#youre body is a predator but by nature you are not violent

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings

Alastor takes over your soul, deceitful dealings, mockery and satire, blackmail, Alastor always tests your patience, possessiveness, blatant teasing, Nsfw, masturbation (reader receives), wild sex, P in V, overstimulation, manipulation. Summary Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

You've spent weeks in this cursed place.

Hell is not as you imagined it. There are no eternal flames or demons with tridents, but there is constant chaos, a violence that hangs in the air like smoke from an endless fire.

Everything here is aggression, instinct and unbridled ambition. Most disturbing, however, is the certainty of the others: everyone is convinced that you don't belong here.

"You shouldn't be here."

You've heard it from so many mouths that it's no longer a surprise. You are not a murderer, not a perverse psychopath, not a soul doomed by rage or sadism. In life you were… normal. No violent history, no sins that scream eternal justice. And yet, here you are.

But if there's anyone who doesn't believe in mistakes, it's Alastor.

From day one, you felt his attention. Not just any watchfulness, but something more… dangerous.

As if you were a new melody on a frequency that only he can pick up. His smile, always wide and polite, hides a disturbing intensity when he talks to you.

And he always asks the same question.

"How is it possible for you to be here?"

"Have you never enjoyed violence?"

"Haven't you ever felt the temptation to break something… or someone?"

The answers are always the same. No. Never. Never.

But in every question, in every encounter, you sense something strange about him. A doubt. A fascination that goes beyond simple curiosity. Because Alastor is not interested in meaningless things. And yet, with you… he insists.

Until tonight.

It's early morning in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. You're alone, or so you think, until the sound of an old gramophone bursts through the air. There is no music, just the crackle of the needle against the vinyl.

A spectral sound.

You startle as you feel the static wash over your back and quickly turn on your heels.

Alastor stands there, at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in shadows that seem to move with him, as if he were an extension of his being. His posture is relaxed, hands folded behind his back, smile intact, but there is something about him that feels different.

Less theatrical, more calculating.

— Ah… what a lovely coincidence. — his voice drifts through the air, vibrant and distorted, like the interference of an old radio. — Just the person I wanted to talk to.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not because you fear him, not exactly, but because the air feels thicker, as if the space between you has shrunk without him taking a single step.

— Ah, what a surprise…— his voice echoes with the distortion of the radio.— I knew you were interesting, my dear, but this….

He takes a step toward you. There is no hostility in his gesture, but something worse, certainty.

— Your brother.

Your body freezes.

— Ah… how curious. — he continues, slurring each word with venomous delight.— There seems to be a lot more reason for you to be here than you've been telling us, doesn't there?

You don't know which is more terrifying: the fact that he has discovered your secret… or the fact that, for the first time, he seems to be enjoying you more than Hell itself.

The silence between you is a living creature. It throbs with electrifying tension, creeps through the shadows and creeps into every corner of the lobby. And he, of course, savors it.

Alastor advances with the elegance of a predator in no hurry to attack, only to amuse himself. His gait is slow, leisurely, a circle around you. Each step echoes in the air like the beat of a macabre song.

— Ah, but don't be so stiff, my dear.— His voice vibrates with an insidious sweetness.— It's not as if I've said something damning…. is it?

He knows what he's doing. He's having fun with doubt, playing with implications, not giving clear answers. But you're not stupid.

—You follow me? — Your tone is firm, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

He lets out a laugh of genuine delight. As if your question is the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

— Follow you? Oh, no, no, no, no…— He denies with an exaggerated shake of his head. — That would be terribly invasive! Outrageous, even! I just…got information.

His shadow creeps along the wall behind him, stretching like a wraith elongated by the dim light of the foyer. It's a subtle movement, but you notice it.

Your eyes follow it unwillingly. And Alastor smiles even more.

— You know, my dear… I've been wondering something curious for a long time. — His voice drops just a tone, just enough to become a conspiratorial murmur. — It's fascinating to see you wandering around this modest little hotel, always so quiet. Not a complaint, not a tear. Just existing.

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone takes on a tinge of false concern.

— But then, sometimes… you would disappear.

Your heart races.

— Where was our lovely little stranger going when she was going out so calmly?

He stops right next to you, bowing her head in an almost affectionate gesture. But you feel it, the way her energy bubbles around you, the way the light seems to weaken with his nearness.

— Imagine my surprise when, on one of those little escapades, I discovered that you were on a journey… — he clicks his fingers, as if searching for the right word. — …particular.

