#succubus reader

[quarterlifekitty]

Imagine being a succubus that feeds regularly on one John Price. He’s an excellent source of energy— vivid dreams, active imagination, plenty of pent up desires and time spent desperate for the soft touch of a woman— it’s no wonder you come back to him more than a few times a week.

What you don’t know is that John, deep in his ancestry, has a bit of demon blood in him. So he doesn’t get affected by your enchantments in quite the right way. He doesn’t wake up suddenly, convinced it was nothing more than a wild, lustful dream. No, he knows what you are and what you’re doing. And your pheromones are that much stronger

And he’s tired of you running away at first light. Always taunting him with that pink, glowing tattoo right over your womb. So cute, just beckoning him to shove his cock inside you and make it a home for his seed.

So he walks out of the occult shop, talismans in hand, excited for what the look on your face will be when you try to leave him and your wings are bound and body heavy. When he slips that delicate silver chain around your neck, the spell inside humming to life. And when you find out that his demon blood makes you breeding compatible…

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?

[pursuitseternal]

“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut

Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.

CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.

Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List

Better get your rope…

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Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.

Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.

Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.

Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.

That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.

“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.

“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.

“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”

“What?” you startle.

“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”

“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.

“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”

Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”

Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”

“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.

“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.

“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.

That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.

You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.

A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.

That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…

You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.

You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.

But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.

Maybe.

One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.

He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.

The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.

He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.

“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.

As if he’s fighting with himself.

“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”

That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.

His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”

He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.

That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.

Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.

His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”

His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.

Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”

You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.

He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.

But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”

You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.

What harm could one kiss do?

You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.

He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.

His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.

Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.

“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.

“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.

“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”

The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.

You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.

The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.

He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.

One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.

But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.

He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.

He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”

Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.

You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.

You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.

“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”

“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.

He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”

Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”

The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”

You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.

A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.

Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.

His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.

He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.

Even more limp this time.

You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.

“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”

Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.

The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.

Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.

And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.

Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.

Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.

You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.

Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.

By using yours.

By using you.

It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…

This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.

For his own sake of course.

That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.

And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.

“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”

You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.

He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”

“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”

He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”

The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.

He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”

Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.

“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”

He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.

And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.

It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.

“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”

He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.

“You will come for me again, won’t you?”

You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.

You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”

He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.

“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.

And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”

You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.

He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.

You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”

His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.

He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.

His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.

Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.

That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.

He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.

He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.

“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.

It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.

It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.

“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”

Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.

He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.

You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.

How dirty you’ve been.

“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.

“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”

You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”

“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”

He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.

And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.

You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.

“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”

“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”

You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”

“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.

“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.

You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”

He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”

You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”

He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”

[natsukicookies]

The sinful allure

A reverse harem batboys x succubus!reader

No proper beta read, we die like jason todd

Prologue < masterlist > chapter 2

Sun crept through your window, bright and annoying. You groaned, burying your face into your pillow, hoping to squeeze out just a few more minutes of sleep. But flashes of the previous night flickered in your mind—your newfound powers, the strange allure you’d suddenly developed, the rush of something dark and thrilling awakening inside you.

With a sigh, you peeled yourself out of your soft bed, half-convinced it had all been some bizarre dream. But a quick glance in the mirror, the faint shimmer of your eyes catching the light, reminded you otherwise.

You looked down at the pendant, letting it dangle from your fingers as you stepped out of your room. The familiar weight was comforting, yet now it felt heavier, almost like it held secrets you weren’t ready to understand. Your gaze drifted down the hall to your mom’s door, firmly shut. She’d come home super late, probably just before dawn. She was likely out cold by now, lost in whatever sleep she could scrape together.

You wanted to tell her about last night, about everything you’d discovered. She probably knew something, after all. She’d always insisted you wear this pendant, almost as if it was meant to protect you from something... or someone.

Your fingers traced the edges of the pendant as you took a hesitant step toward her room. You bit your lip, torn between the need to tell her and the fear of what she might say. Just as you raised your hand to knock on her door, a voice whispered in the back of your mind, warning you to stop. It was soft but certain, urging you to turn back, to keep this one thing to yourself.

With a sigh, you lowered your hand, stepping back from the door. Maybe telling her wasn’t the right move after all. Not yet.

You tucked the pendant back under your shirt and headed for the bathroom to get ready before taking your stuff and heading out the front as quietly as you could.

Did you want to go to college? No, you would much rather sleep in, since sleeping makes you not think about your problems. But do you have that luxury? Also no. Attending GSU means having an attendance above 85%.

So, off you went.

As you walked across campus, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. People kept staring at you—casual glances, lingering looks, the kind of attention that made you want to shrink back. You checked yourself quickly—did you have something weird on your clothes? Was there something in your hair?, it took a moment before it finally clicked.

You were drawing them in, your powers was pulling their attention without you even trying.

A few students casually glanced over their shoulders as they walked past you, their eyes lingering a little too long. You could feel the shift in the air, a subtle magnetism you couldn’t turn off.

Not good, you thought. The last thing you needed was to be a walking distraction.

You quickened your pace, hoping to avoid any further attention, but the feeling stuck with you. Your powers were already starting to affect your daily life, and you had no idea how to control them.

You practically sprinted to the nearest campus bathroom and locked yourself in one of the stalls, your breathing still a bit shaky. “Okay, get yourself together,” you muttered, pressing your palms to your cheeks. You gave yourself a light slap for good measure. “Don’t attract unwanted attention.”

You shook your head, gripping the pendant around your neck. "Not now," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "Please," you pleaded, hoping for some way to keep this strange new energy from leaking out.

For a moment, the pendant seemed to pulse, a faint glow that was almost too subtle to notice. You blinked, wondering if you’d imagined it, but there was no time to figure it out.

A glance at your phone made your heart skip—you had only a few minutes before your lecture started. With one last, steadying breath, you unlocked the stall and stepped out, trying to convince yourself that everything would be fine.

You slipped into the lecture as the teacher was preparing to start and found a seat in the back row.

You noticed a few people glancing your way, but you forced yourself to ignore it, focusing instead on the lecture—or at least pretending to. A few rows ahead sat Timothy Drake-Wayne. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. He had it all: wealth, great grades despite being absent half the time, and, annoyingly, he looked good doing it.

You chewed on your bottom lip, still burning holes into the back of his head with your gaze. Timothy Drake, the ever-diligent student, sat there calm and collected like the top student he was.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice when he shifted slightly, glancing back as if sensing your gaze. Your heart jumped into your throat, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be utterly engrossed in the lecture slides on your laptop.

You cursed softly under your breath, hunching over your notebook as You tried to look engrossed in the lecture, scribbling random notes as if they were the most important thing in the world. To anyone watching, you probably looked like a model student—if only that were actually true.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could feel Tim lingering for a second longer before turning back to his notes. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head.

Great job, you thought sarcastically. Staring at the guy like some creep definitely won’t raise any suspicion.

Somehow, you managed to avoid everyone by lunchtime. Unfortunately, that's where your luck decided to run out. 

Just as you were about to sit down with your tray of food, a hand landed on your shoulder from behind. Startled, you turned to see a tall girl with long raven-black hair and a dazzling smile. 

"Hi there! I'm Yumiko!" she said enthusiastically. 

"Uh... hi?" you replied awkwardly, blinking at her.

Before you could process much else, she practically pushed you into a seat and plopped down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you were old pals. You stiffened. Was this your powers at work? Did they affect women too?

Great. You sarcastically remarked inside your head.

"You’re in the computer science major, right?" she asked brightly. 

Instead of answering right away, you found yourself distracted, noting the expensive-looking way her hair was styled and the designer clothes she was wearing. One of the Richie Rich types on campus. 

"Yeah, I am," you finally replied, setting your tray on the table and introducing yourself. 

"Oh, I know who you are," she said with a grin. "I’ve seen you around a lot. Always alone much?" 

Her tone wasn’t mocking, exactly, but it still made you feel a bit exposed. You laughed awkwardly, hoping she’d leave it at that. She didn’t. 

To your dismay, Yumiko stayed glued to your side for the entire lunch, talking non-stop. She was a confident yapper and had no problem carrying the conversation entirely on her own. 

By the time lunch ended, it was clear she’d decided you were her new best friend. Was this how people made friends these days? Just walk up to someone and start yapping until they give up? 

It seems you just got adopted by an extrovert and It is yet to know if that's a good thing or a bad.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, and by the time your classes ended, the universe decided to throw in another curveball: rain. A sudden, heavy downpour. 

You stood under the overhang at the university's entrance, watching as people dashed out with backpacks over their heads or casually strolled under umbrellas. Unfortunately for you, your umbrella was sitting somewhere in your closet at home. In your defence, the rain had come out of nowhere. 

Letting out a sigh, you leaned against the wall, wondering how long you’d have to wait for it to stop. Just then, a tall guy caught your attention. His arms were stacked full of art supplies—sketchbooks, tubes of paint, and a container of brushes precariously balanced on top. 

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, eyebrows raised. Is he even able to see? How does he plan to get anywhere like that in this weather?

The thought had barely finished crossing your mind when, somehow, he pulled out an umbrella with one hand, expertly snapping it open without dropping a single item.

Well, if that isn't a skill, then you don't know what is.

Your admiration was short-lived, though, as you noticed a box of brushes tumble to the ground. Without thinking, you stepped forward. 

"Oh, let me help," you said, bending down to pick it up. His hands were full, and there was no way he could manage it on his own. 

You bent down and grabbed the box of brushes, carefully gathering the scattered ones that had fallen out. Straightening up, you turned to hand it back to him, the words already forming on your lips.

