#having your mouth slit open to match the demon going to eat you

[wystirea]

anyway ive been thinking about obanai like all day and just how like fucked his backstory is

[deadghosy]

Hazbin Hotel x Jeff the killer or BEN drowned reader.

Please?

SURE! I’ll do Jeff the killer as someone had requested I do BEN drowned! 🦆💗💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X JEFF THE KILLER! READER

prompt: after fighting with BEN drowned, Ben decided to send you into a show….

You were asleep snoring as Ben snickered holding up a tv that was playing a title card saying “HAZBIN HOTEL” and with that. He smacked you having you go inside the tv with a devilish smirk. You hit the ground as your body did a whole fucking Peter griffen pose 😭

*metal sound* DAYUM!

You were screaming curses under your breath at Ben who just smirks at the tv and leaves whistling like a damn cartoon character. You dusted yourself off looking around this place.

“The fuck is this?….” You said with a scowl looking around…there’s a bunch of ruined buildings and fire everywhere. You walked around confused as some demons whistle at you. Literally catcalling you as one tried to grab you, when they tried to grab you. You stabbed their fucking hand smiling with that extended smile to your cheek.

“Fuck you think you trying to do huh?” You said with a crazed smile as they fall holding their hand to see you aren’t really a “girl” “YOU’RE A GUY??!” You rolled your eyes wanting to be sarcastic “No. Ima killer..Now. Go. To. Sleep.” You said lastly stabbing the demon in its head. You kept walking as the bystanders move out of your way.

AND YEES WE ARE GOING WITH FANON LOOK INSTEAD OF THE CANNON LOOK😨 CANNON JEFF IS SO…..

Let’s just skip ahead, so you went to the hotel as you seen an advertisement about redeeming….tbh you didn’t give a fuck about redemption, you only needed a room.

Vaggie was definitely judging you by your looks as you had shaggy [idk if I wanna give you black hair or just your own color hair but you can imagine yourself as Jeff or nahh] hair and blood stained clothes. But soon later you turned out to be a chill person who helps their peers but also jokes around.

Alastor and you just stare at each other “smiling” at each other just waiting for the other to talk.

“…..so like..are you always this ugly or were you born that way…” “my smiley fellow, I was born for radio…” “no you were born to be ugly-”

Alastor immediately hates you after that but your boldness is entertaining. He might just take you as a guest for his broadcast.

Angel would love to play with your hair and braid it…as you relax at the touch of Angel’s hands in your hair. It reminded you of how Sally braided your hair when she was bored.

Angel had put pink bows in your hair saying “this is so coquette💗” and you just stood there looking at the hand mirror he gave you. “Angel wtf. >:/”

You woke up to get your laundry to see your white jacket IN FUCKIN PINK?!

“ANGELLLL! IMA CHOP OFF YOUR DI-” yeah angel hid in the bathroom as your anger was no match for any demon….

Lucifer will feel concern about your face as you don’t look…normal I suppose. He’ll be probably have a clear weirded out face

I feel like you and Lucifer would have a weird friend dynamic as you just roll with his hyperactive activities.

“How in the hell do you eat?” He says poking your open slit by your mouth. “I just eat. Simple as that.” You said at the king of hell.

Yeah I imagine Lucifer had put duck stickers on your jacket one time.

I imagine husk and JTK! Reader doing a drinking competition….you owed husk 20 hellbucks. 🥲

Husk will actually tolerate JTK! Reader as they don’t whine and don’t complain much until something actually bothers him.

Sir Pentious would be scared of you…I mean if a normal person saw you. They would be horrified.

You give off a depressed Starbucks worker vibes who don’t get paid for shit…..literally a sinner would test you as Charlie or someone will have to hold you back as you swing your knife. “LET ME AT THEM YOU LIL SHI-”

The crew had always noticed you seemed to look more like a human other than a sinner or hell born. But they never really asked. I mean shit Alastor wanted to ask but Charlie had to tell him to stop it.

The egg boiz were scared of you until you saved Frank from cracking as he tried to reach the damn cookie jar.

You used your body to soften his fall as you hit your head on the ground. “GAH DAMN-” *crash* and then minutes later it was found out sir Pentious was watching over your knocked out body as Frank was telling how cool you saved him.

You sometimes try to call Ben to pick you up and this is how it goes: “Ben…YOU SHORT STACK MOTHERFUCKA! YOU BETTA GET ME OUT OF HERE OR I WILL CUT YOUR LINK LOOKIN ASS-” he had you on voice mail as Ben was just chilling playing video games.

I headcannon you having to wear a fucking smiley mask to not scare off residents😭

“Hi welcome to the hazbin hotel….” You said in a dead tone flat. The sinner looked at you confused asking questions. “ Why are you wearing a mask? Is your nose too big? Do you have bad breath? Are you sick? Are you ugly under the mask?”

You had enough as your eye twitched grabbing the sinner by their collar. “How about I shove my foot up your-” “OKAYYY!” Charlie says seeing you about to give the sinner a piece of your mind as she grabs the sinner from your grasp. “How about we show you around the hotel…”

Yeah you don’t do the greeter job no more….

At least you get to give out food as husk serves drinks. That was at least a cool job as husk helped you serve out small little portions of the trays you used.

I headcannon niffty to make you a bug “flower” crown to show how she admires you.

I imagine Charlie would get you a metal shirt and you would be like. “oh thanks.” You smiled and took it.

You had a knife stash just incase you had to defend yourself. You love collecting knives when bored….

Keyword was HAD. Charlie found your knives and hid them from yourself as you had a sad puppy face at seeing your stash gone.

Imagine you just standin there and a Charlie had put stickers on your jacket saying, “good job for not killing!”

You’re such a good kid😄

[babu-haitani]

Headcannons or drable with general relations (or whatever characters you choose) reacting to Mikey and Emma adopting Demon Nezuko! Reader as a sister?

I hope I did this right. LMAO. anyways enjoy reading! <3

Toman X Demoness (Tokyo Revengers)

Genre: Fluff, Headcanons, Various Characters.

Pairings: Toman x FEM! Reader

SCENARIO:

"Who's the Bamboo eater girl?..." Mikey blankly asked as he looked at his older brother while holding onto his Blanket. He then winced in pain when he felt a hand smack him the head.

"That's not how you ask someone who they are!" Emma scolded Mikey, Mikey just looked at her and sticked his tongue out. Shinichiro let out a small Chuckle.

"Well this is Y/N, she will be staying here from now on..." Shinichiro introduced you, you walked up to Emma and Mikey then patted both of their heads.

"Mmm!~" You happily grunted wile bitting onto the Bamboo that was on your mouth, This confused the two.

"Why does she have a freaking Bamboo on her mouth?" Mikey asked. You looked back at Shinichiro smiling as he took out the box were he found you.

"Well...she's actually unique...she's a demon..." The two siblings looked at Shinichiro then started laughing.

"STOP IT! I'M SAYING THE TRUTH!!!" He scolded the other two, you felt bad that his siblings wouldn't believe so you sat in between them and then using your sharp nails you slit open an injury in your hand and later on the blood in your hand bursted into flames making the two flinch. After that the two believed your abilities, Mikey and Emma would always bring you to Toman meetings at night so you get to roam and meet new people like for example the captains and vice captains.

They were curious why you always have a bamboo in your mouth but never really asked, until Baji accidentally bumped into you; making you spit the bamboo that was in your mouth, Mikey and Emma know if you ever let go of the bamboo in your mouth, you might go berserk.

Luckily Mikey saw this and quickly shoved his hand in your mouth, Emma quickly washed your Bamboo with the water she was holding and shoved it back to your mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N!! I didn't mean to..." Baji apologized, you just hummed; shaking your hand that it was fine.

"Mikey no need to be frantic, Y/N just acc----" Draken was cut off when Emma started explaining to him about your condition to the other leaders of toman. Mikey just sighed.

-----------------------------------------

They would start questioning you if it's true and would bombared you with weird requests, like for example ---- Can you show them your teeth? Can you fly? Can you transform??

Baji, Peh Yan, Pah Chin, Takemichi

Would ask you questions but wouldn't pry much into your space like the people who were making weird requests to you.

Hakkai, Draken, Mitsuya, Chifuyu

Wouldn't care whether you're a demon or not as long as you don't eat him or attack him then he is all good.

Mucho, Sanzu

Would try to make you lunches that he thinks demons would like.

Mitsuya, Angry, Smiley, Draken

Would definitely make accessories that will match your outfit, including the designs for your Bamboo.

Mitsuya

Will make you feel welcome to Toman despite your difference from all of them.

All of them <3

[debbiebeary]

Disgust and Ecstacey

3

Hayden’s belly jiggled and wobbled violently in the dim, hippy light of the room. The combination of the incense and marijuana haze made the doughy expanse of his body appear even softer and more rounded. The curtains were slightly drawn and in the light was a smoky beam, the rest of the room was lit by red string lights and a few kitschy lamps.

In Hayden’s chunky arms, arms with those beautiful biceps that mushed up against his moobs into a cellulity pillow, he carried Ben and Jerries, peanut butter sandwiches, and some bananas (hey, digestion is important, ok?)

“Alright little britches” said Hayden, time to get to three hundred!” He said as his uncovered belly, lightly shined with sweat, surged forward even more as he added to the snacks already present on the table (chocolate, korean fried chicken and potato chips).

Dillon laughed.

“Oh come on I only reached two fifty yesterday!”

“Only two fifty!?” Cried a voice from across the swirling aromatic haze.

“Only two fifty?!” He repeated, standing up and revealing his own two hundred seventy pound form, he put his meaty paws onto his lightly dark furred, pear shaped body and gave it a strong jiggle, “That’s forty pounds since you arrived, it’s only been a month and a half! If you keep it up you’ll be bigger than me!”

Dillon looked down at his stretchmark covered gut and heaving moobs, which themselves had stretchmarks emerging near the armpits and also stretchmarks on his biceps too. His growth surely exceeded his own expectations. And it didn’t help that Garry, whom was the coffee shops resident chaser turned chub himself, was always feeding Dillon super creamy specialty coffees free of charge throughout his shift.

“Yeah. Who knows,” he began, a smug grin forming between his fattening cheeks and burgeoning double chin, both beginning to dominate his features even under his thickening beard, “perhaps I will hit three hundred.”

“Well it isn’t a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’. And either way,” Hayden paused to toke the joint he just lit, stifling a cough before he continued, “either way, you gotta eat to make that happen, pig.” And without warning he took a peanut butter sandwich and crammed into an unsuspecting Dillon’s fattening maw. Garry wore a lascivious smirk on his face as he yet again watched Hayden work his gluttonous magic on Dillon.

“Remember!” the three hundred fifty pound blonde stud mumbled after tearing a massive chunk out of his own sandwich, “we match each other bite for bite, no matter what” he continued, swallowing the mouthful into his growling, churning tank, giving it an emphatic slap.

Dillon chewed and swallowed his own mouthful,

“Yes big bear-“

But he was interrupted by Hayden once again plugging his airways with the second half of the sandwich.

Dillon could feel the scale shattering beneath his feet already.

Again and again, handfuls of chocolate brownies, of chips, fried chicken (with an inspired melted Velveeta American cheese dip) were shoved into the awaiting Dillon's mouth by the bronze skinned, blonde haired hunky blob. Though Garry was the bottom, Hayden, a versatile boy who when he was a top, was a very dominant top. This extended to feeding.

Though Hayden was attracted to Dillon, he found force feeding him aggressively to be somehow even more… penetrating. More satisfying than the thought of fucking him ever could be. He was morphing Dillon’s body, potentially towards a permanent absolution. He may never go back to the way he was before the summer began.

Dillon could see the twisted thrill in Hayden’s eyes as he crammed in handful after handful and despite the overstuffed pain in his abdomen he kept opening his mouth, begging again and again for the ruin of his once athletic form.

Hayden had heard tales of the pretentious condescension of Brian. Of his prideful taste in skinny boys, his carbon-copied preferences. In this a dark desire lay, one in which to sever Dillon from his obnoxious fuckbuddy. All he would need were calories and time.

Of which he incidentally had both.

“Damn Hayden, you’re turning him into a blimp!”

“Bwaaap!” Was Hayden’s guttural reply, “ugh, fuck. S’cuse me! Turning myself into a blimp while I’m at it too, don’t ya think Gerry boy?”

Gerry was too busy drooling at them both with big horny puppy eyes to respond, but Hayden’s smile curled with smug deviousness.

Eventually the snacks dwindled until nothing was left and Dillon's already stretchmark laden gut was now bright red and itchy with swelling.

Hayden smacked Dillon’s belly, causing him to wince,

“Fuck!”

“Sorry fatboy, couldn’t help myself, you look like you got a full litter in there.”

“Yeah. A hundred food babies in one. Feel like imma puke.”

Hayden snatched a lit joint that Gerry was enjoying and popped it in Dillon’s mouth, Dillon sucked in frantically,

“Make yourself useful, Gerry. Rub his belly with some of that CBD/tiger balm concoction I made, can’t have him purging all these beautiful calories now can we?”

“N-no sir!” Said Gerry, Gerry always turned into a bitch when Hayden threw his weight around.

“Good boy. Alright Dillon, just hold tight,”

“Uuuuhh. Ok. No I can have that last drumstick then we’re done, I’d rather get this over with and just have some cuddles after.”

“Yeah alright, big dude.”

Hayden let Dillon sink his teeth into the glistening red drumstick, courtesy of the local fried chicken restaurant, Han Ten, Han for the name of the chubby korean bear who owned the pace, ten for ten different glazes. Toasted Perilla, butter honey, spicy, lemon, sweet and sour etcetera. They even had a Ghanaian spicy peanut butter based sauce that was a real zinger. But the one they had was the hybrid honey butter/gochujang ketchup, the K-Supreme with American Cheese Dip, toasted garlic chips and green onions to finish, Dillon’s favourite thing in the world besides Hayden’s succulent puckered-in belly button.

Dillon, after finishing the last bite, let out a rather meaty burp and panted out:

“That’s it, all done…” struggling to breathe, “but it isn’t as bad as last time, uuurap, I’m feeling waaay less sick now, Hayden?”

Hayden was in the kitchen, the fridge door shining it’s menacing white light upon Hayden’s summer- bronzed, food-speckled gut. When Hayden caught Dillon's eye reflected in it was his own evil scheming.

From the glowing gainers bastion of the fridge, like an amulet or treasure of untold power, Hayden withdrew a gallon of chocolate milk.

“Uurp! Fuck, no Hayden that’s pushing it too far! There is no way, mmmlf!”

“Hahaha, you like this funnel? Just got it,” but Dillon managed to spit it out

“Hayden no! Even splitting it it’s way too much for me! I’m too packed!”

Hayden’s face took on a demonic appearance as, with the sun now fully set, the red lights stretched the shadows across his face into l demented forms.

“Whoah, shit this is strong weed.” Dillon suddenly remarked,

“Yeah I cut it with a bit of salvia too, gives everything a nice… twinkle.”

“Well I’m not sure ooouhf!” Hayden shoved the tube back into Dillon's mouth,

“You didn’t let me finish… I’m not splitting this with you, you’re taking ALL OF IT!”

“Whoah, Hayden! You sure? He seems pretty full.”

“He’ll be fine once you get your lips wrapped around his cock, Garry.”

Garry grew quiet.

“RIGHT GERRY!?!”

“Yes sir…”

“Good boy… ok Dillon, open up your throat and GUZZLE! Garry. Uh. Do the same.”

As Garry face planted Dillon’s dick, Dillon was reinvigorated and began to suck down the sweet chocolaty goodness. Garry was a master, sucking Dillon’s meaty head, flicking his slit with his tongue, and deepthroating him like a pro, he never let Dillon get used to his w and was building up to a climax rapidly.

“Yeah you fat fuck, we keep this up you’ll be 400 in no time.”

Dillon moaned. The Gallon was now only half.

“Come on tubbs, you know you want it, you want to beach yourself on the couch and eat and smoke and drink until you’re nothing but a big fat whale.” The gallon was empty but still Dillon sucked on the tube.