The air feels thick, charged with something more than electricity. Don't look away from him.

— Where did I go? — you ask, daring him to say it.

Alastor smiles, and his eyes sparkle with wild mischief.

— Oh, no, no, no, no… how rude of me to spoil the mystery. — His shadow on the wall moves again. Slowly. As if someone else is there.

You refuse to back away.

— Say it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts a hand on his chest, as if moved by your insistence.

— Let's just say… I didn't expect to find you in such a… dangerous place.

A shiver runs down your spine.

— Oh, but don't worry — he continues, leaning slightly towards you. — I won't say anything at all, but…

Something in his tone chills your blood.

— The demons you've been meeting with? — his smile stretches, showing just a flash of sharp teeth. — …well, they seem as interested in you as I.

Shadows stir behind him, and for an instant, the wall ceases to be just a wall. Something there watches you. Something with the same red eyes as Alastor.

And then, he laughs. Low, soft, like a whisper that slips into your ear.

— Tell me something, my dear… —He bends down, barely, with his hands behind his back. — How does it feel to be here, in this small hotel, waiting for a salvation that will never come?

There are no answers.

— Oh, of course! I forgot. —He taps his forehead theatrically, as if he's just remembered something crucial. — You believe in redemption, don't you?

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the feeling of danger digs into your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the sensation of danger sticks in your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

— But what a peculiar case yours is…— Alastor continues, without needing you to answer. — A sinner without sin.

He begins to walk again, slow, measured. The sound of his shoes echoing against the floor is the only thing heard in the hall.

— A little soul who, as far as we know, never killed, never stole, never reveled in violence or evil. Almost… a saint.— His laughter fills the space again.

— But, then… what's someone like you doing in a place like this?

You don't move. You don't blink.

— A mistake from heaven? — Alastor tilts his head, as if the idea amuses him even more.— Well, well, that's what everyone says. But… there's a little problem with that theory.

It stops right in front of you.

— If heaven has condemned you, then heaven knew something we didn't.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. He can't know.

He can't.

— Oh, but don't worry, my dear.— he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with unwholesome amusement.— because I already figured it out!

You can't help it. Your breath catches for a second. It's slight, minimal, but he notices. Of course he notices.

Alastor lets out a satisfied sigh and takes a few steps away, giving you space just to continue playing with the tension.

— You see… in one of my many nocturnal inquiries, I came across something very interesting.

The shadow on the wall writhes again, as if something in it had guffawed.

— It turns out that certain… drug-dealing demons have a very particular worker among their ranks.

No.

— A young sinner who, oddly enough, shares a certain resemblance to you.

No.

— Ah, but that's not the best part. — Alastor laughs again and snaps his fingers. —The funny thing is that his dearest sister is here, at the Hazbin Hotel, for the sole purpose of…..

He pauses, reveling in the suspense.

You have to control yourself. You can't react.

Alastor watches you with predatory attention, waiting for any hint of weakness.

— Now, my dear… — His voice drops to a venomous whisper — How does such a good and pure woman, supposedly destined for heaven, end up here… while her brother is in the clutches of some of the foulest and most dastardly demons in this place?

Your palms sweat. The air is heavy, suffocating. But you can't give in.

— I have no idea what you're talking about. —Your voice is firm. There's not a tremor in it.

Alastor blinks. And then, he smiles again.

— Oh, I love it! -He exclaims with mock excitement.— Liar and convincing! You know, if that's the way you were in your mortal life, maybe you did deserve to be here.

You take a deep breath, hold your posture steady, cross your arms, and stare at Alastor with impenetrable conviction.

— These are malicious formulations —you say, in a voice so convincing that you almost believe it yourself. —You don't have proof.

Alastor doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his smile widens, as if you are enjoying the taste of his every word. He watches you with infuriating intensity, like a man who has already solved the riddle and is just waiting for the others to catch up.

But you're not someone easy to corner.

— And what about you? -You ask, barely bowing your head.— A demon like you… with such a violent, horrible record….

You question seriously and firmly.

— What is someone like you doing in this hotel? -you continue, giving him no room for mockery. — Where redemption is the only purpose.

His expression doesn't change, but something in him tenses, just a little. A small discordant note in his perpetual melody of control.

It catches your attention.

—Are you seeking redemption too, Alastor? Or do you just get a kick out of watching us try?

Your ability to turn the tables is precise, surgical.

