me or don’t. But I know he likes you.” 

You chew on your lip, considering your recent interactions with the demon. If he likes you, he isn't very good at showing it. 

“Not as much as Obie though.” 

You get the distinct impression that you’re being teased. It’s hard to be mad with Ludwig kneading your shoulders, but still, you feel ill at ease. “You’re just making fun of them.” 

“I’m serious. Why else would he be so jittery today?” 

“You said that I smelt tasty.” 

“Do you think everyone smells good to him?” 

You scrunch your eyes closed. Lean your head back to rest against his shoulder. He’s starting to give you a headache. “How would I know?”  

“I guess you wouldn’t. Good thing I'm here to keep you informed.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s such a Mervin thing to say.” 

He crinkles his nose. Flicks you on the forehead.  

And despite yourself, you start to relax. It’s incremental. You’re still uncomfortable. You’re in pain and leaning against an absolute furnace of a demon. But your muscles loosen, and your breathing evens.  

You could probably sleep off the worst of your cramps if Ludwig stopped fussing. His ministrations aren’t particularly disruptive, but they do hold your attention. He squeezes your shoulders. Presses the flat of his palm above your mons, where the pain is worst. Gently scratches at your scalp and massages the back of your neck. 

You haven’t been just touched in a long time, and there’s a walled off piece of you that stirs to life at each point of contact.  

When he wraps his hand around your throat, the heat and firmness of his grip nearly have you melting. It’s enough to have you forgetting yourself, and you let out a hum of satisfaction. 

“You know, I’ve heard orgasms relieve pain.” 

Reality slams back into you, leaving you hyperaware of how you’re draped across Ludwig’s lap. The work he’d put into relaxing you is completely undone as you thrum with tension. Your mouth shuts tight with embarrassment.  

Your jaw is stiff when you reply. “Are you coming on to me?” 

He huffs a laugh. “Maybe. I guess.” 

You struggle to process. “Weren’t you just telling me that Obie liked me?” 

“Mm. You do have a knack for charming my family.” 

That doesn’t answer your implication. “Wouldn’t he be upset?” 

Ludwig shrugs. “First come, first served. And if he really has a problem, I don’t mind sharing.” 

You almost sit up, thoroughly scandalised and shocked.  

Almost. 

Ludwig is silent. Patient. Awaiting a response. Or perhaps just content to watch you reel. 

You take a breath. Try to consider his suggestion.  

It has its appeal. You haven’t gotten off in a while. Long enough that just sitting in Ludwig’s lap is enough to set your heart racing. But thinking about any form of intimacy ties your stomach up in knots that have nothing to do with your period. 

“I don’t want to fuck this up.” You’re thinking of your position here. Your welcome, and the things that could change if you were to start a casual fling.  

His lips brush your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck. “No strings attached. I’m just offering to help out a friend. Relieve some pain.” 

“Get your dick wet?” 

His hand creeps upwards, dipping under the hem of your shirt. It's hard to concentrate on anything else. “Not even.” 

You bite your lip, frozen with consideration. Anticipation.  

You like Ludwig well enough. He’s handsome, even. Rough around the edges, sure, but disarming with his occasional teasing and laid-back behaviour.  

“No strings attached?” 

“None.” 

“No further expectations?” 

He lets out a huff. “You can say no.” 

You shake your head. You’re not opposed. Just wary. Scared, even. 

But if he’s being genuine- if you have nothing to lose from accepting his help- 

Your knees fall apart and you relax further into Ludwig’s grasp.  

Then why not? 

“Okay.” 

Given permission, his hand disappears beneath your shirt. Traces the contours of your stomach. It almost tickles, how gentle he’s being. Something you hadn’t expected. With his free hand he squeezes your thigh. What limited area he can reach in this position is subject to deep, massaging touches.  

It helps to relax you, until your head is lolling back and your muscles are going slack again. And at first it seems like he’s content to just explore. Mapping out your abdominals. Your ribs. The underside of your breasts.  

He thumbs at the bra and tsks.  

“That can’t be too comfortable.” 

You hum your agreement. 

“Are you attached to this bra?” 