“Greedy pig. You still want more?”

withdrawing the tube from Dillon’s mouth, his tortured stomach released a torrent of pressure as Dillon sprayed out a fat wet belch which rolled across the hazy apartment like thunder.

“UUURRRRP!”

In the same moment Hayden, smirking demonically, leaned down and pinched Dillon’s nipple, Dillon convulsed and shot his load, hosing down Garry’s throat with his seed.

“FUUUUCK!” He screamed in agonizing pleasure.

Garry nearly choked on Dillon’s load.

“Holy fuck. Looks like Dillon isn’t the only one that sucked down a gallon of sweet nectar, eh Garry?”

Garry let out a burp of his own before responding.

“I’d say it’s rather more savory but yeah. Basically.”

“Come on, help this fat fuck up, I wanna weigh him.”

“Urrp, fuck guys won’t you give me a second?”

“No fucking way, I wanna see the damage we did, let’s go tubbs!”

After laboring them to the bathroom, they made him stand unaided, swaying dizzily under his own strength after a few minutes of assistance, finally the scale read out its deliberation.

Hayden screamed in disbelief:

“FUCK ME! Two sixty five!?!”

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate (Pt. 2)

See “Red String of Fate” for the drabble lead up + Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo. This post has Levi, Satan, Belphie, and Beel

To Levi:

Doesn’t understand what it is

Tries to shake it off without breaking his game mojo

Ends up getting it accidentally wrapped around the joysticks, losing the match, and spends the next few minutes silently fuming and trying to untangle everything

His tail slaps angrily against the floor as he grumbles and huffs, trying to be extremely delicate with whatever disaster this is

 Finally succeeds and stares at his finger in silence for a few seconds, trying to pick the knot.

Starts trying to pull it off. It doesn’t work.

Asks his friends what it could be

Asks whatever the Devildom equivalent of Google is

Makes the “OooOOOOooh!” because this sounds like a sure thing?! A definite soulmate?!

THERE IS SOMEONE FOR HIM, A LOWLY, YUCKY OTAKU?!

Levi explodes out of his room like the aquarium has busted and will flood the whole house

His pupils are doing the slit-narrow hyperfocused hunter thing as he tracks the red string like an enemy through a scope

Accidentally mows you down trying to speed walk to the end of the string.

Is super excited about the string now. HOW LONG IS IT? WHERE DOES IT GO? WHO’S AT THE END?!

You hear his tail wagging and slapping things before you see him, and that’s 0.5 seconds before he mows into you.

Accidentally steps on your foot in the process, so you fall in an graceless lump.

Levi’s pulling at the string like an excited kid. WHERE DOES IT GO, WHERE DOES IT GO? WHERE DOES IT GO?

Realizes he’s pulling your hand up and tugs on it a little in disbelief. Ends up making you wave at him and he gives a little giggle.

Then it hits him all over again and you get another “OooOOOOoooH!”

Scoops you up off the floor, tail wagging enough to take the breath out of Asmo.

He holds you to his chest and feels like some victorious Henry. Hopes the lighting is good and that this moment is as magical for you as it is for him. (Does his hair look good?). The pinky-red smoke is basically like a cool anime effect, right?

Levi gives the shyest, softest ‘mine’, as he cradles you to his chest. He purrs a little, tucking his tail up towards your body, basically offering it for you to hold.

His room is your little private palace. He hopes you like it.

To Satan:

Was quite content minding his own business, reading for pleasure after a long day of reading for necessity (i.e: school)

Doesn’t really feel it at first. He turns a page and hears this absolutely maddening drag of a scrape that makes him want to stab someone.

Sees the string. Tries to flick it off. Proceeds to shake his finger. That doesn’t work, so he tries to roll it off or at least roll it to the tip of his finger

Satan slams his book down with a furrow in his brow and transitions to his demon form. Starts trying to fray it with his claws. When chewing on it and trying to break it on his horns don’t work, he stalks up his bookshelves to find the section on Hexes and Curses

Imagine his surprise (and yours) when you and Asmo enter his room. The supposed love or your life is in full demon form and splayed across his bookshelves like a spitting lizard. Or a dragon defending its hoard.

Asmo is BEYOND disappointed. Kind of aggravated. “THE worst way to find a soulmate EVER!” Asmo picks up the closest book and throws it at him for good measure (it misses by a long shot).

He yanks on the string, trying to rip him off the bookshelf.

Satan drops down, already back to his normal form by the time he lands on his feet, and stomps over with mild indignation that someone could call him THE WORST at something

Also: what the hell is going on?!

Asmo explains and Satan goes very, very red. He’s completely at a loss.

Well...at least he knows you’re a sure thing! In a way, it’s good to know you’ll have someone no matter how much of an ass you make of yourself

You take the hand from his mouth, the pinky-red smoke seeming to frame you both, and jokingly ask if he has any good books to take your mind off things.

“Certainly, but perhaps you’d be more interested to hear about that over dinner?” (”That’s better!” Asmo nods and crosses his arms, walking out of the room as if he fixed the problem).

To Beel:

You should be grateful he was already at the House of Lamentation, having a post-homework snack, when the red string appear.

Who knows how hard or how far you’d be dragged if he was at sports practice?!

Beel doesn’t notice it until his next bite, when something catches against his fangs and slips out of his mouth. It tickled his lips and made him do a double-take

He’s in the middle of sucking sauce off his finger when he confirms the string is not flavored or edible.

Is kind of annoyed he has to switch to eating with one hand

Wants to ignore it because he can still reach the fridge and cabinets but gets annoyed when it catches across the table and tries to knock over little things like salt and pepper shakers

Takes a big bite of his current food item (a sandwich), sets it down, and starts fishing through the draws for knives

None of the knives work. He has moved to the cleavers

Chips away at some of the prep table so he stops with the cleavers.

Tries to burn it off. Does not work

Beel isn’t sure what to do, so he grabs his sandwich and goes to Lucifer

On the way to Lucifer, he hears Asmo crow down the hall “AHHH! IT’S TO BEEL! MY DARLING BABY BROTHER! OOH, THE CUTEST! IT’S PERFECT!” way before he sees him or you

This lovely big boi just stands there, a little confused and expecting Asmo to explain it (as he always does. Asmo always has something to talk about)

Asmo’s got you by the arm and is running towards Beel. Beel finally notices the excess of red string, and that you’re tangling in it.

You fall against him and a cloud of sweet pinky-red smoke explodes around him.

Smells like sweets should taste. He wants some Celestial Realm sweets now

“A soulmate, huh?” Beelzebub looks down at you. His cheeks slowly pinken as that genuine but sly smile spreads on his face. There could be worse people, for sure. “Want to go celebrate?” he gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

You can’t say no. Beel holds your hand all the way to the restaurant.

To Belphegor:

There is a new texture near him and he doesn’t like it

Belphie doesn’t open his eyes, but he tries to adjust his blankets and pillows until he doesn’t feel it

When this doesn’t work and he sense the thing is still around, Belphie opens his eyes to see he’s tied up in the stuff

Grumpy, sleepy boy

Demon chirps/churrs for Beel to help him

After his big bro helps him untangle, Belphie sulks around, dragging his pillow, to figure out where this thing goes and what the hell it is

Probably tries to fry it with a bit of magic, but it fizzles out the second sparks touch the string.

Belphie may be the sleepy kind of lazy, but he knows his magic spells. That one SHOULD work.

A spark of interest has him a little more awake now. Belphie straightens up and walks a little lighter

“I didn’t expect anything grand since Belphie’s so tired, but this has its own charm.” Asmo critiques, touching a few fingers to his lips to smother a giggle.

Belphie does look quite adorable, standing there with a dash of confusion amongst his exhaustion. Bonus points for his cute little pillow dragging the floor behind him.

All of the bros know better than to mess with his naps and Belphie’s glare is slowly powering up. Asmo has a few seconds to explain before Belphie knocks him into the nearest wall with the pillow. It WILL hurt.

Asmo keeps teasing and hemming and hawing, and it’s not until the pillow is literally over Belphie’s shoulder (gearing up for the down-swing) that Asmo blurts out “SOULMATES! YOU HAVE A SOUL MATE! THEY ARE YOUR SOUL MATE!”

You become the sacrificial lamb, Asmo shoving you towards Belphegor to save his hair (mostly)

The pillow slides over the top of your head and down your back as Belphegor slowly brings his arms around you in a hug. A nervous hug. A shocked hug.

Someone like him gets a soulmate? That almost seems to generous.

That pinky-red smoke explodes in his face. Belphie sneezes cutely. Cuter than he’d like to own up to.

The action causes him to bump his head against you. At first it hurts but his brain quickly overrules the inconvenience to realize how nice your hair is and how he can lean his head on you

His body melts into yours and Belphie barely has the forethought to tuck the pillow under your head as his body weight sends you both crashing to the floor.

Totally ignores Asmo yelling “BELPHIE, NO!” in the background as he tries to catch you or prop you up. Belphie actually slaps him with his tail and continues to the fall to the floor.

The pillow will protect you. He has full confidence

“Sleepy,” he mutters, readjusting his head until it fits nicely in the curve of your neck. He kind of wishes he brought a blanket.

You tentatively pat his head and play with his hair. Belphie purrs, tail sweeping the floor.

[rotting-clowns]

Hit or miss - Levi X GN!Reader 

CW: Handjob

Wourd count: 1.1K

A/N: This isn’t the best but it’s honest work

forgive me for the title, i saw an opportunity and took it

I GUESS THEY NEVER MISS UH

__________________________________________

He doesn’t notice you at first, too engrossed in his game to actually look upwards. He’s shouting commands at whoever he’s playing with, something about aiming right before he gets actually mad and kills them in real life - you know, regular stuff. You watch him for a moment, lingering by the door. To anyone else he might seem stressed, but you know he’s having fun. 

You enter the room without making too much noise, ready to surprise him. His demon senses beat you to it, however, and he turns to you, eyes widening as a smile forms on his lips. 

“Oh, you’re here.” He gestures for you to come closer. “The match is taking longer than I thought  it would.” 

“It’s okay.” You reassure as you sit next to him, but not before kissing his cheek. 

He blushes, turning to give you a proper kiss on the lips. It’s shorter than you would’ve wanted it to, but the taste of whatever candy he had been eating - that had stained his lips blue - lingers on your tongue. 

“I’ll be quick,” he promises when you separate, stealing another peck from your lips, “wanna watch me destroy some normies?”

You chuckle, pushing him lightly aside so you can sit better. “Why else would I come here?” You tease. 

He giggles, back to focusing on the game. His team is winning by a great advantage, it’s clear the win will indeed be theirs, but it’s still mesmerizing to see him on his element. Levi doesn’t tend to show as much of his more serious side as his brothers do, so the small moments where you can bask in the way he is - fully concentrated, biting on his lower lip, narrow eyes as he aims the pointer perfectly at his target… it does something to you. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, testing the waters for a moment. He doesn’t react more than glancing your way with raised eyebrows and stops moving his arms as drastically as before. Perfect. He’s still too into the game to notice your intentions. 

That changes quickly though, as soon as your hand finds a way to his thighs. You rest your palm, not moving it at all. It’s high up, inches from his cock. He glances at you again, more pointedly this time. 

“What are you doing?” There’s an edge to his voice. You smile. You know that tone well.

“Nothing.” You feign ignorance, touching your lips to his neck. “Why?” You smile against his skin, hand trailing upwards until it’s just off his cock. 

“Y/N…” he says, in a stage whisper. 

“What?” You kiss at his neck again. With a free hand, you tilt his chin up so you have more room to work with. 

“I’m on call, you know.” His voice is on the verge of a moan. You chuckle lightly. He’s so easy to rile up. 

“So?” You ask, closing you hand around his clothed cock. You tug at it, feeling it come to life. 

“Fuck.” He chokes on a grunt, biting his lips. 

“Is there a problem?” You blink innocently. 

He tsks. From his headset comes a voice. “You alright, dude?”

“Yeah,” he takes a deep breath, eyes glinting your way, “yeah, I’m good.” 

“C’mon…” Your fingers start to rise up in a walking motion, stopping at the waistband of his pants, “Weren’t you going to show me how you destroy normies?”

He grips at the controller, knuckles going white. 

“Levi?” You ask, stopping your movements. Your fingers stay frozen, just dipped into his pants, “Is everything okay?”

He takes another deep breath then looks at you. His eyes are burning when he pulls you in, kissing your lips. It’s hard, messy, and dizzying. When you break apart, he smiles, adjusting his headset. 

“So, are we doing this?” He asks whoever he’s with. 

You smile, getting the hint just as a faint “Fuck yeah!” is heard as an answer. At the first shot, he takes your hand breaches into his pants, finding his cock with ease. You chuckle. He never wears underwear. 

The angle is weird and your wrist hurts already at the first few tugs, but you keep going. His grip on the controller is looser and he paints, even at the start. When your thumb runs over his slit he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. A gush of precome coats your hand. You use it as a lubricant, sliding it down his length slowly with your enclosed fist. Your hand isn’t big enough to close fully around it so you spread it slowly, taking your time. 

“Y-yeah… mhnn… I’m at t-the warehouse.” He bites off. On the screen, his character takes critical damage from a zombie. “Shit!”

“Oh no…” You prop yourself on the bed, whispering at his ear. “Are you going to lose?” 

“Never.” He says through gritted teeth. Your finger dips over his slit again, pressuring it a little. “Fuck, Y/N…” 

His eyes widen, cheeks going red. “No, I’m n-not talking to y-you.” His gaze is deadly as he goes back to the game. 

You keep your pace slow until he’s fully hard and slicked, your fingers trace at the veins on his length, following it to the base. The slide up is easy, your hand being coated by even more precum as you tease him, speeding up a little. 

He chokes on another moan, cursing at the zombies that attack him. Your hand speeds up, then, not leaving place for him to breathe. You tug his cock, feeling it pulse under your ministrations. 

“Are you gonna come for me or are you going to win?” You whisper, focusing on the head. 

He’s more sensitive there. You engulf it in your hand, teasing with circular motions, as you’d do with your tongue when blowing him. You dip your hands down again, then up, thumbing at the slit. He groans, cock spasming as you encircle your fingers on the head again. 

“Shit, shit!” He exclaims, mouth falling open as he comes, spilling all over your hands. You continue to pump him, even as he falls back on the bed, the screen signaling game over. 

“Fuck… stop.” He pulls you off lightly, panting. 

You throw a leg over his thighs, sitting above his cock. Your hands are filled with come, and you lick them clean. 

“You’re insane.” He chuckles. 

“What the fuck dude?” comes from the headset. “What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” He says, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Fine.  Wanna go again?”

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles as you start rolling your hips, grinding down at his slowly hardening cock. 

“Yeah. Let’s.” He says. 

Masterlist

[rhabakoli]

Virgin No More

unbetaed, bc late. smut, beware.

this is the missing smut from Beautiful & Damned’s latest chapter. 

@dreamwritesimagines​ @riviawitch3r​

He was determined, focused, but so, so gentle. His hands were wandering over your body, his lips never left yours. He was completely covering you, your legs wrapped around his waist, your night shift bunched at your hips, and it was everything you ever wanted, It was safe; HE was safe. He shielded you from the outside world, from anyone seeing you like this. He kept you to himself, was the only one to see you this open, this beautiful; the only one to make you feel safe while being at the most vulnerable you ever were.