You know it, you feel it. But Alastor is not just any demon.

Instead of responding, he lets out a low, vibrating laugh, almost like a purr of static. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to one side, his eyes sparkling with even more intense interest.

— Oh, dear… — his voice is a venomous cooing- That's a fascinating question, but… do you know what's even more impresionant?

He comes a little closer, close enough for you to feel the overwhelming presence of his scent all around you.

— What deal did they offer you for your brother's freedom?

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet.

You can't help it, your body tenses, your breath catches for a fatal instant.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

How does he know?

How the hell does he know?

— Oh…— He whispers with insidious gentleness. — There it is

You don't need a mirror to know what it sees on your face. The first genuine trace of shock, the chink in the armor you had protected so well.

And Alastor, of course, loves it.

The way Alastor watches you, with that smile that doesn't falter for a second, with those red eyes that sparkle with almost childlike amusement, is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You must react.

—My brother…— you begin, keeping your voice steady, but making sure to add a note of vulnerability.— I cannot control his decisions.

Alastor tilts his head with exaggerated curiosity, as if he really believes you.

— But me, on the other hand…—vyou bite the inside of your cheek to reinforce your expression. —I do want to redeem myself.

Lie.

But it's such a well-constructed lie that it almost seems real.

You can't let Alastor discover the truth. That the original deal wasn't to save your brother from a deal, but to keep an eye on him and Charlie Morningstar.

You must not give him a clue.

Alastor remains silent for a few moments. Any onlooker might think he's considering your words, but you know that's false. He's not someone who just listens.

He analyzes, crumbles, savors every word, every gesture, every pause, finally, he smiles.

— Ah… how touching. —His tone is warm, melodic, but it has the edge of a razor blade. —You are truly lovely when you cling to hope such a fighter!

Your heart hammers in your chest. Did he believe you?

— And tell me, my dear…— Alastor steps forward, his presence flooding the space,— what would you say if I offered you a deal?

Your eyes narrow.

— A deal?

— Ah, yes. -He puts a hand to his chest, feigning absurd humility. —Let's just say… I could help you with your situation.

The words fall heavy on your shoulders.

That's the trap.

That's their play.

Your jaw tenses. No.

—I don't trust you.— Your response is immediate, forceful.

Alastor laughs. Not mockingly, but with an unsettling placidity.

— Oh? — His shadow twists on the wall again. —And why not? Am I not an exemplary citizen of this hotel?

— Your record speaks for itself.

His smile widens.

— You're right! My reputation is quite colorful. — he exclaims with absolute amusement.

— I won't make a deal with you. — you reply immediately.

— Ah, what a pity…—He sighs, theatrically. —I thought we'd make a fabulous team.

His tone is light, casual. But his expression… it looks nothing like someone who has been rejected.

Because he hasn't.

He's gotten information out of it.

Maybe not what he wanted, but something useful.

— You see, my dear… —Alastor leans slightly towards you, his voice descending to a softer, more intimate tone — I understand more than you think.

His smile doesn't move, but his eyes say something else.

— When you love your family, you'd do anything for them, don't you?

Your breath stops for a second, just a second.

But Alastor notices, and in his mind, the web continues to weave.

The air in the lobby becomes stifling.

Alastor no longer bothers with detours. There's no need to.

— Your precious brother is in a contract, I know…— he says, his tone almost kind, almost sympathetic. — But tell me, my dear … was it really against his will?

His question falls like an axe on your neck.

Your jaw tenses. An irrational impulse tells you to hit him, to shut him up, but you can't. You must not. You mustn't.

You grit your teeth, holding back the venom that wants to escape from your throat.

Damn you all.

The memory hits your mind mercilessly. Your brother. His eyes, sparkling with youthful excitement as he spoke of opportunities in Hell.

"Just a couple of jobs, nothing dangerous. They say they pay well. They say there are connections. They say I could get a better place here."

The words of those demons slipped with the smoothness of the sweetest poison.

Promises. Lies disguised as opportunities.

And then, reality.

The contracts, the blood seals, the curses that bound them for life. The traffic. The trafficking of souls.

The price your brother had paid was too high. And now, if you failed in this mission, he would be killed.

You bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you almost taste the blood.

But Alastor does not know this.

You take a deep breath, with absolute control over your expression. Your eyes, on the other hand, take on a calculated coldness, as if his question were irrelevant.

— I don't care what my brother did.— you say firmly.— I only know that I'm here for myself.

