#yellow breasted chat

[zoologica42]

[snailkites]

imagine you're a chat and you ditch your chat spouse to go to the chat nightclub to have a hot chat date and you see your chat spouse there who is also ditching you. wyd

(from the Yellow-breasted Chat account in Birds of the World)

[podartists]

Setophaga petechia | Vireo griseus | Icteria virens | Vireo olivaceus | Spinus tristis | Parkesia motacilla

Plate XV | Die Nordamerikanische Vogelwelt (1891)

[proton-wobbler]

Yellow-breasted Chat (Icteria virens)

Chadron State Park - Fall '22 & '23

Would you believe my lifer YBCH was the first bird pictured here? In the Eastern US, Yellow-breasted Chat aren't rare, they just aren't common either. Typically migrants and very skulky, it can be hard to find one when they aren't singing their pretty head off. Once out West I had an easier time hearing them, especially since they like to cluster around water sources in the dry Southwest region.

Three different birds are pictured. All adult Yellow-breasted Chat have the same bright, lemon yellow chest they're named for, regardless of sex. The third bird pictured was a hatch-year, and still had some dingy juvenile plumage showing. The best way to tell these birds apart in hand is by the roof of their mouth! Males will be pitch-black, while females have a white-ish to pink mouth. Younger birds will be more dull, of course, but can still sometimes be sexed this way. In the field its best to get a good look at the mask and see if it is black (male) or dark gray (female)- or you could just wait until the male starts his long and loud chatter of a song.

All banding, marking, and sampling is being conducted under a federally authorized Bird Banding Permit issued by the U.S. Geological Survey's BBL. Permission to share images was granted by Bird Conservancy of the Rockies (BCR).

[na-bird-of-the-day]

BOTD: Yellow-breasted Chat

Photo: Mick Thompson

"A bizarre series of hoots, whistles, and clucks, coming from the briar tangles, announces the presence of the Yellow-breasted Chat. The bird is often hard to see, but sometimes it launches into the air to sing its odd song as it flies, with floppy wingbeats and dangling legs, above the thickets. This is our largest warbler, and surely the strangest as well, seeming to suggest a cross between a warbler and a mockingbird."

- Audubon Field Guide

[maybeelse]

Bonus dark-eyed junco, blackpoll warbler, and white-throated sparrow:

[wingedjewels]

Yellow-breasted Chat by Lee Greengrass Via Flickr: Lake Elizabeth, Central Park, Fremont, CA. This is about the most difficult bird I ever attempted to photograph.

[burkh4rt]

[paulpingminho]

[weedlovingweed]

just saw a beautiful robin-sized bird with grey back and yellow tummy but i can NOT figure out what it was…

[sebring5]

5-1 by Henry Via Flickr: Black chin hummingbird

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn��t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn��t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

[evergone]

Hypocrite

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (sex), swearing

Description: The reader is embarrassed by the hickies Theo left on her, but she's not one to speak.

Merlin, you were pissed. Or, maybe — maybe you were embarrassed. Afterall, there were purple and yellow bruises all over your breasts and along your collarbone and up the sides and back of your neck. Despite your best efforts, your makeup hadn’t covered them all, and the collar of your blouse kept smearing the foundation and exposing more of them to the entire student body. A student body who couldn’t stop talking about you.

“Trip down the stairs did you, Y/n?” Pansy teased.

“Our very own Slytherin slut,” Daphne laughed fondly.

“By the name of Salazar,” Blaise breathed heavily at the sight of them.

You could only sigh in frustration, your head in your palms, “Guys, stop, please. Everyone and their mothers are giving me shit about it, you don’t need to join in.”

You weren’t lying. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Snape had practically burnt a hole through your neck, and then, in Transfiguration, McGonagall had quietly asked if you needed to step out to touch up your makeup. The worst, however, was Potions with Slughorn. His opinion of you since the beginning of the year had been purely positive since your family were fairly wealthy and you achieved some of the highest grades in his class. When he saw the hickeys all over you, though, his bulbous nose had turned up in disgust and he made a most unpleasant grunt of disproval. You were sure you had made his blacklist.

“This warrants murder,” said Pansy.

“It does, doesn’t it?” You asked, “I am so fucking mad at him for this.”

Oh, but you could hardly speak.

You and Theo (your boyfriend and hickey-giver) both received invitations to a party that was held the night before, and despite knowing you had school the next day, you went. Once you were about ten drinks in, you were completed sloshed, and when you were completely sloshed, you got horny.