His teeth caught your lips, one of his hands reached back and smoothed down your thigh to grab your ass and squeeze. You couldn’t hold back a silent gasp, but Geralt just smiled and a growl rumbling through his chest. He felt your body under his, curves and scars and blemishes and he wanted to explore all of you. He needed to. He needed to make you feel like you lost your mind; needed to make you writhe underneath him, this vulnerable, to see your skin tinted with a gorgeous rosy dust, to hear your heart beat faster and harder, hear it beckon him to match his hips to the rhythm of it. He needed to be the only one. Your only one. You could tell he was lost in his emotions, lost in his head. His hips were circling against yours, core against core; it was like he wasn’t aware, too animalistic, too wild, too driven by his desire. His whole body was thrumming with it, growls and grunts from deep inside him, making you shiver all over, press closer to him, feel him, let yourself be taken. He was licking along your jaw, painted your skin wet with just the tip of his tongue, before he latched onto your neck. You screwed your eyes shut, tried to keep your wits about – but holy ass, was it hard. ���Geralt, please.” He was clothed still, separated from you by straining leather and linen, but you needed him naked, bare, inside you. “Geralt, take it off, take it all off.” Your voice was low, gentle, a little shaky. But he still heard, of course. He stilled above you, a couple deep, hot breaths against your throat, then he was gone. The sudden loss of body heat had you shivering, had your nipples harden even more. His golden eyes were sharp, intense, and didn’t leave your figure, not one second. He knelt between your legs, his hands on your knees at his sides, his eyes going from your face to your chest, to your stomach and lower. His view was obscured by your nightshift, and he snarled at it. He went to rip it off you, probably destroying it in the process, but you reacted in time and pulled it up, up, up, over your head and let it drop to the floor next to the bed. You were rewarded with a shaky intake of breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at your knees. “Come on, Geralt.”, you lured him, breathless yourself. “Please, don’t make me wait.” Finally, he reacted. You watched as his fingers opened the laces of his breeches, quick and deftly, and your brain immediately thought of other used for those skilled appendages. Piece after piece fell to the floor, bared him to you more and more. Your mouth watered, and you had to get your mouth on his body. Where your confidence came from? You didn’t know, maybe some weird sex demon possessed you. But maybe it was all in the way Geralt, this beast of a man, so kind, so gentle, looked at you. How he reacted to you, how he wanted you, and didn’t even think to hide it. Therefore, you didn’t either. You just did what you thought felt good. You sat up, curled your hand around his hip and pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. His fingers curled in your hair, cupped the back of your head. He huffed, your name on his lips like a prayer, like he couldn’t believe he got to touch you, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him. You let your hands explore, feel his skin under your hands, the warmth radiating off him, the tenseness of his muscles, the coarse hair sprinkled all over his chest and trailing down. It was like a path to paradise, like a promise of what’s to come. “Oh, fuck.” You grinned, your lips still pressing kisses to his skin, little scrapes of your teeth for variety. You let your fingertips drift along the waistline of his breeches, ever so softly, touch barely there. He was still kneeling, your legs now around his thighs. It brought his crotch to a comfortable height. In a sudden onset of boldness, you curled your fingers into the waistband and tugged. His cock, hard, heavy, hot, was definitely happier once you’d gotten rid of its prison. Your nails scraped along Geralt’s thighs, lured a deep, rough groan from him. He was focused on your face, the fire in his eyes spurring you on. The gold of his irises was nothing more than a thin line, the rest was swallowed by the deep black of his pupils. It sent shivers down your back. You pressed a kiss just underneath his bellybutton, then one to the jut of his hipbone. “Shit.” He was… proportional. His dick twitched every time you moved; Geralt barely holding back now. It made you feel invincible. To have him wrapped around your finger, to be able to do this to him? It was a rush of power and trust you didn’t expect. And it made you want to protect him, so that no one else ever would get the chance to abuse that sense of intimacy. His hands wrapped around your wrists, brought them together to hold them with one of his, while the other came to tilt up your chin. “Princess, that’s enough.” He’d explode if your mouth got any closer to his dick than it already was. And you looked so curious and bold tonight, he wouldn’t be surprised if you actually tried. Instead, he raised your crossed wrists over your head and back, effectively bringing you down on you back once more. He wasn’t far behind, needed to feel your chest pressed against his. “You’re beautiful. Precious.” You were slick already, but with his voice on your ear, his breath against your skin, his cock rubbing against you – you could scarcely breathe. The leather of his pants dug into his thighs, restricted his movement, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to eat you up, eat you out, breathe you in until your scent and taste were burned into his brain, soaked into his skin. He wanted to bathe in your very essence until he would be able to remember all of you to his dying day. “Hold onto something.”, he commanded. You couldn’t not, your hips raised into his on their own accord, made you gasp. He smirked at that. “You will have to be very good for me. Very quiet.” Geralt kissed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. His hands next to you caused the mattress to dip, made you feel caged in, but content. In any way, he was teasing, and you hated him a little bit. One hand stroked down your side, your stomach, before coming to rest with its thumb on your clit. The touch was soft and short, but you were so worked up, it sent shocks through you anyway. You jolted, gasped, and then his hand was on your mouth, silencing you. “Princess, as much as I want to make everyone listen to you scream my name, it wouldn’t do you any good. Your mother will be in here before I can even get my mouth on you, and neither of us wants that.” His thumb has taken to circling your clit, flicking left to right from time to time. It had you keening, but you tried to keep quiet. He released you and crawled lower instead, his mouth now latching onto your right nipple. “Ah, don’t-“ His tongue came out, a broad lick across the sensitive bud, and the ending of what you were going to say came out in a breathless sigh. “-stop.” He chuckled, shifted his hand and dipped low, his index finger now teasing your entrance. He pushed inside, just his fingertip, then he stopped. His while body tensed up, his cock jumped, grew ever harder. You were so wet, so ready for him, he was close to completely loosing it. Your fingers were clutching at his shoulders, then slid up to his neck and head. The way you said his name, not yet a moan but close enough, had him thrust shallowly into the air. “Fuck, what did I ever do to deserve this.” You laughed at that, unbelieving as well. “You love me.” He hummed, pulled his hands from you and pushed himself even lower. He was hungry, and diner was served. His mouth on your cunt made you sit up, a loud curse on your lips. What in the world? “Lay back princess.” He wasn’t going to stop. He’d not stop until you’ve come on his tongue, until you were dripping. Your heart was beating so hard, it was deafening; you were sure it was going to explode any second. And then Geralt did something with his tongue that had you seeing stars; suddenly you had to concentrate really hard on being quiet. The room was filled with the sounds of your wetness, of Geralt’s growls and happy hums, your moans, your stifled curses when you were aware enough to clap a hand over your mouth. It was dirty, heady, delightfully so. Your hips jolted when he pushed a finger in, carefully, and you gasped so loudly, he was concerned for a moment. “Are you okay?” Your right hand came up to pinch your nipple, your left buried itself in Geralts hair and held on. “YES.” He didn’t hesitate long and dove right back in with new energy, more tongue and with more pressure. He licked you, he ate you like a man starving. His finger dragged out, then pushed back in, producing such a delicious teasing friction, you had to wriggle your hips. He didn’t like that. His free arm came to wrap around you, hold your hip down and still.   You didn’t realize your small movements weren’t the actual reason, not before pulled out, spread your cunt with middle and index finger and licked up your slit in one broad swipe. “Oh fuck, Geralt, ple-“ He hummed, the vibrations shooting through you like little shooting stars. You started to lose feeling in your toes, and still they were tingly; it spread up your legs, warmth pooled in your belly. You knew you’d not be able to hold on much longer, but Geralt didn’t want you to. “You taste amazing, my princess. I want to never taste anything else again. Never. “ He started fucking you with his tongue, swirled it around, pushed in, pulled out, licked up and down and made you writhe and see stars. You grew hotter and hotter, muscles coiled tight and ready to let go, when Geralt hummed once again, then let off just enough to talk. “I will make this my dinner every night from now on. You’ll learn what it means to be satisfied, my beloved.” He leaned up onto his elbow, looked down at your drenched, wrecked cunt. “You’ll crave me.” One finger slipped into you. “You will beg for me to come visit you at night.” Back out. “I won’t be able to sleep before I had a taste of you, Princess.” Back in. His leisurely pace had you keening and fisting the fabric under you. “Never will I be satisfied with anything less than the taste of your arousal on my lips.” He smiled at you, softly, adoring. “Never again do I want to miss your presence, my Princess.” Geralt gathered up your juices, pushed them back in and then he was right back where he loved to be. Head buried between your legs, lapping up your wetness and not wasting a single drop. Barely half a minute later, you were going tense, your legs closing around Geralt’s head, trapping him there, and then you came. You bit the palm of your hand as not to scream his name, but you surely did thrash in place, your body shaking from head to toe. Never had you had such an intense orgasm, and you’d never thought it would even be possible to feel like this. Your blood was rushing in your ears, your lungs refused to work, and you were sure Geralt was talking to you. Were you passing out? No, you didn’t think you were. A giggle spilled over your lips then, and suddenly you couldn’t stop it anymore. Geralt had finally gotten rid of his pants and now he was crawling back over you and brushed your hair from your face. “You alright?” You nodded, still giggling.   “Good.” He cupped your face with one hand, kissed you and then nuzzled underneath your jaw, like a small puppy. Which, he wasn’t. Not at all. You still felt very sensitive and twitchy, so you were grateful that he wasn’t touching you anywhere below your hip. In a sexual way, at least. Instead he was stretched out at your side, his leg thrown over yours, and his arms pulling you close. You calmed down after a while, Geralts steady breath at your side reassuring. The two of you laid like that for a while, just breathing, Geralt’s hands wandering in soothing patterns, his nose pressed into your skin. You took way long to realize he was still hard, poking into your hip. Before, you would have been mightily embarrassed, maybe would even cover your eyes and roll away. But, he’d just had his head between your legs, had eaten you out like it was his first meal in a while. He had shown you more than once actually, how much he loved and desired you, and how nothing whatsoever could change it. Instead, you rolled over, wrapped your arms around him. “Do you need help with that?” Geralt laughed, pressed a kiss to your temple. “Do you offer?” With the cheekiest smile you could procure, you pinched his ass. “I might.” Sadly, he didn’t really react, but you guessed his Witcher abilities might have influenced his pain perception. You stretched, your bones groaning and aching, before snapping back to where they belonged. He straddled your thighs, his hands spread and covering most of your ribcage; he was ginormous. A mountain. Nonetheless, you’ve never felt safer and more content than right now. You smiled up at him, wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss his lips, then nip at his jaw. “How do you want me then?” Geralt licked his lips, made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “I want you naked, wet, and all the time.” You let your arms fall back into the cushions, knew the stretch would make your breasts rise and taunt him. “What are you waiting for?” He loved how relaxed and open you were, how you teased him, how you didn’t shy away from him or his nakedness. He loved you, body and soul. “I love you too, Geralt.” You’d seen it in his face, Over time, you’d become quite adept in reading the witcher and his moods, and this face was definitely not one he should show in public. He nuzzled your cheek, bit teasingly at your nose and kissed your lips, just to mumble: “So much, my beloved.” And then he got off you, made you spread your legs once more and sank down between them. You wrapped them around his waist, dug your heels into his butt when he teased you with the head of his cock and accidentally scratched his bicep when he positioned himself. “Shh, it’s okay, we don’t have to.” “No, I want to.” You looked up at him, how his hair fell down around his face, like a curtain shielding you from reality; he was divine. He was an actual angel and you should thank your parents for calling him. He followed the lines of your face with his fingertips, tapped the tip of your nose. “You should try to relax then, Princess.” You tried, you really did. But he was huge. How was he supposed to fit in you without accidentally hurting you? He’d never forgive himself if he did. He knew, of course he did.  Stupid enhanced senses. Geralt cupped your jaw, lips pressed against yours and then the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your chin. You had to giggle at his antics, not used to such playfulness; it was nice. He breached you, and you gasped, sucked in as much air as possible and tensed up. “No, no, breathe. You have to breathe.” You willed your muscles to unclench, your lungs to expand and closed your eyes. “That’s it, yes.” You continued to just breathe, your nails digging into his skin where you were clutching his arms, but he didn’t even acknowledge it. He was busy scanning your face for major discomfort and any sign to stop, while he slowly pushed it.   But there wasn’t. You soldiered on, and once he was buried inside, you took a deep breath, released it and opened your eyes. Geralt started to pepper your face with kisses once more, praising you, showering you in compliments. Your heart swelled, then burst and you melted into a puddle of goo. Which, ultimately, was Geralt’s goal. “This okay?”, he asked, as he started moving. It was agonizingly slow, but he couldn’t risk hurting you. A nod, then you pressed your head back into the pillows and focused on the sensations. The ladies in court had one way of talking about this kind of experience, and it was usually a very negative one. You should have known that it wouldn’t be like that at all, not with your witcher. He’d rather cut off his own arm, than hurt you. “You’re doing so good, so good, princess. “ You hummed, smiled. The stretch started to dissipate, made place for pleasure and heat. It wasn’t long, and you had to urge him on, roll your hips, meet his thrusts. It wasn’t perfect, your inexperience made it sloppy and he just tried to roll with it, but – fuck. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The familiar heat built in your belly, your toes tingled, and you keened when Geralt suddenly hit a spot that made your whole body jolt.   He just chuckled darkly, wrapped his hands around your hips to keep you in place and started assaulting that same spot. Only seconds, and then you saw stars, felt sensations you were a stranger to, and then you exploded. A hand came to keep your mouth shut, Geralt still thrusting inside you, faster and faster, his forehead pressed against your temple. His left hand kept your knee up and in place, so he could thrive in at a better angle. You couldn’t anymore, you couldn’t. You were shaking, your whole body out of control. There were tears racing each other into your hairline, and then warmth. Warmth pooling inside you, where you weren’t sure it was supposed to be. And then you realized. Geralt just came. Inside you. You were a bit sad you had missed it, but you concluded there’d be more occasions where you’d be less distracted by your own orgasm. When you came down, your felt light, boneless; deeply satisfied. Geralt had sat back onto his haunches and gathered your legs, your feet planted onto his thighs. His hands were wrapped around your ankles and his chin was placed on your knees. “You’re well?” You glanced down at him, sleepy and exhausted and nodded. “Just a lot to process.” Then you raised your arms, gestured him to come hug you. He seemed relieved, kissed the inside of your right knee and let your legs drop to the side, then came to gather you into his arms. You let yourself be manhandled and positioned, you didn’t have the mind to protest. You came to rest with your head on his chest, his arm around you and his nose pressed into your hair. He wiped away the tears and hugged you even closer. “You came in me.”, you mumbled, barely awake anymore. Geralt hummed, played with your hair. “Witchers can’t procreate.” “Oh, okay.” The low tone of his voice was the last thing you were consciously aware of, before you drifted off into sleep.

[rvmmm21]

. you’re a monster .

summary : “what will you do when you’re knocked out in an alleyway and wake up tied to a bed. what next, hm?” the demon’s question rings in her head the entire time she’s being pleasured beyond comprehension. Kang Seulgi begs and pleads, and she reluctantly finds the answer.

small note : forgive the appalling pacing. sorry if i misinterpreted this and it was meant to be soft-ish, but when i saw monster i just went oh cool HARD-ish. also never thought i’d write seulrene but hey! first! i’m so sorry to all the seulgi stans out there, i know she’s soft but i... i saw ‘monster themed’ and i went :o i will softly make it up to you if i get another seulgi ask, i promise! also soft seul stans pls don’t read this if... um you’re not comfy with the concept. it’s hardcore.

[seulrene - demon!irene x human!seulgi]

tw : NONcon, overstimulation, light bondage, and the flippant overuse of the word ‘no’.

...

She tries to roll over in an attempt to relieve that dull ache in her shoulders, but to her dampened shock, finds she can do nothing more than shift about a millimetre away before being pulled back down. Numbness gives way to an accelerated heart-rate as she realises her predicament; with both wrists and ankles securely bound to a cold, metallic bed frame, she’s completely immobile. She gives an experimental tug to find that: the bedposts are dreadfully sturdy, and her binds are surprisingly soft and velvety. Like royal silk, she thinks, but in this light, or lack thereof, it’s impossible to tell.

O-Oh my god what’s happened? Where… where the heck am I?

The air is thick and heavy, but that’s not why Kang Seulgi is choking.

“How lovely. It’s been a while since I’ve had a human.”

The words smoothly puncture her focus; nonchalant and detached. It matches the smile playing on the blood-red lips she can just about see through the fog in her vision. That stare, those eyes; horribly searching, dark and sharp enough to pierce. And it pierces her to the point where it feels like she isn’t wearing any –

Wait. Where are her clothes? Any of them?