— Oh? -Alastor smiles, tilting his head.— Funny. You seemed more concerned about him before.

You feel the impulse to pull back, but you don't.

— My goal hasn't changed, I want to redeem myself.— you lie with impeccable fluidity.

Alastor squints, amused.

— You are very convincing, my dear…—His voice is a seductive whisper. — You really are, but… if you don't care what your brother has done, why does your heart beat so fast every time I mention him?

The blood freezes in your veins.

No.

You stand firm.

You take a deep breath and look at him sternly.

— I refuse to continue this conversation.

Alastor lets out a laugh, full of satisfaction.

— Oh, this is too hilarious! - His laughter reverberates through the hall, a cacophony of distorted mirth.

But you only think of one thing: If Alastor keeps digging, everything will fall apart.

You take a step, intending to leave the lobby. Or at least you try to.

Alastor doesn't allow it.

His hand wraps around your arm with a pressure that falls short of painful, but firm enough to remind you of something crucial: he won't let you go.

— Ah-ah-ah, my dear…— he croaks, slurring his words with amusement, — Our deal still stands!

Your body tenses immediately.

The grip is not violent, but the feeling of being trapped is worse than any blow.

Too hard. Too dangerous.

Your heart hammers against your chest as fury flares inside you.

Curse.

A thousand times curse.

Curse this place, curse Hell.

Curse all the demons that have turned your existence into a hell within Hell.

And above all, damn him.

The Radio Demon, with his eternal smile, with his melodious tone, with that mocking shadow writhing on the wall as if he enjoyed every second of it.

Your jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

But then… you reconsider.

Why?

Why is he offering you a deal?

Alastor doesn't give anything without getting something in return. And if he really believes what you've told him is true-that you're only here for your own redemption-then why so much interest?

Your gaze slides down the corridor, the exit you can no longer reach.

There is no escape, so you decide to change your strategy.

—Why? - Your voice is cold, but controlled. Alastor raises an eyebrow with apparent curiosity.

— Why what? - He replies.

— Why are you offering me a deal? -Your eyes are fixed on his, searching for the tiniest crack in that mask of eternal satisfaction.

He doesn't answer immediately, analyzing your answer for too long. However, you speak again.

— It's curious.— you murmur in a tone that is light, almost playful, but you do it on purpose.

— What is it, my dear? - Alastor blinks, still smiling.

—You're not one to make deals with just anyone.

His expression doesn't change. His hand is still on your arm. But you feel the tension, as if something in the atmosphere has changed direction.

— You're not someone who helps others for no reason.— you continue, leaning into him a little, just enough to play your own game.

You pause, enjoying the moment.

— You've never shown interest in anyone.

Alastor's smile remains intact, but his shadow on the wall twists strangely.

There.

You caught him.

You feel a spark of satisfaction in your chest. Not because you think you've won it, but because now you have something to play with.

— So tell me, Alastor...— Your voice is soft, curious, with an almost dangerous sweetness. — Why me?

You dare to smile, just a little.

— What makes you think I want a deal? Especially with a demon like you.

The shadow you've been staring at for so long is moving.

Not like before, not like a simple distortion on the wall.

Now, it manifests itself.

It is dark, meandering, as if spilling into reality itself. Its edges vibrate with a silent heartbeat, a formless presence, without a mouth, but with bright, piercing eyes.

You stare at it, frozen.

But before you can react, Alastor breaks the silence.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah... - His voice is still melodic, but there is something else now, frustration.

His fingers grip tighter on your arm. This time there is a small pain, uncomfortable, but it quickly disappears with the boiling rage inside you.

— Those details, my dear... —he leans in slightly, his shadow writhing at your feet— I will only give them to you if you tell me the whole truth.

Your lips open.

No.

Not even dead (for the second time).

Your other hand moves before you can think it, trying to pull his grip away with a sharp tug. Violent.

Alastor doesn't flinch.

— Oh, you really want to play like that? - His tone is almost amused, but the pressure in his grip increases just a little.

— Let go of me. - There is no pleading in your voice, only venom.

Alastor won't budge and neither will you.

It's a power play, a battle without retreat.

Both of you steady, both of you immobile, and between you, that throbbing shadow, watching with a latent hunger.

You look at it closely, you study it, and that shadow sees you in the same way, yet it disappears in an instant.

It doesn't slowly fade away, it doesn't dissolve into the gloom. It simply ceases to be there.