“Here you go—”

But then you froze.

Your gaze travelled up, taking in the neatly pressed blazer, the dark green eyes that seemed to hold a perpetual sharpness, and the ever-so-slight frown on his lips. You blinked, your brain catching up with your eyes.

It was Damian Wayne.

The Damian Wayne.

Your mind reeled. He wasn’t just some rich kid with impeccable manners -though he clearly was-. No, he was practically Gotham royalty, the youngest son of Bruce Wayne. You’d seen him before, of course—art major, quiet, always exuding a weird mix of arrogance and composure.

“Oh,” you said dumbly, still holding the box of brushes like you’d forgotten how hands worked.

He tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze flicking to the box and then back to you. “Thank you,” he said, his tone polite but clipped, as though he were in a hurry.

You quickly snapped out of it and held the box out to him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Damian reached for it, but his full hands made it a bit awkward. Before you could think better of it, you blurted out, “Do you need help carrying all that?”

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing your motives. “I can manage,” he replied, though the strain in his arms told a different story.

“Seriously,” you pressed, “you’re one gust of wind away from dropping everything.”

Normally, you wouldn't have said that; you definitely would've just backed away, not offered to help or get involved with rich kids, but the whole day hasn't been normal.

And to your surprise, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “If you insist,” he said, stepping slightly closer and shifting some of the weight your way.

He handed you a few of the items, ones that you could easily hold with one hand. You adjusted your grip, but as you looked up at him, you noticed he was still carrying the rest of the art supplies awkwardly in his arms.

You tilted your head slightly, then stretched out your other arm. “I can hold the umbrella too,” you offered, a little surprised at your boldness.

Damian raised an eyebrow at you, clearly considering your offer. For a moment, he didn’t respond, just watching you with those calculating green eyes. Finally, he gave a small shrug and passed you the umbrella.

You opened the umbrella and held it over the both of you. “Let’s go,” you said confidently, starting to walk.

But then you glanced up at the man next to you and had to bite your lip to hold back a laugh.

Damian’s expression was as composed as ever, but there was no denying the issue: you were too short. The angle of the umbrella was blocking his view, forcing him to tilt his head slightly just to see ahead.

“You’re... not very tall, are you?” he finally said, his tone dry but not unkind, though you could hear the faintest trace of amusement beneath it.

You bristled, your grip on the umbrella tightening as your cheeks warmed. “I-I’m average height,” you mumbled, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

'It's you who built like a damn tree', you thought to yourself, biting your inner cheeks.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your defence. “If you say so.”

You opened your mouth to respond but quickly snapped it shut, unsure of what to say. Instead, you focused on adjusting the umbrella, standing on your tiptoes to raise it higher.

“Better?” you asked, your voice small.

Damian stared at you for a good second before saying “Not really,” his tone wasn’t harsh. “You’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”

Your face heated up even more as you avoided his gaze. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your arms were already starting to ache from the awkward angle.

With a small sigh, Damian reached out and gently adjusted the umbrella himself, tilting it slightly so it covered you both without blocking his view. “There. Now you don’t have to strain yourself.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling awkward but grateful. You focused on the ground as you walked, the sound of the rain filling the silence.

It was hard to tell if he found the situation funny or frustrating, but either way, you were too embarrassed to look up and find out.

The walk wasn’t too far, and as you approached the university gates, you noticed the sleek, black Lamborghini parked right outside. Your eyes widened slightly, though you quickly tried to play it cool, pretending like you weren’t totally awestruck. It wasn’t every day you saw a Lamborghini up close, let alone one waiting for someone you were walking with. 

The window rolled down, revealing an older man with a composed expression. A butler? His sharp eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to Damian. “Master Damian,” the man greeted, his voice formal but warm. Then his gaze shifted back to you. “A friend?” 

You quickly shook your head, the thought of being called Damian Wayne’s friend feeling almost laughable. 

“She’s helping,” Damian confirmed curtly, already moving to take the supplies out of your hands. He carefully loaded them into the car with practised ease, his movements quick and efficient. 

You stepped back, awkwardly holding the umbrella as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Um, the umbrella,” you said, fumbling to close it so you could hand it back to him. 

But before you could, he glanced at you and said, “Keep it,” in a tone that left no room for argument. 

With that, the car door shut, and you barely had time to process what just happened before the butler gave you a polite nod. “Thank you for assisting Master Damian,” he said with a faint smile before driving off, leaving you standing there in the rain with the umbrella still in your hand. 

You stared after the car, baffled. What just happened? You looked down at the umbrella in your hand, its sleek design and obvious quality making it clear it wasn’t some cheap, replaceable thing. 

“Keep it?” you murmured to yourself, still confused. Did rich people just give away expensive umbrellas like it was nothing...? 

It seems your 18th birthday just couldn’t get more unpredictable...or surreal.

It was no point lingering here any longer, and hence why you made your way home.

As soon as you opened the front door, you yelped in surprise at the loud pop that echoed through the apartment. "Happy birthday!"

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of your mom standing there with a birthday blaster in her hand, confetti raining down around you both.

"Thank you..." you said, still in shock. She hadn’t done anything like this since you were 15, and the memory of those days made you feel both nostalgic and awkward.

You stepped inside, setting the umbrella by the door, and your gaze fell on the small cake sitting on the dining table. Your favourite flavour, So she still remembers.

Your mom smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know it’s not much, but... I didn’t want to let the day go by without doing something.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile. “It’s perfect.”

You and your mom enjoyed the cake together, talking about lighthearted things—you did your best to steer the conversation away from the weirdness that had been haunting you all day. 

It almost felt perfect, like it was before but that's when your delusional ass got kicked back into the reality as you saw your mom got up and put her coat on.

“Wait, are you going to work?” you asked, standing up quickly. 

She glanced at the time on her phone and gave you a sad smile. “Yes, dear. I have work.” 

You opened your mouth, a plea to stay stuck in your throat. Instead, you forced yourself to smile. “It’s fine.” 

It’s fine to leave your daughter alone on her birthday. 

She leaned in to kiss your forehead, but you instinctively stepped back. Her shoulders sagged slightly at the motion, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she sighed and gave a small nod. “Well, make sure to keep the pendant on,” she said, her gaze lingering on it for a moment too long. You hoped she didn’t notice anything strange about it. 

Biting your lip, you hesitated before speaking, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why do I have to keep wearing it?” 

Her expression tightened for a split second before softening. “Because I said so, and your mother knows best.” 

With that, she walked out, leaving you alone with more questions than answers.

The door closed with a soft click, and just like that, you were alone again in the small apartment. The emptiness pressed down on you, heavier than usual. 

You gathered the used plates and carried them to the sink, washing them on autopilot. As you stared at the faint reflection of yourself in one of the plates, an ache bloomed in your chest. 

Today felt more lonely than ever... You weren’t sure why. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a faint glow from your pendant. The soft pink light pulsed, almost as if it were alive—calling for you to do something, urging you to take action. 

You raised it to eye level, your fingers tightening around it. The faint light danced in front of your eyes as if it were mocking you. 

"Why?" you whispered to yourself, your grip tightening further. Your mind is filled with all the times your mom has done this; she always does this.

With a burst of frustration, you ripped the pendant from around your neck. “Screw you, Mom,” you muttered under your breath. 

The moment the pendant left your neck, the world around you seemed to shift. A surge of energy coursed through your body, and when you glanced down, your reflection in the darkened kitchen window startled you. 

Your entire appearance had changed. 

You took a shaky breath, shoving the pendant deep into the pocket of your suit. It was clear that whatever this pendant was hiding, you weren’t going to ignore it any longer.

You went out through the balcony but made sure you closed it back; the last thing you want is to get smth stolen.

Flying up in the sky made you instantly feel better; the cold air was calming, though you do wish Gotham was a bit less polluted. Maybe you could see stars or maybe not.

You landed softly on the rooftop, your gaze drifting to the edge. For a moment, you imagined yourself sitting there, legs swinging freely over the city below, just like in the movies. But the thought of the dizzying drop made your stomach twist. Your feet stayed rooted in place. Instead, you turned to the railing, gripping its cool metal as you leaned against it, keeping a safe distance from the edge.

You let out a heavy sigh, still gazing down at the gloomy city below.

“You.” A deep male voice called out from behind you. Startled, you spun around, only to feel the cold, sharp edge of a katana hovering dangerously close to your neck. Instinctively, you stepped back—only to find the railing pressing against your spine.

You looked up at the owner of the katana, your eyes met their narrowed gaze behind a black domino mask. "Do not even think of escaping," he said, his tone as sharp as the weapon he wielded.

You gulped, your grip tightening on the railing as if it could anchor you away from the danger at your throat. “I’m not a shady person,” you tried your voice a mix of nervousness and forced confidence. Explaining was your best shot at avoiding whatever this guy had planned.

Robin. Another one of the bats. The rumours said he had no mercy, and it didn’t take long to believe them. Who else greets a stranger by shoving a katana in their face?

And those steps- silent as the grave. You hadn’t even heard him approach. There was no way you could fight him. Maybe... in bed-

You shook off the inappropriate thought, heat creeping up your neck, and faced the tall figure before you. “How about we put this away first?” you gestured at the katana, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t move. If anything, the tilt of his head made him seem more intimidating, his expression unreadable under the mask. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmissable authority behind it, the kind that left no room for excuses.

Your smile faltered into a tight line. Okay, so this one wasn’t going to be as easy to fool as the last guy. “Can’t a girl just go out for some fresh air?” you replied, planting a hand on your hip in mock indignation.