She’s stark naked. And it’s a shocking revelation, but the dipping of the mattress on either side really doesn’t grant any time to ponder. A shiver runs through her when two smooth hands start to explore her body without her permission; squeezing her, violating her. She realises just how unforgiving the restraints are when she instinctually struggles, kicks, does whatever to try to get them to stop. But the weight straddling her remains unmovable, and it just mocks her panicked writhing with a laugh like she’s never heard before. It’s undeniably a woman’s, but there’s something about it that makes Seulgi squint maladjusted eyes to sharpen the edges of the silhouette above her. Despite the intrusive groping, it’s slowly taking shape; it is a woman. And she’s drop-dead gorgeous, unfortunately. With long, pin-straight black hair, milky white skin, a deadly scarlet smirk and… when her top lip curls up just right… oh god… are those… does she see fangs?!

That not-so-subtle detail is enough to force the girl out of stunned silence.

A terrified shriek is followed by a breathless – “W-Who – what are you?!”

The hands stop. Everything does, for a while. And then there’s another laugh before her apparent captor ever so gracefully introduces herself.

“Sweetie, you don’t know me. Nor I you, for that matter…” her voice drips like molten lava, bright and scorching all the same, “… but that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Her response is overtaken by an almost dry heave when the demon woman above her sounds like she’s lecturing a rebellious 16-year-old.

“Pft, mortals,” she scoffs absentmindedly, rolling her eyes as if the human race is the most bewildering thing she’s ever come across. That’s before her tone turns into something sinister. “Living with your little blinkers on, walking home well past sundown, all alone and vulnerable. Never thinking about what happens if you catch someone’s eye… if you’re too adorable to resist? What will you do when you’re knocked out in an alleyway and wake up tied to a bed? What next, huh?”

The irony isn’t lost on Seulgi, and the gentle caress on her cheek does little to settle her terror.

“But lucky for me, humans don’t think like that, do they?”

“… y-you’re a – a m-monster…” Seulgi spits, trying to sound bigger than she currently feels. But it sounds more like a shaky whisper than an accusation, and it only succeeds in stretching that soul-eating grin wider than she’d ever thought possible.

A sinister, throaty laugh takes a rake down her ears and sends an uncomfortable chill prickling across her skin. “Oh, we haven’t even begun yet, darling… why don’t you save those lovely little nicknames for when you really need them, hm? Tell you what, you can call me Joohyun for now.”

The demon taps her on the nose in fake reward.

Seulgi isn’t even aware she’s squirming until she feels a cold hand clamp down on her left knee and shove it flat on the mattress with a dark chuckle. “Now, now, I’d conserve that energy if i were you… trust me, it’ll be gone before you know it.”

“… n-no! … get… get me out, let me go!” Seulgi screams, using all her strength to yank at the material keeping her captive.

Something in her hamster-beating heart drops with all her hopes when a pair of lips plant themselves on her cheek, ignoring the way she reels back in horror. “Run that pretty mouth all you want,” Joohyun sneers, eyes trailing downwards “... your body seems to know what it wants.”

What on earth does that mean? Seulgi is twisting around now, but Joohyun takes hold of her hips, pinning her down despite her futile attempts at freedom.

And then she finds the answer to her question.

The depravity of the situation weighs on her all at once when two fingers drag along the length of her slit, making her flinch. She sees them held up in front of her face, all slick coated. Just from that. When her mind goes blank, it shows. Enough for Joohyun’s determination to skyrocket and for long fingers to find their way back to the girl’s dripping entrance, teasing their way in slowly, curling them upwards. The look in her eyes, now the colour of glowing ember, as Seulgi’s body is forcibly provoked is almost playful.

Oh my gosh why… why does it feel like that… why does it feel… good. Of course, that’s something Seulgi is fully intent on keeping to herself, but she’s clearly not having much luck. Not while she’s rolling her eyes back, not while she’s failing to conceal those increasingly desperate sounding pants leaving lips she can’t seem to keep together… much like her legs. Joohyun just teases her some more, smiling at how painfully obvious it is that her little human is trying her hardest to convince herself she doesn’t want this.

She breaks sooner than expected.

Seulgi finds herself bucking up against it before she can stop, spreading further open so Joohyun’s warm, eager tongue has access to her sensitive clit, pressing on it, sucking it, just driving her insane. She’s grinding against the mouth as much as her binds will allow, thighs trembling violently with strain, but ugh – it’s worth every tremor.

“… wait – ah! Oh gosh! I –” The pressure on her clit increases to where it drives a keening whine from her throat, locking all her muscles in place as Joohyun draws out the first orgasm of the night.

The human barely has time to recover from the initial wave of orgasmic bliss before the demon is lazily undressing, only enough to reveal the textured length between her legs. Seulgi cranes her neck up, eyes instantly bulging at the latex. It’s somewhat hilarious that this… demon of a woman in all her hellish majesty has to brandish a fake cock. A small part of her wants to laugh at – oh god but she can’t – she can’t even think without moaning when said fake cock buries itself into her. It bottoms out with such ease it pulls out a painfully choked sob instead of any snide remark about the ability to ‘pound her into submission without the use of a strap-on’.

No. What is she doing? No, no, no... this is far too much to handle.

The darkness spins above her, as stupid as it sounds, it does. And that’s all she can stare up into. It’s dizzying, but she’s already tried looking down, and let’s just say the nauseating spin is much less… intense.

She’s so wet, Joohyun has no problem starting hard and fast, fucking her deep into the mattress, pushing past the initial squeeze of her walls and pounding into her with nothing less than pure animalistic force. And the human beneath her seems to be enjoying it too. Joohyun knows if her precious little human could see what she looks like taking her cock so well, she’ll flush a shade even pinker than the rose quartz blush trailing up her neck right now.

Poor Seulgi cries out, desperately trying to bring her knees together, but Joohyun catches them, keeping her spread with a demonic strength she can only dream of challenging. She knows she’s found her clit when she’s rewarded with a sharp hiss, and it only takes a couple of brisk taps on it before Seulgi’s walls are clenching down. She’s torn between screaming for it to stop, and ask - no, begging to let her cum again.

It’s horribly humiliating to consider, but she has to wonder whether it’s her begging or her crying that drives the demon harder.

“… J-Joohyun! I’m…” – but that’s all she gets out before she’s turning away to sink her teeth into her shoulder in the hopes of dulling the devastatingly intense sensation of multiple orgasms.

Sweet baby, Joohyun thinks as she watches her thrash and tremble and then go almost completely limp, my sweet little human, so breakable and so, so overwhelmed. She just smiles at Seulgi’s gasp when she swiftly replaces the sensation of the strap with those familiar fingers.

“… no, please… no – no more…”

It’s so much more fun having her humans ungagged, free to beg to their little hearts’ content. Because she adores hearing pitiful pleas dissolve into pained whimpering with a flick of her tongue or just a little more pressure behind her thumb. Joohyun finds it the funniest thing to watch human instincts in action; knowing it’s pointless, but still wasting their breath trying to reason with the cause of their suffering. The knowledge that her victim is too drained to fight back is an absolute blessing. The power she possesses is immeasurable and downright thrilling.

“… oh please, please Joohyun – don’t make – ah! –  not… not again, I – I can’t, please…”

But she’s helpless and she doesn’t get to decide when she stops, if she’ll ever. That’s up to Joohyun. And what Joohyun wants to do is keep fucking her well past her breaking point, she wants to keep teasing her overstimulated clit, she wants to torture her for as long as she can, either until she gets bored or the human passes out.

And she’s proud to admit, those struggles are definitely weaker than before.

Delirious Seulgi doesn’t even notice the fingers pumping in and out of her speeding up over the sound of her moans, increasing in frequency. This is about to be her… what, her fifth? Eighth? God, she doesn’t know… nor can she find the head space to care, really. Her mind is so blissed out from how rapidly she’s being fucked, to the relentless sucking on her sore, swollen clit, that she’s barely even aware she’s tipping over the edge.

Joohyun wears an evilly triumphant grin as she does. “That’s it, give it to me. My sweet little mortal.”

Still, Seulgi manages to rasp a weak – “… m-monster…” before she does, trying her best to put some bite behind the word. But it’s almost impossible to when she’s torn apart yet again, jerking and twitching as Joohyun’s mouth cruelly steals another orgasm from her. There can be no venom behind those adorable, breathless whimpers that grow quieter and quieter until there’s no more resistance. None at all.

Poor thing, she didn’t even know that would be her last one.

Soft breathing, tear-stained cheeks and eyes rolled back in her skull; Joohyun observes her wreck of a human, beautiful and unconscious because of her. She can’t even put a pretty name to an even prettier face yet, but she’s not worried in the slightest.

They have plenty of time for that.

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 24: Beauty In Death

TW: SUICIDE

Billy’s POV

Cat woke up sick the next morning. Her body just couldn't handle being out in the cold for as long as she had been. Steve, Max and I spent our time nursing her back to health. Bringing her tea and medicine. Tried to get her to eat some soup but everytime she did, she'd end up in the bathroom puking.

She got a fever on the third day. Woke up soaked in sweat and shivering. I skipped school for the morning to stay with her while she drifted in and out of sleep. Switched with Steve at lunch so we didn't fall too far behind on our classes.

We had to call Julie that night. Steve was helping Cat stand up and she had passed out. Just crumpled like a rag doll. Luckily, Steve caught her before she hit the floor or the table.

Julie brought some antibiotics home on her break and thanked us for taking care of Cat before leaving again.

She lasted a few more weeks with Steve and I trying our hardest to never leave her alone. She tried as best as she could to put on a happy front and pretend everything was okay. Max hung around her a lot, keeping that little spark of hope alive. We tried splitting up the nights with her so only one of us would be with Cat every night in hope that the other would be able to relax but both Steve and I had been restless on nights we were alone so we both ended up spending every night at Cat’s. The three of us would pass out sprawled against one another on the couch or Steve would take the couch while Cat and I slept in her room. There were a few times where Steve would drift off behind Cat, holding her so gently, and I would have to leave. I’d go outside to smoke and push down the spark of jealousy in my chest that set me on edge.

But I found myself thinking of Steve almost like a brother and I knew he loved Cat too. And I had to let them have that, let her have all the good in her life that she could.

We drove her to and from school and spent every possible second with her. But it had been exhausting, draining and we were starting to feel run down. Steve had been having a hard time staying awake during class, during basketball practice he had no energy and had been benched the past few days. I knew I was hitting that point of exhaustion too, my brain felt foggy and I was having a hard time focusing on anything.

And now there was a big game this week against a rival team. Coach had pulled Steve and I aside. Told us to get our shit together for the game or don't bother coming back to the team. Told us not to embarrass him.

Then the day of the game came and we were ready. We'd spent the last few nights trying to get as much sleep as we could. Cat seemed to be doing a little better so it made it easier to sleep.

"You're coming to the game, right?" Steve asked Cat.

We were in the parking lot after school. The game didn't start for a couple hours.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she smiled, "I just need to get this assignment done. Mom will drive me back later."

Steve pulled her in for a hug, "see you later."

Cat gave Steve a quick smile, “love you, Stevie,” and squeezed his shoulder before getting in the front seat of the Camaro.

I pulled up to her house and noticed the driveway was empty except for Cat's broken down car, “your mom isn't home. Should I stay?"

Cat smiled, squeezed my hand lightly, “she'll be here soon, go get ready for your game," she leaned over to press her lips against mine, "love you, B."

I got home and scarfed down a sandwich that Susan made me before getting ready for the game. I was almost ready when Max appeared in my door.

"Is Cat coming to watch the game too?"

"Yeah, her mom's bringing her. You gunna save her a seat?"

She nodded, "I gotta tell her we finally beat the high score on that game at the arcade."

"Wow, good job, Max. She'll be proud," I said, grabbing my bag from the floor, "you ready?"

Jump.

Score.

The whistle blew.

Half time.

Our team crowded together to cheer for our last second point. Hands clapped my back. People in the stands cheered.

But when Steve and I looked out to the stands, we didn't see her.

I caught Max's eye and mouthed, "Cat?"

She shrugged and shook her head and disappointment settled heavy in my gut.

Steve and I were pulled into the locker room with the rest of the team.

He leaned in to whisper, "where is she?"

I shrugged, "don't know," I whispered back as our coach came in.

My mind was racing while our coach spoke. Is she okay? Is her mom with her? Why isn't she here? She was supposed to be here.

The rest of the game went by in a blur. The final whistle blew and we were swept up in the cheering of our celebrating team.

"We should check on her," Steve said quietly when our team started to disperse into the locker room.

"She did say her mom would be home tonight, maybe they're spending time together."

Steve didn't look convinced.

"I'll drop Max off, you pick up something to eat and we'll meet there. She's okay."

She has to be.

When I pulled up to the house, Steve had just pulled up and was getting out of his car.

Julie's car still wasn't there.

We hurried up to the door and let ourselves in.

"Cat?" I called.

We waited a second, slipping off our shoes. Steve walked in and set a box of pizza down on the kitchen counter.

"Cat?" He yelled, worry growing.

There was a note taped to the fridge, "Be back in a couple weeks. Be good, mom."

It dawned on me, "she wasn't coming home today.."

Steve took off running, grabbing Cat's bedroom doorframe to stop himself before ducking in.

"Cat?"

My heart was threatening to pound out of my chest.

“Cat?” I called, my voice ringing through the house, "Hello?"

Steve was panicking, shaking like a fucking leaf and cursing under his breath. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and pushed forward to the bathroom. Wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and twisted.

Click.

Locked.

Steve came forward to knock on the door, "Cat?

Silence.

I rattled the handle, "Cat? Can you answer me?"

We waited a second, holding our breath.

Nothing.

Steve stepped back a bit, shaking his head.

His voice hitched, "Cat, please?"

I pounced my fist against the door, "Cat, open the door!"

"Cat!" Steve yelled, losing his composure as he slammed his hand against the wood.

I pounded on the door harder, rattled the door know again, "Cat! Come on!"

Steve slammed his shoulder against the door and choked on tears.

"Back up," I said as I stepped away from the door.

I threw myself into the door as hard as I could. Wood cracked loudly under my shoulder, but not enough.

Steve had his hands in his hair, fingers clenched tight in his locks. His whole body tense.

I ran across the hall and threw my weight into the door again.

Wood splintered and gave way. The door flung open, swinging into the wall behind it.

I felt my knees give out when I saw what waited inside.

Cause while Steve had dealt with this before, had lived through this before, I wasn’t prepared for this.

Suddenly I was thrown into a memory of the first time Neil gave me a bloody nose when I was young and I couldn’t stop staring at the blood running down my face.

While I sunk to the ground, Steve leaped over me, a string of curses spilling from his lips.

“Fuck, fucking call someone! Jesus,” Steve ordered, hands shaking as he whipped around to grab towels.

I didn’t hear him, couldn’t hear him past the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears. I felt like my lungs had filled with cement and I couldn’t gulp in enough air to fill them anymore.

Steve looked at me and scrambled over to grab at my arms, “jesus, Hargrove. Fucking, get over here,” he pulled me across the floor and wrapped my hands around Cat’s arms, “squeeze tight."

His hands left bloody prints up my arms. Her blood.

“But…you..last time..she's okay, right?"

“This is worse, we need help," he squeezed my hands around her arms, "tight. Don’t let go.”

My jaw worked with words that wouldn’t find their way past my tongue as Steve released me to run out of the room.

Worse? I couldn’t imagine how there could be a better or worse to this.

“Hello? I need an ambulance,” Steve’s watery voice echoed through the house, “my friend, she slit her wrists…”

I stopped listening, my only focus the metallic tang that hung thick in the air, coating the inside of my nose until I felt nauseous.

“Cat?” I croaked, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Baby. Please, please come back, just look at me, okay? Please? Just open your eyes, Baby,” I begged, trying to keep an iron grip on her arms but wanting so desperately to shake her until she woke up.

Steve came hurrying back into the bathroom, a red mark smeared across his cheek where he’d wiped at his face, “they’ll be here soon.”

He crowded beside me and grabbed at Cat’s face, leaving a matching smear, “hey, come on. Wake up, we’re here. We got you, okay? You gotta stay with us.”

She didn’t move when Steve shook her, and she was so pale. It crossed my mind that maybe we were too late.

My eyes burned as tears spilled down my cheeks, my arms shook and my knuckles were turning stark white against the red towels.

“Steve,” I choked, “I.. I don’t, what…why..?”