As if it never existed.

You blink, stunned, but you don't have time to react.

The pressure on your arm intensifies and, before you can launch another attempt to escape, Alastor pulls you towards him.

Your body lurches, the air ceases to exist between you.

Too close.

His face is inches from yours, his red eyes burning with unnatural intensity. The smile is still there, intact, but there's something about it that gives you goosebumps.

You can't move. You can't breathe.

You don't know if it's because of the tension of the situation or if there's something else, something hidden behind those bright eyes, something no one has ever lived to tell.

Because you don't know Alastor.

You really don't.

You remember the warnings, the whispers in the corridors of the hotel, the whispers of the demons who spoke of him as if he were a force of nature, an inevitable disaster.

Cruel. Sadistic. Unstoppable.

You remember how they mentioned his regretful disappearance, the mystery that shrouded his figure. And most importantly...

If Alastor catches you, no one can save you.

Your throat goes dry.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a slight fear.

You feel it in every heartbeat, in every second that Alastor's eyes pierce yours with an intensity that is pink with unbearable intensity. Your patience wears thin.

You notice it in the subtle change in his smile, in how his shadow seems to turn with an increasingly visible unease.

— Let's get on with our conversation, my dear... —he says, with that false politeness that only makes your skin crawl.

Your jaw tenses.

But he doesn't stop.

— Because, sure, there are many ways to look at this... — his tone is light, amused, but his grip remains firm — Maybe you're simply a sinner trying to make a desperate deal to help your dear brother... — he tilts his head, his smile barely broadening — but oh, what a problem! You can't make it that obvious, can you? That's why you play hard to get.

A shiver runs down your spine, there's nothing to say.

—Or...— he continues, stretching the word out with a hint of mockery, — maybe you're just a little rat snooping around this hotel, looking for information for those dealers he serves.

Your heart hammers hard. But then, Alastor smiles even wider. And says the third.

— Or... most likely...— he whispers, with a cruel softness, —you are here under threat. Someone has sent you. You want to know about me. My movements. My secrets. And more importantly...

Your eyes glow with something lethal.

— You want to know why I've disappeared for so many years.

The fear is immediate.

Your body reacts before your mind. A slight tremor in your hand, a flicker barely longer than normal, the air getting caught in your chest.

You have to get out of this.

You have to divert the conversation.

You have to do something.

— What do you want? - You don't say it forcefully, not defiantly.

It's a murmur, low, laden with little acceptance.

But Alastor hears it.

And for the first time, the shadow on the wall stops.

Alastor smiles in triumph .

Because now he knows.

Maybe not with certainty, maybe not with every detail, but one of his theories is true. And he's leaning toward one of the latter two. Or quite possibly both.

The fear on your face, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoided looking directly at him for an instant.

Charming.

His grip on your arm relaxes, but he doesn't let go. His shadow slips around you as if waiting for the command to do something.

— So, my dear... —his voice is a soft whisper, with an almost seductive venom — if we're going to talk business... what do you have to offer?

You freeze.

You knew it was coming to this, you knew it. And, still, it hits you hard.

Your mind works at full speed, searching for something, anything, a way out that doesn't involve giving away more information than necessary.

You find nothing.

Shit.

Your breathing barely hitches. You clench your fists, as if that might steady the subtle tremor that threatens to give you away.

You can't give in anymore, can't give him more than he's already taken.

So you lie, again.

—I have nothing of value to offer. —You say it fast, too fast.

Alastor cocks his head. His eyes glitter with mockery.

He knows it's a lie.

You need to pull yourself together. Now.

— Oh? — she sings, with false disappointment- What a pity. And here I thought I was a resourceful woman....

Her tone is playful, but you're challenging yourself.

If she's going to play like that, so will you.

—But if we're going to make a deal... —your voice is firm this time, holding her gaze with more control than you really feel—what do I get in return?

Silence.

— Oh-ho! How amazing...—he laughs, with that inhuman musicality that makes your skin crawl, — you seem to be more familiar with the deals than you lets on.

None of them respond. You can't give him any more than he's already deduced for himself.

Alastor takes a step closer.

You force yourself not to back down.

— Tell me then... what do you think you can get from me? — The question floats between you.

— If you really want a deal... — your voice is firm, without hesitation— tell me the terms. Or there will be absolutely nothing.

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

For a moment, he looks genuinely amused . As if the idea of someone talking to him like that would cause him a strange fascination.