Though the crowd of party-goers stood between yourself and Theo, you could still see every part of him. He was just standing there, chatting with Blaise and Draco, a can of cheap beer held lazily in his right hand while his left was barely touching his hip. He was so, so hot. You bit your lip sexily then made your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing the back of his white shirt, and leaving stains of red lipstick all over it.

“Hey, Y/n, baby,” he hummed, happy from all the drinks he’d downed in the three hours prior, “What’s up?”

“Teddyyy,” you mused and stared up at him as he looked over his shoulder at you, “I want sex.”

Blaise and Draco snickered and Theo shot them a glare. After that, you can imagine what happened. Lots of moaning, groaning, grunting, panting. Enough snogging to last you both a lifetime, but not really because there was no such thing as “enough snogging,” and love making that lasted well past the rise of the sun that peeked through the window to Theo’s dorm room and illuminated every gorgeous curve of your body.

While Theo was the kind of sexual partner to want to leave marks all over you — not because he was the jealous type, just the prideful type, he liked everyone to see that he’d won you — you were the kind of sexual partner who liked it rough. You liked to feel his dick more or less pounding against your womb, so close that it almost warranted a trip to Madame Pomfrey. You liked when he thrusted into you fast, but not sloppy, always obeying your comments of ‘faster, Theo’ and ‘honey, please, I need it faster.’ But he couldn’t obey too much, you were very particular about that. He had to make you feel good, but he still had to be in control. It was always best if he gave in to every third or fourth demand, so that you had to beg for it. But the best part about rough sex with Theo? Well, it was what made you such a hypocrite.

“Mate,” Draco gaped at Theo’s back in the locker rooms before quidditch practice, “Did you get into a fight with a werewolf or something?”

Theo frowned in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Draco motioned for Theo to move into view of the mirror and when he got a good look at his reflection he joined in the gaping. Long, red lines ran down his back like the British army at the Battle of Balaclava. He had become a canvas and you had painted him with your claws. He ought to have them clipped, Merlin’s beard.

The scratches were mostly up and down (go figure), but there were are couple that ran horizontally which Theo couldn’t place the origin of. You had torn him apart, you freak.

And that’s when you stormed into the locker room. Pucey had squealed, that was the first sign that you had entered. The second was the smart-ass warning that escaped Draco’s mouth ( “Look what the cat dragged in… or maybe she herself is the cat,” he said.

“She is the cat’s mother,” you responded, annoyed, and kicked him in the shin.

“My point still stands,” he laughed painfully).

Your hands were covering your eyes so as to not expose yourself to the privates of the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, and Theo thought you looked like a total dork in the cutest way. A pout had settled on your lips to make up for the fact that your frown was also hidden behind your hands.

“Theodore Nott!” You huffed and the locker room broke out into a chorus of ‘ooh’s, “Shut up, all of you — Theodore, look at what you’ve done to my neck.”

“I can’t really see behind your hands, lovey,” said Theo and you swore you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Use your imagination then, I’m sure you remember what you did to me last night — Oh, aren’t you all so mature,” you hissed as the boys erupted into laughter like little children.

You felt Theo’s hands settle on your hipbones as if they were arm rests. He pulled you in until your nose hit his chest and removed your hands from your face. So safe you were in his presence that you couldn’t see any of the other boys around you. With his big eyes that were more ocean-coloured than sky, he stared down at you, and flashed his brilliantly white grin.

“You aren’t much better, you know?” He said with a tone of question in his voice and continued to talk when he realised you didn’t know what he was talking about, “My back?”

He turned for you and upon seeing the mess you had evidently made on his back, you shut your mouth.

“Even?” Asked Theo.

“Even,” you nodded.

[proton-wobbler]

Warbler Showdown; Bracket 10, Poll 4

Yellow-breasted Chat (Icteria virens)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: migratory; breeds across the US and Mexico, though with pockets of extreme density in the Southeast US and Northwest Mexico; overwinters in Mexico, Guatemala, Belize, and sparsely into the rest of Central America.

Habitat: dense and shrubby vegetation, especially those found around water (though the amount of water is negligible)

Subspecies: 2

Wrenthrush (Zeledonia coronata)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: resident; Costa Rica to western Panama, purely in the highlands

Habitat: montane evergreen and elfin forests, especially near streams; a big fan of wet, fog-covered regions.