Robin’s eyes narrowed further, the suspicion practically radiating from him. “Who are you with? Catwoman?”

“Huh? No!” you protested, your hands flailing in emphasis. “I’m-”

Before you could finish, a faint voice crackled through the earpiece he wore. His expression shifted slightly as he tilted his head, listening intently to whatever was being said.

After a moment, he replied curtly, “She is.”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. She is what? You wanted to ask, but the words didn’t make it past your lips.

To your relief, he finally lowered the katana, though his sharp gaze remained fixed on you. Letting out a sigh, you resisted the urge to slump against the railing in pure relief. At least you weren’t about to be beheaded- yet.

But before you could decide whether to thank him or try to bolt, another sound broke through the tension—metal clinking above, followed by heavy footsteps landing on the rooftop. You tensed instinctively, darting a glance over Robin’s shoulder.

Robin, seemed to know who it was as he slid his katana back into its sheath. That alone was enough for you to guess it was one of the other bats. You silently prayed it wasn’t Batman; you weren’t confident you could sneak away from the Dark Knight, yet.

The figure stepped into the dim light, revealing a man wearing a black domino mask that hid his eyes. Unlike Robin’s primarily grey ensemble, this one wore a striking red and black suit, with a belt strapped diagonally across his shoulders

You squinted, trying to piece together who this newcomer could be. Truth be told, you weren’t exactly up to date with the ever-growing roster of vigilantes. Guess it was time to add “study Gotham’s masked weirdos” to your to-do list- because, apparently, those guys couldn’t seem to leave you alone.

"Um, Red Hood?" you ventured, tilting your head slightly as you took a wild guess.

The man froze mid-step, then turned to you with a look that could peel paint off walls. “Red Hood?!” he repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and offense. “Do I look like a giant, violent dog to you?!”

You bit back a laugh, but the smile still slipped through. “No,” you said, tapping your chin like you were pondering. “You look more like… a twink.”

"The guy’s shoulders tensed as if bracing for an explosion.

“A what?” the man barked, his voice pitching higher as his hands shot to his hips.

“A twink,” you repeated, your grin widening. “Wait, no. Maybe a twunk? Hard to say, really.”

The twitch in his eye was subtle, but it made you laugh quite a bit. Robin let out a quiet sigh, muttering something about “unprofessional” under his breath.

You wipe the tear off your eye as you calmed down from the laughter. Both the boys were whispering about something as you were quietly thinking about your escape plan.

You carefully take a look around you, noticing that their attention isn't fully on you as they seem to be too busy arguing with each other on smth.

Drawing a deep breath, you focused on your core, feeling a subtle warmth spread through your core to your whole body as your senses sharpen.

With a sudden, fluid motion, you stepped back toward the edge of the rooftop. The cool night air whipped around you as you balanced precariously on the ledge. The city lights below seemed to blur into a mosaic of possibilities.

"Hey!" Robin's voice cut through the night, alarm replacing suspicion as he realized your intent.

But before he or his companion could react, you let yourself fall backward, embracing the void. The sensation of freefall was both terrifying and liberating, a testament to your trust in your new found powers.

As you plummeted, you blew a playful kiss toward the rapidly shrinking figures above. However, just before you could activate your abilities to halt your descent, a sudden jerk halted your fall.

Glancing down, you saw a rope coiled tightly around your left leg, its other end leading upward. Your eyes followed the line to see the man beside Robin wielding a grapple gun, his expression determined.

"Is that a fucking grapple gun?!" you yelled, throwing your arms up in exasperation as you felt yourself being pulled back toward the rooftop.

“Hello again,” you greeted with a wry smile, though it held no warmth.

“Figures why Nightwing told us to be on high alert…” the shorter one muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Your pout deepened as you realized that wonder boy from yesterday had snitched on you. Mentally cursing Nightwing, you shifted in place, your bindings reminding you just how little freedom you currently had.

“Can you two at least untie me?” you asked, feigning boredom. “I’ll have you know I’m not into this kink… yet.”

Robin rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your sass. His irritation radiated like a tangible force as he turned away, refusing to dignify your remark with a response.

The one they called Red Robin, however, crouched down to your level, studying you with a curious intensity. His eyes, though hidden behind his mask, felt like they were peeling back layers, trying to uncover the truth buried beneath your casual façade.

“And what exactly are you into?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with dry humor, as though testing your reaction.

You tilted your head, your smile sharpening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Suddenly a loud blast echoed from a nearby building, shaking the air and rattling the rooftop beneath you.

All three of you turned your heads toward the source of the explosion. Smoke billowed into the night sky, mingling with Gotham’s ever-present haze.

Robin’s sharp gaze immediately snapped back to you, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Was that your doing?” he demanded, his tone icy and accusatory.

You gasped dramatically, tugging at the ropes still binding you. “Excuse me? No! Do I look like I have the time—or the hands free—to plant explosives?”

Robin’s expression remained skeptical, but before he could retort, a crackle from their earpieces interrupted. Both vigilantes stiffened as a voice—likely Batman’s—relayed urgent information.

After a brief exchange, the two of them nodded in silent agreement. You looked between them, utterly bewildered. “What’s going on?” you asked, even though you weren’t expecting an answer.

To your surprise, Red Robin turned to you, his tone clipped but calm. “Someone’s planted multiple bombs in that building. We have to disarm them now.”

“Oh…” you muttered, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Then you wriggled slightly against the ropes. “So, uh, are you going to untie me before you leave?”

Robin’s glare made it clear he wasn’t about to do that. “Stay here until we get back,” he snapped.

“Wait—” you started to protest, but before you could say more, they were gone. Their grappling hooks hissed through the air as they launched themselves toward the chaos, leaving you alone.

You stared at the empty rooftop, slack-jawed. “Huh… HUH?!” you shouted, twisting against the ropes in frustration. “Did they really just leave me tied up here?! What if I get kidnapped? Or, I don’t know, fall off the roof and die?!”

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic. But still, leaving you like this? Super rude. 

With a resigned sigh, you shuffled to your feet—no easy feat with your hands bound behind your back. The ropes dug into your wrists as you tested their strength. They were sturdy, clearly designed to restrain someone a lot more dangerous than you. Breaking them wasn’t an option, not with brute strength alone. 

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. “Just fantastic.”

You leaned back against the rooftop’s edge, tilting your head toward the sky. A lone bat flitted across the moonlit expanse, its wings slicing effortlessly through the cool night air. 

“Must be nice to be a bat,” you murmured wistfully. “No ropes, no problems… Just flying wherever you want. Way less complicated.”

The words had barely left your lips when a strange sensation washed over you. The world around you shifted, twisting like a kaleidoscope. Your vision blurred, the rooftop spinning before your eyes. 

You blinked, once, twice, and when the dizziness faded, you looked down. 

Your hands—or rather, where your hands used to be—were gone. In their place were tiny claws, and your body was… smaller? 

“What the—?” you squeaked, but the sound that came out wasn’t your voice—it was a high-pitched chirp. 

Flapping your wings instinctively, you darted upward, and that’s when it hit you.

“I… I’m a bat?!” you yelled—or at least, you tried to. It came out more like a shrill squeak, echoing awkwardly in the night air. Glancing down, you noticed the ropes that had bound you lying uselessly on the ground. It seems that, your transformation has freed you. 

You flapped your tiny wings experimentally, marveling at how effortlessly you soared higher into the sky. Okay, this was… weird. Cool, but weird. 

Now you had two options. One: go home, curl up with some ice cream, and forget this entire bizarre night ever happened. Two: follow those Robin birds.

The logical choice was clear. Who in their right mind would willingly chase after the guys who tied them up and left them stranded on a rooftop? 

…You. 

Because apparently, rationality had taken a backseat tonight. Or maybe it was something else. Their scent lingered in the air, tantalizing in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It was rich and enticing, like the promise of a forbidden feast. 

Your stomach—or whatever bats or succubus have—grumbled. Was this hunger? It felt like it.

Or was this your powers messing with your head? Is this what HE meant by urges? You didn’t know, but the pull was irresistible. Without a second thought, you flapped your wings harder, cutting through the air toward the building they’d disappeared into. 

The closer you got, the stronger the scent became, making your thoughts fuzzy. You weren’t literally drooling, but it was a close call. What the hell was happening to you?

Fun fact i got this chapter done on my birthday but had to wait untill i got someone to beta read it :>

Please tell me if theres smth off about the chapter or the personality of the batboys. Since this is my first time writing ab them, im afraid they are gonna be very ooc.

Also how do ppl upload to ao3 i wanna try but its so confusing 😭

Lastly do yall got any hero name for the succubus reader?? Please help a girl out 😔🎀

-

Taglist: @xingyunny @4rachn3 @ferakillia

[djljpanda]

Could you write a Ozzie x Fizz x Idol! Succubus! Gn-reader? Like how they would be with readers occupation? If not that’s totally fine!

Asmodeus X Fizzarolli X Idol Gn!Reader

Before you even got with Ozzie and Fizz your name was well known throughout the seven rings of hell.

I feel that the two wouldn't mind your career but would be upset when you would have your tours that would take centuries for you to come back.

And why would they have a secret fan account for you were they would post about you and defend you from any haters.

They do love that you are chasing after your dream but do get worried for you when it comes to fans.

They would always be there to protect you when fans would get too close and that poor demon would be gone if they would try to hurt you or follow you in any way.

They love the costumes you wear and even beg you to wear it for them in the bedroom.

They do have merch of you somewhere in their room.

