#i have the predators and they have the prey

[lalunanymph]

WHERE THE DATURAS BLOOM

syp. they sent her to tarus to die as a mockery to him, the fiend—offering a fragile, pitiful thing who can barely stand on her own two feet, as if her weakness would be his downfall. yet, they never knew the strength she found, nor the love that bloomed in her heart where the daturas dared to grow, once she opened her arms and heart to the fearsome dragon.

tags. sacrificial bride!reader, injuries, blood, heavy angst, fluff, healing, explicit smut, tail sucking, nipple play, mentions of lactation, oral sex, light restraints using a dragon tail, virginity loss, biting, marking, pet names (sweetness, kitten, little one), monsterfucking, two dicks!Sylus, breeding, mild cumflation, cockwarming, double peneration, mentions of anal, nesting, dragon senses, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of drugging, kidnapping, torture, mentions of miscarriage, near death experience, severe injuries, visual impairment, mind control, gore, language, tension, fluff, romance, soft!sylus, flashbacks, spoilers for beyond cloudfall myth, happy ending, 20k+ word count

Those who stare at the abyss will find the abyss staring back. 

The old adage rings in your head as the rocky walls close in on you, blood seeping from your open wounds and dripping onto the floor.

Thunder rips through the night sky and rain splashes on your face. The sounds of shouts and jeers fill the air as the men who threw you over the ledge abandoned you to a fate worse than death. Your screams for mercy are ignored, their backs turned on the sacrificial bride to the Fiend. The ceremonial garbs they clad you in were little more than skimpy adornments, and you gasp, hearing a terrifying rattle in the air.

A voice fills your mind, invasive and grating, and you feel cold drafts swirling around you, beckoning you to step forward into a cave with no end in sight.

You shiver, head ringing, as the voice urges you forward—low and seductive. It echoes with the smugness of a predator finally trapping its prey.

Step closer… let me take a look at you. 

As if you’re a marionette on strings, your feet pull you forward, right to a rocky alcove where the sound of chains rattle and the glint of ruby red eyes stare at you. The air becomes suffocating, as if there’s a darkness devouring all the remaining light.

Something primal in you stirs, and you feel the first flickers of light forming in your hand, right where your pulse is jumping erratically.

I like your face. 

The dark, hollow voice seems to come from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time. You catch the glimmer of chains, the weak light illuminating the hilt of a broadsword stuck in a muscular, powerful chest.

Take it out… free me…

The unknown voice compels you, and in a fit of panic, you grab the hilt and yank with all of your might. Once the sword is free, it transforms into hot light, and you feel a jolt go through your heart, like lightning striking through a stormy, night sky. 

The sword disappears and a terrifying roar fills the chamber, rocking the walls and throwing you off your feet. You barely have time to stand when a sudden force sweeps you to the ground, and you’re left reeling. 

Staring up into a pair of crimson, insidious eyes, your heart sinks down into your stomach like a stone capsizing into the middle of a murky lake. Before you, the abyss stares back.

“You… you…”

The realization that you’ve been fooled renders you faint, and your breathing stutters, heart pounding almost painfully in your chest.

You’ve done the unthinkable: you have released the Fiend of the Abyss, and now… 

Now, you are his prey. 

Fear claws at your throat as the hulking figure takes a massive step towards you, dark red energy rolling like mist behind him, trickling from his right eye.

You’re shaking, vision going blurry. The Fiend opens his mouth, revealing rows of what looks like sharp teeth.

Terror engulfs you, sticky and thick, stiffening your joints and with a sharp inhale, you crumple to the ground, the world and your impending death fading out into black. 

—

The scent of fresh blood is in the air.

He sits silently on his throne of gold and lies, scaly ears flickering for the first signs of the sacrifice approaching. His leathery wings quiver in anticipation, the tip of his draconian tail twitching as he sniffs the air, the unmistakable tang of liquid rust filling his nose. The Fiend stretches and his nostrils flare, the sinews of his back and legs quivering. It’s been centuries since he’s last had a chance to extend his limbs. After all, chains and a sword lodged in your chest hardly provide mercy for much motion. 

The scent grows closer, and he can hear the rattling breaths this poor creature takes. He’s been watching her for hours now, waiting for her to wake. He could attack and devour her soul in that moment, but where would the fun be?

Besides, her soul is as stale as day-old bread. Nothing of a sort which would entice him. 

The dragon waits for one beat—two—and he languidly steps off his throne. His back to the weak, sniffling creature, his instincts suddenly flare and he swiftly darts to the right when a mass of flesh lunges right at him. He parries the weak grip on a blade, his tail whipping out to grab this human by the ankles, containing the ambush. 

“Please!” 

Her voice rings past the rocky walls, bouncing off the mountains of gold and precious jewels. 

His anger flares, but not at her. He takes in the shallow cuts on her cheeks, the welts on her arms. She’s clad in a thin leather garment, her knuckles pronounced and face gaunt. 

“Who are you?” His voice is a deep rumble, one that could destroy mountains in a single roar. Her eyes are wide, the whites of them shining in the dim half-light. When she comes to the understanding that he speaks, they roll back into her skull; her body going limp in his arms.

“Wh—!”

A grunt. She bleats like an animal scared to death. 

The dragon manages to catch her before she falls. 

.

.

.

That night, the girl marked for a fate worse than death dreams about the dragon for the first time, arrow tips exploding from her flesh and a sword piercing her chest searing through her subconsciousness with pure agony. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You wrinkle your nose, turning your face away from the persistent drop of water falling right on your cheek. Shifting, your eyes fly wide open when your body meets the open air and you scream, falling to the floor in a mess of limbs. Ridges of unidentifiable hard edges jab into your body, and you groan, forcing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light. 

There, right in the heart of the cave, a pair of blood red eyes appraise you.

Your scream dies in the back of your throat when a flurry of wings slice through the stagnant air of the cave, a bulky, huge being rushing towards you and knocking you off your feet. A mass of flesh and scales envelopes you in his warmth, glints of gold flying in the air and falling like clinking rain where your bodies meet on the dirt-packed floor.

His eyes, red as blood, glisten like rubies when he scans them over your face. He parts his mouth, and the sharp edge of his canine tooth sends a shiver down your spine. The great Fiend, feared by all in Philos, the one prophesied to bring the destruction of universes from the moment he was born… is staring at you in disdain. 

“I suppose those oafs did not anticipate their idiotic sacrifice would free the Fiend of Philos.”

You are barely spared a chance to be indignant, not when his tail sweeps you up by the waist, dragging you in mid-air where you scream and flail. 

He chuckles, a low, almost human-like sound. His wings reverberate, the leathery tips of them quivering from the slight breeze his tail whips up. 

“I see fear has gripped your tongue, little one. Do not mistaken me—I despise the taste of human flesh. But, your soul…” His tongue darts out to lick at your jaw, tasting sweat and dirt. “... is what I am more interested in.” 

You shake, struggling to find something—anything—to say.

“Release me,” you stammer, and he scoffs, eyes dancing with mirth. His spiralled horns are huge on his head. Despite the sharpness of his features and the redness of those eyes, there’s a glint of mirth behind those irises, one you would never expect to find. 

Many told you before sacrificing you into the pit: The Fiend is not merciful. 

He will rip you apart limb from limb.

Those who visit his lair will never return.

You are cursed—born a blight. You shall be wed to the Fiend on the month of the blood red eclipse and you will be thankful, child. 

Their sneers tautening over teeth that look like daggers, their jeers which grate your ears like nails on a metal platform. The bite of pain in your arm as a needle slides past skin, muscle, fat and flesh—depositing liquid fatigue straight into your bloodstream. As your world went black, you woke up to more darkness, finding yourself amidst bones and rubble, right at the lip of Tarus. 

There was nothing else you could do but plant one foot right in front of the other—walking straight to your imminent death.

The dragon growls, low and dangerous, as he cocks his head to one side. 

“Who are you? And why are you in my prison?”

He waits. You struggle to move your leaden tongue.

“My name is… Y/N. I am… was… sent here as a sacrifice… a bride…”

The Fiend pauses, his eyes raking over your face. When he sees you are completely serious, he tosses his head back, a vile laugh reverberating across the walls. 

“Is that so?” He continues to chortle. “My… what delusions you humans hold.” Without warning, he sends you flying across the room with a flick of his tail, your back hitting the hard rock. You choke on a wail of pain, your teeth cutting into your tongue. Blood fills your mouth and spit out a thick, red wad onto the rocky floor.  

He is barely sorry, rising to his full height, teeth bared and chest heaving with the exertion it takes to not snap your neck and end your pathetic life.

Every step he takes rocks the ground, the power and danger he holds dripping from his half-naked body, the defined muscles coiling in tension. Ready to snap.

You think—this is it. This is what your pathetic life has amounted to. Perhaps dying would be swift. Maybe you will see your parents again; feel the warmth of their embrace, one you’ve been without for far too long, living this half-life of pain and fear. It would be nice to feel love and belonging again; you’ve gone so long without it. 

If he was expecting his prey to scream and fight, he would be sorely wrong.

You close your eyes, and tilt your head up, exposing your bare neck for him to do as he pleases.

Waiting on a merciful death to befall you. 

The dragon stops right in his tracks.

Curiously, he assesses you. Though the scent of fear is in the air, the look on your face is nothing short of resignation. 

A far cry from any living being with a defense mechanism. 

The sight of you is almost pathetic, tugging at his heartstrings: your eyes twitching, breathing jagged. He gets close enough to scent your pheromones in the air, and he recoils in disgust. 

She stinks, he thinks, narrowing his blood-red eyes. Is this really the best sacrifice they could offer him? Surely they know that even locked away for an eternity, a dragon still has standards. 

The closer he gets to you, the more he sees how young and afraid you are. From your trembling hands to your rapidly rising and falling chest, there is not a bone in your body that wishes to survive.

How terribly dull, he thinks. And also how incredibly sad.

What beatings did you endure to drive you to this state? What words did they spit at you to break your soul? He takes in the color of your hair, your eyes. How different and perturbing you are to other humans. A sign of the damned. 

Poor, pathetic little creature… he shakes his head. The myths were wrong. He doesn’t have the stomach for human blood—never did—and if you weren’t meant as fodder for food, surely those bastards above thought you would be the perfect mate for him.

The damned and the broken.

A love story as old as time.

He snorts inwardly and gets onto one knee, gently running the edge of his talon down your cheek, using the sharp edge to tilt your face upward. 

“Look at me, little one,” he rumbles.

You immediately comply, eyes flying wide open. The dragon takes a moment to gaze at you, drinking you in. He sees the effects of malnourishment hanging from the exhaustion in your eyes—knows you haven’t eaten for days, surviving purely on adrenaline and fear.

His tail snakes closer, grazing the small of your back. It would be so easy to kill you—a bit more pressure of his tail piercing past your flesh, and the scaly, sharp tip could rip your heart from the inside out. 

He takes in your shallow breathing, how your wide eyes never leave him. Even confronted by death, you still face it head-on.

What a brave, little fool.

He opens his mouth, about to offer you something to eat or drink, when your hands move to your thigh strap, a flurry of motion he almost doesn’t catch until the blade is right at his throat. The Fiend grits his teeth, and with a swift flick of his tail, knocks the pathetic knife from your hand.

Swiftly, he grabs your wrists, rolling you to the ground and pinning them over your head, breathing hard in your face. 

“You really do know how to put on a good show, little one,” he growls. “Did you think that blade would stand a chance against me?” 

“I—”

He silences you with another low, warning growl. “You have committed the most foul move… hmm.” Pretending to ponder, he runs the sharp tip of his talon over your chin, watching your eyes widen with fear as a drop of blood trickles down your neck. “What can I do with an errant human? Let me see…”

“Please,” you’re shaking, tears in your eyes. 

The dragon fights back the urge to roll his eyes. A part of him wants to see how long it would take to break you down and get you begging for your life, but the other part of him simply finds your pleas to be a grating distraction in the silence of his lair.

He lets you go and you gasp shakily. 

“Thank you—”

“Spare me any pleasantries.” 

His powerful tail pushes you far from him, though he noticeably doesn’t throw you against walls anymore. 

“Keep your distance from me. Do not step in front of me and for the love of all things holy in Philos—” he glances at your torn up wedding garb, noting the scratches on your bare thighs and how matted the skimpy leather is. “Take a bath. You reek.” 

Parting words which leave you gaping in indignation. He spreads his wings and takes off to the highest alcove of the cave, where you have no doubt of his eyes following your every move. 

Quietly, you stand and retreat into the coldest part of the cave, hugging your knees to your chest.

This is all an unholy nightmare. Nothing about this—about him—is real… this shall all pass… you try to soothe yourself, taking in steadying breaths. 

This, too, shall pass.

Except, this nightmare is not one you can ever wake from. 

When you open your eyes to the bleak morning rays bouncing off the cave walls, your heart drops right to your stomach. Scrambling to sit up, you glance around, trying to find a sign of the dragon who had nearly taken your life yesterday. But, you only notice mountains of gold as far as the eye can see. A lair full of treasures rich from kingdoms far beyond your reach. You marvel at goblets with inscriptions in languages you have never seen before, run your fingers over delicate edges of gold coins, and pick one ruby up to the light, watching the morning rays bounce off the rich red facets.

From above, you hear a rustling, and the edge of his dragon’s tail dangles from an alcove. The strange beast who resides here appears to be fast asleep. Since you cannot leave this pit without alerting the rest of the villagers of your escape, the only thing you can do is fend for yourself. You arm your body with swords that boast jewel-encrusted hilts, take a ruby blade in your hand and tighten a thick silk cloak around your neck. 

You were going to escape from this hellhole one way or another. 

You would never give up your life this easily.

Plotting your next move meticulously, you slice through the silk rope and glance up at the opening of the mountain, calculating that it must be around a few feet high. While you didn’t have wings like a dragon, you had a mortal’s will to live.

Days passed with you stringing the cut ends of the cloak together, and when that wasn’t enough, you tore down the dragon’s gold curtains, attaching the shorn slivers to make a single, long rope. 

Through it all, the dragon keeps his eyes firmly on you, a reminder of how you used to watch a tiny kitten trying to clear a 10 foot wall back in the Sanctuary. The young cat never surrendered, never backed down, and you remember watching as it tumbled back to the ground again and again, always springing back to its feet for another round.

Bruises and scrapes litter your knees and palms with every failed attempt. But, you persist. 

Once you manage to scale the first few feet, the act of putting one foot in front of the other gets easier. You’re weak and hungry, but the hollow ache is no match for the fire in your soul needing to be set free. You will take the riches you acquired from this dragon’s lair and run away from this cursed land as far as your feet can take you—the Ivory City will be a memory left behind in your shadows.

But, what you never notice is how the dragon has moved from studying you to shadowing you. The lair is vast, full of gold, and yet, he is bored out of his wits. You barely sense his restlessness, and only when you manage to breach the top circle of the rocky cliff face, do you feel a brush of air whipping past your entire body, your hair flying right into your face. 

The surge of wind propels you up the last few feet of the rocky lip and you tumble onto the ground, coughing up dust. Brushing gravel and pebbles from your palms and knees, you shakily stand on your own feet. 

Before you, Tarus City stretches out like an ebony beast. Revelry and smoke rises to the sky, dim, greasy lights sparing the backdrop some semblance of humanity within this realm of evil and sin. 

Yet, through the film of darkness and despair, the city feels alive under the soles of your feet.

A soft flap of wings stir the air, and you turn to find the dragon staring at you, his gem ruby eyes twinkling in the darkness. 

“You made it,” his voice is a low rumble, and he shakes his head with a small laugh. “You humans and your paltry stubbornness.” Despite his harsh words, his eyes soften with something akin to respect. 

You’re cautious, but civil, glancing at the sprawling city before you. 

“Did you expect me to stay put here? Where I don’t belong?” 

There’s a tug deep inside of you, starting from your chest to your throat, like an invisible hand is inside your skin, roaming under your nerves, trying to extract something vital from your body. This strange force compels you to stumble closer to him, and your mind flashes in bursts of white light.

Devour him… End him…

The voice grows loud in your ears, and you feel the inexplicable urge to sink something into his chest. It flows hotly in you, a sword made of light that yearns to slay the dragon before you. Red mists flood your vision and your chest feels heavy, like someone is standing on your airways. You stumble to your knees, and the dragon moves closer, his pulsing right red eye nearly swallowing you whole—an eclipse of hatred tainting your soul. 

End him! Kill him!

The voices shriek like souls of the dead in your head, and you don’t think, grabbing the pummel of the knife strapped to your thigh and aiming it right for his eye.

His eye… the source of all your misery…

And you want it.

But, his reflexes are faster, silver hair almost black under the moonless night as he grabs your wrist and pushes you down to the rocky ground, the jagged edges cutting into your skin.

The dragon rumbles a low, eerie laugh that chills you to the core, yet your blood sings hotter for revenge.

“Ah. I see. So, your soul does want something. I knew you had an edge to you. I was waiting to see it… you have yet to become a disappointment.” 

You struggle against his grip, gnashing your teeth. He simply stares at you like you’re a feisty kitten, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips. As quickly as the murderous need appears, it dissipates, and you’re left reeling, blinking back the red hot urge to devour him.

“Let me go,” you stutter. 

He scoffs in disdain, but releases his grip on you. Scrutinizing you like how a predator would size up his prey, the dragon stalks closer, bearing down upon you with his indomitable presence. 

He corners you against the rocky cliff face, and this close, you can smell his breath—strong and heady like vengeful liquor fanning across your face.

“What is it that you want the most?” He rumbles and you stumble back, scraping the back of your foot against the rocks. He follows, the sight of his formidable broad shoulders striking a primal fear in your heart.

“What do you think I need?” 

You bare your teeth, yet he knows you dare not attack him. He sees it in the faltering resolve, the scent of your fear in the air. You are nothing but a weakling waiting to be crushed under his heel, your blood ready to coat his teeth. 

But, there is no use in ending your life now. Dragons are renowned for playing with their prey before they devour them, and a docile meal is not one delicious tasting enough to enjoy. He wants to see you struggle and squirm—only then will the conquest be far sweeter. 

“I want to make you a deal,” you speak, and your voice trembles; the effort it takes for you to remain calm is overwhelming. 

The dragon pauses in his approach, and a glint of curiosity takes over his countenance.

“Oh?” He sounds almost gleeful, those ruby eyes reflecting the erratic, dancing lights of Tarus City. “Well. About time. Speak. What is it you can offer me?” 

Your years of listening to hearsays and myths about the dreaded Fiend sealed off in the Abyss lends you knowledge to what it is a dragon truly desires: the sweetness of greed—the desire to devour a gluttonous soul. 

It is a risk to tell him what you want. But, since you are already a woman marked for dead, there is nothing else you have to lose.

“I want your help… to make me greedier.” 

The Fiend pauses, and you can see the look of curiosity flashing across his face. Closer now, you notice how elegant his features are, yet they carry a sharp coldness which betrays the disdain he feels for anyone beneath him—you included.

He rubs his chin with his flesh-shredding claws. The keenness in his gaze matches the sharp edges of his teeth which suddenly flash white in the darkness, weak moonlight reflecting off an unsettling grin.

“Greedier, hmm?” 

Circling around you, the Fiend flickers his gaze up and down your shaking figure. To him, you must look like the picture of patheticness, still in your old garbs and gaunt from the lack of nutrition. One single flick of his tail, and your life will end right where you stand.

Yet… he considers and weighs your proposal. “And what do I get in return?” 

Gulping, you hope dragons can’t scent a lie, and you struggle to make up one on the spot. “I can bring you more riches! I can help you get more revenge on the people who wronged you. I can amass you wealth and accolades like you’ve never seen before.”

The Fiend raises a brow. “Those are lofty promises, human. And what exactly would you want from me in return?” He is far more astute than you give him credit for. 

You don’t flinch when you mutter: “Revenge.” 

Now, you’ve got him intrigued. Cocking his head to one side, the handsome Fiend stares at you without saying a word. He’s seen your thoughts, felt your despair. The one thing you truly desire is the annihilation of those who brought death upon your village. The blood curdling screams of your people, the fires that ravaged the wild sky—you thirst for the deaths of those who unjustly stole your family and childhood from you. 

The look in his blood red eyes is indifferent, though the slight upturn of his lips indicate his interest.

“I see.” His wings stretch out, almost menacingly, though your quick eyes notice how they tremble… almost like he’s just learned to close them. 

But, the Fiend doesn’t give you time to wallow in your thoughts. He steps forward, tall and imposing. Taking your chin in his clawed hand, he tilts your face up, forcing you to look at him. In a flash, the red gleam of his eye dominates your vision. “There is more. Do not lie. I know you want my eye. You feel it, too, don’t you? This strange, magnetic pull.”

Without thinking it through, and you nod, your attention on his sudden proximity.

You wait for him to explain, but he never does. His touch leaves a trail of heat on your skin, and it intensifies when he presses his lips to your neck, sharp teeth leaving behind a searing bite.

“Ow—!” 

“This is a mark which bonds us, Y/N.” It’s the first time he’s ever said your name. You stare at him, breathing coming out jagged. The bite burns, almost as if it’s responding to the heat of his desires. “Before it fades, I will give you three attempts to take my eye. If you do not succeed… your soul is mine to devour.”

You put on a brave front, despite how fast your heart is hammering in your chest. A part of you thinks he can hear the thundering fear.

“Deal. And you, dragon, will help me with my revenge.”

He shrugs and takes to the sky, leaving you alone on this rocky crag where the wind is picking up. 

“Deal.” 

The dragon and you take to your revenge like straw to flame.

He enables you to soar high in the skies, plundering and stealing from corrupt nobles. He burns the Sanctuary down with you, relishing in the cries of these so-called ordained Oracles from a higher order who abuse their position and power to ruin the lives of those lower than them. 

The dragon and you make a formidable duo. The infamy of your reputation spreads across the lands, like the shadows his wings cast over Philos, marking the end of days. 

His bride and partner. Your very name brings disdain and fear across the faces of the men who had once damned you to this fate. Unbeknownst to you, the Sacred Judicator will not be overthrown. He is a man of pride and greed; a man such as that will never stand for a simple, cursed human girl to be his downfall. 

They plot and plan, finding pitfalls to ensnare you away from the dragon. 

While they scheme, the dragon and you live in the clouds, above Tarus City. With nowhere to go, your hometown long destroyed, and half of Philos demanding for your blood, there is nothing much you can do but to learn more about your companion. 

Drenched in the shadows of dusk, you sit next to the dragon, marking your next plunder on a starmap. He gazes over your shoulder, and his proximity reminds you of the mark seared into the skin of your throat. Sometimes you feel it pulsing, reminding you of the deal you made. His breath brushes your shoulder, and you blurt out the first thing in your mind. 

“Do you have a name?” 

The air between you two turns chilly.

“Why would it matter?” He asks coldly and you laugh.

“Well… I can’t keep calling you Dragon all the time, can I?” Mirth swims in your eyes, and the red vortex of his right eye flares, as if preparing to swallow you whole. But, you’re not afraid of the abyss. He can’t kill you because he still needs to devour your soul—and a dead human has no soul. “Besides, if we are in battle, the second I say Dragon, they would know who I am referring to.” 

The Fiend pauses, contemplates. After a moment, he rumbles what sounds like “Stay-rus” under his breath.

“Stay-rus?” You tilt your head to one side. “Are you asking me to stay clear? Or, is that really your name?” 

A flicker of a smile lights up the corners of his mouth at your impudence. 

“It is an ancient Philosan name.” 

“Ah.” You glance at him, and with no fear, touch his horns. He bristles, but does not reject your affection. “What if I call you something that sounds similar? Is Sylus alright with you?” 

The dragon shrugs. “Call me whatever you want. But, do not expect me to respond.” 

He stands and his wings rustle the air. 

“Where are you going, Sylus?” 

Despite his prickly warning at this new given name, he responds: “To rest.” 

But, you still want to speak to him, to get to know him.

“Please,” your voice takes on a softer quality. “Sit with me for a bit.” In this light of the flame, he looks younger. More human. You have never seen a dragon with this much emotion in his eyes.

Eventually, he sighs and sits back down next to you, casting his gaze far and wide to the city below. 

“Humans are strange creatures, are they not?” Sylus mumbles, taking a bite of the blood orange. You pick up a pomegranate and pluck a seed, chewing on it thoughtfully.

The Fiend rarely gets into an introspective mood, his thoughts and feelings hidden behind his indifferent stare. So, when he begins to ramble, you hear him. 

“Why do you say that?” 

A storm is brewing over Tarus City and the moon is hidden tonight. The secrecy and solemness of the entire surroundings mirror the distant look in his eyes. 

“Because through all the destruction and fear, they still have one thing in them unwilling to bend or break.”

Hope, you think. 

“Stubbornness,” he says, and tosses the peel to the ground where it lands with a dull thud. 

You chuckle and shake your head. “Not every human is terrible the same way not every dragon is evil. Duality exists and kindness can be seen in this world.” 

He looks at you like you’re a monster who has sprouted two heads. “They burnt your home to the ground. They took you away from your family and yet, you harbor no ill-intent for them.”

Your expression darkens, and in the sliver of moonlight, the dragon catches the same untamed fury reflected in his gaze. 

“Regardless of what they have done, innocents still roam Ivory City. To destroy all of them—”

“You are weak,” he spits out. Something in you snaps, and you stand, shaking from head to toe.

Instead of feeling intimidated, Sylus laughs, the sound coming out like a deep rumble, and shakes his head. “Sit back down. I am merely joking.”

Despite the flare of anger, you tame it, turning your indignant gaze to the embers of the fire smoldering before you.

“Why do you say such hurtful things to me? Am I not your partner through everything?” 

If you expected him to soften from your show of vulnerability, you are mistaken. The dragon narrows his eyes.  

“Do you think you can weaken me with your human love? Whatever bonding or mating attempts you humans partake in will not work on me, cursed one,” he rumbles, the tip of his tail flicking the top of my head. “If you truly want my love and attention, be stronger.”

His words rub you the wrong way, especially when you’ve proven time and time again of your heart’s discontent. The greed oozes out of you, demanding for more, something which you would’ve never dared tried as a young orphan under the Sanctuary’s care.

“Do not assume I am weak, Sylus,” you leap back to your feet again, glaring at him, and the effect strikes as much fear in his heart as a little kitten hissing at a python. You were no match for him, and the both of you knew that. However, he commends your bravery, even if it verges into the territory of stupidity. “I am plenty strong. You just have no idea how strong I can be.” 

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “If you think puffing out your chest and making threats will deter me, you are sorely mistaken, kitten—”

His words die in the back of his throat when you lunge right at him, dagger straight to his eye. He parries, and his tail grabs your waist, throwing you into a wall. You sneer, and the sight of your bared teeth reminds him of a young dragon who’s horns have just grown—reckless and itching for a fight. 

With every kill and steal, Sylus will always ask you the same question: What else do you desire? 

Now wrapped in the tenderness of an approaching new night and an empty moon, he senses a new, burning desire simmering between you two. A dance as old as time.

Primal instincts in him awaken when you stab your dagger into his tail, earning a hiss. His injury makes it hard for him to hold you up and he relents, dropping you to the ground where you roll away and parry, toppling over him. Red-black mists swirl around you, the light in your soul burning to devour the darkness in his red eyes. From the corner of your eye, you notice the stab wound you made in his tail healing over.

However, your instinct to kill, kill, kill doesn’t abate, and his need to drive his teeth into your soul threatens to overcome him.

End him… Kill him…

The words echo in your head, and you try hard to fight them off.

No… I can’t… I can’t… he is… he is my…

The shackles binding you to logic restraints the deathly need, and you drop the knife in your hand. Sylus laughs throatily, and without a second thought, he leans in to kiss you.

Soon, the desire to kill fades, and another pressing need emerges, this one intending to devour, but not in the way you expect.

A stirring heat fills your belly, drawing you ever closer to his light. You fall right into the vortex of his parted mouth, tasting the sweet breath of his tongue dancing with yours. Sylus shifts under you, growling when you accidentally nip on his bottom lip. 

“Careful, little one,” he groans, and the sound travels straight to your core.

“Mhm,” you moan, tasting his lips once more. He reminds you of liquor and elderberries, sweet and heady. 

Every nerve in your body is on fire, and you can’t help but to tilt your hips, pressing them closer to his, feeling the tight seam of his leather pants rub against your naked core. The friction leaves you gasping. Sylus lets out a low, guttural sound at the sudden spark of heat, his ruby red eyes darkening.

“Little one… you have no idea what that feels like…”

You gasp when his tail wraps around your waist gently, possessively.

You have never been with a man, much less a dragon before, and the idea of what could potentially come next leaves you reeling. 

“Wait…”

Sylus hears the note of hesitation in your tone and halts all his movement. The sharp, stinger-like tip of his tail is gentle when it caresses your cheek. 