— Why, how brave...—his tone is casual, but that dangerous musicality is still there, running through every word. —And what makes you think you can bargain with me, my dear?

You don't say it out loud, but you know it.

If I really saw you as mere prey, as someone worthless, you would have fallen by now.

You wouldn't be here, arguing with him.

You wouldn't be alive.

That means you have something. Some leverage, maybe not enough to win, but enough to keep you afloat.

— Oh, it's simple, honey. — his smile widens — I get what I want... which will only be known the moment I require it.

Your eyes narrowed.

— And me? you ask.

— You get an absolute favor. — he answers quickly.

— On equal terms?

— Exactly. — His tone is light, almost mocking. — Neither of us will be able to refuse when the time comes.

The thought chills your blood.

An absolute favor from Alastor.

It could mean your brother's salvation. But it also means that at any moment, he could ask for something unthinkable in return.

You analyze it. Minute after minute of cold calculation.

— Who delivers first? — you ask. But Alastor doesn't answer.

He just smiles.

And that tells you all you need to know. Your pulse pounds, but you reach out your hand.

It's a risk, but you take it.

Finally, you inhale deeply and reach out your hand, but Alastor pulls away before you can touch him.

You frown, puzzled, wrinkle your nose in disdain, losing what little patience you have left.

— So...when is that damn deal sealed? — you exclaim in a demanding voice.

— Soon, sweetheart...— you snap your fingers, — but first, we need... privacy.

Without apparent warning, Alastor snaps his fingers immediately, and darkness envelops you.

You don't have time to react, a scream forms in your throat, but it's too late. The shadows catch you, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear with it.

The darkness is absolute for an instant, suffocating, before your eyes adjust and a new reality unfolds before you. You find yourself in a room that defies all logic, a strange amalgam of decadent elegance and wild nature.

Antique crimson velvet furniture contrasts with vines snaking up the walls, and a canopy of dark leaves stretches into a swampy-looking forest.

The scent of damp earth mingles with a sweet, unfamiliar perfume, creating an atmosphere that is equal parts intoxicating and disturbing.

In the center of it all, like a predator in its lair, Alastor watches you.

— Welcome to my humble quarters, my dear.—he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

— Why did you bring me here? — you ask, your voice slightly shakier than you'd like. The place gives you a bad feeling, a visceral sense of danger running through your marrow.

It's the catlike feeling that characterizes it. He stops just inches from you, his gaze fixed on yours, intense and penetrating.

— Because, my dear...—he whispers, his voice a dangerous purr. —this is where important deals are forged.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know something isn't right, that the original proposal was just a facade.

— What are you talking about? —you demand, instinctively backing away.

— My real proposal, of course — Alastor replies, with a grim smile—. You see, I have certain... needs. And you, my dear, could be the key to satisfying them.

You're out of breath. You don't like any of this.

— I propose a new deal — he continues, ignoring your silence.— A more... intimate deal. You offer me one night of your time, and I, in return, will give you the opportunity to gain your absolute favor with no strings attached.

— One night? —You repeat, incredulously. —What do you mean by that?

Alastor tilts his head, his smile widening.

— I'll be direct, my dear. I want your body at my disposal... but on one condition.

You grimace in disgust.

— What kind of condition?

— I'll make you climax, with my hands only. No undue touching, if you manage to resist my attentions, if you manage to keep your composure and not give in to pleasure within a certain time... then, the absolute favor will be yours, without price or condition.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It is madness, an absurd challenge.

— But... if I fail. —you say, your voice barely audible, — what if... if I climax before time runs out?

Alastor's smile turns predatory.

— Then, my dear... I will take your body and soul. Both will be mine. But absolute favor will stand.

Silence hangs over the room, heavy and unsettling. You analyze the proposal, weighing the risks and possible rewards. It's a terrible gamble, you know, but the promise of saving your brother impels you to consider the unthinkable.

— When... when would I have to make my decision?

— Now, sweetness. —Alastor replies, extending a hand toward you. — Time is short. Will you accept my deal?

You hesitate, aware of the trap hidden behind Alastor's smile. You are not naive; you have listened to his conditions carefully, and the idea of being cornered, with no escape, chills your blood. But, despite your fear, you refuse to give in completely.

— The deal must be closed when what you said is done.— you reply, your voice firm despite the trembling in your knees.— Whether you make me climax or not, I will not give you my hand until then.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your audacity. He nods slowly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. He lowers the hand he offered you a moment ago and, with a swift, unexpected movement, conjures his shadow magic.