Asmodeus does send bodyguards for you cause nothing should happen to his partner. And Fizzarolli is usually texting you to make sure you are alright.

When you are creating new songs you do go over them with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli to see how they would think.

Overall they worry about you but they know that this is your dream all they ask for is for you to be careful and to come back home as quickly as you can.

[the-entitie]

Why didn't you say anything?

Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):

A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.

Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》

Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.

CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....

Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.

You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.

None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.

Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.

You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.

Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.

That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.

It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.

You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.

When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.

And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.

When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.

In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.

It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.

You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.

And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.

He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.

And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.

So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.

Starting small.

Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.

Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.

Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.

The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.

Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.

Soap was the first to notice the actual change.

Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.

"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.

"All good Cap."

"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"

"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."

"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"

"Apologies, old habits."

Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.

"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"

His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.

He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.

"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"

"Not of my use in this team."

"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."

That night, he let you ride him.

Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.

He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.

Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.

He shut that down real quick.

[heroesrest64]

Succubus Reader Pt.2

(Honestly this has been consuming my brain. I was trying to work on literally any other project but I kept coming back to this AU idea so I gave in and wrote some more for it lol. Also Silver Lining by Laufey is all I hear when I think of this AU [also also the second half of this part was heavily inspired by A Night To Remember by Laufey and Beabadoobee]. Anyway. Thank you @doodle-with-rhy for requesting more, and let’s get into it!)

(Warnings: NSFW, minors dni. Scent kink (?) Somnophilia (??) idk tell me if I need to add anything else)

The camp is deathly quiet as you hold your hand out to Sky. He pauses, looking from your hand to your face, as if gauging if your earlier words were your truth- if you would truly bite through his hand, severing flesh, tendon and bone in order to sustain yourself.

Regardless of whatever worries might be filling the man’s mind, he places his palm against yours, and your smile ticks upwards before you pull the appendage towards your mouth.

He flinches at the first touch of your lips against his skin, but notably does not draw back, even as you pepper kisses to the back of his hand, dragging the affections down to the tips of his fingers.

He draws in a sharp breath when you pull his fingers into your mouth, and immediately you feel a rush of arousal building in the man. Funnily enough, a couple of your spectators are also feeling a little hot under the collar, but Sky was the only one who gave you permission to taste him.

Heat scalds the man’s cheeks as you move to grab his other hand, nails tracing shapes into the man’s skin as your tongue glides through the fingers in your mouth. A ward- a protection on his soul so that even if you wanted, you could not claim his soul as yours, at least in this moment.

The pleasures a succubus offers, even one as low leveled as you, are known to drive even the most steadfast men and women mad. Sky is a nice person, though, and is doing you a favor, and you will not squander his generosity for a simple meal ticket.

His breath becomes labored as your aphrodisiac laced spit sinks into his skin, and he shuffles in his seat, obviously trying to get some friction going even as you release his hands and lean forward to kiss him.

He tastes like something clean and fresh, minty in a way that burns your eyes and tingles at the tip of your nose. There’s something beneath the mint, soothing and floral. Is it chamomile?

Sky whines when you gently nibble at his lower lips, hands coming up and taking fistfuls of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. Once he runs out of breath and draws away, though, you know that you’ll need to take a step back. Already your lust is flickering inside your chest, and you can’t afford to go overboard with him.

It’s funny, though. Sky stays latched onto you far longer than you thought possible, carefully trailing his hands down your arms until you shiver from the ticklish feeling, tangling your tongues together skillfully and staring you down with storms brewing behind his sky blue eyes.

Eventually, he has to draw back, panting and wiping your pink tinted spit from his lips, only to lick the liquid off his fingers like it was an extra serving of honey he didn’t want to waste. Already you can see the effects of your lust rubbing off on him, hot pink pooling in his eyes, creating a sunset effect that’s hard to look away from. Of course, there’s also the bulge in his pants, and the way he leans to follow you even as you pull away.

“That was… enough?” He sounds disappointed, but you remind yourself he’s only acting like that because of your magic. He’ll be back to normal in a matter of minutes.

“Yes, thank you.” You turn away, cheeks flushed with your lust and embarrassment. Truth be told, that wasn’t even a whole meal, more like a quick snack, but it was enough. You need it to be enough. You can’t risk these people for your own never ending hunger, and already you’ve asked too much of Sky.

“I see…” Sky sighs, disappointed, and soon you hear his fork clinking against his bowl. Once you’re sure he’s moved on from your feeding, you find enough courage in your heart to take a look at your captors.

Most of them are in some state of arousal, carefully covering their nether regions and refusing to make eye contact with you. It’s comical, and you let out a huff of a laugh before going back to drawing runes on the ground.

~~

“Seeing as you don’t have a bedroll, and we wouldn’t want you sleeping alone in case you escape, we decided it would be easier if you shared a bedroll with someone. You can choose whoever you want, just know we are all equally capable of stopping any escape plans.” Time smiles innocently at you once dinner is done and some of the boys scurry off to clean up before going to bed. Immediately you decide that you won’t be sharing a bedroll with him.

You also don’t want to share a bed with Sky, on the off chance your magic hasn’t faded from his system and you end up sharing a night with him the two of you will regret.

Legend would be a safe bet if you wanted to avoid any romantic or sexual advances, but you also feel like he’d take you rolling over in your sleep as an escape attempt and immediately try to put you out of your misery.

That still leaves quite a few options, and your eyes flit across the camp before landing on Four. He’s about as good an option as any of them.

“I’ll sleep with Four, if it’s okay with him…” You mumble, and Time raises an eyebrow at you before looking at the shorter man. The two exchange a few words before Four wanders over, holding out his hand to help you to your feet.

The two of you flop into his bedroll with little ceremony, and Four turns to face you as soon as you’ve settled into a comfortable position, one arm propping your head up while the other hugs around your middle.

“Are you comfortable enough?” He asks once you let out a contented sigh, eyes glittering like gems in the dimming firelight. Sometimes, when an ember draws near enough, his eyes look like rubies and amethysts, and you try not to think about your old home decorated in the same precious gemstones.

“Yes, thank you.” You whisper, trying to be quiet seeing as most of the rest of the men are settling down or already snoring.

“I noticed you didn’t have a bag, were you just supposed to be out for a short while?” Four asks, sounding innocent enough, but his words cause a dull ache in your chest. Demons aren’t supposed to have ‘homes’, but you’ve never really been able to call yourself a true demon. As much as you were struggling to survive down in hell, At least you had a place to call your own. Now, you don’t even have that.

You don’t respond to Four's question for a long time, a million thoughts running through your head but none of them encompassing the hurt you truly feel in the moment. It’s like it’s all sinking in now. Getting kicked out of hell with nothing but the clothes on your back. Getting kidnapped by a bunch of people who practically scream ‘I Have The Protection Of Hylia On My Side’. Feeding on one of those men. Sharing a bed with a different one of them. Your throat feels like it’s closing up, but that’s a silly thought. Demons don’t need to breathe. But you’ve never been that good of a demon, now have you?

“Hey, it’s okay. Y-you don’t need to answer if you don’t want.” Four stutters, carefully reaching his hands out, but letting them hover in front of you. Something hot rolls down your cheek, and you realize that you’re crying. As soon as you process that fact, it’s like the floodgates open, and you begin sobbing in earnest, not even bothering to ask for permission before slumping into Four’s arms, wrapping yourself tightly around him as the tears continue to sear your cheeks and you hiccup out some garbled words into his shoulder.

It feels like the two of you lie like that for a while, your wails eventually calming to the occasional stuttered breath, and your tears becoming nothing more than sticky trails on your cheeks. You whisper a mumbled apology for staining the man’s tunic, hand trailing up in a futile effort to wipe off the watery mark. He doesn’t say anything about the stain, and for a second you think he might’ve fallen asleep like that, but his hands are still rubbing gently at your back, and eventually he whispers that it’s okay and that you should try to get some sleep.

~~

After your breathing slows, and your desperate hold on Four relaxes into something softer and less tense, Four lets out a long-winded sigh. It’s hard to believe you’re some kind of villain when you cried so readily into his shoulder. It could’ve been the stress of getting caught, but if that was the case, you would’ve broken down into a similar fit ages ago.

No, you’re probably not a villain. You’re scared and lost and you barely even have a set of clothes to your name.

Which is why Four finds himself riddled with guilt five minutes later, nose buried against your neck, cheeks flushed bright red, a tension in his pants that’s growing more and more uncomfortable.

Four shifts, trying to get comfortable, only to let out a low hiss when his erection brushes against your plush thighs. He really shouldn’t. He won’t, but he needs to do something to get rid of the throbbing between his legs, or he’s afraid he’ll be up for the rest of the night.

Carefully, Four turns in your hold, facing away from you and the cherry wood scent coming off of you. Something between a moan and a mumble leaves your lips at the motion, and Four feels a rush of arousal. He whispers a curse under his breath, feeling embarrassed and desperate as he shoves a hand down his pants, quickly taking his dick in his hand and beginning to rub it with as much patience as he can muster in the moment.

He can’t go too fast, isn’t willing to risk getting caught in such a compromising position, but the slow pace is maddening, especially when he feels you pull him closer like he’s some sort of teddy bear, sighing gently next to his too-sensitive ears.

Four has only just met you today, but he finds himself thinking about what you’d do if you were awake. He saw how you treated Sky earlier, dangerously clawed hands tracing, feather-soft lips kissing, sharp teeth nibbling. He can imagine each intimate touch burning into his skin, then dipping dangerously lower, fishing his cock out of his pants and pumping him, licking up his shaft. He imagines you taking him down easily, pictures you choking on it. Cherrywood wafts past his nose, and he feels himself twitch. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to smell cherrywood again without being overcome with thoughts of you.