“I will not hurt you, little one,” he promises. The air trembles with a murmur of vulnerability. You feel his claws slide up your waist, caressing the leathery garment you still wore from the time you dropped right into his lap as a frightened, wide-eyed little thing.

Sylus’s touches are feathered with curiosity, and those eyes hide a world of secrets behind them. Secrets you wish to uncover. You brush a lock of silver hair from his face, and to your pleasant surprise, he leans into your touch.

“Dragons cannot feel love,” he murmurs, almost as if reading your silent desires. Perhaps, he tastes your growing need in the air. “Not in the way humans do.” His kiss falls like a dew drop on your eyelashes. 

You struggle to keep your wits to yourself, not wanting to succumb to his charm. “How do they differ?”

He smiles, truly smiles for the first time, as if your question is something a child would ask. “Dragons have mating frenzies. A cycle of sorts. During that time, we are inundated by our constant need to mate and breed…”

You gently caress the side of his face, running your touch down the sharp ridges of where his scales meet his chest, above his heart.

“Can a human and a dragon ever mate?”

The question hangs in the air like an awkward note delivered wrongly in the middle of an orchestra chamber.

You swallow, about to backtrack, when he tightens his grip on you. Pain flashes in his eyes, as if he’s remembering a past you aren’t privy to.

“Yes,” he says softly, the word heavy with a thousand burdens. “They can. And, they have.” 

Taking in his almost human countenance, your eyes widen. “You… you’re talking about yourself, are you? About who you are?”

He growls in warning, and you clamp your mouth shut—not wanting to ruin this moment. Sylus is a puzzle you can’t quite figure out. But, even if you don’t have all the pieces, you cherish them whenever they drop onto your lap, doing everything you can to try and create a bigger picture of him.

“I dreamt of a boy once… a long time ago,” you gently run your thumb across his horn, not noticing how he shudders. “He was young and scrawny. With a stumpy dragon tail and cut off horns oozed blood…”

Sylus doesn’t speak, his expression like the dark side of the moon—hiding everything. 

You shrug, and lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I never understood that dream. Maybe it’s a premonition.”

“Or, perhaps, a memory.” 

You lift your eyes, but he’s already pulling you closer, claiming your lips as his own. You shiver at the heat of his mouth, the all-encompassing need he pours into the kiss. Your mind spins, the room becoming hotter, as the stirring heat between you and the dragon kindles into something deeper. 

Needier.

Sylus moves his mouth to the tender juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, worrying his teeth into your delicate flesh. He bites and gnaws like a predator to its prey, the stinging pain morphing into an undeniable need slicking hotly between your thighs.

He groans when you inadvertently shunt your hips, eyes widening at the bulge behind his pants. Sylus gazes right at your lips, bringing them close to his once again, kissing you breathlessly. His tongue slips past to demand entrance to your mouth, and you part your lips, letting him delve right in. Greed infuses his kisses, and he takes and takes, swirling his tongue and tasting you, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Sylus…”

His name on your lips almost makes him feverish with need. Sylus growls and rolls you onto your back, his tail coiling around your waist, snaking up your neck. He stands and tugs you up with ease, his serpentine tail wrapped tightly around you. Your back meets the soft surface of his chaise, and he gently parts your legs, running the tips of his claws over your fleshy inner thighs.

The mark on your neck burns, and this desire is even stronger than the one calling you to kill him. It’s like your souls are fused together—whatever he feels, you do, too. Whatever he wants, you want. 

And right now, there is no shadow of doubt that Sylus wants you. 

He licks his lips, and the fire in his crimson eyes burns through you. You gasp when he lifts the hem of your leather, wedding dress up over your thighs, exposing your need to the chilly air of his lair.

Sylus groans, deep and gravelly in his chest, at the sight of how wet you already are for him. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He rumbles, and gently trails the back of his index talon down your slit. He gathers the wetness and, keeping eye contact with you, runs his tongue down the sharp curve.

You gasp, cheeks heating up. “Sylus—”

“Kitten,” he growls, kneeling before your spread thighs. The sight of you, all spread out before him, is one that pumps more heat into his bloodstream than any loot ever could. 

He smells how excited you are, your arousal like warm honey and vanilla, beckoning him to taste you. 

You gasp when his rough tongue licks a strip from your inner thigh to your bare pelvis, leaving a trace of heat behind. 

“Oh!” your voice echoes in his chambers. “Oh… Sylus…”

He growls, loving the name you’ve given him on your tongue.

The sight of his claws on your skin should’ve scared you, but all you feel is a deep curious need for more. You tilt your hips up in an invitation, one which the dragon raises his brow to.

But, he gets onto his knees, like you’re a sacred piece of art he has to worship. More than the riches and the gold, Sylus thinks nothing in his lair shines as brightly as you. Your soft skin under his lips, the velvety grip of your folds on his tongue… he may not be familiar with this type of desire, but it is slowly unravelling itself like an old, familiar blanket. 

Sylus nuzzles his nose right into the heart of your cunt, and you gasp, sighing his name.

He lets you grip his hair, play with his horns. His tail wraps tightly around your waist, the tip grazing your cheek. To his surprise as he’s pleasuring you, you turn your face and envelope the sharp, tapered curve with your soft, warm mouth, sucking on it lightly.

Bolts of pleasure shoot through his body like lightning. Sylus growls and lifts his head, ruby eyes entranced at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips tasting the tip of his tail. You lift your lust-drowsy eyes to catch his gaze, and smile.

“You… taste good…” Licking your lips, you’re unaware of the alluring picture you paint. 

This human, this mite in the face of a mighty dragon may not be able to slay the foul beast, but she sure knew how to bring him to his knees.

Sylus groans, doubling down his effort to please you.

It’s instinct how he moves his tongue, sampling your flavor. Your breathing hitches, gasps growing heavier, and from the twitch of your hips to the sight of more nectar spilling from between your legs, Sylus can hazard a guess that you might be on the verge of a climax.

A low, gravelly growl spills from his slickened lips, and his claws shred the front of your dress, splitting the skimpy material into half with the ease of tearing through sugar paper. 

Your bare chest unfurls like vast plains of flesh, warm to the touch, soft as silk underneath his claws. He sees your milk glands (or, as humans might call them: breasts), luscious and heavy enough to sustain his young. The primal lust roars louder in his veins.

“I want to see them full with milk,” he licks his lips and plays with your pebbled nipples. “Feeding my progenies… you will make a splendid mother, indeed.”

His words don’t scare you—you’ve already given this bond a thought, during dark nights when sleep couldn’t find you. If the dragon wants to mate, you shall welcome his advances. This new desire, hot and insistent within you, sparks like the first flame of love. 

“Ahhh…” your dulcet moan grazes his ears like a supple kiss. “Sylus…” 

His tail restraints your arms from flailing, though he gives you enough grace to sink your hands in his hair. Sylus’s warm tongue continues to tease your sensitive spots, his nose grazing your clit. Lapping at the warm musk you produce like it’s honey from a fount, the dragon greedily drinks you up. 

Timidly, you reciprocate, pressing kisses to the end of his tail. As your pleasure spikes, the need to ground yourself comes in the form of suckling on the narrow tip, your moans lost in mouthfuls of his stinger. He growls, eyes flashing and lifts his head from between your thighs. 

“How does one mortal know exactly where to pleasure a dragon?” 

You detach your lips from the leathery skin of his pointed tip, breathily replying: “I read an ancient book once… Dragons are symbols of fertility and their tails…” you trail off, as if almost embarrassed to know this fact, “... are sensitive.”

Sylus shivers when your tongue runs across the stinger again, making his tail twitch and flick uncontrollably. He resists the urge to flip you onto your knees and breach your tight heat in this instance, exercising patience. The last thing he wants is to accidentally injure you. 

“So, this is what they feed the dragon brides up in that sanctimonious Sanctuary of yours?” He mocks, “Ways on how to pleasure a dragon? How… whorish.” 

Your indignation flares and you narrow your eyes. “No,” you splutter. “It was a piece of information I found by accident,” you struggle against the tight coil of his tail around you, “And, do not call me such terms!” 

Sylus chortles, amused by your vitriol. “I see. My innocent human bride is not as innocent as I thought.” 

He grins and using his thumb, circles the throbbing bud between your legs. “Don’t move. My claws are sharp,” he warns, and gently, blows cool air on the little bundle of nerves already blushing. “Mhm… your body is… supple…” Cool, slightly chapped lips press a reverent kiss to your clit. 

You gasp, and struggling to quip back, ask, “And how does a dragon know how to pleasure a human woman?” 

His answer throws you off. Sylus grins, revealing rows of perfect, straight white teeth as he replies succinctly: 

“Instinct.”

His tongue delves right back into your heat and you scream, thighs twitching. The tapered stinger gently caresses your cheek, and you take it as an invitation to suck on the tip. Wet noises and muffled moans resound around the cave walls. 

Sylus’s tail releases you, and he kneels up, fumbling with his pants. You eagerly help him tug them down, not sure what you would find hidden underneath the dark fabric. 

But, a very much human cock greets your sight, though larger than the wax appendage in the science labs back at the Sanctuary. You bite your lip, gently stroking it from base to tip.

Sylus hiss, tilting his head back. “Gods,” he whispers blasphemy while in the throes of his pleasure. “Do not stop…”

You hum, warm palms running up and down the slick flesh. His tail wraps around your midsection again, and the light catches on a split at the base of the large, serpentine mass. Curious, you tilt your head to one side.

“Sylus… what is that?” 

He sees what you have spotted and laughs hollowly. “Didn’t your naughty books tell you, my bride? That… is a hemipenis.” The tip of his tail slides between your legs, caressing your folds and you gasp, squirming. Before your eyes, twin sacs pop from underneath the scales, and you see two curling branches feeling the air.

“Are those…?”

You trail off and Sylus huffs a hoarse laugh. “Yes. Supposed to go in you. One or the other. I am not picky.” 

Gaping, you stop stroking his human cock and pay attention to his dragon one. Roughly the same size as his human appendages, his dragon ones are a fleshy pink, with bulbous sacs hanging at the base.

“So… you have three organs…”

You marvel at the biology of him, not paying attention to the pink dusting on the high points of his cheeks. 

“Yes… so to speak.”

Sylus’s voice drops an octave, and you feel his claws gently caressing your bare thighs.

“I have… never made love with a dragon before,” you admit, and he finds it strangely endearing.

Sylus lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “If you ever did, I would not think to even have you in this position.” Grinning, he leans closer, as if to let you in on a secret. “I would have scented another male on you and snapped your neck clean off for daring to intrude in my lair… or, did you not know dragons only mate for life?” 

His words leave your head spinning. You gasp, and he grabs your chin, holding it firmly in his clawed hand.

Your wide eyes, your flush cheeks. You look divine, and Sylus aches for a taste.

He leans in, lips pressing to yours. There’s less heat this time, passion simmering to a tender touch—hesitation replaced by a growing intimacy that is undeniable. His hands roam your body, feeling the lush and warm skin of your hips, thighs and stomach. 

“You taste like sin incarnate,” the dragon whispers against your lips.

Curiosity simmers in you, needing to be fulfilled and you speak past his lips meeting yours in hurried kisses.

“What—do you mean—mhm… mating for life?” You manage to gasp. Sylus growls, loving how breathy you sound. 

Sylus lets out a rumble that sounds almost like a purr, his nose gliding from your jaw to your pulse point, inhaling you. 

“The mating frenzy happens once every few years. During such a… ritual… the dragons will choose one to be their mate—to carry their offspring and be their one true partner. Your books do not teach this because to humans, such a notion of love is barbaric and unheard of…” 

Naturally, the next question rolls off your tongue. “And… you have chosen me? As your mate?” 

The word suddenly holds a heavy connotation, and you swallow. 

His tail strokes your chin, and you nuzzle your cheek against it. Infuriating as ever, Sylus never gives you a straight answer. “Perhaps.” 

The idea of someone as simple as you being the Fiend’s mate is laughable. And, yet…

You lick your lips, running your gaze over his muscular and broad build. The prominence of his spine and scaly shoulders, the black-tipped serpentine tail with streaks of red scales. 

“Tell me more about these… mating frenzies.”

A guttural low growl forms at the depths of his chest, making you shiver.

“Better yet—I can show you.” 

In a flash, he’s on top of you, and his tail slithers right to your spread thighs. You feel the heat of his split dragon cock gently grazing your hip, and you hold your breath. “What does this mean? For both of us?” 

Sylus’s head is traveling to your sternum, his tongue sticking out to taste your skin. He stops at the swell of your right breast and sighs.

“You ask too many questions.”

Whatever is left of your coherence is lost in the feel of his velvet tongue teasing your straining nipples. He licks at them, bringing the fleshy nubs into the heat of his mouth and rolling them between his teeth. You gasp, completely helpless under his larger build, your arms bound to your sides by the strength of his tail wrapped around your chest. 

“Ngh—Sylus!” You cry out and he chuckles, low and smoky, enjoying how your body is squirming from the stimulation. 

Sylus’s eyes close when he feels your hand stroking his thigh and tail, the innocent touch sending waves of pleasure through his body. He is completely enthralled by you—this tiny, insignificant human… and you don’t even know the extent of his desire. 

Despite his rugged exterior, he nuzzles your cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of your soul ablaze with a new desire.

It’s heady and sublime, like a whiff of manna from a holier source than what’s between his ribcage. His heart palpitates, a staccato rhythm just for you. 

Sylus bends his head lower, eyelashes almost tickling your cheek.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, little one?” 

You struggle to speak, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s eliciting in your body. “I… want you.”

The confession rolls off your tongue, making his blood sing. Sylus grins, and his body primes with the need to claim you; to stake his seed deep in your body. The sight of his two cocks, each pulsing with pleasure and anticipation, makes your mouth water.

It’s a good thing those barbarians threw you down into his lair in such delectable garments… or, a lack thereof. Your bare body beckons him in like a moth to a flame; he shamelessly drinks in the sight of your splayed thighs hungrily—the fragile swathes of leather barely concealing your form. 

Sylus coils his tail closer to his pelvis, and you don’t hesitate to sit on the large, scaly mass. Your heat is maddeningly close to his lengths. The dragon desires stirring to claim you rises like a storm, and his nostrils flare. Sylus grabs your hips, positioning you over his right cock, letting the other one graze your pelvis. He hisses when you willingly take him, the innocent love on your face almost too much for him to bear.

(How can you look at him like this—like he’s something holy and worth loving?) 

The great Fiend melts right into your embrace, his head pressed to your shoulder, your bare breasts grazing the scales forming his chestplate. 

Sylus growls, going light-headed at the feel of your velvet walls melting around him. He gazes deeply into your eyes, finding not a shred of fear or repulsion in them. Your body molds around him like a well-fitted glove, your edges melting with his, the perfect contrast to his build.

As you lean in closer, he catches a whiff of honeyed wildflowers, and he deeply regrets commenting on your odor before, knowing it was because of the warped perception he had of you. 

You press your lips to his jaw, the bond between you thrumming like a live heartbeat.

He leans in to taste your mouth, the tenderness of this moment transcending any pain and bitterness he’s ever endured in his tragic life. Maybe one day he will tell you about the scars, the prejudice, the family he’s lost. But tonight, he wants you to belong to him as much as he already belongs to you.

“Does it hurt?” He checks when you take the last few inches of his beastly cock, your expression betraying a wince of pain.

“No…” you murmur, and he senses the truth in your shiny eyes. “It is simply… I am not accustomed to it.” 

Sylus bites down on a groan when you shift your hips, the sensation of him moving deep inside you both foreign and enticing. 

“O my bride,” he murmurs, nosing your hair. “You have no idea how delectable you look right now—astride me like this. Completely in my grasp. Completely mine.”

You shiver at the note of possessiveness in his tone. They said dragons horde what they find valuable. In his arms, you don’t feel broken or despised—you shine like the most priceless jewel. Despite his countenance and the infamy behind his reputation, you’re at ease in his arms, rubbing your nose with his.

“The bride of the dragon… his temptress of the night… one could get used to such a name,” you tease. His clawed hands tighten on your hips, and he guides your movements. Nose to nose, chest to chest, the dragon and you breathe as one.

The sensation of him inside you is one you have never felt in your short life. It’s both aching and pleasurable—makes you feel like a harlot and an enchantress all at once. Sylus does not hesitate to breach the last vestige of your innocence, the mark on your neck burning from his claim. 

Your ripeness and purity stains his thighs in streaks of red, and he growls low. 

“You are… untouched?” 

You nod, not trusting your voice. Your eyes water and your throat bubbles with a sob, but not from pain. You want nothing more than to make this moment of agonizing ecstasy last forever.

Sylus drops his head back to your shoulder, lips seeking your neck blindly. The mark he leaves calls upon his name, and his lips seek it effortlessly, biting and licking—reopening the wound only to seal it back with his healing capabilities.

It’s delirium and distress all in one. Your body feels like a flame in the open air, dancing violently to the blows of his desires. You move above him, bracing your smaller hands on his shoulders, leveraging on his muscular build to chase your high.

Sylus scents your soul in the air—hot liquor topped with boiling salt—simmering with the irresistible pull of your desires. The look in your eyes is wanton and needy. He can almost taste your desperation in the back of your throat.

“My bride,” he growls, gripping your hips to make you move faster. “My beloved, beautiful, greedy bride.”

His low snarl makes your insides squeeze, the need for him burning brighter and hotter.

“Sylus—” you choke.

That’s it, my sweetness… give yourself to me.

A feral, almost inhuman timber laces his voice, compelling you to surrender to the dark desires stirring beneath your skin. 

You crave for Sylus—need him like you need air.

The wet sound of skin meeting skin, his husky snarls and whispered praises bring you closer to the edge. Sylus moves under you, a dark wave with piercing ruby eyes following your every move. He fixates on your face, unable to look away. 

Those clawed hands, born to shred through flesh, tenderly cradle the plush of your hips. His mouth, a delicate curve, finds refuge in the valleys of your breasts, nipping and sucking on them like a sugar addict sampling the finest sweets in all the land. His ardent affection sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, your glassy eyes drowning in his intense, crimson gaze. The fire flickers and catches on the sheen of his dragon hide, inky smooth under the softness of your touch. 

Flesh and scales. Dragon and wife. Both blend into one as the night wears on.

Sylus feels your walls trembling, sucking him deeper. He nuzzles the mark on your neck, grazing his teeth on your pulse point.

“Let go for me,” he speaks in that same raspy, deep voice. Compelling you to listen to him. “Let go and release your worries… I am here to catch you, beloved.”

Beloved… beloved…

You are the dragon’s beloved.

Your heart soars above the clouds, far from your body. The waves of ecstasy crash around you, dragging you under. Right in the heart of the mountain, your scream of his name echoes down the valleys and boughs, the pleasure searing through your veins.

In response, Sylus roars, a great bellowing sound. He protects your fragile, human hearing with a palm pressed right to your ear, your cheek and ear against his chest; his claim resounds like a boom of thunder, shaking the trees. 

You’re dizzy, blood rushing to your ears. Sylus holds you in his embrace, pressing your body to his broad chest, close enough it feels like you could fuse your skin with his.

Your breaths mingle, heady liquor dripping into each other’s mouths, and you drink deeply from his kiss.

Sylus lays you down on the chaise, curling up next to you. Like a dragon guarding his horde of treasure, he keeps you close, tail curled under your head. Occasionally, he would caress your belly, feeling the generous swell of his release lodged right in your womb. His beastly cock remains warm in you, the hard ridges drawing sparks of pleasure chasing up your spine with every movement. 

His large wing unfurls, draping over you. With his head on your chest, your arms around him, and his dragon cock softening inside you, Sylus holds you tightly. Possessively. The tip of his tail nuzzles your chin, his human cheek rubbing against your head. 

Wrapped snugly in his embrace on all fronts, you fall into the deepest sleep of your life.

The dragon and you grow closer day by day.

As your need for revenge abates, your greed is satisfied in a different way—through a more carnal and intimate fulfillment. For a creature who loves to hoard, Sylus is generous with his pleasure, sharing the riches of his love and knowledge.

He flies you around Tarus City in his arms, his wings cutting through the valleys and casting a terrifying yet breathtaking shadow over the mostly barren rockspace. But, the city is not without its charms.

Laying in a field of daturas, the sun shines warmly on your skin. 

With a lack of human clothes nearby, you had to get creative and stitch some leather hide together with scraps of chiffon he plundered from a clothing merchant in Ivory City. The result is a dress which shows off the strength and agility of your body, light enough for your quick movements, yet warm to withstand the cool Tarus City nights.  

You munch on a blood orange while Sylus plays with a pearl necklace, lopping it around the tip of his tail, unwinding it only to gently place it on your lap. You glance at him, finding a soft smile lifting the perfect curves of his lips. 

“Put it on,’ he rumbles, and you raise a brow. 

“Why?” 

Sylus chuckles, shaking his head, finding your stubbornness endearing. You find you quite like the sound of his laughter. The warm sun bounces off his hair, turning it almost a blinding white. The hue of his locks matches with the pearly beads, its sheen catching your eye. Without a second thought, you put the necklace on. 

Turning to him, you grin. “Is this to your liking?”

But, his eyes darken, the sudden look of lust flashing in his crimson eyes catching you off guard.

Before you can open your mouth to speak, he grabs you by the waist, pinning you down to the grassy carpet. The cloying scent of crushed daturas fill your nose, making your head spin. You cradle his face in your hands, admiring the jut of his sharp features. 

Sylus nuzzles into your touch, like a needy cat. He growls when you touch his horns. 

“You know what caressing them does to me.”

You pretend to look innocent. “Oh? I suppose I don’t. Care to remind me again?” 

Your dragon lover grins, baring his teeth. Sylus never smiles unless he catches the scent of treasure. Trapped underneath his bigger build, you glance at his right eye, and the mark on your neck starts to tingle again. Every time you think you have an upper hand on the situation, the bond you share with him brings a crushing sense of helplessness and desire—making you repeat the pattern of giving into him all over again. 

His lips press to yours and you inhale the sweet taste of blood oranges on his touch. He nibbles on your lower lip, and you shiver.

“O bride,” he whispers, dragging the tips of his talons up your side. “You smell… delectable.” 

His mouth seeks refuge in the crook of your neck, biting, nipping and sucking. The sharp sting of his teeth and tongue turn into ripples of pleasure coursing through your bloodstream, warming you from the core. 

You thread your fingers through his silver hair and he hums in approval. 

Sylus moves his mouth from your neck to your pulse point, going over the marks he left the night before. The frenzy of his claiming sears through your memories, and you shudder again, powerless against the desires that consume you.

He nips and licks along your jaw, across your collarbones. The bite of his teeth drives you closer to ecstasy, and you tilt your head back, whimpering.

“Sylus…”

He smiles against your skin. “I love the sounds you make… these sweet, little eager mewls,” he rasps in a dark, low tone, his body pressing down on you. You gasp as he leans in, lips a  breath from your ear. “It makes me want to devour you.” 

A cacophony of lust and longing swirls inside you. The mark on your neck grows hotter. You crane your neck closer to him, noses almost touching and like a plea for succor, you murmur, “Then, devour me.” 

The glint in his eye grows darker and he leans in closer. “You have no idea what you are asking for, little one.”

There’s an edge of warning in his tone, one you choose not to hear. 

“All I want is you… and I must have you, my dragon.”

A shiver runs up his spine, the sound of your possessive words both delighting and frustrating him. 

He cages you to the ground with his arms, looming over you like a dark shadow. The muscles in his body tenses, coiled tight like a spring about to break. 

You pry your wrists from his grasp and he gives your freedom back with no hesitation. Your hands roam the broad expanse of his back and chest, feeling the warmth of his human skin mingling with the cool hide of his dragon scales. You concentrate on the spikes erupting from his shoulders, running your hands down his pronounced spine, where you gently press a hand to the base of his tailbone.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, and the sunlight speckles his shadows over your face. You pluck a flower and gently tuck it under a ridge of scales closest to his heart. “Has anyone ever told you that, Sylus?” The red bloom contrasts vividly with his dark scales, and the look on his face reminds you of a setting sun—tender and warm.

His eyes soften, the beastly need shadowing them tempered by a touch of adoration. 

He takes your hand in his clawed grip and gingerly runs a talon over your knuckles, careful not to break skin.

“No one has ever said that to me before,” his voice is rough, laced with an unfathomable emotion. Sadness? Grief? Anger? 

You couldn't decipher it. But, the unconditional affection you feel for him does not waver. 

Sylus slots his larger build in between your thighs, bearing down on you. Even with his proximity, you don’t feel afraid, gazing into his jewel-tone eyes, admiring how they shine like rubies in the gentle sun.

“Sylus… have you ever been in love before?” 

He turns his head to press kisses onto your fingertips. Slowly, he shakes his head. 

“Dragons do not feel love the same way humans do.”

Curious, you card your fingers through his hair. “And how do they feel love?”

The ruby embedded in his chest pulses almost as if it’s alive. You gently run your fingers over the sharp edges of the jewel, surprised to find it warm There’s something about it that echoes him—rough and unyielding on the surface, yet concealing a depth of hidden truth beneath its intricate facets.

Sylus grasps your wandering hand in his, bringing it to his lips. His lips touch the thrumming pulse of your wrist with a dearest reverence.

“Imagine you’re at a feast and the host has arranged a full table filled with only your favorite food,” he explains, rubbing the tip of his nose into your palm. “There’s a centrepiece and you wish to have it, but the host tells you it’s for decoration only. Yet, you cannot remove your eyes from it. You scheme and pine, wondering how to grab it when the bastard’s back is turned. Then, frustrated and no longer able to wait, you end the host where he stands for daring to keep such a treasure from you.” His voice grows softer, fringed with despair. “You pick up the centrepiece and sink your teeth into it. It’s made out of plastic and the feast ends because of you. The table is toppled over and you haven’t even touched your meal yet. This is what it feels like to love as a dragon.”

Your eyes soften, sensing his anguish. “I see.” Instead of being disgusted by his greed, you feel for his plight—to be cursed to love and long for something or someone that will never satiate the true ache in your  soul. “But, I suppose that’s where the magic lies, right? In the meal and not true desires? What’s in front of you instead?” 

Gently, you caress his horns again, marveling at how strong and perfectly curved they are. 

Sylus bends his head closer, letting you touch them. “Only you humans think such a paltry keep is worth pursuing.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Love is not about what you can take but what you give back.” 

As you stroke the indentations at the base of his horns where he’s taken a knife to it one too many times in the past, Sylus flinches from your touch. You still, and he bristles, growling under his breath as he urges you to continue caressing him by nudging his horns against your palm.

You grin. “Hmm… you know what you remind me of?” Not waiting for him to reply, you continue, “A huge kitten. An angry, horn-fiended kitten.” 

Sylus scowls, baring his teeth slightly, but when you scratch the base of his horns, tickling his scalp, he fights back a moan.

“Mhm… feels good,” he rumbles, and you giggle, happy to have found his spot. You scratch at it for a few moments, enjoying the warm press of his body on yours. His wings quiver in the light breeze, and the day shines on, the field of daturas all forgotten for the softness in his eyes. 

When night comes, cool and blanketing the world in peaceful darkness, you hum, stoking the fire in the centre of his lair. Sylus hears the cadence of your breath, the rhythm, and he wanders over to you, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

“What is that… sound?” 

“Oh. It is an old lullaby… one my mother used to sing to me.” 

His clawed hand grazes your belly, gently trailing up to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his broad body cocooning around you. 

“Can you sing it to me again?” 

In the deep vastness of Tarus City, a lone, beautiful voice reverbs, her song lifting from the peaks of the dragon’s lair, up into the cloudless night. The dragon listens to her, besotted, his ruby eyes never lifting from her face.

She finishes the song, and he lifts his head from the comfort of your lap. “That was beautiful.” 

Surrounded by all the riches of the world, the dragon wants to reward you. 

“Since you so kindly gifted me something I do not have in any collection, you are free to take anything you want here.”

Your eyes land on a tapestry, depicting a dragon being surrounded by a horde of angry men and their weapons. “What is that?”

Sylus lifts a brow, chuckling to himself. “A depiction of all the 108 ways men have tried to kill a dragon.” 

You glance at him, trying to dig deeper past his words. “I take it they all failed?”

He stretches and languishes back on your lap, his chest rumbling with a deep chuckle. “Of course. A dragon is not an easy creature to kill.”

A part of you wants to know more about Sylus’s past, but something holds you back from asking him. You distract yourself instead by caressing the skin around his eye, feeling the need to take it—claim it as yours. “Anything I want?” 

As if reading your mind, Sylus grabs your wrist with a smirk. “Anything except for my eye.”

You pretend to pout. “You’re not fun…” But, you don’t want to overstep on the dragon’s generosity. Your eyes land on a ruby pendant, and you finger the string of pearls he had placed around your neck earlier today. “What’s that pendant?” 