You shrug and shake your head. It’s just a plain white bra, one of multiple you own. 

“Good.” 

You’re pulled out of your lull by the sound of tearing cloth. Air touches your breasts, and you realise what he’s done. 

“You shit-” 

He grips you by the jaw, movements taking on a hint of force. Impatience or desire, you’re not sure. But your words are cut off when he crushes his lips to yours, tongue invading your mouth. 

The tips of his claws dig into your flesh where he grips your thigh. The sudden intensity has you reeling. Fuzziness closes in on your thoughts, enough to keep you pliant. There’s a part of you that’s indignant about the bra. The rough treatment. But mostly, you just want to see what he does next. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. “Wanted to see you. Feel you.” He emphasises with a squeeze of your breast. 

He goes back to kneading your thighs and you can’t help but squirm. You need your pants off. Now. You need to feel him against your skin. 

Impatient, you unzip them. Manage to shimmy them down to your ankles before giving up. But Ludwig gets the idea. 

Teasing, he runs a single digit up the inside of your thigh. The point of his nail prickles against your skin, hard enough to hurt. 

You can’t stop your hips from twitching. The shuddering intake of air. Your murmured little, “Fuck.” 

The sound must do things for Ludwig, because he stills. Then takes hold of your throat, nuzzling your neck and grinding against your back. You become aware of his erection.  

“You sound good,” he says against your ear.  

He palms your core and huffs a laugh when you shudder. “Feel good too.” 

You’re wet. When had that happened? Slick to the point where it’s too easy for him to stroke you through the cotton. It’s impossible to miss when he runs a claw directly over your clit. 

You buck, biting back a little groan. It’s getting harder to think. To control yourself. 

Ludwig chuckles at your response. “Someone’s keen.”  

You want to retort, but only manage a whine in response. He’s not wrong. You can’t remember the last time somebody touched you like this. 

Almost as if to punish you, his hand leaves your underwear. You do whimper this time, when he takes hold of your throat. The grip is solid, but not choking. Enough to scare you. Thrill you. But still light enough to keep you at ease. Even if you wish he’d go back to stroking your clit. 

He presses his lips to yours again. Starts to knead and squeeze at your breasts. 

You protests slip away as he fondles you. The pain too- you're too preoccupied by the cold air on your chest. The scrape of claws against your skin. At the hot breath on your face, the kiss with entirely too much teeth, and the tongue that keeps stuffing into your mouth.  

He’s more intense than you’d expected; the hand around your throat drifting up to grip your jaw. He ignores your attempt to break away for air. Steers you back towards him, insatiable and eager. The heat of his skin turning the kiss sweltering. Sweaty. Almost too warm. Too crowded.  

But damn if you aren’t into it. 

Finally you grab him by a horn and yank his face away, desperate for air, for an inch of space. 

It doesn’t deter Ludwig. He just reaches back towards your underwear, pressing kisses against your neck instead. Sucking hard against the tender flesh of your shoulder. Relishing the gasps he draws from you. Rubbing between your legs again. 

You’re deeply embarrassed by the way your underwear are starting to stick to you. It has you torn, the desire to be touched combatting your reluctance to be vulnerable. An instinctual compromise has you covering your face.  

“None of that,” Ludwig intercepts you by the wrist, pinning your arm to the couch. “I want to hear you.” 

You’ve no choice but to let your head slump back. It’s an effort not to clench your jaw, to let your body relax. To allow your composure to fall, and a string of soft gasps to escape you. 

It’s a blessing when he pulls your underwear aside. The cold air shocks you out of your self consciousness. Pulls you out of your own head a little more. 

There’s a moment of tension before he touches you, your knees spread as far as you can manage, trying not to cant your hips with how desperate you are for friction. 

He doesn’t touch your clit straight away. Your control breaks pretty easily, and you find your hips leaving the couch, seeking out his touch. 

He huffs a laugh against your ear, stilling his hand and waiting for you to settle.  

With the softest little huff you do, nearly vibrating out of your skin with the effort it takes to keep still as he places his hand on your mons. Strokes across your vulva. Spreading you open and exposing your wetness to the air. 