Subspecies: none

Image Sources: YBCH (Connor Cochrane); wrenthrush (Leonardo Valverde)

[frank095]

Yellow-Breasted Chat Bird Portrait Watercolor Painting

This watercolor painting of a yellow-breasted chat bird is a stunning example of the incredible potential of artificial intelligence in the world of art. With lifelike textures and vibrant colors, the painting captures the beauty and essence of the subject with breathtaking realism and precision, making it a true masterpiece. -------------------------------------------------------------------- GET THIS ARTWORK ON MERCH AND AS PRINTS! ►On Society6 HERE ►On ArtStation HERE ►On ArtPal HERE ►On Imaginekind HERE You can also find my AI prompts on PromptBase HERE -------------------------------------------------------------------- I BELIEVE ART SHOULD BE SHARED FREELY.  Unless I'm working with clients or projects, I want all my creations to be freely available for digital download and personal use. If you wish to personally support me, I appreciate every donation with PAYPAL HERE. Unless specified, all my creations are made using artificial intelligence with MidJourney. -------------------------------------------------------------------- IF YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL REQUESTS, FEEL FREE TO CONTACT ME! 🙂 ►Instagram ►YouTube ►PayPal Donations -------------------------------------------------------------------- USEFUL LINKS TO FIND ME: ►OpenSea (NFTs) ►DeviantArt ►Behance ►ArtStation ►ArtPal ►Imaginekind

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

Day Eleven - Double penetration

【Synopsis】 : A creature cursed to wander the earth alone, finds himself falling for a sweet little human that finds peace in the lonely forestry.

『Word count』 : 3.52k

-> Genre: Fantasy. Smut. Fluff. 18+

Pairing: Nāga!Wooyoung x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Sappy shit. Both the reader and Wooyoung come from terrible pasts. Lowkey kinda trauma bonding, whoops. Swearing. Fingering. Pet names, [little mouse. darling]. Wooyoung is cheeky. Stupid jokes. Wooyoung literally rips apart the reader's clothing. Cum play? Crying. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex. Anal. Creampie. Breeding. Clit play. Breast play. sappy thoughts at the end cause I can't help myself.

Networks: @illusionnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse @cromernet @k-vanity

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Tip Jar ♡

In a quiet cottage, nestled snugly between thick forestry and rolling hills, a secret lurked. The townsfolk in the nearby village went about their daily routines, unaware of how extraordinary the beast just beyond the edge of their small community truly was. No, only a mere myth, a story wandered about the homes of these innocent humans. They called him, Thanatos. A god of death. Not many have ever stolen a glimpse of the creature but some have said that his scales glimmer in the fading light and his eyes that shift from emerald green to a golden yellow, were like nothing they had ever seen. He was a creature born of dark magic and mystery. A whisper of legends, hushed tones speaking of a cursed hybrid trapped in the shadows, fleeing from the world that banished him.

But yet, he was far from what the rumours prey told. He was a gentle soul, with a deep yearning for connection. He was lonely.

That was until one dusk, as the forest and the nearby towns grew to slumber. The only noise left was the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves in the shallow wind. Wooyoung had found himself in a secluded watering hole. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and fresh moss as he listened to the silver streams gushing off the rock's edge. It was here where he watched you, a local artist with an infectious smile, a beauty unlike any he had ever seen, and a talent so vibrant and captivating. 

You often found yourself venturing into the woods, ignoring the towns' warnings, to draw inspiration from the magicalness of the surroundings. On this particular evening, you had set up your little makeshift mobile studio to try and capture the colours of the twilight sky. Little did you know, Wooyoung was hidden away among the tree, watching instantly as he felt a twist of longing. He knew so much about you, yet so little as well. He knew of your rough childhood as you often sought the little forest creatures for guidance even though you knew they wouldn’t speak back. You chatted to the sleeping fox about your feelings of outcastedness and the emptiness of being different. You didn't have any friends and your family liked to pretend you weren’t there. You were just like him… Lonely.

He watched your delicate fingers dance over the canvas, and your bright love weaved into a spell that drew him in at every flick of your pencil and stroke of your brush. Each evening, Wooyoung returned to the same waterhole, listening to the melody of your tender voice as you sang softly while you created masterpiece after masterpiece. He felt something awaken within him, a burst of emotions he had thought no longer existed. Each time he found you under the cover of night, his heart swelled more as fear gripped him just the same. What would you think if you knew his true nature? Would he be condemned to a life of shadowed solitude, forever an outcast? Forever to watch from beyond. Never to experience a gentle touch.