He follows your gaze, and smirks. “Ah. You have good taste, little one. That is an old ruby worn by the first Empress of Philos. Thought to be lost after the Battle of the Brothers. I found it at the bottom of a volcano.” 

You shiver, glancing at the impenetrable ruby.

“And it did not melt? Wondrous…”

Sylus hears the awe in your voice and shifts from your lap, his tail reaching to grab the necklace, depositing it into your waiting hands. “Put it on,” his tone takes on a huskier note, and you feel a spark of heat running down your spine. Obedient and eager, you slip the necklace on, feeling the heavy weight of the pendant settling around your throat. 

The sight of the shining crimson jewel right at the centre of your chest mirrors the jewel embedded in between his pecs. “Look. We match.”

Sylus runs the tip of his claw over the cool metal of the ruby hanging around your neck and chuckles. “Indeed… though yours looks much more ravishing.”

His eyes slide down your cleavage, drinking in the sight of the pendant nestling snugly right between the valley of your breasts. A familiar hunger gnaws in his loins, and he shifts closer to you, breath warm on your neck.

His lips find the shape of your mark, retracing it with his lips. Sylus growls softly when he feels the ghost of your moan caressing his cheek. Your hands make their way back to thread his silver locks, holding him in place. 

There is no hesitation when he pushes you onto your back, the sight of his bulging cloaca catching your eye. His twin cocks emerge from the safe haven of his scales, and you gulp at the sight of them, waiting to sink into you—fill you up with his seed.

Sylus tries to remove your dress, but his claws are much too sharp, and he accidentally nicks you.

“Ow—” you curse and lean back, lifting the dress over your head, letting it fall in a heap of leather and chiffon on the stony floor. Sylus feels his breath catching in his throat.

Completely bare for him, your skin shines, catching the heat of the open fire. The reflection of your body through the mountains of gold melts under the press of his, your legs perched wide and open to receive his cock. Sylus grunts, moving onto his knees. The feel of him breaching past the tight ring of heat is delirious, and your hips cant, begging him for more.

“So greedy,” he breathes, tongue flicking out to tease your quivering bottom lip. “I have barely even started and you’re already whining. Your body is very sensitive today, precious.”

You whine, the weight of the necklaces pressing hotly into your skin when his body sinks into yours. Sylus marvels at how easily you take him, your breathing coming out in short huffs. He fingers the necklaces dangling from your throat and decides you need more. Precious jewels of ambrette, emeralds and sapphires fall upon your body, the dragon dressing you in his horde. 

He piles on more necklaces until you can barely see your breasts peeking past the fall of gems and chains. Sylus growls, his cock throbbing in you with every adornment, until he’s satisfied. He bends his head forward, licking and lapping at your tight nipples, puffy and stimulated from the cool metal rubbing against them. 

The sensation of his warm tongue contrasting the cool gems caressing your sensitive flesh is too much. You cry out, tipping your head back, giving yourself fully to him. Sylus does not take such submission lightly. He holds you tenderly in his arms, gliding his nose over the arch of your throat, inhaling the scent of your honey liquor soul.

She calls out to him, a sweet chime though the terrain of his own lost spirit, drawing him back to the warmth of your body and love.

“I cannot live without you,” he murmurs into the safety of your neck, as he settles right to the hilt. The faint sensation of his dragon cock hitting your cervix makes you wince, and Sylus is immediately attentive, raising his hips and keeping his thrusts shallow.

Your grip around his neck tightens, and you giggle when he tickles your shoulder with his relentless nips. “Sy-lus—” 

“Say my name like that, precious,” he grins, tongue snaking out to lap at your pulse point. “I love hearing my name on your lips.”

You groan. Sylus… Sylus… take me, Sylus…

He shivers as you chant his name, the sound of it on your lips driving him deeper into a frenzied state. Sylus picks up his pace, his grip on your hips tightening.

Ecstasy shoots through your veins, sparking from where you’re connected with him. The rocky ground is hard underneath your back, but your full attention is on his movement inside you. 

Licking his lips, Sylus grins when he hears you gasp at the feel of his spare cock caressing your rear entrance, the tip pushing past the tighter ring of muscle.

“Sylus—”

“Let me play with you, my precious,” he whispers. Your eyes widen; it’s like his cock has a life of its own. 

Sylus enjoys the way your hips twitch and undulate, your cheeks and chest flushing warmly from his ministrations. Your eyes close shut when the tip of him breaches past the tightness of your rear, cool fluid lubricating the arduous task of impaling you with his two cocks.

“Sylus, wh-what is that?” You moan, digging your nails into the thickness of his biceps. 

“That,” the dragon grins proudly, “Is my claim on you. You belong to me now, my precious. Forever and always.” 

The other half of your soul surges his hips forward, capturing you in a bliss of fullness you have never felt before in your life. Your cry rebounds across the cave walls, and he smothers your whimpers with his zealous kiss.

Sylus’s two cocks move inside you like a symphony of lust, drawing out your baser instincts, your moans for more, more, more. 

He gives everything he has to you, thrusting deeply, needing to reach into the heart of your love and lust.

You’re completely incoherent, whining and writhing. The necklaces around your throat clink and shake with every thrust of your dragon’s forceful cocks inside your tight heats.

Sylus growls at the sight of your body and hair fanning out before him. You look like a dream, an oasis he has once got  a glimpse of but never had the chance to drink from. 

He’s dreamed of you once, when he was locked in the loneliness of the abyss: your valiant sneer, the sword of light plunging through his chest. A part of him always knew you would be his undoing. Yet, he never imagined his destruction would be so damn intoxicating.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, holding him close. 

It takes every shred of his self-control not to lean in and draw blood from your neck. Sylus wants to mark you, needs to see his claim on your body.

It drives him to the point of snapping his teeth and growling, little more than an animal in heat. But, you don’t shrink or flinch away from him.

You take his dominance with a gleam of desire in your eyes, your sweet, supple body begging for more. 

And Sylus wants to give it all to you. 

He feels you tightening around his two cocks, the squeeze of your muscles heady enough to make his eyes roll back into his skull. The base of him is utterly ruined with a combination of his slick and your juices, streaks of white painting the inside of your thighs and dribbling onto the stony ground.

This dance between you two is unfettered and animalistic. Groans, growls, moans and hitched cries.

All of it blends into a cacophony of one. Sylus feels his blood heating, his mind reeling.

His thoughts are darkened with the need to breed and conquer—your womb his ultimate conquest. The dragon desire and instinct urges him to dominate, to plant his seed right in the heart of your fertile body. Sylus grabs your waist, changing the angle of his penetration. Your cries grow shriller, your breathing heavier.

He can sense the end of your tether, your body holding onto the last vestiges of your sanity. 

Sylus growls, “Come for me, precious one. Come.” 

A marionette to her master. Your body listens. Your heels dig into his waist, earning a hiss from him. He moans loudly when you squeeze tighter, nearly taking his breath away as you arch your back and—

“Sylus!” 

Magnificent. He can’t take his eyes off the pleasure playing out on your face. The scrunch of your brow. Your desperate cries grow hoarser. Your body coaxes him to the edge and takes him under. 

He spills inside of you with a low groan, talons scraping the rocky floor, his teeth digging into your shoulder. Possessive and intense, he keeps you pinned to the ground, letting his seed seep inside of you and take root—hoping his gift would someday grow wings.

You nuzzle his cheek, pressing your lips to his jaw and throat. 

Sylus pulls you to drape over his chest, his cocks softening inside the embrace of your body. The silence mellows like a greeting between two friends, the afterglow keeping you safe and warm in his hold. There’s no sound beyond the whistle of wind in trees and the firewood crackling.

“You said dragons mate for life,” you whisper through the inky darkness of the lair, the warmth of his embrace lowering your defences; something romantic about the night giving way to your deepest curiosities. “Does this mean I am your mate for life?” 

You’re so small and sweet in his arms. Sylus thinks he can hold you forever. 

He pretends to close his eyes, though a smirk plays in the corners of his lips.

“Is that what you envision?” 

“Is answering in riddles the only way you communicate?” He hears the frustration, the bite of sarcasm in your tone, and chuckles.

“Adorable even when you’re feisty.”

“An ass when you don’t give me a straight reply.”

Word for word. Parry for parry. Sylus chuckles, sensing he can get used to your presence for the rest of his life.

“Oh, hush,” he pulls you closer, pressing his face into your hair, “Do not ruin this moment.” 

Tarus City is full of surprises.

You would have thought such a place like this would bear no mark of civilization, but Sylus surprises you with a visit to the morning market. The stretch of streets sell everything from love potions to stuffed dung beetles, and you wish you had six pairs of eyes and ears to take in all the sights and sounds.

Sylus walks beside you, his broad build hidden under a cloak, and you’re in a similar fashioned one. 

He watches as you peruse an ornate box, before your eyes widen at something over his shoulder. “Sylus… is that a canvas made of dragon hide?” 

His eyes travel to where you’re pointing and he smirks. “Tarus City is unlike Ivory City in the sense that anything you want, you can get here.”

You walk alongside him, hastening your steps to keep up with his long strides. “Can I find a potion that will turn me invisible?” Sylus shakes his head at your nonsense question and flicks your nose with his hidden talon. 

“Your mind truly is a fascinating space, little one.” 

You laugh at his words, missing how his eyes soften when you turn to point at a tavern. “I’m starving. Do you want something to eat?”

The dragon can’t say ‘no’ to your human requirements, and he follows your lead. You sit together in a booth right at the back, hidden away from the  prying eyes of the other patrons. Sylus orders two ginger ciders, and pays with a pile of coins. The innkeeper’s eyes nearly burst out from his sockets, and before you can stop him, he sweeps the cash, promising the two of you a feast to remember. Barely even a few minutes later, the food arrives, tables laden with meat, fresh fruit and casseroles. 

Your stomach grumbles and your eyes take in the wondrous spread. Sylus chuckles when you dive right into a roast pigeon casserole, your cheeks all puffy and full. He pokes them and smirks. “Slow down, precious. The food is going nowhere.”

“Safe for you to say,” you murmur past quick chews, and swallow heartily. “I’ve noticed that you don’t eat much… you barely need any sustenance…” Another quick bite, and you tilt your head to the side. “Why is that?” 

His chin perched in his palm, Sylus gazes at you from across the booth, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. 

“Ah. So, you noticed.”

You frown and sip on the ginger cider. “I did. You look like you barely enjoy food.”

Sylus shrugs and picks up a wildberry, popping it between his teeth. He chews on it and swallows, contemplating how best to answer you. 

But, you continue: “I notice these days… you don’t see the beauty of music, can’t judge patterns, and flavors of food just don’t register for you, don’t they?” 

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Dragons don’t need any of these to survive.” 

“But, they’re part of the beauty of life,” you argue and he chuckles. 

“And you would know everything about beauty and life, right?” 

You huff, glaring at him. “I do know that life isn’t about treasures and kills… it’s about the wonders of memories created together,” you pause for a moment, feeling the words in your mouth. “It’s about love.” 

A dark emotion crosses his expression, but it’s gone before you can dive deeper. 

“Love? I told you before, it does not exist for dragons.”

You smile, catching him off guard. “Maybe that's why it’s so precious—because it doesn’t exist.”

Sylus looks away, like he can’t bear your eager expression any longer. “Starry-eyed optimism will get you nowhere in this world. You should know the fate that befalls a dragon’s lover.”

As if on cue, the stage lights dim and the roar of a dragon fills the dingy inn. An actor prances on stage in dragon wings. He sings for a long time, weaving a tale of a lonely dragon flying through the valleys. He doesn't change his cadence, and yet, you watch, enthralled. Sylus studies your reactions instead of the play, his ruby eyes sliding from the elaborate scales and fake blood to take in your entranced expression. 

He can’t resist coiling his tail around your waist, and you smile, leaning closer to his warmth. He shifts to sit beside you, letting you rest your head on his broad shoulder. The play drones on, but you’re invested in it. 

Then, the final act happens, and a woman with a red dress appears on stage, singing about her love for the fabled fiend. 

Sylus watches you closely, taking in your reactions. Your eyes widen when the dragon kisses his lover, and you gasp when he stabs her with his claws, sanguine liquid pooling on the stage. 

After the performance and dinner, you let him carry you down the streets in his arms, safe in his warmth and more than sleepy from the big meal. “Sylus… why did you bring me here?” 

Always perceptive. He can never hide the truth from his bride. 

“No reason.”

“But, I want to know why… and why the dragon had to kill his beloved even when she loved him so much.” Pouting, you try to appeal to his softer side, trying to sway him with your love. “Can you please tell me? Or else, I’ll have nightmares for the rest of the night.” 

He sighs and you gaze at him with wide, pleading eyes. There's something more he’s not telling you—your soul can guess as much. 

It’s clear he feels the same pull of curiosity and glances down at you. Slowly, he begins to fill in the gaps. 

He tells you a story of a young boy, born with dragons but with a human appearance. How the boy grew up thin and scraggly, an easy bone to pick amongst the rest of the horned fiends. Sylus’s eyes waver with a rippling loss when he mentions the eradication of the kin, how that boy became the last of his kind. 

“As the boy grew older, he began to develop horns. Afraid, he took a blade to them and his tail, but the scales would just grow back, soaked with blood…” Sylus continues and you’re mesmerized. “After centuries of anguish, he finally came to terms with his truth as a monster. Then, the love of his life appeared.” 

The world slows down, chatter and noises fading in the background. Only his soft ruby eyes anchor you to this moment.

“She removed the sword from his chest, and yet, she was the one destined to kill him. He knew she would be his archnemesis disguised as his bride, but somewhere along the line, he stopped wanting to consume her soul…” His voice grows softer, sour with a palpable loss. “Slowly, he became consumed with the idea of being human, and forgot the true monster underneath his skin. Maybe it was when he saw her preserving despite the odds, or when her desires echoed his own and reminded him of his foolish, youthful self… whatever it was, he began to see life in a new light. And yet, a dragon can never be a human.” 

He guides you down a narrow path. The night’s chill and his forlorn words make you shiver, and Sylus reaches out to tighten your cloak. 

“Dragons have a tendency to toy with human desire, however they often become ensnared by it, and ultimately are enslaved by such needs and become true monsters…” He stops, turning to look at you. “In the end, he killed his beloved. That is the dragon’s curse.”

All is silent for a few moments. Sylus gauges your emotions. 

But, for all the warning he gives you, he doesn’t expect you to reach out and encircle your arms around him.

“Take me home,” you whisper into his shoulder, hiding your face in the crook of his body. Seeking him out as your salvation and not your ruination. 

Sylus’s heart squeezes. “How can you not hate dragons?” 

You tighten your arms around him. 

“Because I’ve seen real monsters, and you, Sylus, aren’t one.”

Your words imbue in him a desire so strong to take you up to the clouds and make you forget the sadness his words stirred in your soul. 

Sylus swallows hard and carries you in his arms, lifting off into the skies. The wind whips in your face, yet you’re warm and safe in your dragon’s arms. 

So, he thinks as his wings slice through the clouds. 

This is why she stays by a dragon’s side.

Unbeknownst to either dragon or his bride, a hidden figure in a dark cloak watches their every movement. 

He notes their closeness, the fact that the sacrificial brat is still alive. Oh, he thinks, grinning to himself, the Sacred Judicator would love this. 

The news of the Fiend’s release may have shook the entire nation, but they now have a way to make sure he’s locked up in the Abyss for good. 

In the shadows, the man dreams of the accolades he would receive for trapping the dragon, how his name would reverb from the annals of history for centuries to come. The Sacred Judicator himself would bestow his sword onto him for his mighty achievement. 

And it will all be thanks to his wonderful bride. 

Sylus wakes up one morning to you in his arms. The birds are chirping, the wind is whistling and the faint shadows of dawn illuminate the cave walls. 

He embraces you, sensing nothing out of the ordinary until he presses his face closer to your chest.

Instantly, a sweet, warm scent floods his nose to coat the back of his throat. It smells like the innocence of the first snowfall, or the comfort one gets from sitting by the fire after a long day. 

Pure, sinless… milky.

He drags his nose from your neck to your belly, inhaling the sweet fragrance, tasting the faint tremors of a tinier heartbeat rippling underneath your skin and flesh. His own heart skips a beat. 

“Precious?” 

He feels you stir in his arms, your mesmerizing warmth drawing him deeper into the cocoon of your embrace. You grumble, rubbing your eyes, the action making his chest squeeze. 

You yawn and stretch your limbs, your body unfurling like the spine of a well-worn book. “G’morning,” you slur, still half-asleep, shooting him a dopey smile. 

Sylus doesn’t know the first thing about a human female’s anatomy, or the possibility of procreation between a dragon and a woman. But, what he does know is this is no ordinary occurrence. His instincts are telling him something is different about you.

The sheen of your hair is glossier, your cheeks are fuller, and your body… he tightens his grips on your hips, still naked from the night before. Your body feels even more luscious under his touch. He smooths his claws down your sides in awe, feeling the sinew and stretch of your muscles expanding under his scaly palms. You giggle and shrink away, mumbling sleepily. “What’re you doing, Sylus?”

He drives his nose further down your body, inhaling more of the sweet, milky, innocent scent. His heart can’t deny what his instincts already know: you’re with child.

His child. 

“Do you feel… different, precious one?” He rumbles, not missing the way you snuggle closer to his chest, your cheek squished against the ruby in his chest. 

You close your eyes, gliding your hands over his broad back and chest. “Tired… hungry… a bit achy. Why?” 

He huffs, mentally taking notes of your condition. “Do you feel… particularly achy?” Gently, he cups your belly, and you frown, your eyes fluttering open. The morning sun highlights the glow of your cheeks, taking his breath away.

You’re positively radiant.

“A little… my back hurts and my breasts feel a little sore…”

Sylus’s eyes spark with delight. “Is that so?” 

You give him a look. “Sylus? What is going on? What’s with all these questions?” 

He stretches his arm around you, holding you tightly to his chest. You feel him kissing the top of your head and wonder why he’s being extra clingy today.

“Do you know what you smell like now?” Without waiting for you to reply, he presses on. “You smell like a mix of warm cotton and milk—pure innocence… completely tempting…”

You crinkle your brow, wondering what is he on. 

Sylus continues. “Precious, you don’t understand do you?” He gently tilts your head up with two talons under your chin. “Dragons are creatures of desire and symbols of reproduction… and my senses don’t lie to me, sweet one…” His next words make your heart drop right into your stomach.

“You are with child. My child.” 

You swallow and glance up at him through your lashes, your lips slightly parted.

“But, how—” you stop, remembering the nights of unrestrained passion you both had indulged in for weeks. “... Oh.”

As if reading your mind and remembering the intensity which led you here, Sylus grins. “Yes. It seems our careless actions have resulted in something… wonderful.” 

He presses a clawed hand to your belly, kissing you on the forehead. “Speak, precious. What is on your mind?”

You feel your heart expanding with both awe and fear. Awe for the life you now hold deep in your body, and fear of such repercussions of this magnitude. To carry a dragon’s seed, to be with the Fiend’s child—

“I… cannot go back to Ivory City anymore,” you whisper. 

Sylus frowns, not expecting your concerns to lie with something so trivial in his eyes. 

“Is that what you wish? To return back to that wretched place?”

Your eyes clear, as if you’re seeing him for the first time. “No. I do not wish that.”

Sylus tightens his grip around you. “Then, stay.” Here with me, is what he wants to add, but the words are stuck in the back of his throat.

He watches as you caress your belly, like you can sense the life you’re nurturing deep inside you. 

Slowly, the cloudiness of your uncertainty fades, and the warm reassurance of your willingness to stay soothes Sylus’s soul. The dragon would not admit it, but he has no idea what he will do if you decide to leave him. 

“Of course,” you murmur, and bury yourself deeper into his warmth. Sylus stretches his wing over you, shielding you closer to the coziness of his body. 

“I’ll stay here with you—where I belong.”

It’s not long before Tarus City is overrun with the rumors of the Fiend meeting his Archnemesis once again. Gossipers flood the market, telling of the old sacred text coming to life, musing about how and when this spectacle will occur. 

They say the Fiend will be slain where he stands. Others ruminate on his gradual downfall. 

But, up in the clouds, you and Sylus aren’t tarnished by such rumors. 

Within these walls, you slowly start to build your home with him. A nest of soft blankets, a sheath he made for your sword. Sylus spends a few hours a day cleaning out his lair, though cleaning is hardly the word when he’s haphazardly tossing out old treasures to make room for you and your growing belly to rest. 

The two of you still hunt in the forest, though he’s mindful of your current lack of stamina. On days when neither of you feel like foraging, you don your disguises and head to the market, exploring stalls with various knick-knacks and collectives, bickering and haggling for goods like an old couple. 

At night, Sylus watches as you brush your hair, humming a soft lullaby to the little life growing inside of you. It’s during these peaceful moments when you teach him how to dance, guiding his hands to your waist, singing a soft dirge your mother taught you before her untimely passing. When he first attempts it, his movements are clunky and mistimed. However, you never give up on teaching him, and soon, the dragon and his human bride navigate the stony floor with a rhythmic ease, his steps sure and grip on you never faltering.

As these moments occur, it hits him when he realizes how much you’re changing him on a fundamental level. 

Dragons weren’t exactly known as patient creatures. 

They plunder, loot, steal and burn down anything that stands in the way of their greed.

But, with his child growing in you, day by day, Sylus is coming to understand the sweetness of anticipation. He’s never seen a youngling before, having been sealed in the Abyss when he was a child himself. A part of him wonders how your baby will look like—tiny horns? A petite tail? His silverish hued hair?

The more he ruminates, the more he feels protective over this treasure you’re nurturing in your body. 

Your dragon lover knows nothing about parenthood—his own mother having died in childbirth and his father slain by Legion soldiers after his homeland was invaded. Yet, despite this painful lack of experience, he’s unwavering in his devotion, showing up for you in any way he can. 

Sylus is careful whenever he presses his claws to your belly, and makes sure his sharp scales don’t cut you when you’re asleep beside him. Wherever you went, he was always a step behind, shadowing you and keeping a close eye. 

“You’re like a puppy now,” you tease him once, in the wide fields where daturas scatter, waving their red petals like the tops of a sentry’s hat. 

He smirks at your teasing, watching you weave a collection of wildflowers together into a round, circular shape. 

“I can’t help it—you’re whelping. It’s in my nature to watch over my bride and now, the mother of my youngling,” he places his clawed talons on your belly, eagerly trying to sense for any movement. 

Your smile widens, touched by his concern. Sylus feels you slip the flower crown on top of his head and he chuckles. 

“Come here.”

He pulls you into his arms, letting you press your cheek to his chest. The two of you lay like this for hours, feeling the breeze caress your skin and tug on your clothes and hair. Sylus picks up a datura bloom, and repaying the favor, tucks it into your hair, his smile soft and eyes tender.

Only you and this flower can touch me here, he whispers into the skin of your neck, setting your soul ablaze with pure love for him. 

“Sylus, have you given any thought to the baby’s name?” 

The dragon gently runs his talon over the slight swell of your belly, pursing his lips.

“I do… quite like the name Atlas for a boy… or, Serenity for a girl.”

“And if it’s both?” you tease. Sylus’s eyes widened.

“You suppose you’re carrying twins?” 

His eager expression warms your heart, and you gently stroke his cheek. “I suspect it since my stomach is a bit bigger than we anticipated and I’m only a few weeks along.”

Your dragon lover presses his ear to your belly, trying to hear the sound of two heartbeats over your own thrumming one. 

“I hear one—in sync,” he pauses and listens closer. Faintly, a third heartbeat lags after the second one, and Sylus gasps in surprise. “You are right, precious.” His words make your heart flutter. “I hear two.”

You gasp, eyes brightening with delight. “Sylus… could it be…?” 

Twins. You can hardly believe it. He laughs, pure and unaffected as he embraces you fast to his chest.

The sun shines down on two lovers free from the constraints of burdens or prejudices, lost in each other’s embrace, celebrating a new start after years of unimaginable strife.

Sylus had left you alone in the market with two simple instructions: wait for him to return and don’t cause any trouble. 

But, as always, trouble has a way of finding you even when you don’t go looking for it. 

The square is a lively patchwork of activity—stalls piled high with ceramic pottery, earthenwares, textiles you barely know the name of, and curious trinkets from far fetched lands. You’re drifting among the crowds, drawn in by the oddities and novelties of the vendor’s wares, lost in the rhythm of the market. 

That was when the shout came—shrill and unmistakable. “Thief!” 

The cry cuts through the din like a knife, snapping you out of your daze. Your gaze shoots upward, locking onto a figure in the crowd. A man, clutching something wrapped in cloth, stumbles backward through the marketplace. His face is smudge with dirt, and there’s no mistaking the terror in his expression as he pushes past the onlookers, desperate to escape. 

Before you can process what’s happening, the first group of soldiers burst onto the scene, their heavy armor clinking with every step as they flood into the square. Their gleaming swords catch the sunlight as they move swiftly, surrounding the area and cordoning it off. Your confusion doubles at the sight of the thief escaping through the metal gates right under the soldiers’ noses. But, they don’t react at all, barely concerned with him, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd, looking for something else—or, someone else, entirely.

It hits you then—they’re not here for some petty thief. This is an operation—a precise, organized one. 

Sylus. 

You pick up the pace, removing your sword from your scabbard, when someone pushes you to the ground. Falling hard, you cry out in pain and cradle your belly, looking up to find a Legion soldier leering at you. 

His face comes to mind, filling you with dread. 

Throw her down to the Abyss, he sneers in your memory, those cold blue eyes burning into your soul. And see how long the Fiend will take to swallow her whole. 

He grabs your arm, yelling, “Got her!” as the other soldiers swarm around you, blocking your exit. Arrows rain down from the sky, swords shing as they clang and strike a giant mass in the middle of the square. To your horror, a black dragon raises his head, his scales streaked with blood, arrows lodged into his wings. 

“Sylus!” You scream, but he can’t hear you through the commotion and his Fiend instincts. Those red eyes scan the crowd, finding you, and you fight back from the Legion’s hold. “Sylus! I’m here—!”

He roars, shaking the roof and the ground. You cringe back, crying out when you feel someone drag you into chains. “Sylus—help me!” 

The dragon takes one step towards you when a huge spear is thrust right into his chest. You scream, and the disruption sends many into a frenzy. Citizens disperse, mothers rushing to shield their children, store owners rushing off with as many of their wares they can carry in sacks. 

“Sylus!” Tears spill down your cheeks, and something hot and desperate pulses in your chest. 

Take him… End him…

The urge to devour the dragon rises in you, imbuing you with strength to fight out of the chains. Determination fuels your movements and you slash at your captors, struggling from their grasp. You manage about a step when a soldier tackles you to the ground. A loud cry, like that of a wounded animal, bellows from the centre of the square. Shackles and chains appear, the dragon’s injuries repressing him from his escape.

He isn’t healing. Your frantic eyes scan Sylus up and down. His injuries are not healing!

“Sy—” A sharp pain stabs into your arm, and you look down to find a needle sticking from your skin. Immediately, the world before you shimmers and shakes, your head feeling woozy. You gasp, trying to fight off the vertigo and rush to your lover’s side. 

A soldier aims for an arrow right to Sylus’s heart, and the feverish daze lifts for a moment—enough for you to kick the soldier right in his loins. The man grunts, his hold on you loosening, and you dart forward, putting yourself right in front of the dragon and the arrow.

Sylus roars behind you, and you taste his fear in the air. But, the second you turn to him, the sword of light forming right in your hand, you feel a burst of pain rupturing through your chest.

As if in slow motion, you look down at the arrow sticking out from your ribcage. 

ROARRRRR!!

The ground shakes with the force of the dragon’s agonized bellow. Soldiers scream, and ropes seem to materialize from thin air—holding the force of his anger down. 

You choke up a wad of blood, feeling the end of his tail coiling around your legs before he’s snatched away. The pain in your chest mirrors the one in his own, both your souls screaming and clamoring for each other.  

Sylus… You reach for him, fingertips grazing his outstretched talon—

But, you’re yanked away, and Sylus is taken in by the Legion, their yells to contain him loud throughout the entire square. 

Another thunderous bellow. 

An arrow flies through the air, directed at you, but the dragon intervenes. He pushes you to the ground with his snout, shielding you with his face—

The arrow sinks squarely into his right eye.

You scream, clutching your face, your chest. Blood oozes out, his mixing with yours. The dragon staggers back, standing on his hind legs, half-blind and hellbent on destroying everything around him. 

His roar could shatter your eardrums, and you sink to your knees, gasping in pain. 

Blood swims everywhere, a sea of it in front of you. 

You wipe your face, and crumple to your side, clutching the swell of your belly that’s bleeding down your thighs, your babies absorbed back into the earth below you. 