“If I’d known we’d be doing this, I’d have filed down my claws." 

You become hyperaware of them. Tense. With anxiety, with anticipation. Part of you is afraid of pain. Of a possible misstep. But mostly you just want to be touched. 

Ludwig flexes his hand. Rubs you with the pads of his fingers quite harmlessly. His free arm wraps around your chest and holds you in place when he finally touches your clit.  

You arch at the touch, inhaling shakily.  

It’s nothing fancy. It’s not like you haven’t touched yourself the same way before. 

But the breath on your neck, the change of scenery, the erection pressing into your back- 

“Shit,” you murmur.  

Then you’re coming against his fingers, far too quickly. 

Ludwig clamps a hand over your mouth. Your moans come out muffled; still entirely lewd. You grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as you arch against him.  

His chest rumbles at the contact and he grips you tighter, grinding against your ass. In a moment that both startles you and extends the aftershocks of your orgasm, you feel teeth clamp down on your shoulder. Hard, jagged, just shy of breaking the skin. 

Your moans turn into whines and you buck against him. He only grips you harder, hand skewing enough to cover your nose too. You’re not getting any air, and while part of you panics, another part of you melts. Light headedness kind of feels nice when your heart is pounding and pleasure is still rolling through your being.  

Still, all things in moderation.  

Soon you can hear your heart in your ears and your chest is aching for air. Your wriggling doesn’t dissuade Ludwig at all, but you desperately need to breathe. You could probably communicate this to him, could probably just tug his hand away from your face. But your limbs aren’t really back under your control yet, so instead you do the next best thing and bite him. 

“Oh- f-fuck.” 

His hand leaves your face as he grips you by the hips. Holding you in place as he grinds against you, lowly groaning against your shoulder.  

He stills. 

You both pant heavily in the following silence. 

“Did you just...” 

He relaxes back against the couch. “Oops.” 

“Ludwig!” 

Your embarrassment at how quickly you came is immediately washed away. You turn to stare your disbelief, but Ludwig isn’t even looking at you. His brow is raised, and he’s looking up towards the doorway- 

The front door opens. 

“Hey, sorry, I forgot my phone-” 

Obie only takes two steps into the room before his head whips towards you and he freezes. 

You’re still hazy, and for a moment nobody reacts. Then shame rushes in and you’re yanking your shirt down, clamping your knees shut. Your mouth opens, and you want to speak, to explain, but nothing comes out. 

Ludwig wipes his hand on his pants and snorts. “I guess you caught me... red handed?” 

Eyes wide, you turn to him, incredulous. How can he be joking right now? 

A noise escapes the glutton. The sound of air- a hiss or perhaps a sharp inhale.  You don’t have a chance to identify it further before his brows crease and his shoulders square. He reaches towards the wall, blindly groping for the first object in range.  He rips a poster from its place. And stuffs it into his mouth. 

Ludwig straightens. “Really? You’re going to be like that?” 

Obie's jaw sets. He swipes one of the t-shirts hanging off the back of the couch – one of Ludwig’s. And swallows it whole too.  

Ludwig sighs. “C’mon man, that was a collectible.” 

Incensed, Obie continues, grabbing at knickknacks across the room and stuffing them into his mouth. You notice all of them belong to Ludwig.  

You’re surprised that Ludwig doesn’t move from his spot. Doesn’t act to stop his brother, only grumbling at each disappearing item. 

You wince at the crunch of ceramic as Obie chews on a mug. Otherwise you’re still frozen in place, not sure what to make of the scene. 

“I told you he liked you,” Ludwig mutters. 

“You did what?” Obie says around a mouthful of pottery, his voice shrill. 

“What? It’s not like you were being subtle.” 

Before you have a chance to blink Obie is striding across the room. Mouth still full of ceramic, he starts to cuss Ludwig out, reaching out to grab him by the shirt, heedless of your proximity.  

Ludwig just keeps smirking. 

You wriggle out of his lap, unnerved by the prospect of being caught between two warring demons. Still jelly legged, you yank up your pants and stand, not wanting to be anywhere near them if they’re going to have it out. 

But you stagger.  