Steve chewed his lip, worried at it so much I thought he’d break skin, “fuck. I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. We just gotta try to keep her from bleeding out until the ambulance gets here,” he tried to shake her again and got no response, “mother fucker! Come on, asshole! Open your fucking eyes!”

My jaw ticked as anger spiked in my chest, “don’t swear at her!"

Steve whipped his head around to glare at me through dewy eyes, “really? You think me swearing is going to make this any worse?”

“I don’t know, Steve! Is it going to make it any fucking better?” I spat.

Steve opened his mouth to start yelling at me when he heard sirens coming closer and instead stood up with a huff, “stay here.”

“The fuck else do you think I’m gunna go?” I growled under my breath as he left.

“Please,” I pleaded, barely keeping myself from sobbing, “please, Cat. You can’t..you can’t fucking leave me like this. You just need to hold on, okay? Just stay with me, please. It'll be okay, everything will be okay. Just hold on."

I didn’t have to wait long before Steve hurried back with a couple paramedics holding a stretcher. They crowded into the bathroom, one man gently moving me out of the way to grab at Cat, fingers moving everywhere to test for a pulse and lift her eyelids.

Steve and I could only hear snippets of what they were saying to each other.

“Unconscious…non responsive….we’re gonna need an IV…I’ve got a heartbeat, barely."

They moved to lift her onto the stretcher and hurried back out to the ambulance with Steve and I following behind.

"Is she okay?" I asked, following behind.

They didn't answer, just hurried to load her into the ambulance. One of the men climbed into the back with her and went to close the door but was stopped by me grabbing the door.

"Sir, I need you to let go."

"I'm coming," I said, trying to climb into the ambulance.

He held up a hand, stopping me, “I’m sorry, immediate family only in the ambulance. You guys will have to follow us, call her parents.”

I looked at the man’s stupid freckled face, his stupid kind eyes and had to stop myself from tackling the man to the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you see parents? We’re all she has! We have to go with her! I need to know she’s okay!” I shouted.

“Sir! You need to calm down,” the man replied sternly, “can’t let you in. Rules."

Steve grabbed my bicep and pulled gently, “Billy, let them go. They need to go,” he urged.

I tensed, my face going stony and backed away from the ambulance doors as Steve pulled at me with a shaking hand.

Steve was shaking violently as the ambulance drove away, sirens blaring. He never let go of my arm, he held tight like he thought I might bolt or he might collapse if he were to let go.

When the ambulance was out of sight, I turned and pulled my keys out of my pocket, “let’s go.”

Steve shook his head, “no, I need to, we gotta..we can’t leave that mess.”

I glared at him, I didn’t want to have to face that again, but followed Steve inside anyway. I followed Steve back to the bathroom where he dutifully handed me a couple towels and started filling the tub with hot water. We started wiping up the blood silently, neither of us ready to break the silence as we turned the bath water red from rinsing out the towels. It was eery, seeing the outline of where Cat had been slumped on the floor, clean and empty against the pool of dark red. I stuck my hand in the middle of the clean spot and felt my chin begin to waver. It was too much, seeing the blood pooled on the floor and sprayed up onto the cabinet, the smeared hand print on the edge of the tub next to shining metal.

“Steve,” I choked out.

He looked up at me with big, glassy eyes, there was a steady stream running down his cheeks that he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. With a huff I threw down the towel I had been cleaning with and stalked out of the house into the front yard. I fumbled to pull a cigarette out of my jacket and light it, my hands shaking and leaving red prints everywhere. Steve didn’t follow me, I was by myself with the weight of the world on my chest.

What am I gunna do if she…?

If she’s gone…forever?

I smoked through my last three cigarettes quickly, relishing in the acrid burn of my lungs until I went to grab another and found my pack empty. I screamed out a curse and threw the empty carton across the lawn and collapsed to the ground, holding my head in my hands and sobbing violently.

I should’ve fucking been here, she shouldn’t have been alone.

I knew, deep down, that she wasn't getting better. I had just been stupid enough to hope. To hope that she'd turn a corner, that her mom would be here to make sure she was okay.

But she wasn’t here, nobody was. And Cat was alone.

And that's my fault.

I sat there, wallowing in my anger and despair until my chest stopped heaving and my breath started to come normally again.

Briefly, I wondered if she left a note, something explaining why I wasn’t enough. Why we weren't enough to keep her alive.

I set my jaw, wiped at my cheeks and slowly got back to my feet to go back inside. I could hear Steve’s heart wrenching sobs as soon as I walked inside and followed them to find him curled up on the floor in Cat’s room, his head buried in his bloody knees. I gently knelt down next to him, twisting my fingers together in my lap.

“Don’t got any cigarettes to offer you,” I muttered, my voice scratchy and rough.

Steve sniffed and took a shuddering breath, “she didn’t call or anything...I tried s-so fucking hard.”

“I know,” I placed a hand on his back gently, “I know you did. We did all we could, Steve.”

“We should go..” he whispered.

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed, standing back up and extending a hand to him.

He puffed out another long breath before taking my hand to pull himself off the floor. Before I could think, Steve had collapsed into my shoulder, his arms gripping at my back in a crushing embrace as he choked out another sob.

“I should have been here, we shouldn’t have left her alone. This is my fucking fault,” he cried.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders firmly and grit my teeth before trying to talk past the knot in my throat, “Steve. Come on, it’s not your fault.”

@charmed-asylum​

[supernaturaldesires]

Dirty Little Secret - Chapter Five

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Additional character: Demon!Jo

Warnings: hostage, handcuffs, fingering, threesome, anal, oral, degradation, non-con/dub-con

Word Count: 1,778

Over the following days, Dean started to set you into a rhythm. Not a routine as such - he was very careful not to be predictable. But he started to set more rules, more expectations.

Each morning, not only must you be ‘dressed’ but you were to also be on your knees, palms flat against your thighs, and eyes down. When you were sucking his cock, you had to maintain eye contact with him at all times. This proved difficult when he pushed your head right up to his balls, but if your eyes fell from his, you were punished. He had also taught you to ‘present’ on command, positioning yourself on your hands and knees with your ass in the air. You were usually allowed to do this on the bed, but if you had misbehaved he would make you get on the floor where the cold concrete bit into your skin. You had quickly realised that if you obeyed, there was actually half a chance that you would be pleasured too, if he felt in the mood for it.

You had lost track of the days, but you believed it had been just over a week that you had been held prisoner here. One morning, after a laborious night of having the sense fucked out of you for hours, you awoke groggily to the sound of the door. Once you gained consciousness, you bolted upright, realising you were not ready. The demon stood at the door with your breakfast, shaking his head and tutting at you.

“I’m sorry Sir,” you said quickly, scrambling to get up and grabbed the closest set of lingerie you could find. “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired.”

Dean’s onyx eyes were unforgiving as you clipped a silky pink bra on and pulled matching panties on, before falling into position on your knees. “Just as we were making progress, little one,” he murmured with an edge to his voice. “But if you’re going to act like a disobedient little bitch, then I’ll treat you like one.”

He dropped the bowl of porridge roughly on the floor in front of you before crouching down behind you. You felt his breath on your neck before he grabbed your arms and yanked them behind your back and cuffing them together. He fisted your hair and pushed your head down towards the bowl. “Eat.”

You felt so humiliated but you had started to learn how to hold back the tears. Shaking, you dipped your face into the bowl and started lapping up the porridge. The demon held your head in place, occasionally pushing you down further, dipping your nose and chin into the food.

Your body jumped as you felt a finger penetrate your entrance, momentarily lifting your head from the bowl before he immediately pushed it back down. “Don’t stop until that you lick that fucking bowl clean,” Dean snarled. “Just because you fucked up, doesn’t mean I’m going to wait around to take what’s mine.” He buried two fingers deep inside of you, using his thumb to torturously circle your bundle of nerves. Your body began to shake in response, but you didn’t dare stop eating, lapping up all remnants of the food in the bowl. “I actually had a surprise for you today, my pet,” the demon murmured. “You’ll still get it, but it’s a shame because we could have made this much more pleasurable for you.”

Fear began to quiver through your body. “I’m sorry Sir, it won’t happen again,” you tried, but that only earned you a sharp yank on your arms, reeling you backwards into his chest.

“Did I ask you a question?” He said threateningly, and you shook your head violently. “Then shut the fuck up. Now stay on your knees, turn around and face the bed. Don’t fucking move.” You did as you were told as he went to the sink to dampen the hem of his t-shirt before wiping your face clean. “Dirty little whore, making such a mess.” He gathered your bowl and disappeared from the room, the door sealing behind him.

A few minutes later, the door re-opened but you knew better than to turn around. You felt Dean’s rough hand between your shoulder blades, pushing your face down into the mattress. “Ass up,” he demanded, and you obeyed. His hand stayed firm on your back as you felt a finger running over your buttocks, down your ass-crack and approaching your slit. Something felt different about this, though. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” You froze. It was a female voice. You began to struggle, but Dean held you down effortlessly.

“She’s prettier when she fucking behaves,” he threatened and you resigned, submitting yourself to whatever was going to happen next. 

You felt your hair being lifted and a piece of leather wrapped round your throat. You felt a sharp tug from behind and your head jerked up, Dean’s hand still pinning your chest to the bed. You wanted to beg them to stop, to leave you alone, but you knew that would only make it worse. Only a pathetic whimper escaped your lips. “I’ll bet she makes some beautiful noises,” the sultry female voice moaned. Finally, the fingers left your body and the owner of the new voice rounded into your view and climbed onto the bed in front of you. Dean’s hand left your back then and he pulled slightly on your lead, raising your upper body slightly to look at the stranger in the eye.  She was wearing a leather biker jacket over a simple tank top, and a pair of ripped jeans.

“Well hello, darlin’,” the blonde-haired woman said, her voice laced with venom. Her chestnut eyes bore into yours as her long fingers wrapped around your chin. “I’ve always wanted a little toy to play with. How generous of Dean to share his little slut with me,” a dark smile spread across her face and fear wracked through your body as her eyes blinked to black. Her thumb traced over your mouth, pulling your lower lip down and pushing the pad of her thumb between your lips. “Tongue out, baby girl.” You obeyed, pleading the woman silently with your eyes, but she took no notice. She withdrew her thumb and pulled her jeans off, exposing her black lace panties. 

Spreading her legs in front of you, she pulled her panties to the side and looked at you, waiting expectantly. Before you had a chance to protest, Dean shoved your head forward, your tongue plunging straight into her slit. You panicked, not knowing what to do. You’d never been with a woman before, and the fear of getting something wrong made you panic even more. The woman looked disappointed before flicking her eyes up to meet with Dean’s, who took his cue and started pushing your head back and forth, your tongue fucking the beautiful woman’s increasingly wet pussy. You tried to recoil from the taste, but Dean’s strong hand held you in place, keeping momentum.

“She’s clearly never been with a woman before,” she commented, watching you with leering eyes. “Fucking do something with that useless little mouth.” Improvising, you tried wrapping your lips around her clit and suckling. That seemed to work, as a gentle moan escaped her and she arched her back.

Dean’s voice came from behind you. “Here, Jo, take this,” he said, passing the lead to your collar over. A greedy smile spread across her face as she pulled your face deeper into her pussy, your nose pressing into her smooth flesh. “I think I know how to make this bitch pleasure you better.”

You heard Dean spitting behind you before feeling two wet fingers smearing over your asshole. You shrieked, trying to shake your head, but Jo fisted your head and held you in place. “Oh fuck, you haven’t even started and she’s making my cunt vibrate.”

Pain seared through your core as you felt Dean split you open with his large member. You screamed into Jo’s pussy as he pumped into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. “There’s a good girl,” Dean crooned from behind you. “You’re going to take me until you make your mistress cum.”

Your only saving grace was that Jo didn’t look far from it. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as you vibrated her cunt with your screams. Trying to push the pain to the back of your mind, you drove your tongue into her slit, lapping at her juices. Jo pushed your head away for a brief second as she flipped over onto her knees before yanking the lead, forcing your mouth back onto her cunt with your nose buried in her ass-crack. Still pounding into you from behind, Dean pushed your head deeper until you couldn’t breathe. You desperately tried to keep licking, lapping, sucking until you were screaming and shaking for lack of oxygen. 

Just as you were feeling about to pass out, you heard a loud moan ripple from Jo’s lips as her juices squirted onto your face. Finally, she released your leash and pulled away from you, allowing oxygen to flood back into your lungs. Your chest collapsed onto the mattress, leaving you in a rasping, sobbing mess. Dean pulled you up by your shoulders, barely pausing his relentless attack into your ass. “You’re not done yet, sweetheart. But we’ll be nice and let you cum with me.” 

Keeping one hand on your shoulder, he slid the other underneath you and pinched your clit, rubbing and twisting it, making you squirm. At the same time, Jo sucked on two of her long fingers before taking one of your nipples between them, torturing your sensitive flesh. You cried out, screaming for relief until Dean slipped three thick digits into your cunt and pumped into you, making you cream all over him. As you peaked your orgasm, you felt him fill your ass up before your body gave way completely and you collapsed on the floor.

Dean withdrew himself from you, leaving you hot, sticky and breathless, your head spinning. You heard a click as your handcuffs were released and you curled up into a ball. Dean grabbed hold of your shoulder, pulling you onto your back so that you were laying in front of him. You tried to look up at him through spinning vision.

“Don’t get too comfortable down there, my pet,” he said with a dark grin. “That’s just one hole filled - I’ve got two more to go.”

“Please,” you begged internally. “Please God let me out of here and let this all be over.”

<= Chapter Four

Chapter Six =>

Dean tags: @akshi8278​

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics​

[piceuscelus]

OMG YENNFRI! YES PLEASE!! Renfri reminds me so much of a cat in that episode where she was drinking/eating at the tavern. What if Yennefer does that thing where she puts *insert beverage* between her thighs for Renfri to lap it up, but then -WHOA- Renfri actually has a tongue of a cat and then y'know what's next ;)) Also, let's just imagine that it's not painful please lol

i have to be honest here, i had to have a whole council of my friends help me figure out what, exactly, this position entailed. BUT we figured it out, and now it’s here, your prompt, brought to you by my unending thirst for my crush who sent me lewds today

Yennefer’s only indication that her ritual took in any fashion, for a moment, is the flare of white light that engulfs the whole circle for a moment, blinding her. She jerks, just slightly, and accidentally spills the goblet she’s holding over her lap, the liquor tingling on her skin, where it pools in the little cup between her thighs and her pubis.

“Shit,” she mutters, and she means to stand, to find a cloth to wipe up the mess, but a low, hissing laugh stops her. 

Her head whips up to find a demon standing in the circle, exactly as naked as Yennefer, but with paler, pinkish skin marred only with smatterings of reddish-brown scales along the curves of them; hips, elbows, cheekbones. 

“Hello,” the demon greets, and their voice is almost delicate despite the throatiness to it, and there’s a power behind it that makes Yennefer shiver. “To what do I owe the pleasure, hm?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Yennefer tells them. 

The demon chuckles. “Not me, I suppose.”

“No.” Yennefer gives the demon a once-over. They have horns protruding from just behind their hairline, large at the base and thinner at the tips, curled gracefully back, and they as well as the long, smooth tail flicking behind their back match the patches of scales. Their hair is wildly curly and chopped unevenly, one side longer than the other, but somehow it looks...right. As far as the appearance of their body, they certainly look like a woman, breasts and just the barest peek of a slit between their thighs, but Yennefer knows better than to assume anything when dealing with creatures that aren’t of her world. “You’ll do, though.”

“Oh, will I?” They take a step forward, and Yennefer resists the urge to squirm at the obvious contained power in their movements. “What’s your name, little witch?”

The term is clearly an insult, but somehow it sounds more like an endearment, and Yennefer can’t help the way she licks her lips.

“Yennefer,” she answers, and watches as the demon’s eyes – properly golden, as if they’re disks of the metal itself, with cat-like slits – widen slightly.

“Daring, little witch,” the demon purrs, and it’s definitely more of an endearment this time. “Is that for whoever you were looking for?” They gesture to the goblet Yennefer is still holding, though she doesn’t miss the way their cat eyes slide over the warming puddle of it still in her lap.