My children… my dragon…

The world fades into a ringing, dark pit of pain. And, unlike before, you hope you never wake up again. 

–

The Abyss is quiet and cold without the love of his life and her light.

Sylus steeps in the bitter depths of his own misery, trapped once more in the silence and darkness of a prison he desperately loathes. The blood from his right eye has long dried, but the lack of light makes it hard for him to discern the extent of his blindness. 

He buries his snout under his claws, huffing in pain. 

In his chest, his beloved rebels and screams, her soul equally in torment. He feels the agony ripping through her when they pull the arrow out from her ribcage, the empty ache of her womb now desolate of the children they created with love. Hot tears flow down the dragon’s leathery snout, and he brays in pain. 

My love… my light… my precious…

The chains the Sacred Judicator wrapped him in are fortified with magic, leaving him helpless to fight against them. His soul is beaten and broken, the light of his life taken from him with such casual cruelty. 

A dragon can never love a human and a human… will only encounter pain and strife when loving a dragon.

Why hadn’t he stopped you from falling in love with him? 

All of this could’ve been avoided if he hadn’t saved you—hadn’t given you a piece of his soul. 

Sylus trembles, the dragon instincts warring in him to break free while what’s left of his human tenderness shrivels up at the loss he feels radiating throughout his entire body.

My love… I am so very, desperately sorry. 

The days pass, and he sees you in his mind’s eye, restrained in chains as well. 

The humans who swore to uphold justice judge you by his mark on your shoulder. They beat you. Starve you. Sylus is helpless to aid you, forced to feel your pain and scorching agony.

A part of his soul drifts away, in limbo between life and death, hovering in a horizon where the sky kisses a field of flowers.

He finds you there, whole and healthy. 

“Sylus…” your sweet voice whispers, your head on his chest. “Is it truly you here?” 

He nods, unable to speak, holding you tightly against his body, as if you will disappear if he opens his eyes.

“Yes, my precious,” he murmurs into your hair, “It is I.”

The stillness of your belly tears through him like the agony of having his scales ripped from his body one by one. He falls to his knees, pressing his cheek against your stomach, sorrow seeping down his face.

“My precious, I am so sorry—I couldn’t—I wasn’t strong enough—”

You shush him, falling to your knees as well. You take his face in your hands, tear tracks glinting on your cheeks. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He tries to argue. “I failed you—”

“You saved me… can’t you see?” You bring his clawed hand to your chest, and gently caress his injured eye. “Feel this—there is nothing compelling us to destroy each other anymore.” 

For a split second, he gazes at you in wonder.

The desire to kill and maim each other has been transcended by this act of pure sacrifice. 

But, then, he shakes his head, words clogged in the back of his throat. He wants to tell you that you’re wrong—that he is not your salvation, but the one who brought you ruin. It’s his fault—can’t you see? It’s because of him you’ve lost everything you hold dear and holy.

Yet, despite the guilt clawing at him, he can’t tame the hunger inside. The dragon is greedy, harboring a dark craving that grows fiercer with each moment. He wants you—more of you—and leans into your touch as if it can quell the storm inside of him. 

The scene is haunting, yet tender in its contrast. The dragon, monstrous and deformed, with his single, glaring eye, embodies the isolation and grotesque fate that befalls all monsters. Yet, his bride, in her ethereal grace, approaches him with a love that transcends appearance. In this cruel, faithless world where the honorable and different are unjustly punished, love is the one constant; it endures the most terrible of circumstances. 

Your touch is soft, not recoiling from the ruin of his eye, but offering solace. The kiss you give, placed on the source of the dragon’s anguish, becomes an act of healing, a reaffirmation of your shared bond that exists beyond the physical. The bride, once a symbol of purity, becomes the monster’s redeemer through a single, powerful act of love and acceptance.

What was once grotesque is made sacred by a touch that mirrors his own. 

The beast and his bride, reunited at last, after a lifetime of suffering.

Time blurs into a standstill. 

Days and nights pass, yet Sylus cannot count them for he is buried underneath the ground like an abandoned corpse, hidden from the sun and stars.

One day, as he tends to his wounds, he hears footsteps above ground. The scent of men stings his nose with their sweat. The dragon stands up, growling in warning, but the figure who approaches him is not afraid.

In his lofty robes, the Sacred Judicator grins at him, a mockery of the broadsword strapped to his chest. He says nothing, stepping aside for his minions to dump a bundle in front of him. 

The familiar sharp tang of blood and broken skin—once precious and warm—reaches his nostrils and Sylus bellows. 

Before he can lunge at them despite his limited range of motion, the Legion disappears, leaving him trapped once more beneath the rock—this time with the lifeless body of his bride. 

Pain rips through his chest like a spear staking through flesh, and it’s from this sheer agony that his dragon spirit breaks, the snout and scales disappearing, leaving behind the shell of a man sobbing in his magical chains. 

“No… no…” his voice is a strained whimper, echoing past the shallow walls. 

Sylus’s strong arms, meant for destruction and death, wrap tenderly around your broken body. He lifts one claw to brush your cheek gently, his single carmine eye flitting over the bruises and cuts on your face, your arms. There’s a huge gash over your belly, where the Legion doubled down—making sure to leave no trace of his children behind. 

Your legs appear broken, though your chest is rising and falling rapidly. 

“No… no…”

A mighty roar tears through his lungs, echoing across the lair—shaking the base of this mountain they had kept him trapped under. 

“NOOOO!!!!!”

All his life he’s been told he would cause nothing but pain and suffering, death and destruction. He had let them tie his wings down, banish him underneath the hard-packed earth where light could never breach. He had endured their endless taunts, their prods, their mutterings of him being nothing more than a beast—a mindless monster destined to bring Philos to its knees. 

And now, he finally has reason to destroy them all.

Sylus staggers to his feet, his beloved in his arms, as he takes one step forward, and the next. Fat tears pool and trickle down his gaunt cheeks, falling right onto your unresponsive face. The chains clank and barely afford any give, but in his desperation, he lets the metal tear through his skin and scales—needing to fight back with every fiber of his being. 

“I will avenge you,” he whispers in a low, strained tone, trying not to think how much torture and pain you had to endure at their hands. “They will ruin the day they dared to touch you, my beloved.” 

The sacrificial bride, once delivered to him like a grim punchline, is the sole reason he’s taking control of his beastly narrative. 

Sylus will make them pay through blood and fire—flesh and bone. For every laceration on your precious skin, he will destroy a thousand more people, burn cities down with a single flick of his claws. His great wings stretch and he releases another bellowing roar, breaking through the magic chains from the force of his own sheer will. 

He takes to the skies. Faster and higher, he gains altitude, careful to hold you fast to his chest, shielding your face from the whipping wind. 

Word spreads of his escape, men panicking and screaming. The Legion, having barely escaped the mountains, find themselves in the eye of his wrath. Sylus bellows, charging straight at them, his single ruby-red eye glittering with pure, seething rage. 

They fire arrows at him, but he manoeuvres past the rainfall of quivers and gleaming, silver tips. He howls at them, a wounded beast on the last leg of his survival. The ferocious tug in his soul becomes a full-on desire to see the empire of Philos crumble.

Sylus expands his control, breaching the minds of these simple-minded fools. He forces them to jump off the cliffs, or bash their heads into the rocks till the bones of their bloody skulls gleam under the scorching sun.

No one can touch him now. High in the sky, he cradles the broken body of his beloved to his chest, feeling the soft caress of her cheek against his tough hide and skin. 

I shall destroy them for you, my darling, he solemnly promises and shoots forward, intent on keeping his oath. 

Ivory City appears on the horizon, then the gleaming domes of the hypocritical half-built Sanctuary.

Everywhere the shadow of his wings falls, the people lose their minds. They shoot and strangle each other, spreading fear and dissent across the entire land. Walls collapse and monuments dedicated to the Emperor and his Sacred Judicator crumbles under the force of an inferno raging through the city. 

Their screams reach his ears like a cacophony of vindication. Sylus feels no sorrow for these greedy, selfish humans who have taken away the one true thing in his life he cherishes.

They broke her bones, mangled her limbs, snubbed out the sweet souls growing in her womb—all to destroy him.

And, they will pay. 

He hovers in the air, a terrifying shadow over the destruction of Philos.

Blood and tears trail from his wounded eye, mingling on his cheeks like the devastation spreading across this corrupted nation. 

Sylus watches them fall and burn to the ground, his expression unreadable.

When the cries and screams begin to wear him down, he turns and flies back to a field of daturas and the lair where your salves await. 

Home is in the distance, untouched by the horrors of all that he’s witnessed. He lands gently onto the rocky crevice, closing his injured wings around you. Sylus sets you down on a soft pelt of fur while he lights a fire, stoking the flames to warm you.

The rapid beating of your heart pulses in his ears, and he prepares the salves just as you taught him—one for your wounds and the other for you to drink. 

“My love,” he whispers in a soft voice fringed with pain. Tenderly, Sylus lifts your head, bringing the cup to your lips. He watches you imbibe the drink, coaxing you with gentle encouragement to drink it all. 

When he notices some color returning to your cheeks, Sylus begins to rub the healing salve over your injuries. For your broken bones, he fashions tourniquets out of cotton and woven tree fibers. 

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He kisses your hair, gritting his teeth as he sets your bones right, your screams of anguish breaking his heart. “I know, I know,” Sylus whispers, wrapping the makeshift gauze over your broken limbs and fragile legs till you look like a swaddled doll. 

He tends to you, day and night, until your strength returns and you open your eyes. 

The first time your gaze focuses on him, Sylus thought he would have cried. You wince, but still lift your hand to his face, caressing the swelling of his injured eye. 

He shrinks from your touch, murmuring I meant to fix a patch over it. Your answering smile is tender, and carefully, you caress his afflicted eye again.

“It doesn’t scare me,” you whisper hoarsely, licking your parched lips. “You’re still my Sylus.” 

Your simple words, meant to soothe, makes him hitch a sob. “My love—”

“Shh…” You use what remains of your strength to lean up and embrace him. Sylus lets himself drown in your arms, putty in your affections. He knows he doesn’t deserve your grace or forgiveness for not being stronger and protecting you better, but he’s a selfish creature that desires for your love no matter the cost. 

You feel the strength in his tight grip waning, and he collapses in your embrace. The adrenaline from days of tending to you begins to fade as his injuries and fatigue catches up to him. You notice again that his wounds aren’t fully healed, and struggle to sit up. 

“Sylus—”

He shakes his head. “I’m… fine. Just let me close my eyes.”

Panic infuses through you and you shake your head fiercely, tears welling in your eyes. “No! Don’t you dare close your eyes—don’t you dare!” 

You clamber off the pelt and cradle his head in your arms, placing it onto your lap. Sylus opens his one good eye, looking at you with love in his gaze. 

“I am fine—”

You swallow your tears and shake your head. “I will not let you perish, not if it’s the last thing I do.”

Sacred texts prophesied that the dragon’s Archnemesis would be the one to end his life. But, his sacrifice has rendered the light broadsword in your soul void, and your own selflessness resulted in the destruction of his right eye, where a part of his tormented soul calls out for you to destroy him. 

You will not hurt him any longer. You will save the dragon just as he had once saved you. 

Light spills forth from the remaining half of your soul that is still yours to own, pooling in his chest where you bind your fate and heart to him. 

Sylus grips your hand, as if begging you to reconsider.

“Is this what you want?” His hoarse voice is filled with trepidation. “Once we hold hands with each other, we are forever bonded through life and death,” he asks you again, knowing how monumental of a decision this is: 

“To share your life and soul with a Fiend is a tremendous punishment—will you not truly regret it?” 

You’re too far gone, desperate to keep him alive that you’d do anything to have him by your side.

“If following our hearts is a sin, then you and I must be the last of our kind in this world.”

With those words, you gift him your healing. As the wounds close, Sylus brings your wrist to his mouth and kisses the delicate skin with all the devotion his broken body can muster.

“In that case,” he murmurs hoarsely, eyes closing as his skin and muscles regenerate back together, “Stay close to me forever.”

The cave walls glow with a warm, golden light. The dragon stretches his wings around you, holding you fast to his chest. 

As the last of your healing flows into his blood and soul, Sylus presses a kiss to your forehead.

The rays of a setting sun touch the intertwined figures of a dragon and his beloved bride as they drift into a deep, healing slumber—the hardships they once bore are carried away by the tides of forgiveness, their pain forgotten in the embrace of a second chance. 

The silence of the datura meadow near the destroyed chapel fills you with an unadulterated sense of peace. 

A slight breeze picks up, brushing past the tiny dragon horns and tail which grew in place after you gave your heart and soul to Sylus. You welcome the change—once the dragon and you became one, your heart has never known such felicity and joy. 

You gaze at him as he plays with his children in the field, teaching his babies how to growl and roll over, never mind that your twins are just shy of a year old. Despite the lingering pain of losing your first pair of babies, fate was kind enough to bless you again with their souls in the form of their younger brother and sister. 

A pair of snowy white heads shine under the gentle sun, while their father brings them to his chest, his clawed hands gently enveloping them closer to the warmth of his skin.

Sylus’s ruby eyes find yours, and a gentle smile plays on the corners of his lips.

“Beloved, are you alright? Is the baby giving you any discomfort?” 

You wipe your eyes and place a hand on the tender swell of your belly, feeling the new life inside squirming at your touch. Sylus stands and cradles his precious boy and girl, sinking down in the grass beside you. His tail comes to wrap around your waist, and you press your face into his shoulder. 

“Just caught in a reflective mood, that’s all,” you reassure him as Serenity coos, reaching out to graze her chubby hand on the curve of your stomach—as if she can feel the life burgeoning in you. 

Sylus hums and places a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“Whatever mood you are in, I want to be there for it, my love.”

You smile, the devotion in his voice filling you with an unshakeable sense of protection and love. 

“I know, and I love you, my dragon… my Sylus.”

My dragon is here, your heart soars at the thought. 

His jewel-tone eyes glow obsidian in the soft morning light, the affection of his touch reminding you that he’s here—that he will never leave you alone, not if he can help it. 

“I love you, too, my bride… the mother of my children and keeper of my soul.” 

The both of you stand, him carrying Serenity and you cradling Atlas in your arms. 

The last dragon family walks into a valley that embraces them, together till the end, hand-in-hand as they step into their new beginning.

— aaaannndd that's their happy ending :') i wrote this as a way to cope with sylus's myth and how it obliterated my feels (kid you not, i was sobbing uncontrollably for an hour and felt so empty so of course i HAD to give them the happy ending they deserve)

+ sylus + his dragon fam inspired by @/napanewt art on twt.

since writing this destroyed a fragment of my soul, reblogs, feedback and nice words will be so appreciated ❤️

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim my story as your own, or feed my works into AI.

[h4venpha]

⸺ tailored perfectly (18+)

✦ sylus x reader contents: slight nsfw, sfw(ish)worship, implied sex, literally just sylus loving on u wc: 442 notes: sorry i think i have. a thing for mirrors ? and also i wanted to write sylus eyefucking you because GOD that man can EYEFUCK. also im going to be on vacation for the next week so i (probably) wont be writing during that time! sorry for such short works, i rlly want to write longer things but i just have no good ideas </3 anyway enjoy!

“what do you think?” 

the fabric of the dress hugging your body is smooth and almost silky. you watch through the body length mirror at how the dress hugs your torso and hips before falling elegantly to brush against your ankles. sylus picked the dress out of course, he even had it perfectly tailored to your measurements. you told him it was unnecessary, but he never missed any opportunity to spoil you.

the door from the bathroom swings open, sylus emerges as he buttons up his light grey dress shirt with one hand, a black tie in his other. from through the mirror, you watch as he walks over, his low eyes trailing from your exposed shoulders to the small sliver of ankle in between the dress and your heels. he tosses the black tie over his shoulder, too distracted to even finish buttoning up his dress shirt before his hands slide firmly around your hips. 

“i love it.” sylus rasps as his hands drag up to your waist, voice recognizably breathier than his normal register. you watch as his dilating pupils at in every inch of your body. 

“the tailor made the dress perfect, hm?” you humor, watching for his reactions knowing many, many thoughts were going through his head right now. it’s easy to tell with the way his eyes drink you up like eye candy. he makes you feel exposed, like prey in the eyes of a ravenous predator.

“you’re perfect.” sylus’s voice rumbles in your ear before he presses a kiss to your exposed shoulder. his lips trail a line up your shoulder to your nape, lips slow and hungry as he worships your skin. although his kisses were soft, there was a distinct level of restraint he was exerting.

“w-we need to go.” you interject quietly, your sweet voice rolling in the needy fog in his head. 

5 minutes before they need to leave for the auction.

“i’m aware.” sylus’s jaw clenches. “luke and kieran can wait a little longer in the car, yes?” he pulls you back by the hips just enough for you to feel the hardening bulge in his dark slacks against the curve of your ass.

“you won’t get that pretty gem you’ve been talking about all weekend.” you look back as you tease him halfheartedly, knowing even if they showed up an hour late to the auction, he would outbid them all in a blink. 

sylus scoffs at your taunts, unfazed. “there’s a prettier gem right here.” he pulls you away from the mirror, spinning you around before pinning you firmly against the softness of the bed. “and she’s already all mine.” 

[tanadrin]

I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy

I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:

Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases

Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation

Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days

This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing

(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)

(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)

People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics

(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)

This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit

But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote

This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling

Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever

Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)

Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”

(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)

And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?

I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.

Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!

Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.

But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.

[deepdarkdelights]

Predator (Jungkook x Reader) Part II - Prey

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Series: Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (So much of it), Fear (Copious amounts), Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind Games, Tormenting the MCs, Discussions about dead bodies, Jungkook and his unblinking stare, Self Injury (Non Mental Health Related), Forced Feeding, Isolation

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

A/N: I am alive! This was entirely inspired by an ask that was sent to me so the entire reason this exists is because of the wonderful anons who have asked be about what has happened since the end of Predator and who have asked to see what a more lucid Jungkook would look like. I haven't had this much fun writing in such a long time. I'm sorry it's so short, I hope you can forgive me 💜

READ PART I - PREDATOR

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It was dark and quiet, the only sound being the steady, slow, drip of water hitting the dusty floorboards and the harsh chatter of your teeth as they clashed together. 

You were freezing, your body trembling despite your best attempts to collect yourself. It was no use, no matter what you did you were never able to warm up anymore. You knew it wasn’t all that cold outside, but that didn’t really matter. Despite the chills that wracked your body there was a fine sheen of sweat that coated your skin.

You were unsure as to how much time had really passed since you had found yourself here. All of the days had begun to blend together like some horrible fever dream you simply couldn’t wake up from. The only constant in your life has become him. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to kill you. 

What was truly likely, was that this was a side effect of his treatment of you. It was very likely that he just didn’t know how to take care of a human. And despite your incessant pleading, he had told you that he would not kill you. So really, it was his own ineptitude that had you knocking on death’s door.

Your skin felt grimey, not entirely from lack of hygiene, but from the film of blood that coated your skin. It was all over you but it mostly dominated your cheeks, lips, throat, chest, and fingers. He was not violent when he claimed his feeds, but he was not necessarily gentle either. You hadn’t looked in a mirror for quite some time, but you were certain no amount of vampire blood would be able to seal your wounds with how often they were readily reopened.

This wasn’t a life, it was a slow and painful trek to the afterlife.

Your trembling increased as the front porch creaked, he was already back. Your head lolled backwards and hit the wall behind you in defeat. You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t give him another part of yourself - this time you were certain that it would kill you. 

Every time he fed from you, there was a horrible, delightful, exhilarating rush that followed. Whatever it was that he was doing to you, it was forcing you to enjoy the very thing that was killing you. It was perverse. It was disgusting. It was addicting.

It was hard to hate him in the throes of ecstasy, there was this horrible thrill that came the second before his fangs pierced his limb of choice as you knew you would be rewarded with bliss in the moments that followed. It was easier to hate him when he wasn’t there, his lack of presence giving your mind the briefest of reprieves to remind yourself of the horrible situation you were truly in. 

The distance, however, didn’t seem to allow him the same clarity. If anything, it made him grow more needy, more irritated, and more clingy.

The door creaked open, and your time to yourself disappeared. Your body shook tenfold as his presence filled the room. He still looked the same as he did the first time you had come face to face with him. His clothes were worse for wear, even more blood stained and shredded than they had been before. There was a permanent coppery scent that surrounded him, the dried blood being the prime suspect. 

You were certain that you didn’t smell that much better. Although, to a vampire, you probably would smell all that more enticing.

His gaze was immediately drawn to you, your eyes locking with one another, bridging the fifteen foot gap between you. His eyes often fluctuated in vibrancy depending on how hungry he was. The days where they were near black were the most difficult for you, but today they were a bright crimson red. He had fed on someone, someone who luckily wasn’t you.

“Hello little mouse,” He greeted, his voice low and surprisingly soft, devoid of the almost manic tone you had been familiar with for the longest time. 

He began to close the distance between the two of you, his gait smooth as he approached you. The way he moved was unnaturally perfect, the silent power of a predator imbued in every muscle of his body.

He wordlessly dropped a bag in your lap as he sank down to the ground beside you, his wide, red, unblinking eyes staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. No matter how much time you have spent with him, his stare was still unnerving.

It took you longer than it should have to open it, your fingers trembling beyond your control. But Jungkook was patient, he has all of the time in the world to wait.

The scent of food hit your nose, your mouth watering and your stomach growling eagerly in response. From the color of his eyes and what he had brought you, you assumed he had decided to have his fill of a hiker instead of you. 

Jungkook didn’t know how to take care of a human, that much was obvious. He had, however, been keenly aware of how much blood he was draining from your body on a daily basis. You had become so weak, anything but sitting felt like a herculean task nowadays. And the lack of consistent meals was weighing heavy on your body.

You didn’t care that he was watching you eat, your mannerisms ravenous and most likely off putting. But you no longer complained when he took his fill of you, and for some reason he remained silent and returned that courtesy. 

You had noticed a shift in his behavior when that other vampire had found the two of you not that long ago. He knew Jungkook, from the way they spoke it appeared he knew him very well. This other vampire, despite how he appeared more human than Jungkook, frightened you just as much. You could tell from the curl of his smile to his confident gait that he was just as bad, if not worse, as Jungkook.

You had nearly fainted on the spot when he suggested the two of them share you, you were already tapped out as it was, Jungkook had fed on you that morning. The two of them, together, would kill you for sure.

To your surprise, Jungkook had not responded enthusiastically. He responded like an animal defending its territory - baring his fangs and growling in just barely contained rage. And that reaction had set off the other vampire and before you knew it they were a blur of limbs.

They moved so fast your human eyes could barely keep up with them. You were only able to focus when one of them threw the other giving you just enough time to watch them separate before they came back together again. The sound their bodies made when they clashed together was like thunder from what you could only assume was the pure force and strength they possessed. And, much like animals, they ripped and tore into one another with their teeth and nails.

By the time the two of them had finally separated for good, it was because of how much they had injured one another. The both of them were covered in wounds oozing black blood, some of which was their own, and some belonging to the other.

The other vampire, whom you had briefly heard Jungkook address as Hoseok, was tired but still enraged.

“Are you fucking serious? All of this for what, a pathetic little human?!” He yelled, his nostrils flaring in anger. “It’s food, Jungkook! I’m your brother!”

Your body flinched out of habit at the snarl that left Jungkook.

“With the rate that you’re going you’ll kill her anyways! Why does it even matter?!”

“She’s my human,” Jungkook replied, his voice low with warning.

“This isn’t even supposed to be about her! She’s nothing! Namjoon sent me to come and find you but you know what, I think I’ll let you deal with the consequences of your actions. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you and when that happens, you're on your own!”

He disappeared quickly after that, it was like he was there one moment and then vanished the next. Once he was gone, Jungkook’s once sturdy stance softened, his shoulders bending forward from the strain of his own weight. He was hurt, badly.

He slowly turned to look at you, the red of his eyes and his dark mop of hair just visible over the curve of his shoulder. You knew that look, it usually didn’t end well for you. 

“No, no, no, Jungkook, please!” You whimpered, scrambling backwards.

But it was no use, he never listened to you anyways. He always took what he wanted, even when you had nothing left to give. 

He stumbled when he moved but he quickly regained his footing, his black blood stained hands grabbing you by the shins and pulling your retreating form towards him. You fought as hard as you could but you were already weak to begin with.

“Stop it, please!” You begged, but he didn’t listen. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip too tight and utterly uncomfortable. 

“Jungkook-”

“Shut up,” He grunted before yanking your head roughly to the side and sinking his teeth back into the scarred skin of your neck. The shriek that left you was borderline inhuman, the building scar tissue made the intrusion all the more painful and Jungkook was not gentle.

And he had already taken so much blood the day before. It wasn’t long before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you went limp in his iron hold.

That was the first time that Jungkook had given you vampire blood. You had almost died that day, you had gotten so close to finally being free of him and still he wouldn’t let you go. Even death wasn’t a great enough adversary for him. 

When you had woken up after that attack, shocked that you managed to survive, you were met with those big, red, frightening eyes. The look on his face was the most serious you had ever seen it before, an odd clarity in his eyes that you were seeing for the first time.

He had been dreadfully quiet since then, speaking even less and shorter sentences than he normally did. You wouldn’t say he felt bad for what he did, but he had become increasingly aware of the inherent fragility that came with being human. He never apologized, but he had fed from you a lot less after that.

You froze mid bite as you felt his icy fingers graze your flesh, the coolness biting your skin and seeping into your veins. His touch was feather light, just barely there, but you went still beneath it anyways. You were incredibly aware of the strength that was concealed in that touch. He appeared unbothered by your response, his thumb smoothing over the curve of your jaw as he leaned in unbearably close.

You flinched at the feeling of cold metal being draped around your throat, his fingers clasping the material at the nape of your neck. It was a necklace. Your chest felt tighter, the food in your stomach quickly souring. 

He was doing it again. 

You were well aware of Jungkook’s strange and disturbing habit of taking mementos from his victims. His ears, wrists, neck, and practically every inch of his body were adorned with items he had stolen. You noticed he had an affinity for jewelry, but his jacket and boots had been taken from someone’s corpse as well. And, recently, he started bringing them back for you as well. 

Your bloody fingers were littered with several rings, a bracelet on your right wrist, and your ears decorated in earrings - some of which he had pierced himself. And now, the necklace.

It left your stomach in knots when he did this, you couldn’t help but think about the bodies abandoned in the woods that he had slaughtered every time the metal glinted back at you. Each piece felt like another shackle keeping you at his side. 

The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

And so, you had become his plaything. His dinner and now his doll, a weak body that he could play with and decorate to his greatest desires whether that be with a corpse's jewelry, or a litany of scars.

“Pretty,” He said, his voice deceptively soft as he grazed the skin of your neck, his fingers moving from the clasp of the necklace to trace over the scarred imprints of his fangs and teeth.

You were thankful that he wasn’t hungry.

The odd, calm atmosphere between the two of you was quickly dissipating. Jungkook shifted away, agitation clear on his face as an annoyed growl parted his lips. You flinched back against the wall, scooting away to stay out of his path. 

This wasn’t unusual - he had been having rapid mood swings lately.

The few moments of peace the two of you would share were often interrupted by the sudden pained twist of his features - his eyebrows drawing together and his nose scrunching in a snarl. It almost looked like he was in physical pain despite there being no signs of any injury.

And then, the pacing would start. It was like watching a caged lion sweep the perimeter of their enclosure. Back and forth, slow and menacing steps. It was like he was looking for something, or trying to guard the two of you from someone else. You hadn’t dared to ask what he was doing, to be entirely honest you tried your best to avoid initiating any interaction or conversation with him at all. The few times you did speak to him, it was usually to beg for him to leave you alone, pleas that often fell on deaf ears. 

You didn’t know what to do with this. When you first “met” him, he had been sadistic, like a zealous child with more power than they knew what to do with. He had wanted to play his sick and twisted games with you and the plan had always been to gorge himself on your blood and leave your mangled corpse deep in the forest to wither and return to the earth. That was what was familiar to you, that was what you were expecting. 

You were never supposed to live, that had been an unfortunate circumstance, a split decision he made to prolong your torture and pain. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do with this suddenly quiet, confused, and barely human creature in front of you. One that would rip open your flesh to feed just as soon as he would leave bruising kisses on your lips and throat, painting the flesh a rich red that was left to rust.

You were waiting for him to snap, waiting for it to all finally be over. But that would be luck, luck that you didn’t have. He had promised you, so long ago, that you would never be alone again, that he would keep you. And you have suffered the consequences ever since.

When he said your name you felt your blood freeze over. He had never said your name before, you didn’t even know that he knew it. He had always called you that horrific pet name, his little mouse.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling them into your chest in an attempt to feel some sense of security as he continued to speak. 