Days turned into weeks and then weeks became months. You found yourself being almost enchanted by the feeling of being watched. Like the forest itself was alive. You enjoyed that feeling. A feeling of comfort, not loneliness. Unlike being surrounded by the empty eyes of the village, you felt safe among the blind trees. 

The rustle of nature and the flicker of sunlight piercing through the trees ignited the feeling that you were being watched. It was like an unexplained pull to uncover the woodland's secret, and deep in your heart, you knew something mythical was lurking. Something magical, just beyond your vision.

And one faithful evening as dusk settled in, your curiosity overwhelmed you, making you stand up from your work to head towards the waterhole. Your voice ran through the dense forest, making all the creatures within know your presence, "I know you're there. Why are you hiding?"

To your surprise, Wooyoung, who was trembling with equal fear and desire you felt at this exact moment. He revealed himself from the comfortable shadows with arms raised high in defeat. But the moment his eyes met yours, the air tightened with an unspoken tension. A connection of souls. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat, but instead of having an overwhelmingness sense of fear like most people would feel when seeing such a creature, her heart swelled with anticipation and compassion.

"Please..D-do not be scared." He said as if he was waiting for you to flee back to your town. His voice is smooth, gentle even. Something you've never heard from a man before. "I promise I won't harm you."

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes shone with awe and curiosity as you took in every detail of the man in front of you.

"I'm Wooyoung..." he spoke with caution, "Most know me as Thanatos. A creature of magic and myth." He admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his burdening truth. You took a step closer, absorbing every detail of the creature. He was visibly shaking, frightened stilled. He was gorgeous in an otherworld kind of way. A beauty you would take pride in capturing in a painting. A sense of understanding bloomed between you as you both could recognise the same loneliness in one another. Mirrored tragedy. 

"Why do you hide?" You knew it was a silly question, knowing that he—a man with a long black tail that was meant to be legs and scales littering his chest, arms, and neck—had his reasons. But your heart ached for him, and you grew curious about his story.

"Because the world is not kind to those who do not reach its standard," Wooyoung replied with a sigh, his voice laced with sorrow. "I'm an abomination."

In that moment of vulnerability, something shifted in you. A feeling so powerful, that you lose control of your own body. Stepping even closer, no longer sensing any kind of hesitation, your gaze never left his as you became only a mere inch away. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen. The only abominations are the people who won't think the same as I."

Time stood still as he tried to see any sense of fear or disgust in your gaze. But there was nothing. Only curiosity and a fluttered heart. This was the start of something neither of you would ever want to stop. Late-night meet-ups in the same spot you met, sharing stories—your dreams of becoming an artist while he told tales of his travels through the ages, observing the beauty of the world behind the hidden corners of shadow. With every word, it was like the world around you began to fade away, leaving only threads of hope that promised acceptance and understanding to each other.

Then, one full moonlit night, you couldn't help but reach out towards the man lying next to you on the large picnic blanket. Your hand grazed the smooth surface of the scales that decorated his chest. Wooyoung couldn't help but suck in a hard breath, afraid to move but yearning for more of your touch. When your fingers moved over his flesh, a rush of warmth consumed you both. Like you had, both had been touched by destiny.

 "S-sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper as you gulped, seeing his flinch reaction. His slit eyes found yours quickly sitting up straight with concern.

"No-i..it's okay. It's just. Being touched like that..." he felt embarrassed to admit that a simple touch from you had caused all his blood to run south. He had craved you since the first day he saw you, and now that he finally got to know what it felt like to have you touch him, his mind couldn't help but run wild. "I should be the one to apologise."

You sat up, turning your body to face him. Your hand found his long tail, giving him a gentle gaze. "Does my touch excite you?" You felt your cheeks heat up, your heart so close to beating right out of your chest. "You don't have to apologise for your feelings."

"I..." his clawed hand braces itself on top of your hand while the other lands on the exposed part of your thigh where your dress had been hiked up from how you were sitting. "I don't want to scare you."

"Scare me?" You said almost in a disbelieved tone. His only worry was that he didn't want to scare you? You couldn't help but chuckle a little bit, making the creature before you gaze at you with embarrassment. Without thinking, you moved suddenly, throwing one leg over his tail so you could sit on his lap. He was completely frozen now, his yellow eyes growing darker with every movement. You then brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. "Nothing about you can scare me, Woo. You are perfect just the way you are."

"Fuck.." He didn't mean to swear but as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment he couldn't help but bask in your loving words. Perfect. No one has ever said such a thing to him before. If anyone here was perfect, it would be you. "You can't say stuff like that, darling."