A quiet curse slips past Four’s lips when your hand splays against his stomach, pulling him ever closer to you, and he can feel each muscle in his stomach tensing under your hold. He needs to finish this, soon.

Four picks up his pace, trying to be as quiet as possible as he rubs his dick until it feels raw. A desperate keen slips from the back of his throat before he can stop it, and Four gasps as your nails dig into the soft skin on his stomach, sharp tips dangerously close to his vital organs, and something about the fear and thrill of it all has him coming undone.

[airandyeah]

400 Follower Drabble

Might become a full fic, lmk what you think! DemonKing!Sukuna X PrincessSuccubus!Reader

The music is slow. Sinister. The kind of melody that slithers beneath your skin and curls up beside your soul, whispering sweet nothingness with every echoing note. A dark symphony bleeds from instruments carved of bone and strung with the hair of saints—only the finest for the infernal elite. It fills the gilded hall with a weight that makes even ancient devils shift in their seats, their laughter quieting to reverent murmurs.

The ballroom itself is a marvel of contradiction.

Bright marble floors polished to a gleam stretch beneath your heels, each step you take mirrored by a haunting twin beneath you. Above, the ceiling is a canvas of forgotten myth—frescoes of sinners weeping, gods falling, angels burning. And all of it is lit by blue fire, flickering in wrought iron sconces shaped like open mouths, the flames licking hungrily at the air as if tasting the sins of the crowd.

Demons, nobles, beasts with too many teeth and too little shame, mingle in clusters draped in silks, sin, and sarcasm. You can feel eyes on you—many of them—but none that matter.

Not yet.

Your presence is nothing subtle. A princess, yes, but a succubus first. Every inch of you is crafted to tempt and ruin. Your gown clings like want, midnight-black velvet kissed with ruby accents, plunging and slitted in all the ways a ballroom full of devils might expect… but none are prepared for how you wear it like armor.

And then the music stops.

Only for a breath.

And in that pause—the instant the silence falls thick like blood in the throat—you feel it. Him.

A presence like a wound torn open. Like gravity shifting. Like everything you’ve ever fed on might pale in comparison to the feast that just walked through the doors.

The Demon King arrives without announcement. He doesn't need one.

He steps into the ballroom like it’s his, because it is. Four arms, all muscle and menace. Blood-red markings wind up his skin like a lover’s touch, and his eyes—gods, his eyes—meet yours as if he’d been hunting you before he even knew your name.

And for the first time in a very long while, you feel like prey.

The crowd parts for him like shadows fleeing light, though the blue flames on the walls only burn colder in his presence.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. Not when his gaze pins you like a blade to velvet. One of his hands—clawed, calloused, commanding—extends toward you.

A silent invitation.

No, not silent. Demanding.

Your pulse thrums like a snare drum in your ears, but you accept, lips curling into a slow, wicked smile as you slip your fingers into his. The moment your skin touches his, something ancient stirs between you—dark, primal, and coiled tight like a spring.

The musicians sense it. The new rhythm is immediate. Fast. Dangerous. A tango that crackles with unspoken threats and electric seduction.

You move first—sharp, precise, like a dagger unsheathed. Your hips sway with purpose, your steps slicing across the floor, and you feel his arms wrap around you. One at your waist, another sliding along the curve of your back, two more catching your hand and wrist.

He leads with impossible control. You follow with defiant grace.

The crowd watches, entranced, as the two of you spin through the center of the ballroom like a storm contained in rhythm. Twists. Turns. His strength against your cunning. His grip is vice-like, perfect, adjusting with each flick of your wrist, each snap of your heel. You test him with sudden dips and unpredictable sways, but he matches every move.

Every time you lean back, he’s there. Every time you lunge forward, his body meets yours like a wall of fire and flesh. One hand grips your thigh during a particularly daring move, lifting you with brute ease as the room gasps—a moment too intimate, too raw.

But you don’t flinch.

Neither does he.

You’re breathing fast now. Not from exhaustion—but exhilaration.

His lips ghost your ear as the music hits its crescendo. “You dance like you want to kill me.”

You smirk, letting your nails drag lightly down one of his arms. “Only if you’re lucky.”

A spin, another pull—his hands guiding you into a sudden dip so deep your hair brushes the cold marble. All four of his hands hold you steady, his chest inches from yours, his breath warm.

“Careful, little succubus,” he purrs, fangs just visible behind that slow, terrible smile. “You might not want what happens if I bite back.”

The music winds down, the final note drawn out like a blade across silk, and the ballroom holds its breath.

He doesn’t release you.

His four hands linger—on your waist, your wrist, your thigh, your back. Possessive. Unapologetic. His crimson eyes drag over your face like he’s searching for something. A flaw, perhaps. Or a challenge.

Then comes the smug curl of his lip.

“Hiding, are we?” His voice is velvet soaked in wine and blood. “A pretty illusion, but not your true skin. I wonder…” He leans in, letting his nose brush just above your cheekbone, inhaling softly. “What are you afraid of, little princess?”

You tilt your chin, eyes narrowing in a slow, measured smile that doesn’t reach the heat behind your gaze.

“Afraid?” Your voice drips with sweet venom. “Darling, you mistake grace for fear.”

You raise your hand slowly, curling your fingers beneath his jaw, the soft pad of your thumb brushing his sharp cheekbone. Then you let the shift ripple through you—not a dramatic explosion of power, no, but something far more elegant. More deliberate.

It starts at your shoulders, your skin shimmering like starlight on obsidian. Your wings bloom open with a whisper, delicate but undeniably deadly—webbed, graceful, and tipped in rose-gold. Your tail flicks behind you, long and velvet-smooth, ending in a plush heart-shaped tip glowing faintly pink. Finally, your horns curl upward from your hair, elegant as a crown—ram-like, smooth and dark, but each ring glowing a soft, cotton-candy hue that pulses like breath.

The room gasps behind you.

But you only keep your eyes on him.

“You find this form more appealing?” you ask sweetly, wings flaring just enough to cast a lovely little shadow over the marble.

Sukuna's grin sharpens—wolfish and slow. “Better,” he murmurs, eyes devouring every newly revealed inch of you. “Now you look like something worth corrupting.”

You lean in close, brushing your lips just beside the corner of his mouth, not quite touching. “I’m not something you corrupt, King. I’m the temptation before the fall.”

[sl33paholics]

Passion's Palette

Akira Fudo x succubus!black!F!reader

Warning(s): smut, smut, smut, idk what else to add here, monster fucking, nipple play, bros about to explode

"Shitttt mannn...!!!"

You let out a slurty giggle as you watched your boyfriend dig his large nails into your hips, having you slide down his thighs as you released some weight from his pelvis by leaning back and supporting yourself on his thighs as well, you felt the muscles under his skin twitch in response to your movement.

Feeling the guy aggressively buck his hips up, drilling your soaked pussy open with his hard cock made you even more wetter than before, making the hot sticky sensation feel even better. Akira's sloppy and erratic movements made his cock spring out of your tight hole like it was on its own accord, now twitching between your ass cheeks. You had to bite your lip to hold back another round of giggles that threatened to escape from your mouth as Akira was salivating pretty hard.

Akira wasn't here. Well, he was, but he wasn't here mentally. Too pussy drunk and consumed by lust to give you any sort of thought or attention whatsoever. As if you used your poeers to finally give you some dick, which, of course you did. Akira's mind was focused solely on fucking you senseless for hours without stopping, which meant that his dick was fully engorged, making him push it back inside of your hot pussy while you rode him. It was pretty fucking hot, you couldn't lie.

You fluttered your (e/c) eyes shut at his movements and moaned as he pressed his thumb down harder on your swollen clit, the friction between your two bodies burning hotter than anything else could, you felt so damn good and you wanted nothing more then to cum just from the way he was fucking you.

"Come....ngh...here..." Your boyfriend slurred, you leaned in feeling your chests touch each other your lips touched his, kissing you roughly. You felt him lick at your tongue while sucking on yours, you moaned again when he sucked at your top lip, Akira moved the tip of his tongue out to taste you as your mouth separated from one another. "Ssshhh...so good," He whispered against your lips. "So fuckin good..!" You mumbled, your voice thick with lust. Akira's lips trailed kisses down your neck, leaving wet red love bites in their wake and leaving you breathless.

You continued to ride him like crazy , moaning and letting out whimpers of pleasure and excitement. You heard his groan of approval mixed with your own muffled gasps. The sound only spurred you on more. You grinded your pelvis against him in a steady rhythm, getting yourself closer to release. The feeling of his hands on your lower thighs, digging his fingers into you slowly, caused you to squirm, your hips jerking to get more friction. It was going to happen soon. You were already close to the edge, and you could feel it in the air.

"You ready for this big ass nut?" Akira asked huskily. You heard his tone of voice turn cocky almost immediately, your eyes shot open, looking at him with a heated gaze. You nodded vigorously. "Fuck yeah I am! Make me cum...!!" You screamed, Akira's face broke out into a wide grin and he gave your hips one last thrust.

Akira woke up in cold sweat. He breathed heavily through his mouth, his heart pounding wildly against his rib cage. He ran his hand through his hair, staring down at his naked form. His sheets were drenched in sweat, and a sticky substance fell onto his hand. Looking up, he was in disbelief. Akira painted his ceiling.