“It was,” she nods. “It can be yours now, of course. If I may know to whom I’m making an offering.”

The demon hums. “You drive a hard bargain,” they say. “I suppose we’ll see just how much studying you’ve been doing, little witch – you can call me Renfri.”

Yennefer sucks in a breath, recognition like s grip tightening on the goblet stem for a split second. Renfri laughs and steps forward again, until she’s almost right at Yennefer’s knees.

“May I?” she asks, reaching toward the goblet. Yennefer holds it out to her, trying to ignore the way she’s trembling slightly. Renfri takes the goblet and drains it in one long swallow, and Yennefer is momentarily transfixed by the sight of her throat bobbing. Renfri tosses the goblet to the side when she’s done, and Yennefer’s eyes snap back to hers.

Renfri smirks. “Oh,” she says, falsely innocent. “It appears I’ve missed some. Wouldn’t do to be rude – after all, you are offering to me, no?”

She’s smart enough to catch the double meaning. Smart enough to know that a demon doesn’t give a fuck about how their acceptance or denial of an offering is taken.

“Yes,” she says, a little breathless, and Renfri’s teeth are sharp and glinting when she grins.

“Good,” she purrs, and slides gracefully to her knees. Yennefer’s heart pounds, and when Renfri’s tail whips forward to wrap tightly around her knees – keeping them pressed together – it only speeds up, a low, hot pulse beginning to echo it in her hips. 

Renfri is tall, enough that she has no problem leaning forward to lap the liquor up from between Yennefer’s thighs. Yennefer trembles, making a soft, weak little noise at the brief flash of a rough tongue against her skin. When she looks down, she finds that Renfri is looking up from under her lashes, eyes half-lidded, the slit of her pupil wider now. She sucks in a sharp breath that tumbles straight back out on a moan as Renfri licks more intentionally.

Her tongue is rough, similar to a cat’s but not painful, no sharpness to the barbs at all. And more than that, it’s long, longer than any creature Yennefer’s ever seen, and just the sight of it as Renfri pulls it back and licks her lips making Yennefer’s belly tighten. 

“There we go,” Renfri murmurs, as she finally laps up the last of the liquor. Her tongue lingers, though, sliding along the line where Yennefer’s thighs press together, then higher, until the tip dips just between. 

Yennefer jolts with the sensation, nothing more than a tickling tease but so much all the same. Renfri laughs, low and rumbling, and her tail slowly unravels from Yennefer’s knees. Claw-tipped hands cup the curves of them and dig in just slightly, just enough to make Yennefer whimper, something caught between startled pain and desperate want. Renfri barely has to press to make Yennefer open her legs.

“Lovely,” Renfri purrs. “Look at you.” She ducks closer, and the very tip of her long tongue trails up Yennefer’s slit, pressing no further than the very edge of her outer labia. Yennefer shudders, legs falling open even wider. “Do you want it, little witch? Want to use yourself as an offering?”

“Yes,” Yennefer hisses, hips jerking slightly. Renfri laughs, and then her tongue is sliding over Yennefer’s slit again, with more intent this time. When the rough of it rasps over Yennefer’s clit, she sobs, feeling impossibly wound up and desperate already. “Please.”

“Begging already,” Renfri teases softly, but her hands slide up, tips of her claws tickling up Yennefer’s thighs, until she can grip into the meat of them to hold Yennefer open. 

Another lick that focuses the roughness of Renfri’s tongue over Yennefer’s entrance, and Yennefer feels the way she’s drenching Renfri’s chin, the chair. She whines and arches up, hands settling in Renfri’s hair first and then wrapping around her horns as she tries to get more.

Renfri makes a low, warning sound, and her tail is suddenly there to yank Yennefer’s hands away and then bind them like it had her knees. It’s long enough to not only wrap around her wrists but to hold them high above her head, all while Renfri continues her exploratory little licks. 

“Please,” Yennefer gasps, trying to shift closer even though she can’t. “Please, I want – I need more.”

“I know, little witch,” Renfri murmurs, the feeling of her lips moving making Yennefer shudder. “I can feel how much you need.” Her tail yanks Yennefer’s wrists back at the same time that Renfri shoves her legs even more open, to the point of pain. 

Yennefer yelps, finding herself even more spread out now, back arched away from the chair, hips shoved to the edge where Renfri’s mouth waits, thighs held open with a grip she knows she can’t break. “Renfri,” she pants, cunt clenching. She’s terribly empty, and her clit is throbbing, and Renfri just laughs.

“Little witch,” she purrs. “Little whore.” 

That’s all the warning gets before Renfri’s tongue is slipping around the edge of her entrance and then sliding in, in, deeper than should be possible. Yennefer feels the way it wriggles, the odd not-stretch of her hole around the muscle, and can’t help the way she sobs for it, back arching even further against the holds Renfri has.

“Please, please, I need – I need it, Renfri, please,” she babbles, feeling too hot and too big for her skin.

For the first time, Renfir just does as she asks. The sensation of being tongue-fucked is unusually intense, making Yennefer’s thighs shake in the demon’s grip, making her hips jerk. She can’t be sure if it’s Renfri’s fault by the nature of being other, or Renfri’s fault because of something Renfri is doing, but she doesn’t care. 

She clenches down on Renfri’s tongue where it’s deep inside her cunt and whines when Renfri just hums, lips pressed around Yennefer’s entrance. “Please, please, need to come,” Yennefer gasps. “Please? I’ll be good for you, please.”

Renfri makes a very pleased, rumbling noise, and when Yennefer manages to pry her eyes open, she finds the demon looking up at her, lips slick and looking obscene with her tongue still buried in Yennefer’s body. Her eyes are even more golden, somehow, and her pupils are wide, dark pools. Yennefer feels as if she might be falling, as she stares into Renfri’s eyes, her peripheral vision capturing the way the demon’s jaw works as she continues to tongue-fuck Yennefer.

“Please,” Yennefer says again, quieter this time, and Renfri’s tail suddenly lets go of her wrists to flash down between them. Renfri pulls back with one last flickering lick to Yennefer’s insides, and the tail replaces her; Yennefer gasps and whimpers, hands flying to the seat of the chair to try and anchor herself.

“I think I’ll keep you, little witch,” Renfri purrs, and rubs the flat of her rough tongue directly over Yennefer’s clit at the same time that her tail thrusts in, deep, deep enough to nearly ache, and Yennefer sees stars as she comes.

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part three

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

With help from some of the Ministry's interns, your tent was finally up. It was lilac purple with a beautiful satin finish. Walking inside always took your breath away just because of the sheer size of the tent. It smelt brand new and didn't have that homey feeling like the Weasley's tent but it would do for a couple nights.

(y/n) plops down on the bed. She opens up and rereads the letter that Minister Fudge had sent her father two months ago. You had started reading your dad's mail and answering for him since he was no longer capable of doing it himself. Your father had a very formal way of writing so it had been easy enough to imitate his handwriting to answer the Minister's letter.

You open the creamy beige envelope and pull out a sturdy white letter with gold embellishments. It reads:

Dear (f/n),                                                                                                                  I hope this letter is finding you in good health. I've heard that you have recently been traveling Europe in search of new properties. Barty and myself were wondering if you would be so kind as to join us for a meeting during the Quidditch World cup. The time is nearing and we must finalize the deal.  Looking forward to seeing you,                                                                                                                                Cornelius

You tried remembering what you wrote in the answering letter. It went something like this.

Dear Cornelius,                                                                                                         I am currently in Romania for business and I unfortunately will not be back in time for the Quidditch World Cup. However i've left my daughter (y/n) in charge of my business affairs while I am away and she would be delighted to join you. Barty and yourself can finalize the deal with her.  Wishing you the best,                                                                                                                                             (f/n)

Your father had started a real estate company when he was twenty four and it had grown into one of the most successful businesses in the wizarding world and in Britain. You assumed that the Minister and Barty Crouch wanted to buy a property but you didn't know anything further. It was a very secretive affair and you had searched your father's files extensively but there was no mention of this mysterious deal anywhere. You were essentially going in blind.

The meeting was going to be over dinner in the Minister's box during the Quidditch Match. (y/n) had time to kill so she walked back to the Weasley's tent.

You arrive just in time to see the Weasley twins and Ludo Bagman betting on the games.

"Personally I have to agree with Mr.Bagman, my money is on Bulgaria winning" You tease and the twins shake their ginger heads.

You hear sirens that signal the stadium has opened. You head over with your friends. The inside of the Quidditch stadium is just as breathtakingly festive as the outside. Red and green coats everything, it is filled with headshots of various Quidditch players and drunken voices singing national anthems.

"Blimey how far up are we dad!" Rom complains.

"Well, put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know." You turn towards the familiar cold posh voice. Lucius Malfoy.

You had grown up with the Malfoy's and practically spent half your childhood at their house. Narcissa has become a second mother to you after your own mother's death. (y/n) had her suspicions that her parents and the Malfoy's were hoping their children would get married but (y/n) cringed at the idea. It wasn't that you didn't like Draco but your relationship was more like cousins. He was like that one favourite cousin everyone has that makes all family gatherings fun. But you couldn't stand the snobby facade Draco put on whenever he was around other people. Like now.

"Father and I are in the minister's box. A personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco" Lucius says while nudging him with his cane. " There is no need with these people."

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

"Ah miss Deauxville, I believe you'll be joining us in the Minister' box." Lucius says in a respectful tone.

You hated how he talked to your friends like they were lower than you. Lucius nudges Draco with his cane and Draco immediately offers you his arm. You look back at the trio and mouth help me as you take Draco's arm.

"Have fun" Hermione says sarcastically.

The Minister's box is filled with house elves carrying trays of little delicacies and wizards and witches dressed in overly formal clothing. You immediately felt underdressed in your sweater and tennis skirt. But to your delight you could see the sweat glistening off their skin, after all it was still mid August.

A curly haired blonde woman in a ridiculously tight plum dress and green glasses walks over to Mr. Malfoy.

" Ah Lucius, darling, I see Draco has brought his little girlfriend along." She sneers at you, clearly not recognizing you. However you knew exactly who this was, Rita Skeeter, a slimy idiotic gossip columnist with worms for a brain.           " Hope she enjoys this once in a lifetime opportunity to dine with such fine people."

You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Miss Deauxville, so glad you could make it. The Minister would like to talk in his private room."

Rita Skeeter's face blanched when she realised you were a Deauxville and you follow Barty Crouch through a curtain into a smaller room with a round table and a huge window.

Seated at the table was Minister Fudge, you took a seat just as the team mascots stepped out on the field. The beautiful Bulgarian veelas danced on the field while the Irish leprechauns bounded with their gold, this angered the veelas who in turn transformed into demon-like bird creatures. The teams stepped out on the field, national anthems were played and the snitch was released.

"Well let's get this over with quickly so we have a chance to enjoy the game" You say.

Cornelius Fudge starts.

"Yes, yes well as I'm sure your father mentioned, the Ministry would like to lease a property for a couple months."

Just then Percy walks in holding a stack of papers.

"Here are the papers you asked for Mr.Crouch." He says importantly.

"Ah thank you Weatherby. You may go now."

You almost choke trying to stifle your laugh, earning a glare from Percy as he leaves. Mr Crouch hands you a stack of papers.

" The contract." He simply states. You're too distracted to notice the house elves bring the meal to the table.

You take your time to look it over for any loopholes. Normally your father would have his team of lawyers draw up his own contracts but this would do.

"You want to lease lot number 637? The two acres in the Black Forest, next to Hogwarts? You're sure?"

"Yes" The Minister replied looking uncomfortable.

"There are a few modifications we would like to do to this property." Barty Crouch cuts in.

"What kind of modifications?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well first we would like to cut most of the trees off"

You squawk.

"What! You realise that property will lose all value without the trees."

"Indeed but the ministry is prepared to compensate you for the trees and any fire damage." Mr.Fudge adds.

"Fire damage! What on earth are you planning on doing there!" You blurt out, you're voice rising several octaves.

" Miss Deauxville, we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

You decide to let it go. After all your father had done plenty of suspicious deals before he fell ill.

"How much are you offering?"

"370 000 galleons for eight weeks" Barty answers. You knew that property in the middle of the Black Forest was essentially worthless because of the aggressive centaurs that lived around it. They were offering a lot more money than expected so you quickly grabbed your pen and signed the contract. The two other men did the same. You got up to shake their hands and left the room.

(y/n) sat next to Draco and Lucius Malfoy for the remainder of the game. They made small talk but she couldn't focus on anything other than that property in the Black Forest.

Why the hell would the ministry be so eager to lease that dump? Why would there be fire damage? Why cut all the trees? Questions were swarming your mind like bees.

You look up when you hear the tremendous cheers coming from all the Irish fans. The game was over. You smile to yourself.

Those bloody Weasleys predicted it. Krum caught the snitch but Ireland won.

Both teams came up to the Minister's box to shake his hand. Everyone got up and clapped when the Irish team proudly walked in. The Bulgarian team stomped in with it's sulking seeker Victor Kum leading them. You started shaking hands with people you barely recognized just trying to get out of there as fast as possible. You shake Viktor Krum's hand and give him a warm smile, after all the guy had just lost the biggest game of the year, and he gave you a smile that never completely reached his eyes. Suddenly a bright flash blinds both of you. When you regain sight you see Rita Skeeter standing there with a camera.

"Beautiful photo" She says with the phoniest widest smile.

You finally join the Weasley clan and Cedric Diggory around a campfire later that night after the Malfoys had insisted that you have dinner with them.

"Where were you? I was getting worried. I mean. We. We were getting worried" Harry says quickly. The others give him strange looks.

"Stuck at a dinner with the Malfoy's." You sigh "If anyone mentions politics or the stock exchange one more time I will slit all your throats ok?" They all laugh and explain that they're playing truth or dare.

"Give me a dare! Give me a dare!" Ginny pleads.

"That's not how it works Ginny, you have to get picked." George explained.

"We've been playing for an hour and nobody's picked me !" She whines.

"Fine, eat this" Fred says, handing her a candy.

She pops it in her mouth and her tongue starts to swell enormously. She runs to find Mr.Weasley.

"She asked for it." Fred says, throwing his hands up.

They all keep playing, (y/n) not really paying attention. She was distracted by the Minister's words: "we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

"Cedric, truth or dare." George asks, smirking.

"Dare."

"Very well, your dare is to go ask one of those veelas on a date." He says pointing to a group of breathtaking creatures. You feel a pang of jealousy as Cedric gets up. Instead he comes and sits next to you.

" (y/n), how about a date?"

"Sure" You smile and turn red as George gets up, flailing his arms around..

"No no no. I said a Veela."

"George, are you a bloody idiot, everyone in Great Britain knows (y/n) is a quarter Veela." Hermione says.

Fred and George look at you puzzled.

"Really?" Asks Fred.

"Can you do that cool demon bird shit?" George looks at you suspiciously.

You laugh. "No! It would be kinda fun though if I could. But no, I can't turn into a bird or enchant men into falling hopelessly in love." You say making dramatic hand gestures.

" I don't know about that" Mumbles Harry. You shoot him puzzled looks.

As the night goes on the group keeps talking and playing various games. Your eyes start to feel heavy.

"I think I need to go to sleep." You mumble.

"You can always sleep with me." Fred purrs. Ron hits him with the back of his hand. Cedric's jaw stiffens as he glares at Fred. He looks like he's about to say something when Hermione cuts him off.

" I'll walk you back to your tent (y/n)"

You agree and say goodnight to everyone. As you're walking back you hear screams and see dark figures with masks levitating and torturing a muggle family. You and Hermione run towards the forest where you catch up with Ron and Harry. Ron trips. Lumos Hermione whispers and a bright glow appears on the tip of her wand.

You spot Draco leaning calmly against a tree close to you.

"Better go Hermione, unless you want to show everyone your underwear, if so stick around it would be tremendously funny" He sneers while gesturing to the levitating family.

How can he be so freaking calm when people are literally being tortured less than fifty feet away?

Harry and Ron start defending Hermione and question Draco about his parent’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, you're stuck in a trance watching the family of muggles being tortured and feeling helpless.