“We’re leaving soon.” He said, the words simple but the expression on his face ever so complex. Reluctance, frustration, pain, anxiety.  

You swallowed, but did not move. The silence was deafening. But, by the look on his face, you knew that he was waiting for your response. You would have to break the stalemate. 

“Are you…taking me home?” You dared to ask, your heart thundering in your chest as that predatory gleam returned to those red eyes. 

“No,” He growled, his jaw clenched as his fangs ground against his lower set of teeth, “You’re not going back there, ever.”

Your heart shattered. 

“I’m being called back to my home.”

His home? This was the first that you were hearing of it, you never stopped to ask yourself if he had a home. You couldn’t picture it even if you tried, it was a puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit. You had always assumed he was simply a nomadic creature that moved as he hunted. And, due to his supernatural nature, it seemed that he never needed the typical human necessities and comforts such as four walls and a roof. 

You knew he had some sort of family at the very least. You had, after all, had the displeasure of meeting Hoseok who had referred to himself as his brother. And he had mentioned the name Namjoon, the phrasing suggesting a hierarchical structure. But even the notion that he had a family felt just as mismatched. And how ironic it was that he was returning home to a family he didn’t even want, and he wouldn’t let you go home to the family that you missed so much. 

“And that’s bad?” You hesitantly asked, flinching as he growled in frustration. 

“It’s worse than bad!” He yelled, his hands sliding through his hair in stress, “It was difficult enough fending Hoseok off, but all six of them? You’re as good as dead.”

Hope.

“Then…don’t go?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. By the way he was acting, it was like returning was not a choice. 

“If only it were that easy,” He laughed, the sound bordering on being unhinged. “I can’t ignore it, if I’m called I have to answer. If I don’t it becomes more and more persistent. It feels like a cord that grows tighter and tighter until it pulls and my body moves on its own and takes me back.”

That explained the pacing, the restlessness his body had been experiencing. He had been trying to redirect it by walking the perimeter of the decrepit cottage but it had been a temporary fix to the problem. You could only assume that he was getting to the point now where his body was ready to return against his will. 

How horrible it was, to be someone’s unwilling puppet. You knew that feeling all too well. 

You didn’t know what you were supposed to tell him. There were no choices to be made by the two of you. He would have to return, and he wouldn’t leave you here on your own as he knew you would be given the greatest opportunity you have ever had to leave him. So, he would have to take you with him right into the lion’s den where you would undoubtedly be consumed.

He was mumbling to himself now, his pacing becoming more frantic and much faster, your human eyes struggling to keep track of him. You were sure that he was moving so fast he would wear down the old floorboards beneath him and the soles of his beat up boots.

You could only assume that meant the call was becoming even stronger. Before - it was asking, now it was commanding.

You had never seen him so frantic before, those wide blood red eyes unblinking and shifting back and forth faster and faster as his thoughts raced. It was borderline demonic, like something you would see during a paranormal movie or an exorcism. It was terrifying. 

You began to scoot back as far away as you could until your spine was flush with the wall behind you. You felt better with some part of you concealed from the open, but that did little to calm your racing heart and the creature that raged in front of you.

What was he so afraid of, so panicked by? You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him, not with how terrifying he was on his own. What could be so bad, so scary, that it frightened a monster? You weren't sure you wanted to find out, even if it meant you could finally feel the sweet embrace of death and escape him once and for all. 

Jungkook finally came to a stop, his body still but his eyes continued to move erratically. And then they too settled, and a look of deadly calm settled over them. He had decided something, and you were certain that whatever his decision was it wouldn’t be good for you. 

“They wouldn’t,” You heard him mutter to himself, “Not if I put a fail safe if place.”

A fail safe?

Before you could even blink he had moved across the room, faster than your eyes could track. Your body had been ripped away from the wall and set in between his legs, your spine pressed against his chest, the both of you seated on the ground.

An uncontrollable wail shook your body, the sound emanating a feeling of pure hopelessness. You had been surprised it came out of you, but you knew why. You were terrified he was going to feed from you again. 

His one arm was wrapped around your ribs, his legs tensed and forcing your own to squeeze together. He had immobilized you, there was nowhere else you could go and no way to escape him. 

Your entire body shook and heaved with hysterical breaths as you writhed in his grip. “Please, please don’t do it again I can’t take anymore of this!”

He hushed you, his free hand brushing over your hair in a surprisingly gentle manner. It was more like someone who was trying to calm a startled stray animal than anything else. His touch moved to your chin, lightly taking hold of the point where your neck and jaw bone met.

He didn’t say anything, instead he forced you to look at him, turning your face so that he could look directly into your eyes. And then, to your shock and horror, he plunged his fangs into his own wrist and ripped the flesh wide open. A torrent of thick, viscous, black blood rolled down the pale flesh of his forearm. And before you could do or say anything he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head back before pressing his open wound to your mouth. 

You gagged at the smell and taste, tears blurring your vision as you tried to move your head away but he did not budge. His arm around your ribs finally moved but only to help him pry your jaw open and force the blood flow down your throat. He continued to hush you as he forced you to drink, gently rocking your body in stark contrast to the harsh and violent hold he had you in. 

“Just relax,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, “The more you struggle, the longer I’ll keep you here. We need to get as much of my blood as possible into your system.”

You were crying even harder now, the salt of your tears slipping between his wrist and your lips and mingling with his blood in your mouth. What had you ever done to deserve this? What horrible thing had you done in some past life to deserve this kind of punishment?

You just wanted to go home. You wanted your mom and dad, your grandparents, and the gentle comfort of your bed in your childhood room. You wanted that life back, and you were never going to have it again. 

His harsh grip on your jaw loosened as you went limp in his arms, resigning yourself to your inescapable fate. His hand returned to those soothing strokes against your hair, a low hum in his chest vibrating against your back as he watched you feed from him with a curious gaze. You were such a weak little thing, you needed him more than you would ever understand. 

You hiccupped pathetically when he finally removed his wrist from your mouth after what felt like hours. Your lips and chin were stained black from the blood he spilled when you had struggled. He stared at you again, curiosity evident in his gaze, as he leaned forward and licked the flesh of your lips, tasting his own blood.

You shivered as he made a soft hum, cocking his head to the side before doing it once more, stroking over the bitten and chapped skin with his tongue as he transitioned into kissing your battered lips in a grotesque act of intimacy. He laughed against your mouth as you weakly pushed against his chest, he was amused by your pathetic attempts to push him away. It only encouraged him to kiss you harder and deeper, sampling the taste of his own blood straight from your mouth. 

Once he was satisfied he finally allowed you to breathe, a devious gleam in his eyes that you had not seen in a long time. 

“They won’t be able to kill you for a while now, not unless they want another vampire to worry about.” He said. He was gloating, reveling in the win his family had no idea he had already achieved.

Your blood ran cold, your body freezing at his revelation. The very thing you craved, your own death and by association freedom from him, would be the very thing that would trap you with him for the rest of eternity. If you were killed with his blood in your system, you would become one of them. He truly had taken everything from you, even the dignity of your own death. Your life was his and his alone.

He really was a monster.

His features suddenly twisted in pain, his head jerking to the side as he released a low and threatening growl. The call was becoming even stronger, the most intense it had ever been. There was no more delaying it. They had to go, and they had to right now. 

He quickly lifted you into his arms as his body began to move on its own, forcing him to begin to move in the direction of his home. There was nothing more that you could do, all you could do was remain limp in his arms. It was over, there was point in fighting anymore.

He had finally broken you. 

When he stepped outside you were shocked by the fresh air and the cold weather. Then again, you always feel cold now. The clouds were thick today, the sun hidden behind their cover. It had been so long since you were outside, and even longer since you had been in the sun - that wouldn’t change in the near future. But what truly shocked you, was that the world went on without you. The seasons continued to change, the flora continued to flourish and then decay. The cycles continued while you were stored away. How cruel the world was to keep going on as you withered away. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shielding your face from the harsh wind as he began to move faster, running at his impossibly fast pace that no human could ever wish to match. How had so much changed? When did you go from human being to a play thing for a monster like him. You had a life, but now it had become inconsequential, toyed with and thrown away like it never even mattered.

What were you supposed to do now? At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. He had won, he had played his sadistic stupid games with you, and he had won. He had broken you. You tucked your chin into your chest and like the pathetic creature that you were you whimpered.

You cared about what was going to happen next. If Jungkook had been wrong, then the two of you walking into the proverbial lion's den would end with you turning into one of them, a fate worse than any other that you could imagine. To be tied to him for all of eternity would be your personal hell on earth. 

What would they do to you when you got there? Would your death before your next life be slow and torturous, or quick and merciful? Would it be planned and intentional, or accidental? 

Jungkook began to slow, his fast pace relaxing into a natural walk. The tension that previously rested in his body had begun to dissipate. You could only speculate this was the relief of obeying the command to return home. His control over his own body was slowly but surely coming back to him the closer the two of you came to his home.

He stopped for a moment, placing you down on your own two feet before he took hold of your wrist and forced you to follow after him. Your knees wobbled beneath your weight, unaccustomed to you standing after being curled up in a ball in that abandoned shack for the longest time. You looked more like a baby fawn learning to walk than you did that meek little mouse Jungkook always thought you were. He, however, paid little attention to you at that moment. He was tense, his body in a state of alert as subtly surveyed the area as you continued on. 

He could sense something that your dull human senses weren’t entirely picking up on. However, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and your gut twisted as you felt phantom eyes digging into your body. 

Someone, somewhere, was watching you. 

A building began to break through the cluster of trees. A modern, contemporary house in the middle of the forest was coming into view. This was the last place you thought of when Jungkook had mentioned his home. In all honesty, you would have been less surprised by a crypt and a row of coffins.

In front of the house, stood a man. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his eyes that familiar shade of deep burgundy, the same shade the monster’s eyes were when he was hungry. This sent chills throughout your body, your entire being sensing the danger in the vampire that stood across from you. 

Those burgundy eyes swept towards you, a look of shock and confusion discoloring their once calm gaze that you speculated was rarely rattled. His features twisted as he took in the state of you, the dried human and vampire blood that coated your body in thick layers, the dirt that was caked into your clothing, your hair that needed to be washed, and the smattering of scars that decorated your body and glistened in the cloudy daylight. 

You were barely human anymore, you were a walking corpse.

“You called me home, Namjoon.” Jungkook simply said, his body moving to shield you from the other vampire's gaze.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon said, utter disbelief tinging his words, “What are you doing to her?” 

In every possible scenario you had conjured in your mind, this had not been one of them.

Sympathy.

_______

[fangdokja]

🔞Run all you want, little omega—I love the chase.

❤︎ Synopsis. Bound by fear and desire, an omega finds herself ensnared by a cruel, possessive alpha who thrives on her pain and submission, claiming her body and soul as his own. As she struggles to escape his grasp, she learns that freedom may come at a price too terrifying to pay.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Alpha! Wolf Hybrid x Reader

♡ Novelette. #1 - Marked and Mated

♡ Word Count. 10,767

♡ TW. non-con, rape, blood play, overstimulation, forced oral, prey x predator dynamic, fear play, hunting play, permanent bodily injury, slut shaming, objectification, psychological torment, erotic horror elements, loss of virginity, mature language, fingering, humiliation, degradation, forced orgasms, sadism, BDSM, groping, omegaverse dynamics, biting, physical assault and violence, choking / breath play

The forest is alive with the whispers of fear. Your breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts, each one slicing through the silence as you sprint through the thick underbrush. The fading light casts skeletal shadows across the forest floor, turning every twisted branch into a claw and every rustling leaf into the promise of something far worse. Your heartbeat is a wild drum, a desperate cadence that seems to echo the heavy footsteps closing in behind you.

“You can’t hide from me, little omega.” His voice rumbles like thunder through the twilight, a low, predatory growl that seems to wrap around you, suffocating and inescapable.

You don’t look back. You’ve learned by now that it’s a mistake to give him the satisfaction of seeing your terror. Instead, you focus on the path ahead—or what little you can see of it. The forest is dense here, the trees towering and gnarled, their roots eager to snare your stumbling feet. You’ve always prided yourself on your strength, your defiance, your ability to stand tall even when the world tried to bend you. But now, as the alpha’s guttural laugh reverberates through the trees, you feel the first cracks in your resolve.

“Oh, I’ll give you credit for trying,” he purrs, his amusement curling through the air like smoke. “But we both know how this ends, don’t we?”

You grit your teeth, pushing harder, your muscles screaming in protest. You’ve never been one to back down, not even when he first set his sights on you. The cat and the wolf, they’d said. A pairing as impossible as it was inevitable. And yet, here you are, the prey in a hunt you can’t seem to win.

He’s always known what you are beneath the mask. An omega masquerading as an alpha, a fragile shell of dominance that he’d seen through from the very beginning. It’s not your fault, really. Survival demanded the façade. But survival is a cruel master, and it’s brought you to him. The predator who doesn’t just want to unmask you but to rip you apart, piece by trembling piece, until there’s nothing left but the shattered remains of your pride.

The sound of snapping branches draws closer, and you know he’s toying with you now. Letting you think you have a chance, letting you run just far enough to taste freedom before he rips it away. The ground beneath you is uneven, littered with roots and fallen leaves that threaten to trip you with every step. The forest seems to close in, the trees looming, their twisted limbs reaching for you like greedy hands.

“Run,” he commands, his voice a cruel whisper that somehow slices through the cacophony of your pounding heart and ragged breath. “Run faster, little omega. Make it fun for me.”

Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you don’t stop. You can’t. The thought of what awaits you if he catches you… no, when he catches you… is too much to bear. His scent lingers in the air, sharp and musky, an oppressive reminder that no matter how far you go, he’s always there. Watching. Waiting. Hunting.

────────────

The chase is relentless, and despite your efforts, you feel his breath hot on your neck, his large hands almost grabbing hold of your tail. Panic flutters in your chest, and you know that if he catches you, there's no telling what he'll do. The trees blur together as you sprint, your sides burning with exertion.

You spot a small clearing up ahead, and you make a desperate dash for it, hoping for a moment's respite.

But as you leap into the open, you realize your mistake too late.

The clearing is a trap, surrounded by thorny bushes and a steep ravine, leaving you no escape.

He emerges from the shadows, his teeth bared in a vicious smile. "Looks like you're mine now, omega," he sneers, his eyes flashing with triumph. Your stomach turns to lead as you realize you're cornered, the predator closing in for the kill.

"No, please," you whimper, your voice cracking with fear as he prowls closer.

He stops a few feet away, his towering form casting a long shadow over you. "You know what you need," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You need a strong alpha to show you your place."

You grit your teeth, refusing to give in to his taunts, your eyes flashing with defiance.

But his scent is overwhelming, a potent mix of musk and power that sends a thrill through your body despite your fear.

"I'll never be your omega," you spit out, your voice stronger than you feel.

He laughs, a cold, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "We'll see about that."

As you remain defiant, your eyes never leaving his, the alpha wolf's smile only widens. He seems to enjoy the challenge, his eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement.

He takes a step closer, and you react instinctively, lashing out with your claws and teeth. You manage to scratch his muscular arm with your claws, drawing a thin line of crimson against his otherwise perfect skin.

He grunts in surprise, but instead of retreating, his eyes light up with a predatory thrill. "So you want to play hard to get, huh?" He says, his voice thick with amusement. "Fine, I can do that."

With a sudden burst of speed, he lunges at you, his powerful jaws snapping shut around your neck.

You yelp in pain and surprise as his teeth dig in, the pressure enough to make you dizzy but not enough to break the skin. He lifts you off the ground, your legs kicking wildly in the air. His grip tightens, and you feel the world start to spin around you.

"Struggle all you want, it'll only make it better," he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending waves of fear and disgust through your body. You thrash in his grip, trying to break free, but his strength is overwhelming.

His teeth clamp down harder, a clear warning of what's to come if you don't submit. You can feel your energy waning, the fear and pain making it difficult to keep fighting.

He drags you through the thorny bushes, tearing at your clothes and skin. The pain is intense, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you scream. He tosses you onto the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of you.

Before you can recover, he's on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you down. His clawed hands rip away the remnants of your shirt, exposing your bruised and bleeding skin to the cool night air, as you thrash and squirm in response.

The alpha wolf's grin widens as you fight back with renewed vigor, his eyes gleaming with excitement at your resistance. He grabs your wrists in his massive hands, pinning them to the ground above your head with surprising gentleness.

"Oh, you're going to be so much fun to break," he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to taste the blood that trickles from the scratches you've managed to inflict. His weight shifts, pressing his thick erection against your pelvis, and you can feel the heat radiating from it even through your torn pants.

With a quick, efficient movement, he rips your pants away, exposing your vulnerable, untouched sex to his hungry gaze. You try to buck him off, but his grip on your wrists is unyielding. "Don't worry, bitch," he purrs, "I'll make sure you enjoy this. Eventually."

His other hand moves down your body, his claws tracing the lines of your ribs and stomach with feather-light precision, sending shivers of fear and unwanted arousal through you.

Your hiss pierces the night air, a mix of anger and fear, as you furiously claw at the hybrid wolf's chest. Your nails dig into his flesh, leaving shallow trails of blood behind.

He snarls, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly, but instead of retaliating, he seems to be getting more and more turned on by your resistance. "Such a feisty little omega," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with lust. "But we both know who's in control here."

Ignoring your futile struggles, he lowers his head and runs his tongue along the column of your throat, savoring your taste. You try to turn away, but his jaw clamps down on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you whimper. He releases your neck, his eyes locking onto yours. "You're mine now," he growls, "And I'll have every part of you."

“I have a mate already!” You scream a panicked lie, remaining defiant.

He laughs, a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "A mate?" He repeats, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly.

"You think that means anything to me? I'm going to fuck you until you forget his scent, until you're begging for me to knot you." With those words, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a brutal, claiming kiss. His tongue forces its way past your teeth, tasting the sweetness of your fear and the metallic tang of your blood.

You try to bite him, but he anticipates your move, his teeth clamping down on your lower lip, drawing more blood. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with victory. "You're mine, omega," he whispers, his breath hot against your face.

With a sudden, brutal yank, he pulls you closer, his erection now pressing painfully against your stomach. His hand moves between your legs, his claws digging into your tender flesh as he rips away the last of your clothing.

You scream into the night, the sound piercing and desperate, but it's swallowed by the forest's indifferent embrace. The cold ground beneath you is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your desperate fight against his overwhelming strength is met with a sadistic chuckle as the hybrid wolf seems to take pleasure in your futile struggles. He pins your arms above your head with one paw, his other hand moving to your breasts.

He squeezes them roughly, eliciting a gasp of pain that turns into a whine when his claws dig in slightly. "You're so delicate," he says, his voice a mix of mockery and lust. "So easily broken."

You manage to free one arm and deliver a weak punch to his jaw, but it barely phases him. He just laughs and captures your wrist again, his grip like iron. "That's the spirit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"But it's not going to save you." His clawed hand slides down your body, teasing over your stomach and finally coming to rest between your legs. You try to clench your thighs together, but his weight makes it impossible.

"Open up," he commands, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You know what I want."

As you refuse to give in to his demand, the alpha hybrid wolf's eyes flash with anger and arousal. He leans down, his teeth bared, and sinks them into your inner thigh, biting as hard as he can.

You scream out in pain, the sound piercing the quiet forest night. Your body arches off the ground, your legs instinctively trying to close, but his weight holds you down firmly. His bite is deep, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickling down your thigh, mixing with the scent of your fear and his own lust.

He releases your wrists for a moment, only to grab your legs and force them apart with his powerful hands. You kick and struggle, but it's useless. His teeth dig in deeper, the pain unbearable, and your body responds despite your mind's protest.

The hybrid wolf's teeth tear into your sensitive flesh as he forcefully spreads your legs apart, the pain from his bite making your body tense.

He doesn't give you a chance to recover as he dives between your thighs, his hot, wet tongue sliding over your clit with a brutal lack of finesse.

You try to clench your muscles to avoid his assault, but the pain and fear make it impossible to maintain. He laps at you harshly, his tongue rough and uncaring as he tastes your resistance. You can feel the beginnings of an unwelcome arousal building within you, despite the agony of his bite marks in your thigh.

He smirks at your involuntary reaction, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he sees the beginnings of arousal shimmering in your gaze despite your pain. He knows he's getting to you, and it only makes him more determined to claim what he sees as his.

His tongue swirls around your clit, the roughness of his licks sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your body. You try to pull away, but his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, holding you in place as he continues to ravage your pussy.

As he fucks you with his tongue and teeth, your body betrays you. Your hips begin to buck against his mouth, your moans and screams growing louder despite your attempts to stifle them.

Your nails dig into the dirt, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure-pain overwhelms you. His teeth graze your clit, and you feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of unwanted ecstasy that you can't escape from.

He pulls away from your throbbing clit, panting heavily, his tongue and teeth coated with your juices. "You're so fucking delicious," he says, his voice thick with lust.

He grabs your face with one hand, his claws digging into your cheeks painfully as he forces your eyes to meet his. "Admit it, omega. You want this just as much as I do."

“N-No…!!!” You stutter out in defiance.

The hybrid wolf's grin turns feral at your continued defiance. He loves the taste of your fear and your unwilling arousal, and your refusal to submit only makes him hungrier.

He dives back between your legs, his teeth and tongue attacking your clit with renewed vigor. You try to turn your face away, biting your lip to keep from moaning, but the pressure is too much. His claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you in place as he licks and bites with a primal hunger.

"You can't hide it," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Your body betrays you."

With a vicious swipe of his tongue, he sends you spiraling over the edge, your body shuddering with an unwanted climax.

The pleasure is intense, as you moan unwittingly loudly, but the humiliation is even stronger.

Tears stream down your cheeks as he laps up your essence, his eyes never leaving yours. "Mmm," he hums, savoring the taste. "You're going to fucking scream for me soon enough."

As the hybrid wolf's tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit, you feel your body responding in ways you never wanted. Your pussy clenches around his tongue, and your hips buck involuntarily as you try to push him away.

But every move you make seems to only excite him more, his licks growing more demanding, his teeth grazing you in a way that's both painful and exhilarating.

Despite your mental resistance, your body is succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure, your walls tightening around his tongue as if begging for more.

You can't help but moan, the sound ripped from your throat as you feel another orgasm building. The alpha wolf's eyes gleam with victory as he sees the effect he's having on you, and he doubles down, his tongue fucking you with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

You're so close, so close, and you hate yourself for it. "N-no," you murmur, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, stop."

He chuckles darkly, the vibration of his mirth sending more waves of pleasure through your body. "You don't mean that," he says, his breath hot against your swollen, sensitive folds.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to admit how much you crave it." With a final, brutal swipe of his tongue, you cum again jolting and moaning helplessly; before he pulls away abruptly, leaving you gasping and shaking with need.

The hybrid wolf can't help but growl in approval at your body's betrayal, his eyes locked on the glistening wetness of your pussy, now quivering and begging for his touch. He licks his lips, savoring the sweet, musky taste of your arousal.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, "Fucking squirting all over me like a good breeding bitch." His eyes darken with possession as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the desperate look in your eyes.

He knows you're close to breaking, and that's just how he loves it.

With a smug grin, he shifts his weight, releasing your legs from his vice-like grip. You try to scurry away, but he's too quick, grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you back towards him.

He flips you onto your stomach, your bruised and scratched body now exposed to the damp, cold earth. "You're going to take me now," he says, his voice a mix of command and promise. "And you're going to love it."

“N-No! Stop! Please!” You scream weakly, fighting back desperately and defiantly.

Your weak screams of protest fall on his deaf ears as the alpha wolf forced you onto your stomach, his strong arms easily overpowering your feeble attempts to escape. The cold, damp earth presses against your skin, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

He straddles you, his heavy bodyweight a stark reminder of his dominance and your helplessness. The sound of him unbuckling his pants is a harsh, jolting reality check, and your heart races as you feel the hot, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

Your squirming and desperate attempts to fight him off only seem to excite the hybrid wolf more. He uses his powerful thighs to spread your legs apart, his cock sliding against your wet, trembling pussy.

Despite your fear, your body is betraying you, lubricating his shaft with your unwilling arousal. His grip on your ankles tightens as he leans over you, his massive body casting a shadow over yours. You can feel his breath against your neck, hot and ragged, as he whispers, "You're going to take all of me, little omega. Every damn inch."

He pushes forward, the head of his cock breaching your tight entrance.

You scream, the pain searing through you like a knife, your nails digging into the soil as you try to find stabilization. "Fuck," he groans, his voice strained with effort. "You're so tight, so fucking tight."

He doesn't pause, continuing to thrust into you, each movement driving the air from your lungs and sending shockwaves of agony through your body. The hybrid wolf's cock stretches you open, the pain of your hymen tearing a white-hot brand across your consciousness. You feel your body clench around him, desperately trying to push him out, but he's unrelenting.

With a savage grin, he slams into you, burying his cock to the hilt with a roar of triumph. The force of his thrusts sends shockwaves of agony through you, and you can't help but sob into the dirt.

Your vision blurs, the world narrowing down to the searing pain between your legs.

"You're mine now," he growls, his teeth nipping at your neck. "You're going to be my good little omega, aren't you?" His grip on your ankles tightens, his nails digging in as he pulls back and slams into you again.

Each thrust feels like a declaration of ownership, a claim that you can't escape.

You can feel your insides stretching to accommodate his monstrous length, your body trying to adjust to the brutal intrusion. Your breath hitches as he hits a spot deep within you, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain that makes you cry out.

You try to push up onto your hands, but the pain is too much, and you collapse back onto the ground. His hips rock against yours, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the clearing.

The smell of your blood and arousal fills the air, a potent mix that seems to drive him even wilder. "You're going to love being my omega," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to love the way I fuck you, the way I fill you up with my cum."

The alpha wolf's massive cock continues to pound into you without mercy, your body jolting with every brutal thrust. You can feel him stretching you to your limits, filling you completely and claiming you in the most primal of ways.

His hips slap against your bruised flesh, the sound echoing through the night like a twisted mating call.

He's not just fucking you; he's marking you, branding you as his property.

Your own desperate cries are muffled by the dirt as you try to scream through the pain, your voice hoarse from the effort.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a deep growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Fucking MINE." He bites down hard on the back of your neck, his teeth piercing the tender skin.

You can feel the warmth of your own blood mixing with the sticky sweat coating your body.

It's a claim, a promise of what's to come.

The pain is so intense that it's almost a relief when the initial agony of your lost virginity fades into a dull, persistent throb.

He's not gentle, not even a little.

His thrusts are deep and powerful, a relentless battering ram against your slick, abused walls. You're not sure if you're crying or if it's just the sweat and tears mixing on your face, but you know you can't keep fighting.

Your body feels like it's being torn apart, and every time he hits that spot deep inside you, you feel a strange mix of pain and something else… something that you hate admitting could be pleasure.

"P-Please," you manage to gasp out, your voice a broken whisper. "P-Please, it h-hurts."

He laughs darkly, his breath hot against your neck. "Good," he says, his hips moving faster. "It's supposed to fucking hurt. It's supposed to remind you of who's in charge."

His teeth graze your skin, and you can feel his knot swelling at the base of his cock, preparing to claim you in the most primal way possible.

As you lay there, sobbing into the cold, unforgiving earth, the hybrid wolf's hips piston into you without mercy. His teeth are still latched onto the back of your neck, his knot swelling with every brutal thrust. You feel his dominance in every inch of your being, a stark, painful reminder that you are utterly at his mercy.

Your body shakes with the effort to withstand his relentless assault, each thrust driving his knot further into you, stretching you to the point of agony.

The alpha wolf's knot swells further, reaching its full size, and lodges itself inside you, effectively trapping him within your body.

You feel a new level of fullness, a pressure that makes you gasp and whine, your body trying to reject the unyielding intrusion.

His movements become more erratic, his growls deeper as he starts to lose control, his hips slamming into you without rhythm or care. "Take it," he snarls, his voice a feral rumble. "Take every fucking inch."

Your own voice is lost in a sob as you feel his knot expanding even further, the pain a white-hot brand across your consciousness.

Your body tenses around him, trying to force him out, but it's a futile effort.

His grip on your ankles tightens, his nails digging deeper into your flesh as he starts to fuck you harder, his knot moving within you, the sensation a mix of agony and something else. Something that makes your body respond despite your mind's screaming protests.

"You're mine," he says again, his voice a harsh growl. "My omega, my wife." His thrusts become erratic, his breaths coming in pants as he starts to lose control.

You can feel the warmth of his seed building, his cock pulsing within you. "You're going to take it," he says, his teeth pressing down on your neck. "You're going to take every drop of my cum, and you're going to love it."

You whimper, your body trembling under the onslaught of pain and unwanted pleasure. The knot inside you is unbearable, stretching you further than you ever thought possible. You can't move, can't do anything but endure as he takes his fill of you, your body his plaything.