It didn't help that he heard the door knob rattle, and he froze, with you walking in the room. "Oh, you're awake now." You said, seeing your boyfriend sitting in bed with a flushed face, sweat dripping around his body, his tanned skin glistening under the bright morning light coming from your window. A confused look plastered your face before looking up and seeing the huge mess. "What the FUCK is that?!" You screeched.

Akira blinked. He honestly didn't know what to say. "Uh..uh..I..." He stammered.

You began going on and on and on, Akira couldn't be bothered to listen to your rants about what he just did to his ceiling. He plopped his head back on the pillow, letting out a huge sigh. "God damnit..." He was so fucked.

[lanora-star]

!YANDERE! Cult × !FEMALE DEMON SUCCUBUS! Reader

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

As a young man walk into a room, there are five other people in that room.

two male and three female.

"So do we have everything for the summoning?"

The young man said to the other in the room.

"Yes, we have everything we need Max."

One of the three women said

"Thanks Lydia. John do you have the book?"

Max said to one of the man in the room.

"Yep, it's right here."

John said as he lifted up the book.

"Andy don't you have the knife?"

Lydia said to Andy.

"I don't have it I think that Margaret has it?"

Andy said in a cold voice.

"You all are incompetent, Margaret doesn't have the knife I do!"

Jade said has she lifted up the knife and handset to Max.

The ritual is about to be completed and Max had cut his hand with the knife pouring it into the middle of the circle as a pink dust a forms indicating that it finally a demon.

"Who had summoned me?"

Y/n said in a trampled voice and slightly annoyed one.

"I-I did M-miss?"

Max stuttered out.

"Oh~ well aren't you a cute little human.~"

Y/n said in a seductive voice.

"MAX!! Ughhh fine I'll do it. Demon we have a demand!"

Margaret said angry.

"Well, no way to speak to a demon who you summoned and please don't call me demon I have a name you now or~ you can call me mommy~."

Y/n said in irritation.

"W-well what's y-your name?"

Max stuttered as Y/n gets closer to him.

"Well~ it depends if you want to know what kind of demon I am or what my actual name is.~"

Y/n said.

"W-what kind of d-demon are you?"

Max stutter said.

"I'm a succubus!~ Also my name is Y/n.~"

Y/n said happily as she kept Max's face in her hands.

"My, my, you are just the cutest little human!~"

Y/n coo to Max as blush profusely a dark shade of red.

"Aww~you're blushing that's adorable.~"

Y/n coo again as she said that she rest against Max having his face he ended up having his face resting against her chest.

"Max it's your decision if you want to make a request from succubus."

Lydia said slightly disgusted about the succubus.

Max suddenly had a dark glitch across his face.

He then stands up taking the knife and proceeding to kill all five of them screams of terror and horror.

"Wha-"

Y/n try to speak but was cut off by Max who passionately kissed her.

"I'm sorry but I can't let them be so rude to you, know it can be just me and you."

Max said to Y/n as he continued to kiss her.

It surprised Y/n and she gasped from shock that ended up allowing Max to slip in his tongue.

5 YEARS LATER

Max was sitting on the couch with Y/n on his lap.

In the past 5 years Max forced Y/n to get married to him.

They live in a secluded cabin in the woods.

"Darling~ don't you think it's time we have kids?~"

Max coo to Y/n.

"Wha- N-no!"

Y/n denied.

"Darling~ that wasn't a question or a request that was a demand and that is what's going to happen.~"

Max said as he pulled down on Y/n hair.

Y/n never knew what she did to deserve this but she was sure that she will never get out of Max's grip but she will try anything to get away she doesn't want to have his kid.

"Why did you does is?"

Y/n asked Max.

"It's because I love you, darling~ and you'll never leave me.~"

Max stated.

"I'm a succubus I don't even know if I can get pregnant!"

Y/n cried out as she tried to get off of Max's lab but he pulled her down holding her around her waist and pulling down on her hair.

"Well~ should we try?~"

Max coo and proceeded to kiss and bite Y/n neck and leaving several hickeys and bite marks.

'I know I don't do this often, but please god so sorry for whatever I've done I just want to get out of here!'

Y/n thought as she let out of the light whimper from the pain.

"Aww~ darling~ you sound so cute!~"

Max coo to her as he continued to bite harder.

"You're so cute I can't take it anymore!~" Max said to Y/n.

Max and proceeded to pick her up and walk to their shared room.

He laid her on the bed.

"Darling~ you look like you need some rest." Max said as he laid next to Y/n.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

[smokeysweater]

succubus darling who is near asexual. Because… i dont know, fun concept. succubus darling who gets summoned by their yandere only to nervously inform the yandere that… Yeah? They guess they feed off of sexual energy, but they just also don’t really like it. cue yandere being disappointed for like two seconds until they realise they can cuddle with darling all they want, cause in their mind, cuddling would take longer to fill up Succubus darling’s energy. …. as soon as they start cuddling Succubus darling gets full because of Summoner Yandere absolute rancid horn knee energy. anyone people add more onto this if u want.

[quarterlifekitty]

if devils were real (they'd be in the military)

john price/succubus!reader part 1

When John lays down for sleep, he does so with a smile. Talismans greet him from each cardinal direction of his room, ready to bring his darling home to stay. When you come through his window, you're none the wiser. In the dark of his room, your tattoo glows a faint pink over your womb.

You settle yourself gently atop John's hips, just barely grinding your panty-clad pussy against his boxers before he starts to stir. He stares at you with that dumb, sleepy smile like a man in love. It almost makes you feel a bit bad for what you're about to do to him. But not quite.

The scent that begins to pour from your skin is heady and saccharine, making the air heavy as it coats the insides of John's lungs better than a cigar ever could. He's hard in an instant. You giggle, rubbing your hands up and down, cupping the swell of his chest and raking your fingers through the coarse, dark hair.

Price lazily brings a hand to the curve of your hip, perfectly playing the part of the fool out of his mind from your pheromones.

"Daddy," you purr, "I missed you so bad… wanted this cock more than anything…" the words drip like honey off of your tongue, landing feather-light against his throat, threatening to catch the breath within. Your pinkie finger ghosts at the elastic of his boxers, just barely catching and slipping underneath with a perfectly timed bite to your lower lip.

His heart does pound. But not for the reason you think.

The night follows your usual routine. A few special tricks to keep things interesting for him (or maybe your just do it for yourself). Grinding that pretty, wet little pussy against him until he's aching. Taking him into your mouth with a tongue just barely too long to be natural. More and more teasing until you finally let him into your soft, wet heat. You languish in it when you're fully seated— hips flush with his. A drawn out moan escapes you, a shiver running down your spine as you feel his pre leaking out inside you. An appetizer for what's to come.

"Always feels so big… I'll never get used to this cock, daddy. It's just so much—" another rehearsed bite to the lip, tears at your lashline as you grind yourself down and choke out a sob.

John often doesn't speak much during these encounters. Pretends he's too hazy on your cocktail of a scent to formulate a full sentence. But if there's one thing you've always noticed about him, it's his gaze. Men tend to keep their eyes firmly locked on the hypnotic bounce of your tits as you ride them, minds too addled to focus anywhere else. But John keeps his eyes firmly locked onto yours. You chalk it up to his rather severe case of loneliness, but it does unnerve you. Like his line of sight is an ice pick being driven under your eyelid, probing in a place you yourself haven't mapped.

Like he's looking in your eyes just long enough to pull the wool over them.

But you're too much of a professional to let silly little ideas like that affect your performance. You can feel him start to swell and throb inside of you, your tattoo pulsing in anticipation. He lets his eyes close, and he quirks his lip enough for you to see the grit of his teeth as he cums inside you, a shiver running through you from the surge of power it creates. The mark of your womb radiates a bright fuchsia as you take it all in.

It takes some restraint on John's part not to dig his fingers deep into the fat of your hip when he cums— he's just so ready for you to be his. But he hasn't gotten this far by acting in haste. A rustling of paper, a glimpse of calligraphic sigils in the corner of his eye, all a sign of victory on the horizon.

This would typically be the part where you say goodnight. Kiss his forehead and stretch your onyx wings wide to take back off into the night.

It's worth everything to John and more— when your wide eyes betray the searing tension binding the muscles at your shoulder blades.

A careless fly treading six-legged over the trigger hairs of the carnivorous plant.

It becomes your turn to grit your teeth when every attempt at unfurling you wings just makes more pain bloom in their place, almost causing you to double over. John's other hand creates symmetry, planting itself on your other hip. He holds firm and bucks his hips.

The sound you make is beautiful. Unplanned. For a man so neurotic, it's shocking that something so spontaneous could please him so much. It's not the kind of sound a performer makes. No, it sounds like someone thoughtlessly tied a silk ribbon around the neck of a swan just a little too tight.

In the fraction of a moment after that strangled cry leaves your throat, you're on your back, staring up at the cat who caught the canary. His stare is unrelenting, wanting to burn your vulnerability into his synapses. A chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep enough that you swear you can feel it where you're connected still.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart. Why don't you tell daddy what's wrong, hm?"

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Imagine a threesome with a succubus and incubus who fucking hate each other and are now competing on who can get you off the fastest.

Succubus plays with your tits, rubbing her clit against your sensitive bud while her tongue swirls around your mouth. Her pussy is slick and warm, and you're already cumming within seconds.

The incubus stretches you with his fingers, his tongue circling your clit as he makes you count how many orgasms he gives you with his mouth alone.

You can't keep your eyes off of his cock as he fucks his fist, precum dripping from the tip.

Now that's you're all wet and ready, they want to take turns with fucking your fat cunt!

First, the succubus walks over, her strap lightly bouncing with each step, she holds you down in missionary, biting your neck as her strap fucks into your tight hole.