Pain flares through your abdomen and a hiss escapes from between your teeth.  

Obie and Ludwig fall silent, still. Before- 

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” and “Hey, we didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

They both miss the mark, but share twin looks of remorse. 

You shake your head. “Just period pain. Standing hurts.” 

They reach for you at the same time.  

“Did getting off help? Do you want more?”  

“Have you had any meds? Or some food to settle your stomach?” 

The fretting is short lived however, when Obie pauses and shoots Ludwig what you can only assume is his version of a glare. 

“Seriously? That was your excuse?” 

Ludwig shrugs. “She needed a little pampering.” 

“Pampering. Is stuff like a foot rub. Or brushing her hair. Or carrying her bag. Not sticking your fingers inside of her!” 

You bite your lip at the statement. You’d convinced yourself that a short fling with Ludwig wouldn’t be a big deal. But Obie might be right. You’d done it in the house they shared. In a space they shared. After having been told that the glutton had feelings for you. 

It really was a dick move. You should have considered what might happen if you were caught. Taken things to a private room. Turned him down completely. Anything but what you’d done. 

Obie and Ludwig don’t look like they’re going to come to blows. But you don’t want to stick around and listen to their bickering. It’d only embarrass you. Guilt you. 

“I’m going to lay down,” you mutter, heading for the stairs. 

The pair fall silent.  

Obie follows you upstairs. You really hope he won’t stop you. You don’t know what to say. 

“Hey.” 

You do your best to wipe the discomfort off your face before turning to face him. “Hi.” 

His cheeks are red, and he twiddles his thumbs, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. And pulling them out to fidget again. 

“I- uh. There’s chocolate. In my room. If you want some.” 

Standing there, pain creeping up your back, loose bits of your bra hanging limp under your shirt, and a mess of blood and slick in your underwear, you try not to grimace. 

“That’s sweet of you Obie.” You’re tired. Tired of being perceived and fussed over. Of being embarrassed. Of feeling gross. But you get the feeling that if you blow Obie off right now, you might damage something irreparably between you. “Normally I’d love some, but-” 

“I’m sorry.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

“I wasn’t trying to shame either of you. I was just... jealous. Mad. That he made a move before I could. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

It takes you a few moments to decide your reply. 

“I need a shower. And to change.” 

His face falls and he steps back. Forces a little laugh. “Oh. Of course. I’ll just be-” 

“I’ll come by after? If you want?” 

He stills, as if surprised by your reply. The embarrassment leaves his features and he straightens, “Yeah, okay. I’ll just tidy up a bit. See you in a bit?” 

You drudge up a smile and reply before turning back to your door. “See you in a bit.” 

[citrus-moonlight]

Danger Starts the Sharp Incline

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit

Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness

A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!

This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!

Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!

*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️

UPDATING TO ADD PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THIS DEMON!KLAUE FANART BY MY INCREDIBLE LOVELY TALENTED FRIEND, truly I have not stopped screaming! 😍🥹💕

Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be

Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.

The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.

“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”

Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.

Especially since you had started dreaming about him.

Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.

Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else. 

Something like pride.

* * * * * *

Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait. 

And watch.

For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.

Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.

Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing. 

Almost taunting.

This could be you.

It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone? 

With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in. 

Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption? 

Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.

As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.

Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.

You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.

There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-

-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.

The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.

Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves. 

His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of  broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple. 

The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.

Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.

“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”

Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room. 

The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.

When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass. 

The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.

Then he rounds on you.

With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire. 

He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move. 

Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.

Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.

You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean

You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.  

You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.

Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest. 

Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.

His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. 

It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.

The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.

HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.

Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.

You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.

It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first. 

When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.

“Sweet.” 

With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows. 

Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.

“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”

Holy fuck. You can understand him.

Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.

A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.

Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.

Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue. 

Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next. 

Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself. 

Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.  

Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.

Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.

The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.

“More.”

A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.

You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.

The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.

But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.

“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock." 

As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.

Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.

And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.

“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.

“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?" 

Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.

Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.

As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.

Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.

Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.

Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."

“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.” 

Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.

You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.

Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.

Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.

“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”

“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length. 

Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.

You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.

“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.” 

His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.