His hips slam into your bruised ass, the force of his thrusts making you see stars. "Yes," he hisses, his grip on your ankles tightening. "You're going to milk me dry."

You feel his knot swell even more, the pressure unbearable, and you know what's coming. He's going to fill you with his cum, claiming you in the most primal, irrevocable way. You try to fight, to push him away, but your body is too weak, too used.

Your sobs become screams as he starts to cum, his hot seed flooding your insides, filling you up until you can't take it anymore. His teeth dig into your neck, holding you in place as he marks you, his orgasm a violent, possessive act that leaves you shaking.

The alpha wolf's hips slow, his cock still pulsing inside you. He pulls out slightly, only to push back in, his knot keeping him connected to you.

The feeling is agonizing, but you can't help the way your body responds, your pussy clenching around him, milking him dry. He groans with pleasure, his hips bucking against you as he empties himself into you. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice a dark, sated growl. "Good little omega."

As he cums, you feel something within you shift. The pain is still there, but it's overlaid with a strange, primal need.

Your body seems to crave his seed, your walls tightening around him as if trying to keep him inside you.

It's as if your body knows what he's done, that he's marked you as his, and it's trying to accept it, to submit to his dominance.

You hate yourself for it, but the feeling is undeniable.

He pulls out of you with a wet pop, his knot shrinking until it's no longer lodged inside you. You collapse onto the ground, your body trembling with exhaustion and the aftershocks of your forced climax.

The alpha wolf stands over you, his cock still hard and gleaming with your blood and combined juices. He licks his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You're going to clean me up, aren't you?"

────────────

But, then the alpha wolf's eyes narrow as he watches you pathetically try to crawl away, your body trembling from the intense pain and pleasure of his rough claiming.

His patience wears thin at your continuous refusal to submit, his lip curling in a snarl.

He strides towards you, his massive form casting a shadow that makes you feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

You try to scuttle away faster, your legs shaking with the effort, but your weakened state only makes your escape attempts more pitiful.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarls, his voice a low, menacing rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

He grabs you by the scruff of your neck, his grip firm yet gentle in comparison to his earlier brutality. "You're mine now, little omega. There's no running from that."

His eyes are filled with a mix of anger and hurt, his pupils dilated with desire. He shakes his head, the disappointment in his gaze almost as painful as his earlier bites. "I didn't expect you to be this stubborn," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. Your body aches from his rough handling, but a part of you can't deny the strange, dark thrill that runs through you at his words.

"Please," you croak out, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. "Let me go."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a predatory gaze. "Why should I?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

"You're mine now. You've felt what I can do to you. Why would you want to leave?" He runs a claw lightly down your spine, the threat implicit in the gesture. You shiver, your body responding despite your fear.

"I don't…I don't want this," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, let me go."

The alpha hybrid wolf's grip on your neck tightens for a brief moment before releasing you entirely. He steps back, watching you with a cold, calculating gaze. "You think you can just walk away?" he sneers.

"You're mine now. You're going to bear my pups, and you're going to do it willingly." His eyes flash with a dangerous intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "If you keep fighting me, I'll just have to get more creative with your punishments."

You manage to push yourself onto your hands and knees, your body still shaking from the overwhelming pain and humiliation.

You spit dirt out of your mouth and look up at him, your true inner will finally bursting out in frustration, your eyes full of defiance despite the tears that stain your cheeks. "I'll never be yours, you damn bastard rapist," you hiss through gritted teeth. "Never."

The hybrid wolf's expression darkens, his eyes narrowing to slits. "We'll see about that," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

He takes a step closer, and you can't help but flinch, your body instinctively remembering the pain he's capable of inflicting. "You're going to learn your place, little omega. And when you do, you'll beg for my cock."

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As you manage to stumble to your feet, the alpha wolf watches you with a predatory gaze, his eyes tracking your every movement. He seems to revel in the power he holds over you, his chest heaving with each breath as if your fear and pain are a sweet scent that fuels his arousal.

With a wicked smile, he steps aside, allowing you to run, his tail flicking in anticipation of the chase.

The alpha wolf's smile widens into a full-blown grin as he watches you limp away, your bruised and bloodied body a testament to his dominance. "Run, little omega," he says, his voice a dark promise. "But remember, I'll be waiting for you. And when I catch you again, I'll fuck you until you can't ever fucking walk again."

You stumble through the underbrush, the pain of his knotting still resonating through your body.

You're not sure how much more of this you can take, but you know you can't just give up. You have to find a way out of this nightmare, a way to escape him and his twisted games.

The forest blurs around you, the pain and fear clouding your vision. You don't know where you're going, only that you have to get away.

The hybrid wolf watches you go, his smile never leaving his face. He knows you won't get far, not in your current state. He's toyed with you enough to know your limits, to know how much you can handle before you break.

But he also knows that the chase is part of the thrill, the anticipation of the hunt making the eventual capture all the more satisfying.

He lets you run, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic glee as he watches the desperation in your movements.

You stumble through the underbrush, your legs wobbly from the rough treatment he's just given you. You're not a fast runner, not with the pain radiating from your torn hymen and the heavy weight of his cum filling you.

But you force yourself to go on, driven by a primal need to escape the monster that's claimed you.

Twigs snap beneath your feet, leaves crunching as you push yourself harder, ignoring the sting of your bruised flesh against the rough ground.

Behind you, the alpha wolf laughs, the sound echoing through the trees like a dark promise.

You know he's not really letting you go; he's just enjoying the thrill of the chase.

His powerful form moves with an eerie grace, his eyes locked on yours, a twisted smile playing across his face. The thought of what he'll do to you when he catches you sends a fresh wave of terror through your body, and you push yourself to go faster.

You stumble through the forest, the pain in your legs growing with each step. Your heart races in your chest, the fear of his pursuit driving you forward even as your body screams for rest.

The moon casts a silver glow through the canopy, lighting your path but also making you feel more exposed.

You can hear the rustle of leaves as he stalks you, his movements deliberate and calculated.

He's enjoying this, you realize with a sickening feeling in your stomach.

He's enjoying making you run.

The alpha hybrid wolf's laughter echoes through the trees, a taunting, predatory sound that sends a chill down your spine. "You can't escape me, little omega," he calls out, his voice deep and resonant. "Wherever you go, I'll find you."

The words are a promise, one that fills you with dread. You know he's not lying; he's a creature of the hunt, and you're his prey.

You push yourself harder, your lungs burning and your legs aching. Your senses are heightened, every sound in the forest a potential threat.

You can feel his presence behind you, a looming shadow that seems to grow closer with each passing second. "Faster," he says, his voice a whisper in the wind. "Or I'll just have to drag you back, kicking and screaming."

You whip around, your eyes wild with fear. The hybrid wolf is closer than you thought, his teeth bared in a feral smile.

You can see the hunger in his gaze, the need to claim and possess you. "You can't do this," you choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I won't be your omega, I won't let you do this to me."

"You don't have a choice," he says, his voice cold and final. He stalks closer, his eyes gleaming with a dark light that makes your heart race. "You're mine now, and I'll fuck you whenever I want. And you’ll just have to damn well take it, you stubborn bitch.”

His words are a promise, one that sends a shiver of dread through your body.

You stumble back, trying to put more distance between you, but your legs are wobbly, your body still reeling from his earlier assault.

He doesn't give you the chance to run again.

With a snarl, he lunges, his powerful body moving with the grace of a predator.

You scream, your voice raw from your earlier cries, and try to dart away, but he's too fast. His massive hands land on your shoulders, pushing you to the ground. "Struggle all you want," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "It'll just make it better."

You squirm beneath him, your body slick with sweat and tears. His weight is a crushing presence, a reminder of the brutal reality of your situation. "Please," you whimper, your voice shaking. "P-Please stop, no more, p-please."

The alpha hybrid wolf chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "What's the matter, little omega?" he asks, his voice mocking.

"Can't handle your new life?" His claws dig into your shoulders, his grip unyielding. "You should have thought of that before you decided to play hard to get."

You try to buck him off, to kick and claw, but your body feels like it's made of lead, and his weight is too much for you to bear.

You feel his cock, still hard and slick with your blood and cum, pressing against your thigh, a constant reminder of his dominance. "Get off me," you snarl weakly, trying to push him away. "I'm not your plaything."

He laughs, the sound a low, dark rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "Oh, but you are," he says, his voice dripping with malice. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your fear. "You're going to beg for it, you know," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to beg for me to fill you up and make you scream my name."

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the unwelcome spark of arousal his words stir in you. "Never," you spit out, your voice laced with defiance.

The alpha wolf's eyes flash with anger, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "We'll see about that," he growls, his teeth grazing your neck as he pins you down.

You can feel his cock, still rock-hard and slick with your blood and cum, pressing insistently against your thigh. His knot starts to swell again, a sign that he's not yet done with you.

"No," you whimper, your voice shaking with fear and exhaustion. "I won't let you."

His teeth find your neck again, and you feel the sharp pain as he bites down, claiming you once more with a possessive growl. Your body tenses, your weak struggles doing nothing to deter him as he lines his thick, swollen cock up with your sore, bloodied entrance.

You can feel the beginnings of his knot swelling at the base, the promise of another agonizing mating session that you know you won't be able to resist.

Your weakened attempts to fight back only seem to excite the alpha hybrid wolf more, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. His teeth sink deeper into your neck, holding you in place as he starts to push his cock inside you again.

You feel the pressure building as his knot swells, the pain of his previous claim still fresh in your mind. You try to buck your hips, to twist away from him, but his weight and strength are too much.

The hybrid wolf's response to your increased struggle is to kiss you hard and without mercy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he takes your mouth in a punishing, possessive kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting your fear and the coppery tang of your blood, a flavor that only seems to inflame his desire further.

His kiss is a claim of ownership, a declaration that you belong to him and no other.

You feel his cock, still slick with the evidence of his previous claim, push against your entrance, the swollen knot at its base a constant, painful reminder of the fate that awaits you.

You try to bite his tongue, to push him away with every ounce of strength you have left, but it's like trying to fight a hurricane with a single leaf. He's unyielding, his mouth moving over yours in a violent dance that leaves you breathless and dizzy.

His grip on your shoulders tightens, his hands digging into your flesh as he uses his superior strength to hold you in place.

You feel the tip of his cock breach you once again, the pain sharp and immediate, making you cry out against his mouth.

The alpha wolf's kiss is brutal, his teeth scraping against your lips as he takes what he wants without regard for your protests. His tongue fills your mouth, tasting the desperation and the faint sweetness of your fear.

His cock slams into you, the swollen knot at the base stretching you wider than you ever thought possible, making you scream into his mouth. Your body fights against his intrusion, your muscles clenching around his thick length as you try to push him out, but his strength is overwhelming.

He pulls away, panting heavily, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're going to learn to love it," he says, his voice a low growl. "You're going to crave the feel of me inside you, marking you, claiming you."

He pushes into you again, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that makes you cry out with every thrust. You can feel his knot swelling, the pressure unbearable as he forces his way deeper and deeper.

You thrash beneath him, your nails digging into the dirt as you try to find anything to help you, to push him away. But his weight is too much, his strength too overwhelming. "Stop," you gasp, your voice breaking on the word. "Please, stop!"

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot on your face. "You're so pathetic," he sneers, his thrusts becoming more punishing. "Begging for it already."

The alpha wolf's cruel chuckle fills the air as he drives into you, his knot stretching you to the limits of endurance.

Despite the pain, your body starts to betray you again, responding to his rough treatment with unwanted arousal.

Each punishing thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through your abused body, and you feel your walls clench around him, trying in vain to push him out.

He seems to sense your struggle, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he leans in closer, his teeth nipping at your ear.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Take it, you stubborn bitch. Take all of me." His hips move faster, his cock pistoning in and out of you with a brutal efficiency that leaves you gasping.

You can't help but whimper, your body trembling with the effort of resisting the building pleasure. "You're going to cum for me," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to scream my name as I fill you up."

You want to fight it, you want to keep your dignity intact, but your body has a mind of its own. The hybrid wolf's relentless assault sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "No," you moan, the word torn from your lips despite your best efforts. "I won't…I won't…ahh…"

He chuckles again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Yes, you will," he says, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You can't help it, can you? Your body knows what it needs." His hands move to your hips, his claws digging in as he pulls you into his thrusts, each one more powerful than the last.

You whine, trying to deny the building climax, but your body has its own agenda. Your hips buck up to meet him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your bruised core.

He's right; you can't fight it, not when he's so deep inside you, not when his knot is swelling and demanding your submission. You feel the first spasm of your orgasm, your muscles clenching around his cock, and he grunts in satisfaction.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice a dark purr that sends shivers down your spine. "Give in to it, little omega. Let me feel you cum around me." His thrusts grow more erratic, his knot swelling to a terrifying size.

You can't hold back the scream that rips from your throat as your climax hits you like a storm, your body writhing beneath him. He takes advantage of your weakened state, slamming into you harder, the knot stretching you further than you thought possible.

The pleasure is unbearable, your body a live wire of sensation as he takes you over the edge.

But amidst the waves of ecstasy, you feel a sharp, searing pain as your leg gives way beneath his weight.

You scream in agony, the sound muffled by his mouth as he kisses you roughly, swallowing your cries.

"Mine," he snarls, his teeth digging into your neck. You feel his cock pulse inside you, filling you with his seed, claiming you once again.

Your body convulses around him, the pain in your lower body mixing with the agony of his brutal mating.

"You…you monster," you whimper, tears streaming down your face as your body continues to spasm around his knot.

The pain in your leg is like nothing you've ever felt before, a white-hot agony that sends shockwaves through your body.

You try to kick him off, to fight back with every ounce of strength you have left, but the pain is too much. You're trapped beneath him, his knot swollen and lodged deep inside you, his seed filling you up and marking you as his property.

After riding out your orgasm, the alpha wolf pulls out of you with a smug smile, his cock still hard and gleaming with your blood and cum.

He looks down at your broken leg, the bone jutting out at an unnatural angle, and his eyes flash with a twisted kind of satisfaction. "Looks like you'll be staying put," he says, his voice a dark purr. "It's for the best, really. Less running around for you to do."

You whimper, the pain making it hard to focus, to think. "W-Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"

The alpha hybrid wolf's smile widens, his eyes cold. "Everything," he says, his voice a dark whisper. "I want everything you have to give, and then some."

He runs a hand down your side, his claws lightly scoring your flesh. You flinch, but he doesn't stop, his touch a sadistic caress that makes your skin crawl. "I want you to submit, to beg for my cock, to crave my touch."

His voice is low, hypnotic, and for a moment, you almost believe you could want that.

────────────

The alpha wolf's cold, sadistic gaze locks onto your trembling form as he pulls out a set of long piano strings, the metal glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

You watch in horror as he wraps them around your uninjured leg, his eyes never leaving yours. The strings bite into your skin, the tension palpable as he tightens them, his teeth bared in a feral smile.

You try to kick him away, but the pain in your broken leg sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you incapacitated.

The alpha wolf's eyes gleam with excitement as he tightens the piano strings around your leg, the metal biting into your flesh with a cruel precision.

You scream in agony, the pain from your broken leg now eclipsed by the new torment.

He's not destroying it yet, but the threat is clear in his sadistic smile. He enjoys watching you squirm, your fear and pain only serving to fuel his lust.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, don't do this."

The alpha wolf's smile only widens as he tightens the strings further, watching as the color drains from your face. "Why do you keep fighting?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

Through gritted teeth, you manage to spit out through the tears, "Because I'm not your omega." Despite the pain, a small part of your spirit remains unbroken, the fire in your eyes a silent challenge.

The hybrid wolf's chuckle sends a cold shiver down your spine as he tightens the piano strings around your uninjured leg.

The pain is unbearable, your body writhing in agony as the metal digs into your flesh. You feel the warm trickle of blood start to run down your leg, the reality of his plan sinking in with a sickening thud. The strings are cutting through your skin, the tension building until you can feel the bone of your femur grinding against them.

Each twist of his hands sends a fresh wave of pain through you, and you can't help but cry out, your voice hoarse from your previous screams.

The alpha wolf leans in closer, his teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he whispers, "Let's see how much of a fighter you really are, my little omega."

With a sickening twist of his paws, the piano strings tighten, biting deeper into your flesh.

The pain is unimaginable, the strings cutting through your skin and muscles, the bone of your leg feeling as if it's about to snap.

You scream, the sound raw and animalistic, as you feel the strings slice through the last of your resistance.

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure. "Scream for me, show me how much you hate it. Show me how much you're going to fight me every step of the way."

The alpha hybrid wolf's chuckles echo through the forest, sending a cold shiver down your spine. "I knew you'd be a fighter," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But that's what makes it all the more satisfying when you finally break."

He leans in closer, his hot breath against your face as he whispers, "And you will break, little omega. You'll beg me to keep you, to never leave you."

With a final twist of the piano strings, you feel the bone in your leg give way with a sickening crunch.

The pain is so intense, you're sure you're going to pass out, but somehow, you remain conscious, your eyes locked on his.

The alpha wolf's twisted smile widens as he watches the pain etched into your face, the strings tightening until the bone in your leg snaps with an audible crack.

You scream in agony, your body arching off the ground as much as his hold on you allows.

The pain is so intense, it feels as though your entire world has been reduced to the burning, searing heat of the strings digging into your flesh. He releases the tension slightly, watching as the blood starts to pool around the wound, the muscles in your leg quivering with the effort to stay attached to the bone.

"See?" he says, his voice a dark purr. "No more running for you. Now you're just where I want you, exactly how I want you."

He leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face, his teeth grazing your cheek. "But don't worry," he whispers, "I'll make sure you're taken care of. After all, you're my prize."

His hands move to stroke your side, his claws lightly grazing your skin. The gentleness of his touch is a stark contrast to the cruelty of his words, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

The alpha wolf's hands move with a cruel precision, tightening the piano strings once more. You feel the unbearable pressure build, the strings digging into your flesh like serrated knives. Your screams fill the forest, a desperate, primal sound that seems to echo off the very trees themselves.

You're not just begging now; you're pleading with everything you have, your voice hoarse from the screams that have torn from your throat. "P-Please," you sob, "please don't do this. I'll do anything, I'll be whatever you want me to be."

The hybrid wolf's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "There it is," he says, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "The sweet sound of submission."

He doesn't loosen the strings immediately, though; instead, he lets you squirm and beg for a few more moments, savoring the power he holds over you.

"Beg for it," he says, his voice a low growl. "Beg me not to take your other leg. Show me you're truly mine."

Trembling, you force the words out through your tears. "Please, I'm sorry, I'll submit, I'll be your omega, I won't fight you anymore, just don't take my leg, I'll do anything…" The words tumble out of you in a rush, each one a painful admission of defeat.

The alpha wolf's eyes narrow, considering your plea. He releases the strings slightly, the pressure on your leg easing just enough for you to draw in a shaky breath. "Anything?" he asks, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, tears streaming down your face. "Anything," you repeat, your voice a broken whisper. "Just don't do this."

He tightens the strings once more, the pressure building until you can feel the bone in your leg starting to give way. You scream, your body jerking in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable.

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Don't worry," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of the situation. "I'll take good care of you. You'll be my little pet, my personal fucktoy to use whenever I please."

He leans in closer, his breath hot on your face, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. "And maybe, just maybe, if you're a very good girl, I'll let you keep that pretty little pussy of yours."

You whimper, the pain in your leg unbearable as you feel the strings begin to saw through the last of your resistance. Your mind is a whirlwind of fear and desperation, and you know that you've lost. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I-I'll be good, I'll do anything!"

The alpha hybrid wolf leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he considers your words. "Prove it," he says, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. He loosens his grip on the strings slightly, the pressure on your leg easing just enough to let you breathe. "Tell me you're mine," he demands.

You swallow hard, the words sticking in your throat like bile. But the pain is too great, and the fear of losing your leg too intense. "I'm yours," you whisper, the words a painful concession. "I'll do whatever you want."

The alpha hybrid wolf's eyes flicker with something that might almost be respect, but it's quickly overshadowed by his dominance. "That's better," he murmurs, his voice a dark caress. He loosens the strings a bit more, the pressure on your leg lessening slightly. "Now," he says, "tell me you want me to fuck you."

You can't believe the words are coming out of your mouth, but the alternative is too terrifying to consider. "I…I want you," you force out, your voice shaking. "I want you to fuck me."

The alpha hybrid wolf's smile broadens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's what I like to hear," he murmurs, his hands moving to gently stroke the side of your face, the claws retracted.

His touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the brutality that came before. He releases the strings completely, and you feel the weight of his decision as the pain in your leg recedes to a dull throb.

The alpha wolf's kiss is like a brand, searing into your very soul and leaving no doubt of your newfound status.

His tongue invades your mouth, tasting your fear and desperation, and yet there's something darkly thrilling about the way he claims you, something that makes your heart race despite the pain and horror.

You can feel his cock, still hard and slick with your blood, pressing against you, demanding entry.

Your body reacts traitorously, your arousal spiking even as you bleed out, the pain and fear mixing in a toxic cocktail that somehow only makes the situation more intense.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust and power as he looks down at you. "You're mine now," he says, his voice a low growl. "Say it."

You whimper, the pain from your broken legs making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "Y-yes," you choke out. "I'm yours."

You scream as he starts to thrust into you again, biting your shoulder without mercy, his knot swelling and forcing your shattered body to accommodate his brutal claim. Each movement sends bolts of agony through your legs, but you're too far gone to do anything but take it, your mind a haze of pain and submission.

He fucks you like an animal, his hips slamming into yours with a sickening wet sound that echoes through the forest. You can feel your body trying to fight back, but it's no match for his strength and dominance. The taste of blood is thick in the air, a testament to the brutality of his mating. His teeth dig deeper into your flesh, and you know that the marks he's leaving will never fully heal.

Your cries of pain are muffled by his mouth, his tongue invading yours in a twisted parody of affection as he continues to pound into you. Each thrust sends waves of agony through your body, your legs useless and forgotten beneath you. You can't even feel the pain anymore, it's just a part of you, a constant reminder of your new reality.

As you lay there, the hybrid wolf's teeth still embedded in your shoulder, the pain from your legs is a constant throb, but it's almost as if your body is trying to adapt to the new reality it's been thrust into.

Each thrust of his cock feels like a hot iron poker being pushed into your core, the pain and pleasure mixing until you can't tell the difference anymore. Your body betrays you, your walls clenching around him, trying to keep him inside you despite the horror of what's happening.

He releases your shoulder with a wet pop, the blood from the wound mixing with the fluids already coating your skin. "You're so tight," he murmurs, his voice a gruff growl. "So fucking tight, even with all the damage I've done to you." His eyes bore into yours, a challenge and a question in their depths. "Do you like it when I hurt you?"

The question hangs in the air, a silent demand for your truth. Your body is a wreck, your mind a tornado of agony and submission, but somehow, you find the strength to nod. The words come out as a whimper, barely audible. "Yes," you admit, your voice trembling. "I do."

The alpha wolf's hand snaps back, the slap echoing through the clearing like a gunshot.

Your cheek burns with the force of his blow, the impact sending your head spinning and your vision blurring with tears. The sting of his hand is a stark contrast to the burning agony in your legs, a reminder that your submission isn't enough to satisfy his twisted desires.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "I can smell it on you, the scent of fear and pain. Tell me the truth."

You whimper, trying to gather your thoughts through the fog of pain and submission. "I…I do," you repeat, your voice shaking. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

The alpha wolf's eyes narrow, his grip on you tightening. "What I want," he says slowly, "is for you to be honest. To admit that you love the way I make you feel, that you crave the pain and the fear. That you need me to own you completely."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "But I know you're a damn liar, my sweet omega. I can see it in your eyes. You're fighting me even now."

The hybrid wolf's grip on the piano strings tightens, his hands moving with a sickening precision that sends a fresh wave of terror through you.

You can feel the strings cutting deeper into your leg, the pain so intense it steals your breath away.

With a final, brutal twist, the strings snap tight, and you feel a white-hot agony as your left leg is severed completely. The blood spurts in a crimson arc, painting the leaves and soil a gruesome shade of red.

You scream in wailing agony, the sound echoing through the forest, a haunting melody of pain and despair.

Your vision swims, the world turning to a kaleidoscope of colors as the pain overwhelms your senses. The ground beneath you feels cold and foreign as your body tries to comprehend the sudden loss of a limb.

The alpha wolf pulls away, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he watches you writhe in pain. "Look at what you've made me do," he murmurs, his voice a dark purr. "You've only got yourself to blame for this." His hands come up to wipe the blood from your face, his touch almost gentle, a stark contrast to the horror he's just inflicted upon you.

The alpha wolf's thrusts become even more brutal as he watches the pain and despair play out on your face.

You can feel your body giving in, your consciousness fading as the agony of your amputated leg combines with the overwhelming pressure of his knot inside you.

Each time he pulls out, it's like he's ripping out your soul along with his cock, only to shove it back in with a viciousness that sends shockwaves of agony through your body.

The smell of blood and sex is thick in the air, a heady perfume that seems to drive him to even greater heights of depravity.

Your cries become weaker and weaker, until finally, the world goes dark.

You're not sure if it's the pain or the blood loss, but everything around you fades away, leaving only the pounding of his hips against your mutilated body.

And yet, even as you slip into unconsciousness, you can feel his knot swelling, his seed filling you up. It's a final, vicious reminder of your new role in his life—his pet, his toy, his breeding omega.

────────────

The alpha wolf chuckles darkly as you lose consciousness beneath him, your body limp and broken. He leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to your bloodstained lips, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim one last victory.

His love is a twisted, possessive thing, a perversion of the bond that should have been gentle and consensual.

But as he whispers the words into your unhearing ear, his hips never stop moving, his cock never leaving your torn, abused hole.

Each thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a promise that you will never escape his grasp.

You're vaguely aware of his words, a faint murmur against your skin. "Mine," he repeats, his voice a low growl of triumph. "You're mine now, my beautiful omega. You can't run from me anymore."

His hands roam over your body, his claws tracing delicate patterns in your skin that make you shiver in your unconscious state despite the agony. "I'll take care of you," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of his actions. "I'll make sure you never want for anything—except for my cock, filling you up, making you scream."

The alpha wolf's hips continue to piston into your unresponsive body, his knot still swollen and embedded deep within you. The warmth of your blood coats your thighs and your skin, painting a gruesome picture of his brutal claim.

Despite your unconsciousness, your body continues to react to him, your walls spasming around his cock, a reflexive response to the pain and the presence of his seed. His movements are relentless, a testament to his desire to fully dominate and claim you.

Each thrust sends waves of pain through your body, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this twisted mating dance.

With a final, triumphant snarl, the alpha hybrid wolf releases his knot, filling you with his cum one last time before withdrawing completely. He stands over you, his cock glistening with your blood and his own seed.

He looks down at your amputated leg with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the crimson stump a testament to his dominance. "We'll see if you're worthy of having this back," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "But for now, you're exactly where you need to be—under me, bleeding for me."

[doberbutts]

My would-be rapist died earlier this week and I have been having a lot of Complicated Feelings about it since being told. Long story short he died because he was once again being a creep and someone intervened and ended up cracking open his skull and he died from a brain bleed two days later. And I'm just thinking about how 18 years ago this guy was actively attempting to groom me in the middle of church and bible study and only stopped because my parents believed me when they pried the truth out of me. And how that stopped him from pursuing me but not from just switching to Someone Else until it became multiple Someone Else's and the above situation happened.

Truthfully I don't really know what to feel, or think. I am not sad that he is dead. I'm not really happy either. I think he is an excellent example of the multiple failures we have as a society to protect our most vulnerable populations. He is who I think of when I ask what we do with repeat offenders who do not seem to be getting the message that they are making bad choices, and how we're supposed to protect vulnerable people from predators like him.

I do think, for the most part, that prison reform and prison abolition is a good thing. I do think that the death penalty sets a dangerous precedent.

But what do we do with a man who has hurt person after person after person, who even when confined to a facility for the rest of his life (ie, effectively a prison) continues to prey upon patients and staff alike, until he is sent to an all-male facility and even then tries it with a female CNA before another male patient witnesses it and does something about it?

I don't even know if the other guy realizes what a service he's done to this dude's victims, or the collective sigh of relief his victims took upon the news of his demise.

I will not light a candle for you, Joel. Not even your own family is attending your funeral, or pressing charges against the facility or the man who killed you. But it does make me think about how this could have been better resolved, if it could have been, if a better outcome than a long string of sexual assaults and rapes ultimately ending in a violent death could have been had.