As you have sex, the strap fuses to her body and becomes flesh and blood, pulsing inside of you. She whimpers and tugs on your nipple with her teeth, begging to cum inside and breed you.

The incubus is next, huffing as he wipes away the succubus’s cum from your thighs, his cock is huge, nearly twice the size of the succubus, and he’s proud of it.

You’re pulled onto his lap, forced to take his cock deeper than you thought possible. Your belly bulges with his cock, and you struggle to breathe properly.

He fills you with so much cum, cooing over how cute you’ll look with swollen tits, heavy with milk to feed his young.

You cum several times round his length, ending the night so fucked out you can’t even think.

As the two tally up the amount of orgasms they each gave you, they’re both delighted to learn it was a tie.

“Guess we’ll have to try again~”

——————

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NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[digitalbvnny]

where a monster would take you on a date ִֶָ

જ⁀➴ some small headcanons about where each monster would take you and how the date would go. animal hybrid not included.

── . werewolf boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ werewolf!bf wants to show you his sensitive side on a date, so he want to take you to do something sweet. werewolf!bf is so nervous when the two of you pull up to the bookstore. it was all his idea to pick out books for each other and end the night cooking a meal together. his collar tightened around his furry nape when you walked in together. deeply afraid he'd pick out a book that you wouldn't enjoy or would have to force yourself through for his sake.

꩜ you'd kiss him on the cheek and wish him luck, unbeknownst to him you're equally nervous. the two of you had a short talk on the way here about genres, and neigher of you had much to go off of.

꩜ when you both get back in the car you'd laugh about how nervous you both were when the other one presents their choice of book. both things you equally excited about reading.

꩜ and then you arrive to your shared apartment, you share some wine before making some easy chicken pasta you both really enjoy.

── . vampire boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ your vampire!bf would want to rake you somewhere nice, while also allowing it to be a brand new experience for you. he wants the night to be rememberable, so he takes you to the most beautiful restaurant. ordering a wine you'd never even heard of, and looking adoringly at you.

꩜ vamp!bf is renting out the entire restaurant, he doesn't want anything to mess up or interrupt your perfect night.

꩜ he'd wait until the moon in the perfect place and take you out the terrace to hold your hand, “you looks so delectable under the moonlight mi amore.”

꩜ vampire!bf ends the night with flying, having you on his back as you soar through the skies. wanting you to see how beautiful the nightlife can be from up in the clouds.

── . ghost boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ ghost!bf can't take you out as he's confined to the house he died in, but that doesn't mean he won't put in one hundred percent for your dates. he's swooshing around the house in silence, as you're sleeping, trying to get the perfect day together.

꩜ your day starts with a beautiful breakfast in bed, with the ingredients you all just had laying around. he floats in with ease, a smile on his translucent face which brings one to your face.

꩜ the next part is movies and doing a puzzle or different table top game together. something small but you can do it together in the comfort of your home.

꩜ the night would end in tidying up together and dancing in the kitchen. just enjoying your time together.

── . orc boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ orc!bf loves to be able to show off, he wants to do something that's gonna fun but lets him protect you. orc!bf is going to take you to a haunted house, it's so dark and you can't see anything but he can see everything.

꩜ everytime you get spooked and grasp only his huge muscular arms, he's grinning but feigning innocence and comforting you, “it’s okay, I'll protect you.”

꩜ when orc!bf accidentally gets spooked and punches one of the cast members and you almost pee your pants from laughing. the big scary orc got scared.

꩜ all would led to him backing you against a wall, until he's towering over you. you can feel the body heat coming off of him in waves, “you scared yet?”

── . fae prince boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ fae prince!bf want your forst date to benone exploring the fae world. he'd give you a special piece of jewelry that would keep you from being stuck in this realm. as much as he wants you to eventually rule neside him, he wants you to do that of your violation. so he takes you to see the flora and fauna of his birth place and kingdom.

꩜ fae prince!bf wants to show you all of the delicacies of his kingdom, having the royal chef make you a little bit of everything. all of which he sets you in his lap and feeds you every bite, eager to see your reactions.

꩜ fae prince!bf who has the family tailor make you a beauiful dress made of garments and fabrics you'd never even heard of. the dress if a beauiful gown for your dinner at the end of the night, it fit like a second skin and made you feel oh so beautiful.

꩜ fae prince!bf shows you all of the castle, kingdom, the courtyard and everything, he wants to end the night with a private dinner in the royal garden. sitting across from you under their two moons, his faerie skin sparkling in his true form.

── . tentacle monster boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ while tentacle monster!bf would love to take you back to his realm and show you all the delights, he knows he can't. knows you'd be easily taken as a servant there, a common practice in his homeland. he settles for a comfort food picnic by the water where you both may swim.

꩜ tenatcle monster!bf refused go let you help or know much of anything about the date wanting it to be a surprise for you! he'd help pack some clothes for you to make sure you'll be comfortable.

꩜ his face lights up when you do your little happy dance about the food he packed. he prides himself on knowing you oh so well.

꩜ swimming with you is tentacle monster!bf’s favorite part, getting to be immersed in the natural body of water. not to mention, getting to play with you in the water, wrapping you in his tendrils and creating waves in the nornally waveless lake.

── . shadow monster boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ shadow monster!bf is a little on the basic side, or at least that's what he would say. he loves an old fashion movie and dinner. the movie theatre is the best place for him, as he can sit comfortably in the dark shadows of the viewing room.

꩜ he'd think over the kind of movie for a few days before asking if you'd be up for it. he doesn't really care if it's perfect as things like that don't happen for him very often. he just wants you to be happy. he'd eventually land on horror, remembering he read somewhere it makes the girl cuddle more and that makes it romantic or whatever.

꩜ shadow monster!bf is not like orc!bf or demon!bf he's not very egotistical or even confident. days leading up to the date he's researching anything and everything he can, he's always been ignored having always been in the shadows. so he's not very experienced with dating and you're so pretty.

꩜ picking the restaurant was the hardest part for him, most places are pretty well lit and not being able to slunk into the shadows makes shadow monster!bf very anxious. he eventually ends in a hibachi grill, daek enough to be comfortable but light enough you'll still be anle to look on him. when you arrive you can tell how nervous the poor virgin monster was.

── . demon boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ demon!bf would want something fun yet a little competitive; he decides the best thing would have to be an arcade with a built-in diner. something fun, casual that would end in fun banter. he finds one that has that retro kind of vibe, something that would have a layer of nostalgia.

꩜ as soon as he propses the idea, he'd give a little bite of, “unless you're scared to lose?” he'd raise his eyebrows in mischief and you knew it would be a very fun night.

꩜ demon!bf would immediately bring you over to the skee ball, something easily fun and competitive exactly his mission. you're both smiling and laughing as you smirk and say “i'll gonna wipe the floor with ya, then we'll see who's a loser.” “you got it, sunshine, if i win I'll get a kiss.” demon!bf is cheeky, his tail lightly smacking you on the ass.

꩜ you wouldn't be able to remember a better and more excitable date, you have to have him, inviting him in when he drops you off for the night.

── . angel boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ angel!bf wants to take you on a first date that will be filled with entertainment and enrichment. angel!bf rattles his brain, working over several ideas to make sure it's just perfect. he worries himself to hell and back, with wanting you to be happy. after this he decides on a pottery class with wine tastings. he thought it was romantic yet composed.

꩜ he's so excited when he tells you about the plan, wanting to make sure you don't wear your best clothes in case of mess from the clay or a spill from the wine. angel!bf wishes no harm towards your belongings.

꩜ you're happy to attend this date with him, and the instructor even comments on how in love the two of you look.

꩜ the night would end with angel!bf politely asking, “may i kiss you, i had such a nice time and i know it's a common human practice.”

── . satyr boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ satyr!bf loves to go on outdoorsy dates, but this one he wanted to make sure involved alot of time where you can just chat. satyr!bf loves talking, even more than that, he loves listening to you talk. so because of that, he chooses a carriage ride finished by strawberry patch picking.

꩜ traveling and foraging is something satyr!bf is super familiar with. he's told of multiple travels that he's done and loves sharing it with you.

꩜ satyr!bf shares fun facts about the flora, and fauna of the area, and listening to you excitedly tell how you've always wanted to ride in a carriage like a real princess, “i may not be royalty, but you'll always be my princess.” finishing the sentiment with a kuss on your knuckles.

꩜ when you arrive to the patch filled with strawberry bushels, that's when satyr!bf would present you with a specially made basket with your name engraved on it, as he explains he's going to take you on a series of dates of foraging, picnicing and antique shopping.

── . succubus girlfriend ✦

╰┈➤ succubus!gf loves the ciry nightlife, loves going out at night. the city gives a palpable sexual energy that she cannlightly feed on all night long, so she doesn't kill you at the end of the night. succubus!gf takes you her favorite club, it's not a dancing club something much more smoother, more luxurious.

꩜ succubus!gf won't keep her hands off of you when she brkngs you around, knowing all the men who reaide her will undress you with their eyes. she has to make sure they know you belong to someone.

꩜ if a particular club customer can't keep their eyes and especially their hands to themselves, she'll kiss you breathlessly. to prove a point and because she loves the dumbstruck look you get after everytime your lips touch.

꩜ by the end of the night, succubus!gf had you draped in her lap, head tucked into her neck tipsy from the energy stealing and the alcohol she was feeding to you. you're just so easy that way.