"Have it your way, Potter" Draco grins maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a mudblood, stay where you are"

Anger ripped through your body at the sound of those words and you were about to tear his vocal cords out and jinx him within an inch of his life when someone gently squeezes your hand.

"(y/n), let's go." Cedric says, his eyes pleading.

[yourwinedarksea]

i would literally read anything you write but consider this: self-loathing what-percent-human am i prompt

If I tell you, Witcher, that I can neither forgive Stregobor nor renounce my revenge, is that it?

I admit I’m a monster?

He leaves her in the muck and the blood of Blaviken. Leaves her bloodied and dirtied and dead.

But she follows him still, in the taste of cheap ale at the back of his mouth, in his dreams where she’s being cut open, picked apart and cut into pieces. A thing to be labelled and sectioned and studied.

A jar on a shelf.

No more princess.

It’s only in the after of leaving her in the muck, with her slit-throat drying bloody and brutal, and the stones being pelted at him, that he thinks about her words. Stregobor’s words.

You made a choice and you’ll never know if it’s the right one.

And he won’t, he realises, not ever.

.

.

               It’s in an apothecary he visits that he finds Renfri first. A jar on a shelf, a bit of a monster, no more than skin or blood or ground-up bone.

It’s not really her, he knows, these shelves are no homes for a princess, but he looks at the pieces floating inside and wonders just how small she ended up. Wonders how much monster a girl can have inside of her, how many pieces Stregobor saw fit to cut out. Ten percent? Twenty? If he took her tongue and her eyes and her liver. If her blood darkens on a shelf as the months pass.

If her heart, floating, suspended in brine, gathers dust.

What percent is enough to make someone monstrous?

They made you. Just as they made me.

Not quite, he thinks, but is it better to be mutated, better to have been a little boy forced to become something else— or is better to have been born wrong, to have never known the difference in your body, to have never seen your own face change?

But that’s all fucking wrong anyway.

When I cut my finger, I bleed. That’s human, right? When I overeat, my stomach aches. When I’m happy, I laugh. When I’m upset, I swear.

And when I hate someone, for stealing my whole life from me, I kill him.

And this is the worst of it, Geralt knows, that whatever Renfri was, whether Princess or Shrike or Monster… she was a girl first. And no matter what grew inside of her, no matter what tainted her. No matter what sun or moon she first drew breath beneath…

She was a girl first.

(And like him, she saw her body change, saw her face change, saw blood on her hands and tasted it in her mouth… a mutation of a different kind. But a mutation all the same. Forced to adapt. Forced to learn. Forced to go out into a world that could find them no home

but for the dirt, eventually.)

.

(Or a jar on a shelf.)

.

.

                 But still, Renfri is an apparition. His own personal haunting. A thing lingering at his back like the swords he carries, strapped and bound for use.

But she’s not so quiet as a ghost. She’s the spit from a merchant’s mouth, the curled lip of a man in the street, the tightening hand of a woman on her child’s shoulder.

They made me. Just as they made you.

Renfri is, he thinks, that moment between Geralt being a not-quite man moving through the motions of the life chosen for him and the moments where he is Witcher and Demon and Mutant and Butcher.

She’s always there in his head, with her cut throat and her bloody skin, asking him what he’s going to do if they come after him. How many stones can you take, she asks, how much spit and spite and spewed curses?

How heavy is your sword, Geralt?

Too heavy, he thinks, to lift it for so little a thing as a curled lip.

He isn’t sure he ever heard her really laugh, but she said she did, and he knows she bled (out in the muck) and so when she laughs at him in his head, he takes it as a true sound, a spoiled (rotting) princess with a laugh like a broken chime.

You’re a fool, Geralt.

It won’t be stones, next time.

 .

.

               As the years pass, Renfri fades into a voice in his head, into images behind his eyelids, no girl, no princess, just a phantom he knew once. But in her place, like chains on a floor, like a howling spirit cursed to roam, Butcher rises and spreads and Geralt of Rivia is less and less a thing to hire and more and more a rabid dog, frothing at the chain that holds him, waiting to be put down.

Butcher, they say, you’re not welcome here.

Butcher, they whisper, slaughtered a whole village.

Butcher, they spit, you’re the Butcher of Blaviken, aren’t you?

In his head, Renfri laughs.

You’ll be next, you know, she says, there’s a nice jar waiting, we’ll label it together.

 .

.

                 The Butcher of Blaviken—

And his fist is in the bard’s stomach before he really thinks it through, only knows that for a moment, when the bard had first called him Geralt of Rivia, it had been a moment where he’d forgotten Renfri.

There was no spit, no curled lip, no tightening hand on a child’s shoulder. Just a bard and his eager, awkward smile that grates at Geralt like a hacksaw. It reminds him, stupidly, of Marilka.

But for some reason, the bard doesn’t leave. He talks on and on and on like a song echoing through a cavern but—

 For a moment. For awhile. He forgets about jars and shelves and percentages. For a moment, for awhile, he lets the bard stay.

 .

.

               There’s a dead Witcher in a coffin of salt. He wants to ask the witch if she took any parts or if the monster only took the best bits to eat and left nothing worthwhile behind.

Is a Witcher body worth more or less? Does it taste different? Did the Striga taste her own kind on her tongue?

Autopsy, Stregobor had called it, and he wonders what the witch do with the parts left behind. If she’ll cut him open more, split the cavity of his chest-wound wider until she can peel him open the same way Geralt knows Renfri was. If this Wticher will find a home in a jar in a shelf, labelled, tucked away to gather dust.

How much of him is no different than the men already left half-eaten by the Striga? How much of him is mutated? How much monster hides inside a body so well formed to match a mans’?

Forty? Sixty?

Too much, he thinks, or maybe too little. Too little of both, caught in between like bit of sinew in between his teeth.  Too monstrous for man and too human for monsters.

 .

Or maybe it’s just that you’re more human than you want to be, Renfri says, as his blood surges up beneath his hand and the Striga is nothing but a half-feral girl-child, fearful of the monster that saved her. Black-eyed and armoured, black-eyed and pulling her into consciousness and out of the dark where everything is so much easier—

Maybe you’d like to be less human, wouldn’t that be easier?

And yes, he thinks, maybe, as the darkness takes him and all there is is the girl and the dawn chasing out the shadows of the rotting castle, chasing out the stench of a girl trapped in a body that wasn’t quite right, made of hunger and rage and a weak, jealous man’s obsessive love.

 He wonders what they’ll do with his body.

.

                 The princess? He asks, because he pulled her out of the dark of her own body, cut the mutated umbilical cord binding her to her mother’s corpse and let the girl slip free, six years too late.

I’ve arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele for awhile, Triss says. And the room smells like blood and death and magic. Like herbs and bandages soaked in his own blood.

(And Renfri, he thinks, like blood and muck and her eyes, wide— that final breath—)

Who’s Renfri? Hers was the only name you uttered, over and over again in your sleep.

Jars. He thinks. Labels. Dusty parts on a shelf.

My humanity, he thinks, like a stitch I can’t stop picking at.

(And he wonders then, if he could unwind himself, pick at the stitches that hold him together until he can see his own insides. Until he can jar himself up, label his own pieces and parts and weigh them out, find out how much he’s worth. How much coin his blood would fetch.

How much monster makes up Geralt.

My coin, he says instead and he can tell Triss is waiting for more, that she wants to open him up in a different way, to understand him without looking at his bones, but—

Is that all life is to you? Monsters and money?

But what is a Witcher without their body? What is Geralt if not Witcher, if not Mutant, if not Butcher?

It’s all it needs to be, he says.

[itsclydebitches]

Battle -  Pepper has some opinions regarding Madame Tracy's new look.

“Here we are. Isn’t this lovely?”

Pepper, as a rule, hated when grownups lied. There was nothing ‘lovely’ about the apartment complex she was currently getting dragged into. Everything was painted in shades of beige and it smelled exactly like her Nan’s place: mothballs and hand cream. On second thought though, it made a certain amount of horrible sense. She’d seen the decor of Aziraphale’s bookshop, so it was entirely possible that he did think this place was some kind of lovely.

She would have rather he lied.

“Do I really have to stay here?” Pepper asked, but she already knew the whine was going to fall on deaf ears. They’d all been playing hot potato with her since this morning. First Dad said he couldn’t drive her into the city for her dance lesson because he’d been called into an unexpected meeting. Then Mom said she couldn’t either because Mrs. Miller down the road was ill and you know she has no one else to help her. Each left the house that morning not realizing that the other wasn’t picking up the slack. So she’d ridden to the Young’s house, only to be told that Mr. Young was already at work and Mrs. Young would love to take her, really, but she’d just put a stew in that needed watching up until dinner. Why in the world do you need to go out during winter break? Pepper was about to head down to Brian’s when Adam suggested calling Crowley instead, their discussion producing the same passively bemused expression on Mrs. young’s face that appeared whenever something Armageddon related got mentioned. She’d handed Adam the phone without fuss.

Except instead of a demon in a Bentley she got an angel on a bus, one that definitely didn’t have a route out this far. Pepper was left scrounging up change for a very confused driver while Azirphale miracled her into a warmer coat and Adam snickered at the door. To quote the bastard who’d abandoned her, could she get a wahoo?

Now Pepper was getting fostered off on this lady.

“Terribly sorry about this,” Aziraphale was saying, puttering into Madame Tracy’s apartment and pulling her along for the ride. “Crowley went and got himself discorporated, can you imagine? Really, he never takes care of the bodies he’s given. Normally I wouldn’t pay him any mind, let the fool stew for a couple of decades, that's what I say. But given everything that’s happened I hate the thought of him down there for any considerable length of time.” Aziraphale looped the chain of his pocket-watch round and round his finger. For the first time that day Pepper decided to keep her mouth shut. “I intend to put a bit of pressure on Below with the hope that they’ll assign him a new body sooner rather than later. Perhaps even perform a summoning if necessary. If us angels are capable of a discorporated existence on this plane then it should be old hat for a demon of Crowley’s age. Oh, but of course you already know all that—”

Madame Tracy took Aziraphale’s twitching hand, giving it a pat. “He’ll be just fine. As will Pepper.” For the first time today an adult actually looked at her. “We’ll have great fun until your Dad picks you up, won’t we?”

“Eh,” said Pepper.

“You go off and give Crowley a hand. Tell him he’s more than welcome to share my body if he needs a place to stay.”

That brightened Aziraphale considerably. He gushed a couple more thanks, saying that yes, they just might take her up on that offer, before bending to sweep a hand through Pepper’s hair. She squirmed—what, did he think she was five?—but by then Aziraphale was already out the door, muttering something about occult incantations and misplaced books.

Kind of amazing. That this was her life and all.

“Well,” Madame Tracy said, surveying Pepper with the same look a butcher might give a yet ungraded cut of meat. “This is a surprising way to spend one’s Thursday.”

“You’re telling me,” and Pepper chucked her dance bag into the corner.

“Ballet?”

“Tap.”

“Can I see a bit?”

“...No.”

“Fair enough.” Madame Tracy chuckled. “I’d show you some of my burlesque, but I don’t think you’re old enough for that yet.”

Pepper was left with her mouth hanging open as Madame Tracy wandered into the kitchen.

Actually, it wasn’t that surprising now that she thought about it. Pepper cast her mind back to that day at the airbase, picturing the woman who’d drawn her attention by arguing with herself before trying to shoot her best friend. That woman had fit in perfectly with the rest of the insanity around them, flaming swords and dying whales and Adam with glowing eyes. Pepper remembered thinking, in the disconnected way you notice things when everything else has gone to shit, that her wild hair was a much better red than that War lady’s. Her dress was objectively horrible, but it suited her, somehow. Pepper didn’t even know how she could say what suited a woman she’d barely met, but out of everything she could question that day, this wasn’t something Pepper was inclined to put much energy towards. The point was Madame Tracy had looked fun. Kooky, but fun.

“What happened to you?”

This Madame Tracy, the one whose hair had been washed of that fiery color, whose shirt matched the beige walls, no more makeup or big, sparkling jewelry, she paused in the act of making tea and hunched her shoulders, silent. Pepper wasn’t stupid. She’d heard all about Madame Tracy getting together with that guy she’d arrived with. The ‘finger guy’ as Brain called him and the horrible implications of that nickname were precisely why it had stuck. He’d been all critical and blustery. Calling Madame Tracey a ‘whore.’ Pepper might have said something if they hadn’t all been preoccupied with other things.

But hell, she could say them now. Pepper looked at the laundry pile on the kitchen table, a man’s shirts stacked on top. Looked next to Madame Tracy’s equally bland top. She put two and two together and came up with something like four.

She crossed her arms, all her weight settling into one hip. Pepper wished she had gum so she could pop it. “Right. You love this asshole?”

“Pepper.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. Do you?”

Madame Tracy’s bright, artificial, I’m-suddenly-interacting-with-a-child-and-trying-too-hard smile melted into something soft. “Yes.”

“Well, can’t account for taste. But I’m gonna tell you a story. You listening? Because I charged Wensleydale five Wonder Woman comics and a chocolate bar for this same advice. Be grateful you’re getting it for free.” Almost free anyway. She might not have gum, but there was a selection of muffins on the counter. Pepper grabbed one on top before hopping up next to it. “Once upon a time my uncle told my mom she was too old to get another tattoo. She told him to flush his head in the toilet. The end.” Mmm, poppy-seed.

Madame Tracy, meanwhile, was wringing her hands. Huh. Kinda looked like Aziraphale. “No, no. It’s not as if Mr. Shadwell has ever said I couldn’t—wait. Why were you telling Wensleydale this?”

“He wanted his ears pierced. I did it for him. It’s super easy. I mean, as long as the guy you’re doing it on doesn’t squirm that much. Wensleydale kinda has two piercings on his left ear now.”

“Oh good lord.”

“Are you sure you and Aziraphale aren’t still sharing a body?”

“Now see here, young lady.” Madame Tracy marched up with what she probably thought was an intimidating air, but after an hour of Mrs. Rogenspern’s tap instruction no beast could have scared Pepper, let alone a friend. “You seem to be fond of making snap judgments, so let's set the record straight. Mr. Shadwell and I are very happy together and part of being happy means making accommodations for the person you love. It... unsettles him to have me be so,” she gestured at the whole of herself and Pepper dutifully imagined something other than that horrible wool skirt. “Flamboyant. A few sacrifices are a part of a healthy relationship. You’ll—”

“If you say ‘understand when you’re older’ I’m filling the toe of a shoe with peanut butter. And no, you won’t know which one until you’re wearing it.”

Madame Tracy blinked.

“Besides, if a healthy relationship is all about sacrifice how come Mr. Shadwell isn’t making any? If you can put up with his stupid, misogynistic comments then he can damn well put up with your wardrobe.”

“Language,” she said, but it was an automatic response. The kind of thing adults said when they didn’t know what else to say so wahoo. Progress.

Pepper jumped down from the counter. She came up and took Madame Tracy's hand, tugging. “Listen to me for just half an hour. That’s it. You can pretend you only did it to entertain me, if it makes you feel better. Tell him the same if you want.”

Insults aside, there was a comfort between them. Pepper guessed that’s what happened when you were two of three women in a six men set. Which meant that later, when Madame Tracy went rigid over the sink and started speaking in what some might term tongues, Pepper just went on eating her third muffin. When it was over—damn but possession took time—Madame Tracy looked back up into the mirror and yellow, slit eyes stared back. Crowley blinked.

“Kid? What are you doing here? We’re babysitting for a bit. Lovely to have you back among us! Eh, thanks? Wait, are we dying your hair purple?”

“Uh huh,” Pepper said, tossing the muffin wrapper at their chest. They caught it with a fumble. “Purple’s gonna look great with your eyes. Now help me talk her into a nose piercing before my dad gets here.”

Pepper wasn’t sure who was smiling at her then. Didn’t really matter.

"Nose piercing? Nah, they're out of style nowadays. Trust me, we want one in our brow."

Point was she’d won.

[frenchie-sottises]

NES Godzilla Headcannons

I got a note, so I’mma write them.

Just a heads up, my versions of some of these characters are going to be pretty different from the cannon, but I’ll try to stick as close to it as I possibly can.