He never did manage to get me. But he would have, if my parents hadn't stepped in on my behalf. He was bold enough to try it while they were just downstairs, reading and discussing from religious texts. Bold enough to put his hands on me in the middle of church as the pastor spoke and everyone could see. To my knowledge, I was his first- or was I? Was he bold because he was inexperienced in doing this, or because he was riding the high of having gotten away with it before? Clearly getting caught just taught him to be more subtle, rather than that he shouldn't have been doing it in the first place.

I think if he had succeeded with me, I would currently be very glad to hear about his death.

But he didn't, so now I am thinking about these things. And feeling a little, play stupid games win stupid prizes.

[sarahsangelicdoll-recs]

eoooof this is hot !! i swear i love everything you come out with 💞💞

“predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.”

I’ve said this before but i love predator x prey because it has such an underlying hint of trust and playfulness that i just LOVE sm, predator x prey fics are my weakness and i love them SM

“tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.”

Imagining fucking Rafes dick with my tits while i watch his reaction is just unbelievably hot. then watching his expression while he stares down at you while he’s cumming, EUGHH i need himm

“hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.”

i SWEAR i love bitchy!kook!reader and Rafes dynamic so much, they’re both hot and its just, eueeshe

“spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..”

I swear spanking is such a big kink of mine, it’s so hot ESPECIALLY when they’re typically more on the softer side. like just imagining myself laying on my tummy across their lap while they alternate between spanking my ass red and soothing it is just- chefs kiss 💋

“marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss”

i never really thought of marathon sex before but just imagining Rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader fucking in pogue!sweetheart!readers trailer, plus add a lil bit of vanilla + humour, soft hint strawberry scent filling the air and just kind of lovey vibes is just.. i don’t know i need it 🤭🤭

we need to kiss all of these are hot and literally perfection

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ RAFE + THE !READER’S AND THEIR KINKS

warnings: dark content ahead! please do not read if you don’t feel comfortable with any of the kinks listed!

a/n: some of these might not be considered ‘kinks’ but instead things that both rafe and !reader may particularly enjoy. special thank you to @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea and always listening to my rambles <3333 consider this my christmas gift to you ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

wc: 5.0k

⭑.ᐟ bambi!reader

cnc: these two have a meeting and go over all of their fantasies. while bambi’s suggestions are more tame, rafe is going all out, suggesting that he kidnaps her, holds her at gun/knife point, along with making another safe word just for the sole purpose of dismissing it. he’s covering bambi’s mouth while she’s screaming for him to get off of her, fucking her with so much force that her body scoots up on whatever surface rafe has her on. she’s pushing away, or trying to at least, and rafe is just so much stronger than her that he doesn’t budge. “look at you, so pathetic and weak..” rafe would laugh at her, making her cry as she helplessly took his cock.

rope play: no one can convince me that rafe wasn’t a boy scout when he was little. he’s very knowledgeable of different knots and ties and made it a point to start experimenting with you, tying you up in grotesque positions purely for his enjoyment. even tying your arms behind your back in intricate weaves was enough to get him going. he’d take full advantage of you in your restraints, fucking you past overstimulation, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you cry out in both agony and bliss. your fingers would gradually grow numb, along with the rest of your body until rafe untied you, indents from the rope adorning your flesh.

outdoor sex: an innocent little picnic can quickly turn into rafe pushing your head into the grass while he fists your panties, dragging them down your thighs before bunching your dress up and slamming into you without warning. he can’t quite pin point when this became a ‘thing’ between you two, but fuck he knew you loved it. maybe it was because of the scenery or being far away from anyone being able to see or hear you two, but sex out in the middle of nowhere was thrilling for you both. bambi already spent a lot of her time outside, so whenever rafe would join her and do what he does best; making her cum around his cock, it was like her two favorite worlds collided.

asphyxiation: this was first done on accident when rafe was fucking your throat and smothering your face at the same time. seeing the way you gasped for air after he pulled you off of his cock was nothing short of gratifying. but seeing the way you were eager to do it again was even better. from that point forward he would do anything and everything to cut off your intake of air. covering your nose when you sucked him off, choking you during sex until you were on the verge of blacking out, pinning you down by your neck so your windpipe was being crushed. of course he educated both you and himself, and took your little taps of surrender very seriously.

predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.

⭑.ᐟ sheep!reader

slapping: whether rafe is slapping the swells of your tits, the fleshy globes of your ass, or your poor overstimulated clit, he loves seeing your body jolt at his touch. he especially likes slapping you in the face when he’s pounding into you, the small flash of hurt passing over your features shooting straight to his cock. he’s smiling while you’re flinching every time he picks his hand up, his large palm meeting your soft skin with a harsh smack! he knows you’re far too timid and shy to tell him to stop, small whimpers leaving your lips at the stinging sensation. once he’s done with you, your skin is raw and sensitive to the touch, rafe always making sure to soothe you and comfort you afterwards.

corruption: you were just a pretty, clueless virgin when he met you, and still pretty and clueless after he broke you in. rafe still see’s you as a saint even when he’s fingering you to tears, your tight walls spasming around his digits. he treats every time like it’s your first time all overs again, the idea of getting you addicted to his cock was enough to make him cum. he loved to see the confused, yet desperate plea in your eyes for him to turn you inside out. the fact that he’s the only one who has ever seen you unravel makes his chest fill with pride. to know that he’s the one who turned you into a cock-hungry slut to begin with does wonders for his ego.

dacryphilia: rafe does things to purposely make sheep cry. pinching her clit, fucking her so hard that his tip is nudging her cervix with every thrust, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them together with a bruising grip, he loves seeing those sparkly eyes watering with tears. if he has you on your knees, he won’t stop fucking your throat until you have tears running down your neck and chest. rafe thinks sheep looks prettiest when she’s an utter mess, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips are his favorite look on her. even when she’s crying and upset about something, he can’t help but guide her hand to his aching length, promising her that she’ll feel better once she makes him cum.

orgasm denial: the way that rafe keeps sheep needy and ready to fuck whenever he wants is by denying her orgasms. waiting until her eyes are rolling to the back of her head before pulling away and making her clench around nothing. “nononono, please, rafe! i need it!” she’s clinging onto him, trying to keep him near as much as she could before he’s swatting her hands away. “gotta keep you on your toes, ‘doll.” he’s rough when he holds her down, stroking himself until he’s painting her tummy with his seed. sexually frustrated and sad that he didn’t fill her up instead, she’s bending to his every will later on when he wants to go for round two.

overstimulation: if sheep isn’t getting denied an orgasm, she’s getting a load of them until she’s physically trying to run away from rafe. while he’s doing everything he can to keep her cumming, she’s convulsing, shaking and trembling, writhing in pain as rafe works her poor, sensitive bud. using his fingers, tongue and cock, he tells sheep to keep count and if she messes up then he has to start from zero again. sheep is brainless after the first three, her train of thought being completely gone as rafe fights with her to keep her thighs open. “no more, no more, no more..” she’s repeating it like a mantra, rafe ignoring her pleas for him to stop.

⭑.ᐟ latina!kook!reader

praise: rafe is having a hard time believing that his favorite latina is even letting him touch her, so he’s doing everything he can to remember this moment. he’s telling you how good your perfume smells, marveling at how soft your skin feels under his touch, admiring and staring at your body in awe as if to remember every curve and detail. you’re looking in his eyes while he raves about never seeing someone as beautiful as you. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, holy shit.” rafe is in disbelief when he finally gets you out of your clothes, his eyes instinctively blinking as he didn’t know what to take in first.. your angelic face, show-stopping tits, or glistening pussy.

language: hearing you speak in your mother tongue is going to do it for rafe every single time. whether you’re cursing at him or grabbing him through his pants, whispering; “lo quiero, papi— i want it, daddy..” his cock springs up at the sound of your voice. you’ve taught him enough spanish for him to reply to certain things, your favorite phrase of his being, “mírame, muñeca— look at me, doll.” when you’re shying away from the intensity of his gaze. rafe loved hearing all the words falling from your lips, especially when a particular thrust of his hips made your voice crack at the end of your sentences. “keep talking to me, hermosa— beautiful, i need to hear you.”

mirror sex: you didn’t have not one bad side. in rafe’s eyes you were absolutely flawless. after the first time you two had sex, he knew immediately that he needed to see you at every angle. getting a mirror installed on the ceiling right above his bed was the first step, then it was a mirrored headboard.. and then two full length mirrors that sat in the opposite corners of his room. the man was obsessed with watching you. if he had you in doggy, he could still get a full view of your face twisting in pleasure along with the bounce of your tits. on days where you wanted to ride him, he’d watch in awe as the globes of your ass met his thighs with a ripple effect adorning the fleshy skin.

body worship: similar to praise, rafe is whispering sweet nothings against your skin, his hands working to massage your calves as he presses kisses to your thighs. he’s holding onto you, eyes closed as he takes in your scent. “you’re so perfect.” rafe sounds like a broken record as he kisses your knuckles, and up your arm to the curve of your shoulder until he finally gets to your lips. his hands are roaming your body even as he’s inside of you, his soft touch a stark contrast to his hard thrusts. not a single inch of your body goes untouched by this man. he pays attention to every single thing, from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes, he makes sure you feel like a goddess at all times.

tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!kook!reader

choking: while rafe loves to choke you in order for you to keep your sassy remarks to yourself, he nearly loses it when you take charge and wrap your hand around the column of his throat instead. he loves the push and pull of your shared dynamic. when he has you pinned down by your neck, it’s useless to deem it a punishment since you always end up liking the pain more than the pleasure. rafe can’t help but curse to himself at the sight of the smirk adorning your lips when he’s cutting off your airway. “no way you’re loving this shit right now..” both of your voices are hoarse once you’re done with each other, the sound making you two look at each other smugly.

hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.

impact play: if you and rafe weren’t hitting and shoving each other into his room when you wanted to jump each other’s bones then you weren’t doing it right. slamming you against the wall while he was inside of you, slapping him across the face when he did something a little too hard, it was all apart of your little dance together and you two fucking lived for it. rafe loved that he didn’t have to be so soft and gentle with you, and even more so when he found someone who finally didn’t treat him like he was made of glass and used the same force against him. the roughness and complete disregard for one another’s feelings in those very moments was addicting to say the least.

degradation: this was bitchy!kook!reader’s specialty. telling rafe how stupid and pathetic he is for spamming her phone with desperate texts, telling him he’s worthless and that the only thing he’s good for is being her boy toy. she’s bringing up the times when rafe was begging her to let him eat her out, calling him names and laughing in his face when he looks the slightest bit embarrassed. rafe isn’t letting up on you either, he’s cussing in your ear, calling you a bitch and a ‘spoiled fuckin’ brat’ as he folds you in half. both of you revel in the weight of your insults, the words only making both of you needy to prove the other wrong. ‘just shut your fucking mouth already..’

possessiveness: despite ‘hating’ each other, there’s nothing neither of you hated more than seeing each other in close proximity with someone else. rafe hated your friends, all of them always trying to introduce someone to you in hopes that they could get you to leave rafe alone once and for all. of course, later on that night when the party is over and the place is cleared, he’s pounding into you like he has something to prove. “you’re fuckin’ stupid if you thought i was gonna let you leave with that asshole.” he has you in a head lock, his toned stomach smacking the back of your ass as he choked you out with his bicep. “no one else could ever make you feel like this.”

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!pogue!reader

recording: she’s rafe’s personal pornstar without a doubt. bitchy!pogue!reader knows she looks amazing every second of the day, even when her mouth is full of cock, so when she see’s rafe pull out his camera, she’s really giving him a show. “you fuckin’ slut, i could make millions off of you..” rafe would say after she made him cum on her face and tits. rafe loved to keep documentation of bitchy!pogue!reader almost begging to tears for rafe to fuck her already, the footage coming in handy when she decides to wake up with an attitude and tells him that he’s lucky that you even let him fuck, let alone talk to you. he has the camera in your face the same night, grunting out “aww what’s wrong? ‘still think you’re too good for this cock now?”

rough sex: these two turn ‘rough sex’ into an umbrella term with all of the depraved shit that they do. smacking your skin until you’re bruised, scratching rafe until you draw blood, thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, and this isn’t including all of the choking, biting, and hair pulling that both of you do while you’re at it. rafe is ruthless in the bedroom, often leaving you bedridden by the time he’s done plowing into your poor, sensitive cunt. this was what regular sex was like between you two, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. it drove rafe crazy to know that you were so willing and just as sick and twisted as him to take his shit.

humiliation: this was a two way street for both you and rafe. he would say that he could never be seen with a stripper on his arm since he was sure the entire island had already been with you before, and you would say that you wouldn’t want to be seen with a pathetic loser with daddy issues and a drug problem to cope, anyways. both of you knew that the shit talking that you were doing was only foreplay for the activities you were going to do later. sure enough, he’s taking you in the country club bathroom, all of the grand parents there staring at your provocative outfit in disbelief. “please don’t make me moan loud..” you’d whimper, rafe wrapping a fist in your hair. “nah, you’re gonna let this whole club know that you’re nothing but an easy hooker.”

face fucking: once rafe got started on this, it was never-ending. he’d have you on your knees wherever you two were at, forcing you to keep your hands behind your back as he used your throat like a cock sleeve. he’s pulling at the roots of your hair with a strangled groan, the sound of his length sliding in and out from between your lips making his eyes roll to the back of his head. it’s messy and sticky, your cheeks full of tears as spit and precum dribble down your chin, your jaw aching for a break. “fuck, just look at you.. ‘bet you don’t have shit to bitch about now, do you?” still managing to roll your eyes at him, rafe chuckles to himself before picking up his pace.

dumbification: your walls are fluttering around rafe’s cock when he tells you things like; “you’re a dumb, stupid, slut who doesn’t know how to do anything except take dick.” and calling you a brainless bimbo with nothing but tits for brains. you’re nodding along to his words, not caring about how much he’s dumbing you down. in this very moment, with his hips slamming into yours, you were brainless.. not a single thought behind your fucked out gaze. “just prancing around in your heels like a clueless fuckin’ bunny, not knowing shit..” he’s delivering each word with a punctuated thrust, your back arching into his chest when you feel the rough pads of his fingers on your sensitive clit.

⭑.ᐟ kook!sweetheart!reader

sexting: boyyyy you two can sext for hours at a time. once the clock hits ten and your phone dings with a ‘you up, beautiful?’ from none other than rafe himself, you’re faking a yawn and telling your parents you’re gonna cut the movie short tonight because you’re so sleepy. as soon as you’re laid in your bed, your room door locked until further notice, you’re sending rafe all the pretty nudes you took for him since the last time you two sexted. rafe is fisting his cock as your pictures come in one by one, his bottom lip pulled haphazardly between his teeth to keep himself from moaning out loud. in return, rafe is also sending you pictures of himself. shirtless gym pics, his bulges when he wakes up thinking about you, and your personal favorite; his bare cock and the aftermath of stroking himself to your sexy photos.

lingerie: this was only fitting considering you were a whole designer with your own lingerie brand. rafe hadn’t really developed his kink for fucking you in your lingerie until you started surprising him, the lace and sometimes satin material looking just gorgeous against your skin. besides the obvious fact that you looked stunning in your sets, he thinks the reason why he appreciated it a lot more is because he knows you thought about him when choosing which one to wear. “do you like it?” was possibly the most dumbest question you could’ve ever asked him. of course, you got your answer when he pulled you on top of him, moving your panties over to the side before slamming you down onto his length.

cum play: rafe died and came back to life when he watched you smear his cum over your lips the first time you took his length into your mouth. and then he died again on a separate occasion when he came on your tits, your pretty manicured fingers swirling his seed over your sensitive buds. now every time he finished, if it wasn’t inside of you, he watched with a bated breath as you tasted him before pulling him down into a kiss. your tongues clashed, both of you moaning as you made out with his cum in your mouths. you shared spit, making a mess out of each other until you were begging him to cum again. “please, i want more, rafe..”

pussy eating: he needs it. he needs to have kook!sweetheart!reader’s thighs locked down to his shoulders while he works his skillful tongue on her pussy. she’s whimpering above him, wrapping her hands around his large fingers as he gently circles her clit. rafe is easily eating her out for an hour before another hour passes and she’s a mess. having orgasmed at least ten times, rafe is very controlled and knows how to bring her up before pushing her over the edge and letting her fall ever so graciously into another orgasm one after the other. the lower half of his face is soaked, and when he looks up at you from between your thighs, the sight of him is burned into your mind forever.

cockwarming: one of rafe’s favorites. whenever you and rafe are in the bliss of aftercare, he stays nestled inside of you, both of you kissing each other lazily while he rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “think you could keep still?” you teased, rafe laughing softly as you clenched around him, almost as if to provoke him to move. not even ten minutes later, you’re slowly circling your hips, desperate for any kind of friction while rafe holds you in place. “i knew you were gonna put out.” rafe groaned, moving gently as he rolled over on top of you. ignoring him, you dug your heels into his lower back, prompting him to keep going. “yeah, yeah, just fuck me— oh!”

⭑.ᐟ farmer’s!daughter!reader

size kink: cowboy!rafe is hugeee, and (un)fortunately for you, also hung like a fucking horse. his entire body envelopes yours when he’s on top of you, only half of his cock fitting inside of you before he’s forcing you to take the whole thing. feeling like his length and the sheer girth of him is splitting you open, you’re looking down at where you two are connected, your eyes wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under your flesh. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you’re delirious as the big, strong man above you drills into you at an unforgiving speed. his hand is large enough to wrap around the entirety of your neck, your chest caving in once you felt the band in your tummy snap.

dirty talk: rafe knew exactly what to say in order to get your cheeks heating. “you don’t think i know wet you are right now? i bet i could slip right in ya’..” you’re gasping at the lewdness of his words, hiding your face from his view as he stroked the exposed flesh of your waist. “ray!” you laughed nervously, both of you hiding in his little house that was in the back of your own. “you know i’m right.. that’s why you’re getting all shy on me right now.” he scoots closer, his lips trailing along your collarbone. “let me take this shirt off, ‘get these tits in my mouth.” being around a horny cowboy wasn’t good for your heart. “oh, my word! your mouth is filthy!”

daddy kink: the basis of you and rafe’s relationship was that you were together secretly, your father forbidding rafe from dating you, let alone looking in your direction. he wasn’t fond of your dad for that very reason. every time he’s asking you who your pussy belongs to, he’s forcing you to refer to him as a different name other than his own. “you, daddy! oh, fuck, i belong to you!” you’re crying out, the name falling from your lips before you could stop it. the fact that he had you, the farmer’s daughter, in his bed, calling him daddy when he knew your actual father hated him, stroked his ego more than your cunt did. “yeah, i’m your daddy? say it again.” you oblige, your eyes screwing shut as the plap of your ass against his thighs echoed in your ears.

mating press: seeing your glossy eyes gaze up at him while he had your knees pressed to your chest was hands down one of his favorite sights. with the back of his hands sitting underneath your hips, your lower half was slightly elevated, your needy cunt guaranteed to take all of his cum. in this position, you swore it felt like he was in your tummy. “nghhh— can’t, rafe!” you shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears as he leaned down, taking your lips in a bruising kiss. “shhh, of course you can, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me right now.” the wet squelch of your cunt made rafe keen, his lips wet with your spit. “gonna fill you up to the fuckin’ brim..”

breeding kink: you dreamed about having cowboy!rafe’s babies, both of you always talking about having little ones running around the farm. rafe saw it vividly— your pretty round belly, swollen with his seed, a baby on your hip while you greeted him after a full day of work. it’s all he could envision while he’s pumping in and out of you, your sweet moans sounding against his skin. “i’m gonna make you such a pretty mom, baby, you just fuckin’ wait.” he grunted, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he went even deeper inside your cunt. biting back tears, you let out a half-sob as he continuously hit that sensitive spot along your velvety walls. “you’d want that, right?” rafe still asks even though his mind is already made up. “duh!”

⭑.ᐟ pogue!sweetheart!reader

spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..

food play: pogue!sweetheart!reader is basically our little strawberry shortcake. always whipping things up in the kitchen with rafe pressed against her ass was bound to lead to some interesting experiments. first it was strawberries, you and rafe sharing one before he dragged the fruit up the curve of your neck, licking the sweet, succulent juice that had dripped down to you chest. the second time around, before you two decided to incorporate it more regularly, you two were having a lazy day, both of you sharing some whipped cream you had made. you had playfully licked some off of rafe’s finger before he got the crazy idea to lick it from other places, too..

cream pie: rafe was obsessed with watching his cum drip out of you. he’d pull out halfway while you were still clenching around him, forcing you to look down so you could see the glorious sight of his twitching cock filling you up before pulling out altogether. you two would wait with bated breath’s, a moan leaving your lips as you felt the warm ropes of cum slowly drip out of your entrance. rafe’s chest would be rising and falling as he used the tip of his cock to smear his seed up and down your folds, even taking the time to circle your sensitive clit. “oh, fuck, this is amazing..” he’d marvel, gathering the sticky succulence before pushing it back into you.

marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss

soft/vanilla sex: rafe loved taking his time with you, especially because he knew you were sentimental about everything. holding your hands while his head was working between your thighs, looking into your eyes the whole time he was pounding into you, the gentle touches against your skin as he hoisted you up further onto your bed, it was all his way of handling you with care. he’d peck the tip of your nose when you were cumming, his fingers bringing you down from your high as he held you against his chest. whispering praises in your ear, rafe wouldn’t start aftercare until you were gazing up at him lovingly, and that was even sweeter.

[ivohex]

NSFW Headcanons: Xavier || LaDS

Please mind the tags!

Rating: E for EXPLICIT. MDNI! 🔞

Word Count: ~800

Note: Everything described below is done between two consenting adults with discussions beforehand regarding boundaries, safewords have been established, etc. Just didn't want to have to thrown in a disclaimer multiple times lol.

Note 2: i am ovulating and i am in hell

Tags/Warnings: xavier is freaky are you surprised?, consensual nonconsent, mostly fem perspective, dominant/submissive dynamic (Xavier is the dom), bondage (F receiving), mentions of mild pet play(? I think), anal sex/assplay (F receiving), rimming (F receiving), unprotected sex, predator/prey dynamic, risky sex, recording the act, impact play (spanking), sex in public, breeding kink, me being very self-indulgent

More below the cut!

Starting with two obvious ones: Xavier is capital F Freaky. Also, when it comes to dominance versus submission, don't let his angelic appearance fool you. He's very much a dom, but he's not opposed to occasionally letting you take control.

A very playful partner. Likes to have fun in bed, and likes to explore new kinks with you. He's down to at least try most things with you.

I feel like Xavier would definitely like being a brat tamer, while also being a bratty dom himself. When it comes to initiating, he's all about teasing you and then pretending that's NOT what he's doing. A brush of his hands across your hips. A comment with a double meaning. He likes seeing you all riled up and then asking why you're so flustered, as if he didn't accidentally-on-purpose touch you somewhere you're sensitive to get a rise out of you. And then when you try to be a brat right back, he'll remind you who's REALLY been in control all this time.

Loves playfighting and predator/prey play. Wants to chase you down, grab you, wrestle you into submission and then have his way with you.

Very mildly into pet play, though the extent of it is in the form of putting animal ears on one or the both of you, and then rutting into you like you're animals in heat. I don't think he's into cages or collars buuuut he'll absolutely tie you up. He'd love a rope bunny. 🙂‍↕️

Addendum to the above: If he can make a solid wall of light, he can definitely use his Light Evol to restrict you, too, and would favor that over actual ropes.

His favorite pet names for you in bed are (no particular order): good girl, bunny, and–if you're being bratty, obviously–brat. However, I don't see him being into degrading his partner much. He'll call you his "good little slut" but probably wouldn't go further than that.

Body worship and praising you. That is all.

Loves roleplay.

He likes blow jobs, but he prefers eating you out. He's crazy for it, and while he's at it, he'll mark up the inside of your thighs.

His favorite place to cum is inside you, duh. Then he'll pull out and watch, mesmerized, as it slowly drips out of your cunt. He'll use his fingers to either spread his release all over your pussy or push it back inside.

He likes spanking you and pulling your hair, especially as a way to get you to behave.

Insane refractory period, it's borderline inhuman. He'll cum and be ready to go again in a matter of minutes and can do it several times. You and Xavier could have sex for hours, not stopping until you're both on the verge of collapse. Sex with Xavier almost always lasts multiple rounds, if you're up for it.

Goes feral for a thigh job, especially if you're in front of a mirror so he can watch his cock thrusting between your thighs, hitting your clit over and over until you cum all over him.

Obsessed with recording you and taking pictures. He has a password-protected folder in his gallery filled with videos and photos. A personal favorite is a video of you draped over his lap, one hand holding your wrists in place at the small of your back, the other alternating between stroking you between your legs and spanking you. (Bonus: he's dressed as a bunny butler, fully clothed, while you're completely naked.)

Anal sex is a big YES. He also loves rimming you.

His favorite position is doggy style. He likes fucking into your cunt from behind and using his thumb or a toy to play with your ass. He has a video of this, too–another favorite.

Likes quickies. Be warned, though: a quickie with Xavier usually actually means multiple spread throughout the day, at the most random of times, and he's not afraid to be risky about it, either. You'll wake up and have a quick round before breakfast, then he'll yank you into a storage closet or private meeting room at UNICORNS head quarters, then he'll take you behind a tree at a park. Absolutely abuses his teleportation ability for it, this man is a MENACE.

Ridiculous sex drive. He's really like a bunny in that way 😳 Also like a bunny, he likes breeding you.

He loves it when you pretend you don't like something he's doing, so that he can ask you if you hate this so much, why are you so wet? You clearly like it, so he's not stopping, and you're not allowed to push him away anymore.

[valentine-cafe]

i have been SOOOO excited waiting for yall to post takara and yall didnt disappoint <3

could iiiii perhaps req smth like her chasing us down, lil bit of silly pred/prey yk! some sort of base instinct to pin you down, have his way w you, and to get their teeth digging into you if only you’d just stay still… but that’s what usually what makes the victory all the sweeter :3

˖⁺. “ catch me if you can ” :

﹙ kitsune bf x gn afab reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁ 

. . . verse 9948e takara x gn afab reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ kitsune  ˖ mercenary character ﹚

dating a kistune is fun and all until you remember how much he loves chasing you down and fucking you raw

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ predator/prey��˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ scratching ˖ biting | wc : 1.4k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: sorryy this took so long but we hope it's to your liking!

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

You had never truly caught onto it. . . How your kitsune boyfriend stared away at you with hunger in his eyes everytime you playfully ran from him.

It itched away at him. Instincts kicking away at each part of his body to chase you down and grab you, fuck you into the ground while you moan and scream out his name.

He’s dreamt about it. He dreams about it. To sink his teeth into your flesh and claw away at you when you don’t want to lay still below him- wriggling around on the ground whilst pathetically whimpering out his name over and over. Your brain dumb and only focused on the feel of his cock splitting you open.

“It’s simple rules.”

Before you stands your kitsune boyfriend, with his fox smile widening as he begins to explain the little game he has been waiting for you to participate in.

“Just think a normal game of tag. But, when I catch you. . . “ He hums, tapping at the bottom of his chin with his index to pause his speech.

You tilt your head, blinking your eyes together as you let out a small yawn, before opening them up once more to see he has disappeard from his spot.

“Takara—” He could squeal at the sound of wild confusion in your voice. Most would think you would be used to the shenanigans of your boyfriend by now, but in honesty, you don’t think you could ever could with the tricks he pulls on you every day.

One second he is gone and the next you yelp as he appears out of thin air from behind you. Head of pink, fluffy hair nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He lets out a little fox laugh.

Before the thought of giving him a little scolding even passes through your mind, your hands stand from anticipation at the words crooned in your ears: “I get to fuck you into the ground. Until we are both exhausted and messy.”

Your entire face heats up like the fires of the home of the fire elementals, while your breath hitches and instinctively, you grab onto his robes from behind. Knuckles turning white from the newfound excitement rushing through you.

                                                                 . . . fast foward !! 🍒 :

  Ragged breaths escape you as your lungs feel like their life is being squeezed out of them. Sore feet thud against the dirt covered ground of the mushroom forest that the kitsune resides in.

Places such as these you do not have to worry about being caught by other spiritfolk, they tend to stay away from the mushroom forests.

Although Takara would not care much should a lonesome traveller come stumbling by and catching the sight of him pounding you from behind on a large mushroom puffing out aphrodisiac dust.

The laughs of the kitsune echoes throughout the forest, light footsteps right behind you at all times. It is as though he is right on your footsteps, ready to grab at the fabric of your clothes and drag you backwards. Take you right then and there.

And you do indeed spot them in your peripheral vision.

Yelping, you turn your heel and try to rush to the right. But they pounce on you just before you can make a quicker run for it.

He has to admit, you last longer than he though you would. There is not much time to think on that matter either, hands too busy ripping away at your pants and underwear to get through to your drooling cunt. Slick with arousal and anticipation.