You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.

Fuck, you need more of that.

Need it deeper.

Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace. 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”

“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.

The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.

You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.

He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.

He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.

Then he starts to fuck you.

He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust. 

A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak. 

The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you. 

A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin. 

And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.

An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs. 

“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.” 

This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.

Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.

You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.

His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.

“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.” 

“Mine.”

* * * * * * *

The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.

Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.

“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.

“Yours.” 

You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.

“I’m yours.”

A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊

[golden-heretic]

🏳️‍🌈 HAPPY PRIDE 🏳️‍🌈

In honor of celebrating the absolutely BLAST that this month is and celebrating not only myself but all of my colorful and vibrant friends & loved ones, I am also joining on the gravy train and putting A VERMILION CURSE at ✨ 99 cents ✨ for all of June on ebook 🌊☀️

🗡 Amazon Link Here 🏹 《 Goodreads ☆ Newsletter ☆ Instagram 》

[karizard-ao3]

Remember that one Halloween when I posted the Eremika demon fucking fic? That's the last time I finished a piece of writing by my anticipated deadline.

[coffee-ftm]

Fuck I want a demon to bend me over an altar and fuck me, I want them to force my head up by the rosary around my neck, choking me a little while they make me try to pray while fucking me hard enough I can barely think.

[submissivefeminist]

Which humanoid monster/mythical creature do you think would be the best and worst in bed respectively? i.e. vampires, mummies, demons, ghosts, swamp things etc.

I feel like a ghost would be the most frustrating kind of fuck. Like, builds in intensity but leaves you totally unsatisified. Like trying to get off by using a fan on your cunt. Like there is zero stimulation happening but you're loving it 🥵 (until you wanna cum)

I mean. what.

Also the phrase, "fuck like a demon" can't be all talk. I would love to fuck a demon. 😈

[buggz4brainzzz]

I had a dream that I summoned demons and then had a threesome.. but not with the demons, just to clarify.. not that there would be anything wrong with that, that sounds pretty cool actually

[shadebloopnik]

Alastor being a petty ass btch to the two people who did not want his ass back for the 3 seconds he's been back, icon

[scarymaaze]

marmar

[theballadofmars]

I love how mqf's oficial description is something like: a good heart who wants to help others but then you read the novel and his reaction to lqg trapping ten infected men who are crying in panic is "great now I can start to work in my experiments with decomposed people to find a cure" and gets out a lot of needles, which makes the man cry even harder.

Even if we only get bits of the other Cang Qiong sect leader's we can reach the conclusion that no one there is normal, sqq is just biased.

[golden-heretic]

i interrupt my regularly scheduled COWBOY CARTER re-listen to promote my BALDUR'S GATE 3 meets BATCAT action/adventure romantasy🥂🏹 ♥️🗡️ -- A VERMILION CURSE is now available on Kindle, Paperback & KindleUnlimited ✨ . . . . . . . . . 🌹 A VERMILION CURSE ✨️

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When a wandering scholar turned mercenary steps into a ransacked city in search of ancient wisdom to a forbidden religion, the last thing he ever expects is a dangerous woman with a price on her head who desperately needs his help.

☆ Adult ☆ Fantasy-Romance☆ Action/Adventure ☆ Now available in Kindle, Paperback & KindleUnlimited ☆

[allastoredeer]

Deer's shed the velvet on their antlers. Alastor is no exception.

Bonus! They also eat it and cannibal besties always share.

+Bonus: Bucks shed their velvet right before rutting season, so take from thar what you will

Follow up post ➡️HERE ⬅️

[greykolla-art]

Guys! Can you believe I was gonna just CASUALLY watch Hazbin Hotel???

But it’s way too good. The writing is so tight, all the characters are interesting and layered, ALL THE SONGS:🔥🔥🔥

Alastor is such a Cheshire Cat! Not a characteristic I see often, but it’s always good! Gimme more immediately.👏👏👏

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

First night at Grunkle Ford's! Running away <3

Ford thought the twins were in danger or smth and busted clean through the door, this man has absolutely 0 chill 💀

[notherpuppet]

Radio drip 🦌📻🩸