Solomon

- The ultimate dork.

-Goofy in battle most of the time, but there are times where he is serious.

- Knows he’s the best and will brag about it.

- His eyes will always be red, but it’s clear when he starts going berserk as those eyes will either have the pupils becoming slits or they just straight up lose them. He would also foam at the mouth.

- If he’s not fighting, it takes a lot for him to be mad. He has a super lax personality. If he is fighting, don’t hurt his friends and don’t restrain him. He’ll go from 0-100 real quick.

- He loves cookies, but he can’t eat chocolate. This kind of goes with most kaiju as they do have animal-like traits, so he isn’t the only one who can’t eat chocolate. He will sit there and give the saddest eyes if there’s a plate of cookies around.

- Has the loudest purr?? Like, holy crap?? When he’s happy or stressed, he releases out such a loud purr. It’s so loud that you can see his throat vibrating.

- Shares traits with bats and cats. Purring is an obvious one, but he can also sleep upside down, see in the dark, and use echolocation to navigate the huge caves he usually stays in.

- He has ears. Of course, they’re hidden, but they’re little bat-like ears. They can pick up a lot of frequencies most kaiju and humans don’t hear.

- He has the fur of a cat, so he has a cat tongue to help him out. This also means he isn’t too fond of water.

- Doesn’t bleed red? He isn’t demonic anymore since the whole thing with Red, but he bleeds black. Some suspect that he was influenced enough that he got scarred.

- Can now enter cemeteries, but doesn’t do it due to them freaking him out. Guess his sixth sense is a lot stronger.

- He’s very sweet and loving. Most of the time, he’s a gigantic goofball, but he has moments where he’ll start grooming whoever is feeling down. It’s what cats do to each other.

- Call him “Batman” and you got a flustered mess on your hands.

- Cannot handle flirting whatsoever. He is also really bad at flirting.

- He’s relatively short for a kaiju, and he hates it.

- When flustered, his fur poofs up to make him look more intimidating, but all it really does is make him look cute.. as long as he isn’t ticked off.

Red

- Wasn’t originally the King of Zenith. He earned it by protecting it.

- Wasn’t all that evil?? What he did is inexcusable, of course, but he soon realized what he got himself into and he’s trying to make it right.

- Doesn’t always have the iconic grumpy facial expression. It’s more of a “:<”

- What happened to Zenith was partially his fault.

- No one truly knows how old this dude is. It makes guessing harder since lifespans range differently depending on the kaiju. Red could be somewhere between 50-70 earth years old.

- Red is the only one of his kind to have a final form. Seems to be an alpha only thing.

- Lives in a huge castle-like structure. It sticks out, but most of it is in the underground or in the caves. The temples in the story lead to the castle.

- He runs a lot faster than in the story. He gallops much like a horse when he decides to kick it in.

- Has a lot of dog-like traits as opposed to Solomon’s cat-like traits. This includes loyalty to the planet, wagging his tail when he’s excited, independence, and high intelligence.

- He only has one cat-like trait, and that is being able to “loaf.”

- He does this thing where he would lay his wings out when the sun’s out. The world of Zenith is always on freaking fire, how is he cold??

- His neck has an area where the skin just kind of hangs. It’s weird to look at, but this kaiju can extend his neck when desired. The coiled neck comes in handy when it comes to catching prey.

- The tip of his tail has jagged points that face the opposite direction of the tip of the barb. It’s made for ripping flesh out of his opponents which is gonna hurt like all hecc.

- Can’t handle flirting of any kind. He can flirt quite well as opposed to Solomon, but any flirts back can turn him into a flustered mess.

- If you get to know him, he’s super sweet. He’s not the best at showing it, but he does give out a lot of headbutts and licks once he warms up to you. That also goes for anyone else.

- Now that everything happened between him and Solomon, a lot of kaijus of Zenith don’t really trust Red at this point. He’s trying to make it right, but it’s not easy, so he’s often challenged for his throne.

- Speaking of after, he came back from what little energy he had left. He’s significantly weaker than what he was before, so the whole “defending for the throne” thing is a lot more difficult to maintain.

- Doesn’t smile all that much, but when he does, it’s usually something he finds funny or something he really enjoys being a part of.

- He has a super soft underbelly. It’s rare to see him sleep with his belly up.

- Always had a brutal side to his nature. It only comes out when he’s fighting.

- His skin is very leathery as opposed to his underbelly.

Acacius

- He’s the Golden Light, yet he acts like a huge dork. His dorkiness challenges Solomon’s, that’s just how dorky he is.

- Flies stupidly fast for someone with wings that don’t flap.

- As much as he’s referred to as the Golden Light, no one has witness him actually glowing.

- He’s actually blind. How he manages to fight, let alone manage to get around, cannot be explained and it leaves others around him dumbfounded.

- How he eats is weird. His mouth isn’t behind his “helmet.” It’s one with the helmet, so the skin that connects to the jawline splits open from the helmet and his mouth is there. If you’ve seen the way a barn owl opens its mouth, it’s basically that.

- He had a tail, but it got chopped off in battle.

- His entire body is covered in extraterrestrial metal-like growths. Some suspect it’s some type of material relating to gold.

- He’s one of very few of his kind.

- Has had a crush on Solomon at one point in time.

- This boi knows how to FIGHT.

- He’s not a goofball when he fights. Most of his fights are very serious and require his utmost attention, so it’s rare to see him acting like a dunce in the middle of one.

- Somehow knows memes. He’s taken a liking to the forbidden ones.

- After everything with Red, he doesn’t like him all that much. Solomon’s chill, but he still doesn’t trust the Zenithian king and often fears for “Batman’s” safety.

- Is good with flirting and isn’t bothered by the flirts he receives. He’s the Golden Light, you’re going to be praised quite a bit.

- Sweet as all heck. Often gives out head bumps and nuzzles to those who need it.

- No one knows how old he is either. He shows signs of being younger than Red, but being the Golden Light, his life could be moving much slower. He’s been guessed to be about 45 earth years. Some suspect he’s actually immortal.

Warlock

- No one knows where he came from. All they know is that he isn’t exactly a “living” being.

- He’s very secretive, so not a lot of kaiju know a lot about him.

- What happened to Zenith was the rest of his fault.

- He hates anyone who matches him in power, so it’s often speculated that it’s the reason why Red is the way he is.

- His plan was to take control of Zenith by making Red turn against the very kaiju he saved, but Acacius managed to find out who was solely responsible and knocked him down a few pegs.

- He doesn’t seem to have anyone else of his kind. This may be due to his origins.

- No one knows of his true intentions. The whole thing with Zenith is up in the air. All that he is responsible for is Red’s weakness and damaged reputation and what happened to the Zenitihian king’s home.

- He’s a lot bigger than Red. He’s bigger than most kaiju recorded in the books.

- He is often represented as the 8th deadly sin, Despair. No one knows this for sure, but through his actions, it speaks it in rather high volumes.

- Due to his strong secrecy, he hasn’t truly formed a bond with others. He’s just kind of.. there.

- For being so ominous, he’s quite talkative, more so than Red.

- He’s very territorial just like how he is in the story.

That’s all I got for now. I’ll do more if anyone’s interested.

[staytiny-angel]

Caught Red-Handed

Pairing: Finn Balor/Demon King Balor/Angeline (OC)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dom/Sub interactions, DaddyKink, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Threesome? (Does it count as a threesome if two of the participants share a body? I feel like this should come up more often when it comes to Finn) SO. MUCH. FLITH

Author's Note: So I got hooked on ASMR. Specifically smutty ASMR. My favorite (performer?) is a guy with an Irish accent that always brings a certain wrestler to mind and so this was born.

Taglist: @tacoshu @ladytea19 @nerdlife0612 @wwevampireamongkpop @winged-time-criminal @blondekel77 @kayah16 @finnsauroraborealis @savemeroman @gold--gucciempress @littledeadrottinghood @evilangel84 @buttons-beads-lace @deepdisireslonging @mohawkmama

Angel's POV

"Acushla?" Finn's voice permeates the hazy fog of sleep I'm lost in.

"Mm?" I try to answer him but Seth had a party in his hotel suite last night so I'm tired and my head is absolutely fucking killing me.

"I have that radio show interview and a signing, then i'll be back Mo Chroi" I hear him say

"Mm" I try to make a affirmative sound

My side of the bed dips and the covers are pulled from off my head letting in the bright morning sunlight, I blink a few times and try to focus on the beautiful man leaning over me.

"Hungover darling?"

"I am never letting Dean make my drinks ever again" I reply

Finn laughed lowly "A lesson we've all learned, love"

"Is THAT why no one else drank Dean's punch?! It doesn't even taste like it has that much booze in it!"

"I don't know what Ambrose puts in that magic potion of his but its all alcoholic" Finn tells her

"Oh" I murmur already planning out how I'm going to kick Seth's ass. I'd drank Dean's concoction on his suggestion but apparently I'd been pranked.

"You need to eat something, take a shower and rest. You don't have any press today?"

I ran through my schedule in my head. "Nope. I did the last round so its Becks turn."

"Good. Eat, shower and rest." he says kissing me on the forehead "If you take care of yourself like a good girl you'll get a treat when I get back. Normal rules are still in effect. No touching that sweet little cunt while Daddy is away."

Finn's POV

The interview went off without a hitch, and I'd done my job of talking up this weekend's PPV. The signing however? That was a fucking mess. There had been a mix up with the venue's security and we'd had to cancel. So here I was back at the hotel irritated at disappointing the fans who'd come out to see me, but happy to be headed back to Angel hours earlier then I'd planned.

I get to our hotel room and open the door only to be completely shocked at the sight before me. Angel, naked except for one of my button down shirts laying on the bed in front of her laptop with a toy buried deep inside of her.

"What is this?" I say louder then I'd intended

"Daddy?!" She says sitting up abruptly "Your early!"

"The signing was a dead loss, I was going to surprise you but I'm the one who got the surprise…Is that…one of my matches? And Toys? What happened to being a good girl for Daddy?"

I hear her mutter something "What was that? Speak up." I demanded

"I got turned on watching you" she says louder, blushing from what I assumed was a mixture of arousal and embarrassment

"You are a VERY naughty girl and you are in SO much trouble" I say walking towards the bed pulling off my suit jacket and loosening my tie.

Angel's POV

Well shit. I think to myself as I watch Finn walk toward me. I’m fucked aren’t I? And from the red and black stains crawling their way across his skin as he unbuttons his shirt…not only was I in trouble, I was in trouble with both my Daddy and my King.

“Oh my Angeal was a naughty, naughty lass wasn’t she?” That dark, velvety voice that was Finn’s and not Finn’s asked me.

“Yes, My King” I answer hesitantly

Balor clicks his tongue like a scolding parent “My dear Angeline. Whatever will my host and I do with such a naughty little girl?”

Balor's POV

The host and I didn't agree on much, I personally didn't understand why he didn't just let me out to destroy all these peons who dared to disrespect us, but since we'd come to America the host insisted on doing things 'fair and square' and would only ever let me out under extreme duress. I longed for the days when my host had thought of himself as royalty and we worked together to obliterate anyone who dared to oppose us.

The only thing good about our current surroundings was the one thing on which we did agree. Our Mate. Our beautiful Angeline, with her milk chocolate skin on, curly black hair and pretty brown eyes was a warrior in her own right and the only woman we'd deemed worthy to be our Queen since we'd shared this form.

Speaking of our Queen, she'd been a very bad girl and that just wouldn't do at all.

"How are we to punish you?" I ask her, enjoying the mix of emotions drifting across her face

Finn's POV

I strip down, walk over to the bed and take Angel's laptop, glancing at the screen and seeing it paused on myself, wearing Balor's warpaint before I place it on the desk out of the way.

"Look at you, all flushed and trembling, did I interrupt you before you could come?" I ask her

"Yes Daddy" she tells me.

"Well at least there's that. Maybe I should just make you go take a cold shower to cool off. After all you disobeyed me."

"Hmm, or maybe…you wanted to try edging didn't you my Angel?"

Angel's POV

Holy fucking shit. Edging was something we'd talked about trying but now? As a punishment? With both of them?

Yes, Daddy" the words slip out of my mouth before I can even wrap my head around the gravity of my situation

I watch as my Daddy., I could tell from his movements that this was Finn, but from the ever shifting red and black coating his skin I could tell My King wasn't far from the surface.

Finn climbs on the bed with me and gently walks his fingers up my legs toward my pussy.

You know you aren't allowed to dip into Daddy's pleasure when he's not around" he says, skimming a finger along my damp slit

"Look at this, all this wet, slick heat and it's not even for me is it?"

Well, I guess technically it was since I'd been getting off on one of their matches but I doubted that would be a sufficient answer for them.

"Shhhh don't speak right now." He says before I can answer him

He picks up the vibrator I had just been using and rubbed it along the same path his fingers had just took stopping at the top of my slit to press it against my clit before flicking it on causing me to let out a loud moan.

"You were soooo close when I interruptted your fun. Sooo close to coming all over this toy. But now you're not going to…so don't you dare come Angel. Not until Daddy says so."

"My Angeal just isn't living up to her name today, is she?" My King asks me

"No My King" I answer as I start to writhe on the bed, I had been so fucking close when Finn had surprised me and now my whole body was tingling with the need for orgasm

"We have the rest of the day, I could just tease and tease and tease you for hours." my Daddy says

Shit, I both loved and hated when they decided to keep switching on me. Finn and Balor were both dangerous in their own right…but when they worked together? They were lethal to my senses.

He, and at this point I wasn't exactly clear on who was in control, moved the vibe away from my pussy and buried his face between my legs.

"You taste so fucking good. So fucking sweet. Now this. This is for me, it's for us. Isn't it my Queen?"

Well fuck, I should have known. I thought as pleasure overwhelmed me. It was Balor. Balor loved eating pussy for some reason, even more than Finn.

"Don't even think about coming" he growled against my clit before sucking it into his mouth.

"Fuck!" I cried out "My King, my King. I can't." I babbled, he had to be kidding right? He was doing the exact thing that NEVER failed to make me go off like fireworks and I WASN'T allowed to come?

With one last nibbling suck, he sat up to look at me. It was definitely my King in full control now, Finn's gorgeous blue eyes were rimmed in red and black and Balor's markings were fully realized on his skin in a way no artist could duplicate.

"Do you need something to distract you?" he asks me.

When I nodded he flipped our positions so that I was draped over him with his beautiful, thick cock at my mouth and, my pussy over his face.

"Suck my cock, Angeal" he demanded before thrusting his abnormally long tongue into my pussy.

I licked at the precome beading the head of his cock, as always marvelling at the changes Balor wrought in Finn's body. He even tasted different then Finn did.

"I'm doing the teasing here not you, My Queen" Balor's voice brought me back from where I'd drifted off.

"AHHH, yesss," I hear him hiss "Now you're being a good little girl, that's it my Queen, suck my cock deep, while I eat this delicious cunt."

His words of praise send even more jolts of pleasure through my body, as he continues to wreck me.

"My perfect Queen, my perfect mate. Someone worthy of my status." I hear him growl against me.

His words cause another moan to vibrate around his cock. It was amazing to me that this was my life. That both these perfect beings, The Demon and the man agreed that I was absolutely perfect for both of them.

"When I come, my Queen you are going to swallow my seed, then and only then can you come."

With that command ringing in my ears I got serious about sucking his cock swirling my tongue around the head before sucking him to the back of my throat.

"That's it my good girl suck me down. Make your King come for you so you can come for him."

I redouble my efforts at those words, sucking him right down to the base causing him to let out a gasping moan before his hot cum filled my mouth and I swallowed every last drop.

At that moment two long fingers filled my soaking wet pussy hooking to hit my G-spot dead on "Such a good little Queen making me come for you. Now you are going to cum for me"

With those words, I exploded in pleasure with a scream hoping that none of our Co workers were in the ajoining rooms

Still breathing heavy I let Balor move me like a boneless doll until I was cuddled in his arms, tracing the patterns on his skin as they faded leaving only Finn's perfectly tanned skin behind.

"Rest, Mo Chroi" I could hear him say as I drifted off "When you wake. It's my turn."