Why, he hasn’t even touched you intimately yet and your pretty cunt is fluttering like he is balls deep inside already, thrusting away at it to draw out long the delicious sounds she makes for him.

“Fuck, dariin. . . Lay — Lay still” He huffs, eyes feral like a crazed man’s. Pink tails sway from side to side violently, while the pink of their irises drowns out with the expanding pupils. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

The groans he manages to perform draws out plenty of whines and sounds from you, that has him undoing his kimono as quickly as he possibly can. Freeing the hard cock which previously struggled in the confined space of fabrics upon fabrics.

You squirm, as if trying to keep the game going for the thrill of it. However your boyfriend above doesn’t take any of it. His hand pushing you back down onto the ground whilst lining up his cock to your entrance, collecting slick and mixing it with his precum.

Who is he trying to fool. You barely need to be prepped with how wet you are — The most infurating thing is that you keep moving and squirming

“I said lay still — Stop fucking moving.”

His chest crashes into your back. Squeezing you further down against the mossy ground. While his hands hurry and lift your hips. Parting your legs like it’s his job.

Splitting your walls apart, he helps you arch your back to press you a little closer. Setting a fast and animalistic pace for you as he fucks into you. With his whines and whimpers scattering out into the forest and farther. Let the world hear how he makes moans rip out of you.

“Takara!!” You cry out, hands struggling to find a spot to grip. Hair? Tails? Back? It’s too hard to decide when your brains feel like they’re already fucked half-way out. His hips smacking against yours and sending you straight to the apex point of pleasure.

He’s always fucked you open in a way that made you lose yourself completely. But this? Gods. Poor cunt is clenching onto him for dear life.

“Just look at her. Taking me— hnhhhnghn!! takinggg me so — hah- hgnhe ha- well!” He moans out. Humping away at that one bundle of nerves that twists at your tummy and threatens a slew of cum to squirt out of you every second now.

“S-so soffaaaaaaaast— K-Kara— KaraaA! pp-pleas-s-zzzzzzzzeeee! mmmgnh! Harder!!” It’s like ecstasy. Your little please. They shoot straight to his head pulling away all of the self-restraint he may have hung onto an inch.

He can’t just not listen to you right? Oh he fucks hard, giving you it all. His cock pulsating inside of you and squirting out strings of cum each time he feels the flutter of your walls around him and then clench that comes after.

The way that one vein on his cock feels brushing up against one of the nerves forces your head to limp. Hanging from his arm, while your jaw grows slack.

Your vision white with the pleasure coursing through you, and this is only the first round. Goodness, you have no idea how you are going to keep up with him when he’s fucking you like this.

“That’s it that’s it— yes” With strained encouragement he pulls the orgasm out of you. Settling the pace for a slightly slower one. Only for him to go back the second you whine in protest.

“So good at taking it baby, so good. Like it when I fuck you right here huh?”

His nails scratch across the flesh of your thighs, leaving the smallest of tears in your skin. Oh the prettiest droplets of maroon trickle down the delicate skin. It is too much to handle, the smell is intoxicating too. . . A bite wouldn’t be so bad either right?

Pain mixes with pleasure, distracting you from the momentary feel of teeth biting down against your shoulder. Only when you hear the muffled fox-like whines tumble out of your boyfriend’s mouth do you realise he’s biting you — the sight itself has you groaning out and crying from the pleasure.

His name leaves you thousands of time in a row, they’d be millions by the time he is finished with you.

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[monimccoythings]

Primal Instincts

I saw that in an alternate universe he, sabertooth and wildchild are feral men called the pack. And I just knew my glorious purpose. For a second I was tempted to name this like one of those supernatural romantic novels from Wattpad like "Hunted by the Alpha" or something like that lol.

tags: as gn!reader as possible (except maybe one little thing that can be ignored), feral!logan, feral!victor creed (brief appearance), feral!Kyle gibney (brief appearence), animal behavior, scent marking, non-con elements, dark!logan, small violence (reader gets grabbed by the neck).

You came for a well deserved holidays to a cottage in the middle of the Canadian woods to relax and draw the wilderness. No signal, no wifi, and the closest town is half an hour by car. Just you and nature for an entire month.

Logan smelled your sweet scent from across the wilderness. And he was immediately entraced by it. He follows the scent towards a small clearing with a wooden cottage in the middle of it. And that's when he sees you.

Oh the primal and animalistic things you make him feel, too complex and strong for his primitive brain to understand and process. You make his mouth water and his cock twitch with raw desire, that's the only thing he needs to know.

Logan starts to scent mark around your house to ward off other predators, and to warn his packmates that you were already claimed; rubbing himself against trees, rocks, and the walls of your house. He got in an ugly fight with Victor because he came too close to his liking.

Kyle tried to approach you too, mostly driven by his own curiosity instead of defiance like Victor, but a single growl was enough to make him backpedal into the wilderness.

Logan also starts to leave at you doorsteps small gifts that range from cute (some flowers he had seen you sniff earlier) to creepy (a bird you had been drawing the day before, obviously dead).

When you leave for groceries he freaks out. Are you gone?? Where?? Why?? He grows frustrated because he cannot match your car's speed. You swore you heard an inhuman howl in the distance when you were driving towards the closest town.

Logan's rage and despair know no limits while you're gone. Not even Victor dares to provoke him in the middle of his frenzy, his destructive behavior could turn the smallest hint of a challenge into a very painful death.

He feels alive again when he sees your car return. Oh? You were just in need of food? He should have noticed, you don't need to worry about it anymore, he will take care of your hunger from now on. And to make sure you never leave him again, he flattens your tires with his claws.

So he starts providing you with carcasses of his hunts, his biggest prizes, only the best for his mate. He won't eat until he makes sure you have taken a bite, which concerns him when you refuse to do so. Isn't that enough? Should he hunt for bigger prey?

Let's just say it freaks you out to open the door and find a dead deer in your porch. It's not the first time it has happened. At first you thought those "presents" as accurate as they had been to your interests, had been left behind by some stray cat, yeah yeah, totally crazy but it was the safest way of thinking. But no cat was strong enough to carry a deer like that towards your house.

Fuck holidays, it was time to leave.

The blood in your veins ran cold when you saw the flattened tires. You couldn't escape by car. Your only options was either run for an hour towards the closest town, or stay there and hope whatever was lurking in the woods, never got bored of hunting just deer.

Either option terrified you, but you couldn't stop to dwell in the pros and cons.

So you ran.

It was getting dark, and cold, and your lungs felt like they were about to explode. Yet, the thought of dying if you stopped to take a breath kept you moving forwards. You didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Until you literally couldn't take a step further.

There, in the middle of the way, something, or better said, someone, was blocking your path.

It was a man, and what a man.

Hairy like a wild beast and built like the strongest bodybuilder. He was flanked by two other equally naked men, hidden in the shadows to not overshadow the one in front of you. They were larger than him, but lower in their hierarchy, you supposed by the way they trailed behind, with their heads lowered. Their behavior reminded you of a pack of wolves.

You took a step back. Their leader, or at least who you supposed was the leader, slightly bared his teeth at you, showing the tiniest hint of two very sharp fangs.

Your mind went blank. Your entire brain short-circuited. Despite the thinly veiled threath in his actions, you unconciously took a step back.

"No." The man rumbled in a very deep voice. It sounded rough, weird even, like that was the first words he pronounced ever. Still, that wasn't enough to make him less intimidating in your eyes.

So that's why when he took a step fowards, you turned around and run.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to you. Of course he would. He moved like a fish in water, this was his territory after all.

The worst part of wanting peace and tranquility in the middle of nowhere was that nobody could hear your screams. Nobody could hear you trashing and kicking against that wall of solid muscle's strong grip.

You fought, you fought with everything you had inside. Not even when his patience ran thin and snarled at you with a sound that was more animal than man did you stop fighting.

He pushed the door of your cottage and walked in with you struggling in his arms like he owned the place. He made a beeline towards the bedroom and dropped your body unceremoniously onto the bed, wasting no time in getting on top of you when he sensed you were about to bolt.

At least the other two hadn't followed him in. Still, you knew they were out there, lurking, watching. You didn't know what was worse.

Even when he had you pinned in the bed you refused to submit. With an inhuman roar, he grabbed your neck with his right hand and pressed you against the pillow, while from the knuckles of his left hand sprouted three metal blades that sank in the pillow mere inches to your right.

He was so close to your face you could see his sharp teeth glistening. His large erection poked insistently at your thigh. In the middle of that raging cloud of emotions that went from fear to dread, arousal was certainly one you were not expecting. It was faint, yet it was there. As if your body subconciously enjoyed being roughed up by that brute. Shame filled your body.

His hand moved to the back of your neck, where he held you firmly in place. His face lowered to your pulse point, where your scent was stronger, it was driving him crazy, he could feel himself getting dizzy with it. His mouth latched at your neck, sucking, biting, licking and nipping; he couldn't get enough. Everything in him was screaming to mark you, claim you, breed you full of his pups.

But he could smell you. You weren't ready. Not yet. He had to be patient. With a last nip at your neck, he left your trembling form on the bed, muttering a single warning before he exited the cottage.

"Stay."

Stay, because he'd be watching. Stay because he'd know if you tried to escape again. Stay because it wouldn't take him much to drag you back there with him, and next time he may not be so gentle.

Before walking back into the wilderness he made sure to leave his scent all over the cottage and its surroundings once again.

Logan hadn't expected you to resist. He would have liked you had welcomed his courtship with open arms. His instincts were screaming at him to just take you and tie you to him forever. Yet, there was a tiny voice inside his mind, thatwarned him that mating with an unwilling partner would risk their hate. And if Logan craved something, was your love and devotion.

He is a predator, he is the alpha of the pack. He is a very patient creature. He had caught the smallest flick of arousal when he had manhandled you earlier. His chest puffed out proudly. That was a good reaction. In due time, he would make you his mate and you would accept, willingly.

In the meantime, he will keep courting you, catering to your needs, proving himself worthy of your affections. He doesn't need to worry about anything else.

Because in the end, you would be his.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER WHAT HAPPENED

[camo-chaser]

Whoa, I hope it pans out with this idea and they deliver in full, because the Prey movie had so much underlying sexual tension between Naru and the Predator where the ending felt like some 8 Predator Fanboys controlling all script banks came in through a single transaction by AVP Galaxy to fuck with us all, seriously. The Predator fell over when Naru breathed on him, without any recourse to the idea she could have been at least kidnapped, ensue subtext..ect

Y’all! The Predator will be the protagonist in the movie Predator: Badlands! It’s been confirmed! Holy crap! This is what we’ve been asking for!

“The Predator franchise has, over the years, given us all kinds of heroes. We got Arnie’s rippling muscles in the original; Danny Glover’s LA cop in the sequel; a gaggle of reprobates in Predators; and, most recently, Amber Midthunder’s Comanche warrior Naru in Dan Trachtenberg’s Prey. But for his next Predator outing, Trachtenberg has something very different planned. 2025 will see the release of Predator: Badlands (as well as another film in the franchise that he shot simultaneously in secret), which isn’t exactly a follow-up to Prey but a future-set tale taking place on an alien planet. And, most importantly, it brings a very different kind of Predator protagonist: the Predator itself.”

“The creature is front and centre, leading the charge,” Trachtenberg grins, speaking to Empire in the Andor Season 2 issue. “He’s still badass, but there’s something there that touches you emotionally, too. Creating a character you connect with, but are also super-intimidated by, has been challenging. But exciting.” The idea, he says, came from a desire to “find another essential piece of cinema that does what Prey did spiritually — pushing the franchise’s boundaries, letting us root for a hero we rarely get to root for — but in a different way. And that transformed into this big idea of rooting for the Predator.” Finally, the ugly mother-effer’s day has come.”

Peep the article from Empire Magazine here!

Who else is excited to see this movie? And it looks like the Yautja may have their locs put up??? This is looking to be another hopeful banger like Prey!

[tricksh0t]

★ like an animal

☾ kraven x top m reader

𝘱𝘳𝘦-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ i wrote this with kraven and reader being lovers roleplaying in mind, with some kind of chasing kink as foreplay, but it's not pictured and intentionally left vague

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 680 words

cw: dubcon, sex in a forest, vague descriptions of the reader (he can be something animal-related like Kraven, or its just his physique), big d, against a tree

Kraven was–is the perfect hunter.

That's what makes this feel so wrong. The tree bark scratches against his back, the grass blades dig into his feet, and even his own body betrays him, the skin of his thighs is chafed.

He's a lion, kings of the savannah.

You? You're a bear, king of the forest.

It's a thing of pride, being a lion, being Kraven: being at his physical peak, strength and agility.

Being a bear, however, is having strength that comes with size. It's not about having the strength so much as using it for survival.

Besides, a lion is nothing without his pack, but bears are solitary animals.

Kraven fights your hold, managing to lift his arms from the bark only temporarily. Your head snaps forward in a bite, teeth clamping down just short of his nose. You could've very well bit him at this distance, but you didn't. It's discipline.

Kraven's fight quiets.

You try to turn him, to shove his head into the bark, to take him from behind. He slams his foot down onto yours. That, he will not have.

You huff out of your nose, it's a sound of compromise, a fine.

Kraven is a lion in a forest, a treat for a bear, by all means. You'll do well to savour him, save the very last bit until there's no decorum left to appreciate.

There's none of that, though, as you're eager.

This should feel wrong, wrapping a willing leg around your back to press his ass against you and to feel your cock deeper inside. The bark pricking like needles into his back should only feed his need to fight your hold, and your distracted, wandering hands should be incentive enough to push you off; but they're not.

It's not so much about it being a bear's cock than it is about it being yours: thick, long and heavy. It's easier to appreciate things with his mouth, like the taste of salmon. Kraven'll have a taste soon enough.

For now, you fuck him like an animal, the bear you are. It's good, raw. Between your cock and his hole, there's only spit. That's the way it should be, he thinks.

There's nothing manmade about either of you except your woman-borne bodies and aged, old scars. It's natural.

Kraven wraps his evidently free arms around the thick of you, nails digging into your ample back to pull your chest against his. He needs this intimacy, the feel of your muscles against his. It's sweaty and sticky, but it's a primal need to have you against him.

Except this is anything but. He won't take, and that's not why he needs to have you.

It should feel wrong in this way too, as a lion. This kind of fucking will be fruitless, nevermind the fact he's the one being fucked, because it's too good to protest; and therein lies his desire, the pleasure.

It should feel wrong, because it's out of his nature. The predator has become the prey.

"Fuck." A little gasp escapes him as your intertwine your fingers and intertwine them above his head.

It's loving him as much as it is restraining him, intertwining your fingers and yet keeping his touch away from the rest of you.

Now there's nothing to think of except the way your cock fucks into him.

"Does that feel good, little lion?"

"Yes." Yes, your cock feels good. The length and girth of the thing make him feel like you're up to his throat. You don't ask him to, but he says it again, "Yes!"

You fuck him like an animal, hard and fast in and out of him with the only purpose being to finish. No technique, only instinct, yet it has him rolling his eyes back anyway.

You could go on for hours, he's sure, and he'd let you. He's not even thinking of escaping, anymore.

Sergei's not in his right mind to think about what's right or wrong, not now.

𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ kept lookin' at him the entire movie like 'fuck he's hot'

[faithshouseofchaos]

I'm thinking of some Christmas catstappen comfort. Particularly max making himself at home in the wrapping paper cupboard and only accepting sitting in reader's lap as payment while they're wrapping presents (and then playing with a wrapping paper ball as a treat)

Catstappen part 15 — cat!Max x reader x werewolf Daniel

Fluff

I have to make a new master list but if you search cat!max in my search bar all parts will pop up

@moss-on-tmblr @st4rshine @vivwritesfics

The wrapping paper cupboard was chaotic. Rolls of festive paper were jumbled together, ribbons spilled out of their spools, and somehow, an orange cat with pale blue eyes had made himself at home right in the middle of it all.

“Max,” you sighed, leaning against the doorframe. He blinked at you, entirely unimpressed, his tail swishing back and forth like a metronome.

“Out,” you said firmly, pointing to the floor.

Max did not move.

Instead, he stretched languidly, his paws pressing into a particularly glittery roll of paper, leaving faint claw marks. His blue eyes gleamed with a challenge.

“Don’t make me bribe you,” you warned.

If cats could smirk, you were sure Max just did.

With a dramatic sigh, you reached into your pocket, pulling out a small crumpled ball of wrapping paper you’d been planning to toss later. His ears perked up instantly.

“Come on,” you coaxed, wiggling the paper ball.

He finally leaped down, landing gracefully on the floor. You thought you’d won—until he promptly hopped onto your lap as soon as you sat down to wrap presents.

“Max!”

His weight was solid but comforting, his head butting against your chest as his purr rumbled like distant thunder.

“I need to wrap,” you tried, but he settled more firmly, curling into a ball of orange fluff.

You sighed, reluctantly reaching for the first gift and a roll of snowflake-patterned paper. Max’s tail flicked occasionally, brushing against the paper as you worked, but he seemed content to stay put—for now.

That was until you dropped a scrap of ribbon on the floor. Max’s head shot up, his blue eyes tracking the ribbon like a predator locked onto its prey.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, but he was already off, batting the ribbon across the floor.

A few minutes later, he was in the corner, wrestling with a new ball of crumpled paper, his purring audible even from across the room.

“Next year, I’m locking you out,” you muttered, though your smile betrayed you.

Max paused his play, glancing back at you with a smug flick of his tail before pouncing on the paper ball again.

“You’re ridiculous you know that right” you say as you put the presents around the tree while Max plays with the balled-up Christmas wrapping paper scraps.

“Meow” you heard from the other side of the room rolling your eyes as you continued to rearrange the present.

In the reflection of a shiny red ornament, you saw Max shift into his human form from his hand behind his back hiding something as he snuck up on you.

“Merry Christmas Schat”

“Max,” you said slowly, turning around to face him. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence, though his smirk gave him away. “Just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

“With something behind your back?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He tilted his head like he always did as a cat, the picture of faux curiosity. “What, this?” His hand came into view, revealing—of all things—a sprig of mistletoe dangling between his fingers.

“Seriously?” You folded your arms, glaring at him. “You’ve been a cat for the past two hours, tormenting me, and now you pull this?”

“Schajte,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it was meant to. The way he said it made your stomach flip in ways you hated to admit. “Consider it an apology.”

You wanted to stay mad, truly, but the glint in his eyes and the ridiculous mistletoe had your resolve wavering. His smirk softened into something more genuine as he stepped closer, holding the sprig above both of you.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, your pulse quickening as he leaned in.

“And yet,” he teased, his voice a warm hum against your skin, “you keep me around.”

Before you could retort, he closed the distance, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly soft, surprisingly tender. His free hand cupped the back of your head, anchoring you to him, and for a moment, all your irritation melted away, replaced by something much warmer.

When he finally pulled back, his grin returned, more smug than ever. “Merry Christmas, schat .”

You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up as he turned and casually sauntered back to the corner where he’d left his crumpled paper ball. In one smooth motion, he shifted back into his feline form, curling up on the floor like nothing had happened.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, touching your lips and glaring at the smug orange cat now watching you with half-lidded eyes.

[holnnetd]

Changed roles ladies!

If you checked my profile, you'd know that I'm a SUCKER for anything leporidae related. Yuppie yuppie, hares and rabbits.

And you can only imagine how happy I got seeing this post. Thank you for blessing me with that @m1cr0-bats

It became my own mission to fullfil my destiny.

HARE HYBRID!KÖNIG

Oh those huge soulless eyes staring at you in the middle of training. You wonder how a prey animal got into the army, really. But look at him. Sharp features, long ears, strong legs and a ridiculously cute stubby tail.

Hares are the most predatory of the leporidae. But still nowhere near a predator, really.

But with his height? Huge. Really. 6'6 man with the look of an European hare. The only taller counterpart would be the arctic hare, but it is not as adaptable as the all known Lupus europaeus.

Going into military with his height? Phew.

You can laugh about a hare in the military until you know the fear of standing face to face with those soul-less eyes staring deep into your soul, judging your past mistakes.

Although the overly scary man is... contradictory to any believes, really bad with depth perception. Although great with jumping far, he will most like every now and then jump into a hole. Silly.

"No, you cannot be a sniper." You'd argue, taking the sniper rifle out of his hands covered with a light peachy fuzz.

He stares at you deeply, staring into your eyes until a shiver runs down your spine from the eary look.

"I can." He absolutely can't. A sniper has to have to depth perception mastered. Pulling the trigger is to be done with great precision and unmistaken knowledge. Which is hard to attain if you don't know where the hell the enemy is standing.

"Okay, yeah. Fine." You argue, taking several steps back from the man, before standing five meters apart.

"Tell me how far I am away from you." You challenge the man. It's pretty obvious for any military staff to know it's about 5 meters. Really basic training.

"..." He started sweating, trying to figure how far it is. In his eyes you barely moved two steps. He glances in confusion on teh ground, trying to count the steps taken.

"Three."

"Three what?"

"Three meters?"

"..." A rookie would have known it's five. "You're never touching the sniper."

"Oh, komm schon! Tue mir das doch nicht an. I always wanted to be a sniper." He whines, following you as you shake your head, walking away.

He follows your out of the door, but hits his ears against the doorframe, quickly hissing before hitting his head against the side of the doorframe as he tried to look up.

Really silly.

[jinxedjackie]

Word vomit. Kinda. Sorta. Anyway, I am thinking about Sevika becoming a councilor in season 2, act three…

Sevika probably had gotten mad when the Piltie and fucking class traitor, Vi, approached her one day, spouting nonsense about offering her a seat. How she could lead Zaun into prosperity. The fucking audacity. She probably wanted to spat in their faces. Tell them to fuck off. Zaun didn’t need a seat, they needed to be on their own. Honestly, if Sevika had it her way, she would’ve left Piltover to suffer from the consequences of their own actions but Jinx hauled her, and she was Zaun’s symbol. The people of Zaun follow her. Who is she to defy?

Now, Piltover offers them a seat. It was a slap in the face. Years of systematic oppression and abuse, and they offer them a seat. The Piltie kept going on and on about how she’ll back up every decision, every project Sevika has for her people. Vi wanted her to listen and accept. It was a good opportunity, she says. It makes her blood boil.

In retrospect, it was a good opportunity. Zaun was in ruins and had suffered casualties from the war. Being a part of the council, with the support of House Kiramman (and Vi) would do good for them. But having to side with the people who had dehumanized them for decades? It makes her sick. Worse, she thinks about it and she doesn’t refuse.

Sevika was lost. She didn’t know who turned to. She asked the chem barons and the rest of Silco’s goons. No one gave her an answer, no one wanted to. Babette gave this old wisdom bullshit but it just makes everything worse. It takes her a few days to give the couple the answer they wanted to hear. She doesn’t even remember how she came to that decision or accepting it. She felt foreign to her own body. It was worse than losing her arm and being spellbound by the Herald.

But… it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. She dedicated her life for the cause. She’ll do anything and everything for Zaun.

But of all the people Caitlyn Kiramman could’ve chosen, they picked her. Her. That firelight kid—Ekko would’ve been the better choice. She’s not a leader. She could never lead. What would Vander do? What would Silco say? What could she do? Ekko built a safe community for Zaunites. Sevika was part of the empire that made Zaun more dangerous. But he’s young though. He spent his whole life fighting. She can’t let him carry that burden, especially when she’s seen Jinx suffer the same fate. She would’ve given the seat to any of the chem barons, but if Smeech was quick to give one of their people, she doubts the others wouldn’t do the same.

And then, the day she dreaded the most came. Being introduced as part of the council. Councilman Sevika. Jinx would’ve died laughing and listed witty names to call her. Isha would’ve probably wanted to help her get ready, what to say or do. Assert dominance, she’d probably have signed. They would’ve decorated her poncho with pink and blue. One last jab from Jinx, a toothy grin and thumbs up from Isha, and then they would’ve pulled off scheme to give Sevika a “grand entrance”.

When she walked into the council’s officer, the Pilties eyed her like predators. She was prey, served on a silver platter, ready to be devoured. But she had never been one to back down. She was ready for everything… almost. The scrutiny and dirty looks from these people she could handle. She had a lifetime of practice. But the ones from her own people? They made her heart ache.

Chross feigned indifference, Margot was already kissing her ass, but the two were more guarded than before. Some of the Zaunites ran up to her, thanking her for being part of the council. Our voices will finally be heard! One of the kids looked up at her with their big, innocent eyes like she’s Janna. Like she’s some savior. But most of them had became cautious and hostile of her. She was a traitor who usurped Silco’s control and power, and now wanted to play God. It hurts more when they were ready to be Sevika’s sacrificial lambs. It takes her back to her and Vi’s fight. You filthy traitor. It keeps ringing in her mind like a mantra.

[fangdokja]

The man in your apartment knows you better than you know yourself.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Stalker x Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 908

The night swallowed the city whole, wrapping it in the kind of darkness that only amplifies your breathing. He had been watching you for hours now, hidden just beyond the edges of your comprehension, a master of shadows and silence. You didn’t know, couldn’t know, but he had memorized the fragile line of your existence—the tremble in your voice when you spoke too quickly, the way your hands fumbled over themselves when you thought no one noticed. You were art in its most raw form: vulnerable, flawed, perfect.

He thought about you every second every single day. You had no idea.

The first time he saw you, it had been accidental. A fleeting moment—your back turned to him, your hair catching the low golden light like the divine threads of some celestial loom. His breath had caught, just for a second, but in that second, his world shattered and reformed around one singular truth: you were his. He didn’t know your name then, but he didn’t need to. A predator never needs to introduce himself to his prey.

Tonight, he stands in your apartment, the silence of your slumber heavy in the air. You don’t hear him, don’t feel his gaze burning into your sleeping form. You’ve sprawled out on the bed like a lamb offered up for slaughter, limbs loose, breath even. He’s been here long enough to memorize the rise and fall of your chest, the vulnerable hollow of your throat, the pulse-point just beneath your jaw. His gloved fingers twitch, aching to reach out, to press down, to claim.

But he won’t—not yet. No, not yet. Anticipation is a wine best aged, and he has patience honed by decades of knowing how to break things.

His own reflection in the mirror catches his eye. He’s huge, monstrous compared to you—broad shoulders, scarred hands, a face carved by the violence of time and regret. He looks like someone who’s torn lives apart, because he has. The juxtaposition is delicious, isn’t it? You, all soft and warm and untouched; him, sharp edges and blackened depths. The lamb and the wolf.

He steps closer, boots silent against the hardwood. Every fiber of his being screams to touch you, but he resists, fists clenching at his sides. The air feels heavier the closer he gets, charged like the moment before a storm breaks. His voice, low and guttural, cuts through the stillness, though it’s barely a whisper.

“You don’t even know, do you?”

You stir faintly in your sleep, a soft sound spilling from your lips. His chest tightens at the noise. He doesn’t want to wake you, not yet, but the idea of you opening those innocent eyes and finding him here, towering over you like the monster in the dark, makes him shudder. Fear looks good on you. He knows it will. He’s dreamt of it.

“You’re so fragile,” he murmurs, the words more for himself than for you. “I could crush you with a hand around your neck, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The knife at his hip is a comforting weight. He doesn’t intend to use it—yet. It’s there as a reminder, a talisman against his own spiraling thoughts. He wants to keep you. He’ll have to hurt you, yes, break you a little to make you fit in his world, but he won’t destroy you. Not entirely. The line between possession and obliteration is thin, razor-thin, and he walks it with a surgeon’s precision.

You shift again, this time closer to waking. A soft noise escapes your throat, and his breath hitches. He steps back into the shadows, watching as your eyes flutter open, unfocused, scanning the darkness. You sit up slowly, the blanket falling from your shoulders. The room feels wrong, doesn’t it? You’re not alone, even if your logical mind is screaming that you are.

“Who’s there?” your voice is hoarse, tinged with fear. He doesn’t answer, of course. Instead, he lets the silence stretch, lets your panic bloom like some exquisite flower. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, but it’s not there. He has it. He’s been reading your texts for weeks, combing through every word for evidence of someone who might take you from him. There’s no one. Not yet. And if there ever is, he’ll handle it.

You’re standing now, edging toward the door, your breath quickening. It’s intoxicating, watching you like this. The fear, the confusion, the dawning realization that something is deeply, irrevocably wrong.

“Why are you running?” his voice comes from the corner of the room, low and smooth and dripping with menace. You freeze, your eyes snapping to the darkness where he stands. You can’t see him, not fully, but you feel him.

“Who are you?” your voice trembles.

He steps forward into the dim light, slow and deliberate, letting you take him in. He sees the fear bloom in your eyes, sees the way your body tenses like a rabbit caught in a snare. It’s beautiful.

“I’m the only one who will ever love you the way you deserve,” he says, voice soft but cold as the grave. “You’ll understand soon enough."

And then he lunges.