"Hmm, and why not?" You shifted a little, getting more comfortable on top of him. Wooyoung let out a deep hiss, his claws coming to hold your hips tightly in place.

"I wouldn’t keep going if I was you. I'm over a thousand years old, and I have fucked someone in a very, very, long time." He punctuated every word as his eyes snapped open to stare you down. You felt so small in his hold, your mind losing control of your limbs for a moment as you grind your hips against him. The cloth against his hips slowly rode up with every buck, bunching around his waist without you noticing. Your face inched closer, one of your hands falling to his neck, tugging him closer. Your smile dropped as your mouth parted all the while his gaze never left yours. It was like his eyes began to glow a low golden hue as if his scales began to shine brighter. “This is dangerous…”

“I don’t see any danger.” You whispered, lips brushing against his. You were so close, yet so far. Everything was heightened like all your senses had been spiked. His hand slipped between you both, grazing over your covered cunt. His finger pressed firmly against your clit as he sealed his lips against your own. “W-woo.” You moaned against him feeling his tongue brush against you and that's when it clicked. “Oh my...”

You pulled away watching his tongue swipe along his bottom lip, noticing the split in the middle. It was long, pointed and oh how it made your whole body shiver. “Told you this was dangerous.”

Without another thought, you smashed your lips on his again, letting him snake his tongue inside. You could feel it almost go down your throat with how long the appendage was, all the while his finger started to rub faster against your little bud before sliding along your covered folds. You moaned, your eyes rolling backwards as you let him play with your body. Any part he wants. He pulled away from your lips to litter your cheeks and jaw with soft kisses. His sharp claws tore the fabric of your panties, giving him access to sink two fingers inside you. “Fuck, argh. P-please.”

“You sound so beautiful. So cute…” He growled, flipping you over with an ‘oof’. His large tail's weight pressed firmly against your lower half, but his fingers are still snug in you. “You have no idea what you have caused.”

"Why d-don't you show me..." You choked out a whimper at the way he was nipping your skin, leaving little purple marks in his wake. Your fingers travelled to the nape of his neck, tugging on his pitch-black hair. 

He simply chuckled at your desperate noises, grinding his hips deeper against yours while he placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing in a slow painful circle. You felt yourself get lost in the pleasure, the way his fingers were snug inside you, the way his long tongue ran down your hot skin. It was like the world had melted away, leaving only you and him. 

"Such a pretty thing." His voice was low, almost inaudible, but the sound of rustling fabric drew your mind back, seeing he had thrown the cloth that was wrapped around his waist to the side, leaving him now completely naked. He sat up to spread your legs wider, using the tip of his tail to hold your ankle to the far left while his free hand held your right thigh. This gifted him the sight of his digits knuckle deep inside your pretty pussy. You were sucking him in, and with his gaze on you, you couldn't help but just clench tightly around him.

"Wooyoung..." You felt tears trickle from the corners of your eyes. You were so close. You just needed a little more. "P-please."

"Awe, don't worry, my little mouse. I'll give you whatever you need." His dark tone caused a visible shiver to run down your spine, your eyes opening wide at the seemingly innocent nickname he had given you. His little mouse. His prey. The coil in your gut snaps, unravelling quickly, making you leak all over the creature's fingers and onto the blanket below. Wooyoung chuckled, amused at the way you unfolded around him. You were everything he could ask for, and more. "Are you ready for the real fun?"

In a haze, you almost didn't hear his cheeky tone. Everything felt fuzzy, almost like you were no longer in your own body. But when your eyes fluttered open again, you could finally see what he meant by fun. The slit that resided horizontally to his pelvis had stretched wide and two soaking hard cocks were sticking out of it. You couldn't believe your eyes, you had read stories about snake creatures kidnapping women to mate with them and they had spoken of having two or more cocks but you did not believe it to actually be true. "Oh lord..."

"I am not the lord. But I'll definitely take you to heaven if you allow me." Wooyoung joked leaning forward slightly to rest both his cocks on your wet cunt. You bit on your bottom lip as he grabbed the cock that rested on the top and stroked it through your folds. You could feel the tip of the other one poking your ass with every grind of the other. Your mind completely clouded over as you basked in the idea of being fucked by not one but two dicks. Never in your life would you have thought you'd end up in such a situation.