Dark tendrils coil around your body, imprisoning you against your will, immobilizing your arms and legs. You try to struggle, but the shadows are strong, relentless.

Alastor approaches, the fire of possession burning in his eyes. There is no trace of playfulness in his expression anymore, only raw, predatory intensity. Without delay, he begins his provocation. There are no soft kisses or delicate caresses. Instead, you feel the sting of his bites on your neck, a pleasurable pain that makes you gasp involuntarily.

His claws tangle in your hair, squeezing hard, tugging at your scalp. A moan escapes your lips, an uncontrollable response to the stinging sensation. Apparently, that's a particularly sensitive area.

Alastor slides his free hand down to your breasts, where he squeezes firmly. The pain is sharp, almost unbearable, but mixed with a current of excitement that takes you by surprise. A louder, more desperate moan erupts from your throat.

He grunts in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him. You sense that his patience is wearing thin, that he is on the verge of losing control.

Alastor leans into you, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispers words that are both possessive and provocative.

— You are mine, my dear. There is no escape from this— he says, each syllable infused with a burning desire that causes the heat between you to rise.

Your mind struggles to stay afloat, but his every word is like a fire fanning the flames in your body. At first, you had believed that you could resist him, that Alastor could not provoke any sensation in you. Now, however, you find yourself in a feverish state as he slips his hand under your dress, reaching for your pussy through the delicate fabric of your underwear.

With deliberate slowness, his finger finds the twitching bud in you, and a surprised moan escapes your lips.

— Is this what you meant? -you exclaim, disbelief mingling with uncontrollable excitement.

Alastor nods, his smile widening as he watches your body react to his touch. Again, he begins the assault, tracing small circles around your clitoris, stimulating your need with a mastery that leaves you breathless.

— Mmm... how about this? —he asks in a teasing tone.

You gasp, cocking your head to one side. The static emanating from Alastor only intensifies your feverish state, and you realize you are caught between desire and resistance.

Curses escape your lips, sweet moans that he visibly enjoys.

—No... I can't...— you murmur between gasps.

— Oh, but you really can. — he replies in a deep voice.— You just have to let yourself go.

His eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hunger as he increases the speed of his movements. Now, two claws work at a murderous pace, stripping you of your underwear and leaving you exposed to his will. You feel on the verge of fainting, but your mind has not yet succumbed completely; you want to resist the delicious sensations that pervade everything.

— Alastor! — you cry out, feeling the line between pleasure and pain blur.— This is not fair...

— Life is never fair, my dear— he replies in an almost playful tone. But you have chosen this path.

As his fingers continue their provocative dance, you feel each touch become a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body trembles under his control; his every movement is like a spell that envelops you further in his grid.

You look into each other's eyes in a moment of clarity; you both know what is at stake here. The internal struggle intensifies as you struggle between desire and the need to stand firm in your decision. But Alastor's shadows seem to take hold of you, and in that crucial instant, you feel pleasure begin to gain ground over reason.

You whimper as Alastor modulates the speed of his fingers, first fast, then slow, and finally, fast again, bringing you to the brink again and again.

Alastor maintains a strained smile, and one of his shadows behind him stirs restlessly, twitching with an intensity that makes your hair stand on end.

He growls plagued with terrifying static as he senses the shadow moving too close to you, as if it has the very intentions of possessing something of your body.

As you are lost in the maelstrom of sensations, eyes closed and little moans escaping your lips, you feel him shallowly slide his fingers through your intimacy, soaking in your arousal.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize the possessiveness in that gesture.

And again, he concentrates on stimulating your clitoris with violent intensity. The games are over. The pleasurable torture becomes a direct assault on your senses.

You feel your body tense, and Alastor senses it. He knows that you are very close to the edge, and with that information, he orders you, with a partially aggressive sentence

— Open your mouth.

Powerless, you obey. You open your lips and, before you can let out a piercing cry that announces your orgasm, Alastor thrusts his elongated tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan in a wet, intense kiss.

You both moan in the midst of that whirlwind of sensations, as the aftershocks of climax shatter you.

Your body shudders, and a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A broad smile, full of delight, lights up Alastor's face as he pulls away from you, leaving a trickle of saliva still connecting his lips to yours.

You feel exhausted, vulnerable, but also strangely satisfied.