── . incubus boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ incubus!bf would love to go dancing with you or take you for dancing classes you can partake in together. something intimate yet not too sensual. he doesn't want younto bite off more than you can chew, because once he starts going it's hard for him to stop (albeit not impossible, but much harder for incubi than most monsters.)

꩜ he’d sign you up for a waltz, something vesy close with alot of eye contact while also being a good talent to have.

꩜ (ignore if you didn't love princesses as a child:) little did incubus!bf know you loved princesses and knew that's what they all did. you excitedly squealed at the idea of getting to dance like they could.

꩜ it was romantic and a fun thing to do, incubus!bf didn't take into consideration that you might be a little clumsy ans stepping on his toes a few too many times. you tried to laugh it off, and he did too, bringing you both closer.

── . siren girlfriend ✦

╰┈➤ siren!gf loves going on dates that involved water, this time would be no different. siren!gf has been meticulously planning a getaway weekend. she'd be dumb not to notice all the stress you've been under, and ushers you to agree to a weekend of no work or family, just the two of you together.

꩜ there's several things she plans with the weekend, one being the location, a small offshore island that you wouldn't possijly run into anyone either of you know. another thing would be the activities swimming in the ocean with sharks, collecting seashells and getting massages.

꩜ knowing your siren!gf is apart of the ocean makes the shark swimming all the easier to handle. siren!gf smiles warmly at you, while she converses with the shark that her beautiful baby is off limits.

꩜ siren!gf finishes off the weekend with easing all your stress in the most physical way, lapping hungrily at your sweet spot.

── . dragon boyfriend ✦

╰┈➤ dragon!bf want to take you on a flight, showing off his scales and unbelievably long wingspan. swift flying around moutains, so you could see the fresh snow and back down into a beautiful flower filled valley. urging you to see his secret cave overflowing with beautiful gems.

꩜ dragon!bf who looks on you lovingly as you collect flowers and make matching flower crowns for the two of you.

꩜ dragon!bf who is falling for you so quickly and with such intensity he allows you to pick one gem to take home with you. even urges you to take the pretty rose quartz he has surrounded by red flora.

꩜ dragon!bf who loves to nuzzle up with you and winds down the night by wrapping himself around you. enveloping you in his smoky scent.

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] New Year's resolution

monsters x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings

Summary: Your New Year's resolution leads to a very intense week in the gym.

“She is the one.”

Kiron frowns. His dark eyes scan through the crowd, searching. “Which one?”

“That pretty girl in the black sweatshirt,” Diran replies, nodding subtly in your direction. “She just left the reception desk.”

“Oh,” Decar hums. The deep baritone of his voice barely rises above the monotone drone of the treadmills. “And she has a membership card. She’s serious.”

Kiron snorts, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Yeah, so is half the city. It’s January, after all.”

Decar’s lips curl into a slow, predatory smirk, just enough to show a hint of his canines. “Well, then, let’s make sure she doesn’t quit after a week, shall we?” His vivid green eyes gleam under the bright fluorescent lights as he watches you take a tentative step closer to a row of sleek, whirring machines. Your gaze darts around, clearly lost and unsure and so blissfully unaware of their scrutiny.

“Boys,” Nara speaks up finally. Her voice cuts through the clang of weights like a pleasant melody. “You will scare her away.”

“Well, do you have a plan?” the orc asks, arching an eyebrow in challenge, though, he already knows the answer, of course. Nara always has a plan.

The succubus flashes a sharp, knowing smile that lights up her face with an air of effortless confidence. “Just watch and see.” The promise in her tone is undeniable.

It is the first Monday of the year, and the gym is full of new beginnings. The air hangs heavy with the potent mix of sweat, disinfectant from the freshly cleaned machines, and the weight of resolutions.

The guys watch as Nara strides toward you. Her steps are confident and fluid as she easily waves through the crowd. The blue yoga outfit she likes so much clings to her in all the right places. The light shade looks like the summer sky on her pastel purple skin. Her black hair is piled into a messy bun, with a matching scrunchie holding it all together.

“What do you think she’s saying to her?” Diran asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

The tiger shrugs. The black stripes on his arms flex as he adjusts his stance. “Who knows.”

“I’m surprised they still have their clothes on,” Kiron remarks teasingly. The orc watches you with amusement glinting in his dark gaze. Your wide, timid eyes remain fixed on Nara. You seem caught somewhere between awe and nervousness as your fingers fidget with the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt.

The minotaur rolls his eyes, though his lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. “We are in public,” he points out, glancing sideways at the orc, whose knowing grin only deepens.

“Exactly,” the male replies. “You know Nara.”

“Look,” Decar interrupts, nodding toward you and Nara when the succubus turns her head ever so slightly to glance back at their group with a sly curl at the corner of her lips. Your gaze follows hers, landing on them for a brief, uncertain moment. “It’s our time, guys.”

Every part of the gym buzzes with life. Seasoned members move around the equipment with familiarity while the newcomers wander around, watching and trying to get through their “newbie” embarrassment.

“Y/N,” Nara says smoothly before any of the guys can get a word in. She gestures toward the trio with a casual wave of her hand. “These are Diran, Kiron, and Decar,” she introduces them in turn. “Guys, this is Y/N. It’s her first time here.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Diran says first in a friendly and inviting tone, and the others only nod in acknowledgment. Their imposing figures are softened by their smiles, though, Decar's is more of a smirk, and Kiron's grin has a sharpness to it, but the gesture is there.

“Y/N just told me she isn’t sure where to start with her workout.”

The orc has to bite his lip to stifle a comment, his gaze flicking from Nara to you with a glimmer of mischief. “Is that true?”

You nod a bit meekly, feeling self-conscious under the weight of their attention. “It all looks a bit overwhelming,” you admit, gesturing vaguely toward the expansive gym filled with unfamiliar equipment and bustling energy.

“It’s understandable,” Diran says with a reassuring nod. He is calm and grounded, a stark contrast to the others. “We all started somewhere.”

“That’s what I told her,” Nara interjects, flashing a grin as she effortlessly reclaims control of the conversation. “So, I offered to help her out.”

Kiron raises a brow, a sly look creeping onto his face as he exchanges a glance with the succubus. “Oh?”

“I thought we could show her some workout routines,” the woman says, her grin widening. “I don’t start my beginner class until next Monday, but if you’d like, Y/N, you can come early tomorrow, and I will give you a private yoga session.”

Decar snickers at the offer, but the low rumble of his chest gets drowned by all the noises around them. Of course Nara would claim the first opportunity to guide the sweet, wide-eyed newcomer. It’s only fair, after all. “That’s a great idea, Nara." The humor in his tone is evident.

The woman smirks at the tiger. “I know, right?”

The male crosses his arms, his tail swishing idly behind him. “I could show you some boxing moves on Wednesday,” he offers. “It’s a great way to build confidence.”

“And I can show you around the machines on Thursday,” the minotaur adds. “They can be tricky if you are new to them.”

The orc’s lips curl into a slow, dark grin. His tusks catch the bright lights from above. “And when you are all stretched and ready, we can end the week with some weightlifting on Friday.”

_

[succubus] Nara - Your yoga session with Nara ends differently than you expected. Patreon/[tiger rakshasa] Decar - You learn boxing with Decar. And he has a reward for you. Patreon/[minotaur] Diran - Diran shows you the gym equipment. And more. Patreon/[orc] Kiron - Your last session with Kiron, so don't give up now.

[quarterlifekitty]

if devils were real (they'd be in the military)

john price/succubus!reader a little bit of a backstory as I try to expand this post into a little series part 2

There are two ideal victims for a succubus: virgins and divorcees. John is one of the latter, and ideal for many other reasons besides. He's married to his career— his extensive time away makes it difficult to maintain relationships. Impractical, he says.

The best part of all? He's an honorable man. Which is just another way to say that he's been fighting his temptations and human nature longer and harder than he should. The unused sexual energy comes off of him in staggering waves, as a result. It's imbued in everything he does. You could probably live off of shaking his hand if you really had to.

All in all, you're happy you found him. He's a quality meal ticket. Not an ideal career— he could expire at a moment's notice, but that's often the tradeoff when it comes it nutrition for your kind.

Price is a bit of an odd last name, isn't it? They say a lot of last names in Europe just go back to the vocation of your ancestors— Smith, Tailor, Cooper. But what could Price be?

John didn't know the real answer to that, but his grandmother told him (very much against his mother's wishes) that it refered to the price of a soul when someone made a deal with a demon. That her own great-great-great grandfather fell in love with a devil, and she fell in return, and had a great big family— thirteen kids of their own. Just after he was put to bed, he'd hear his mum scolding her for telling him tales like that, but the damage was done. And she kept telling more and more— about demons, devils, the circles in the kingdoms of hell, the Malebranche keeping corrupt politicians under boiling pitch, the ukoback's fried foods and fireworks, that the thunder he heard during storms was the booming voice of Duke Amdusias—

And the conniving, pitiable succubi and incubi. Lesser demons that could visit him in his dreams as his greatest desire, all to steal his energy— his lifeforce.

His mother was especially irate after that particular tale.

From the first moment smelled your pheromones drifting into the air, he knew what you were. He knew that you would take what you wanted, and he would remember this as only a sensual dream after you flew back into the night from whence you came. And he let you. Welcomed it, in fact. Reveled in your scent building in the air as you practiced your craft, bringing him to climax again and again.

You yourself did some rather masterful acting, but he could tell you never came. Never mix work and pleasure, right? You wouldn't want to look unkempt, or god forbid, vulnerable while you extracted your meal from him.

Don't worry, darl', he thinks to himself, I'm keeping track.