"Wooyoung, I want it. Please give me everything." You begged, bucking your hips against him. Your slick coated his appendages as he watched intensely. He slid his tip along your clit, down your slit before tapping your hole, drawing more whimpers out of you with each stroke. He couldn't contain himself any longer, pushing his tip into your entrance slightly. 

"S-so warm." He grunts, sinking his cock slowly inside you. Your hips buck as you feel him bottom you out completely, almost winding you at the girth of him. "You're so tight little mouse."

"W-wooyo. Please move." Your eyes were shut tight, and your jaw slack, drool slightly dripping at the corner as your moans filled the forest. Wooyoung obeyed your sweet plea like he was hypnotised. His hips snapped back before shoving his cock deep inside you again, repeating this rhythm until he slowly picked up the pace. His fingers started to claw at the fabric on your body, ripping all of it to shreds, trying to see more of you, feel more of you.

"Fuck, nargh." He hissed, seeing your breasts spring free from your tatted clothing. They bounced in time with his jackhammering thrusts while your nipples tightened from the cold evening air. He couldn't help himself, his long split tongue dipping out of his mouth to your fluffy appendages. His moist muscle danced around your left bud, soaking your breast in his saliva. He found his tail letting go of your ankle, slithering towards your puckered hole. A shiver creeps down your spine as you feel it prod your ass. "I have to prep you a little bit, baby."

Wooyoung sat up, removing himself from your body briefly so he could pull his cock out, stroking it roughly. Some pre cum leaked out of him as he moaned, focused on watching the juices leak onto your asshole. He used his own cum as lube to prep your hole, the tip of his tail smaller than his cock but bigger than his fingers. "Oh fuck,"

You've never left so dirty before before this moment feeling his tail sink inside your tight hole. Once Wooyoung was satisfied, he re-entered your cunt with his second cock, getting it nice and coated with your slick. "You're so messy, baby. Are you enjoying yourself? Enjoy being fucked by a monster?"

"Yes! Wooyoung, I love it." You yelp feeling him exchange his cocks, thrusting a few times before switching again, over and over. It sent your mind into a tailspin, feeling all the different sizes and lengths. His tail finally left your ass, but this time it wrapped around your left thigh, spreading you further to the point that you can feel a gentle burn in your legs. 

"Such a good little mouse." He presses his lower cock with your asshole, while he nudges his top one to your cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation, taking a deep breath as he slowly entered both your holes at the same time. You both groaned out, feeling the overwhelment of pleasure, eyes locking, never leaving one another. "You tight so perfectly around me, baby. My pretty human."

The animalistic sound that emitted from deep in Wooyoung's chest was enough to send your mind straight into the fog. Your body feels like it's floating, nothing else around you but him. His scent, the feeling of him deep inside you. Your body was his to play with, his to claim. "Wooyoung p-please. Faster." You managed to choke out. 

He obeyed quickly, his hands bracing themselves on the forest floor on either side of you, noticing the blanket was scrunching up around your frame, like a protector from all the leaves and twigs. His claws dug into the soil, feeling the cold damp earth beneath his palm. His thrusts became unruly, and you angled yourself so your legs could wrap tightly around his upper waist. Your screams were muffled by Wooyoung shoving his thick long tongue inside your mouth, his sharp fang-like teeth clashing against yours and nipping at your lip, drawing little pricks of blood. 

He drilled into you, losing himself in the feeling of both of your tight holes around him. He was close. Really close. But he needed you to come first. He needs to feel you come around him first. "Come on, baby..." he growled, loosening one of his hands so he could bring it down to your clit. "I need to feel you cream around me, baby. Can you do that for my little mouse?"

You nod like crazy, choking sniffles and cries as tears stain your puffy cheeks. Your eyes rolled back feeling him pinch your clit, his fangs raking over the skin of your jugular before clamping down, biting your soft flesh. Your screams went quiet as your lungs lost all their air and your mind snapped. You came fast, hard, and blissfully clenching tight around Wooyoung. He couldn't hold it, emptying his seed deep inside your ass and cunt, letting you milk him dry.

Your ears were ringing as you could only hear your heart rate slowly starting to lessen. Your chest heaved for air, feeling the tingle of Wooyoung's lips gifting you kisses along your sweaty collarbone. With the little energy you had left, you reached for his head, placing a hand in his messy hair. It was tangled, but you still managed to rake your fingers gently through it. You swore you heard a purr slip out of him from your actions. 

The silence was nice for once. The peace of no longer being alone. No, you both knew from this day forward. You were never going to be lonely ever again.

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.