In the haze of your climax, in the confusion of overflowing sensations, you had completely forgotten that you had to resist, that your soul was at stake.

But Alastor takes care to remind you at once, with a sentence that leaves no doubt that now follows the best part, at least for him.

— Oh, dear, you almost forgot, didn't you?— He says with a hint of mockery in his voice, though his eyes shine with an intensity that warns you that this is much more than just a game.— Remember our deal, my possession. You belong to me now.

You feel a slight pang of frustration for having lost, for having let yourself be carried away by pleasure, but also a strange shame comes over you as you realize how much you had desired this contact.

Alastor, with studied casualness, informs you.

— It won't be easy to take me completely, I know... but I know you will succeed.— he whispers softly.

You try to reply, to protest the unfairness of the situation, but Alastor already has you against the ground, immobilized once again by his shadows. You are unable to move, unable to escape his hold.

You gasp as you feel him on top of you, imprisoning you with his weight. From that position, his body looks even more imposing, his presence completely overwhelming you. Your heart begins to race as you feel strands of his hair brush against your cheek, and finally, you look into his eyes.

Ironically, you now find him almost attractive. The spark of madness in his gaze, the predatory intensity that emanates from him, awaken a strange fascination in you.

You mentally beat yourself up for even considering the idea. How could you find attractive this being who had manipulated you and now claimed you as his own? In a muffled voice, feigned really, you tell Alastor to hurry up, trying to hide the growing excitement coursing through you.

— Get it over with already. — you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

Alastor, hearing your demand that he hurry up, lets out a chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. You sense a slight feeling of helplessness growing in him, as if your apparent indifference is hurting him somehow.

He feels your response as a rejection, a denial of his power over you, and that is enough to alter his needy state. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere around you becomes charged with a palpable electricity.

Again, the fingers that brought you to climax return to your intimacy, slipping between your wet, throbbing lips.

— Look what a mess you've made, my darling. All this... just for me. — he says in a husky voice, almost devoid of his filter.

In the midst of provocation, you open your lips, almost exclaiming a sentence imploring for more or perhaps for mercy, but the words get caught in your throat when Alastor thrusts one of his claws inside you. It's not a delicate caress; it's a possessive invasion that steals your breath.

You squeeze Alastor's arm hard with one hand, your nails digging into his skin. With the other, you cling desperately to the creaking wood beneath your back, searching for an anchor point amidst the storm of sensations whipping through you.

—You like this, don't you? — Alastor asks, his voice a husky whisper that brushes against your ear. Admit it.

You try to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing you give in, but the intensity of your touches overcomes you. A choked moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to the relentless stimulation.

— No... shut up. — you murmur between gasps, trying to regain control.

— Shut me up? —Alastor mocks, intensifying his grip. —Why should I shut up when I'm enjoying your pleasure so much?

You feel how Alastor's claws move inside you, stretching and probing every nerve, exploring every sensitive corner. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a dizzying sensation that makes you lose track of time and space.

— Please... — you beg, your voice barely audible.

He stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours.

— Please what, my dear? — He asks with a hungry smile, — Please make you feel even more pleasure? Please make me take you to the edge of madness?

You know you're on the edge of the abyss, that if you give in any more, you'll lose yourself completely in his game. But a part of you, a dark and twisted part, longs to fall.

You hide your face in Alastor's shoulder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to give you away, as he continues his assault, deeper now, more relentless.

He has no mercy for you, but you know he is only preparing you for something else, something even more intense.

Yet, hearing you in such a way, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, leaves him without resistance. Your gasping breath, your trembling body, the slight quiver in your voice... all of it further ignites the fire that burns within him.

You beg, almost inaudibly, for this to end, not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure that begins to frighten you, because of the fear of losing control completely.

— Please... no more. — you whisper, clinging to his shoulder as if your life depended on it.

He shakes his head, without stopping his movement. You look up and watch Alastor's deer ears twist with every moan he emits, as if the very manifestation of his being is responding to your pleasure.

So, dizzy in the whirlwind of sensations, you move even closer to his ear and moan lasciviously, giving yourself over completely to the provocation.

Alastor squints as he feels a violent electricity run through him. That's when he pulls his fingers from you and, with a quick, almost animalistic movement, unbuttons his dress pants.

You are both still dressed; he has not removed your dress for the urgency of the moment, and neither was he going to remove his own clothes for the same reason. Impatience and primal desire dominate the scene.

His cock shoots out of his pants, throbbing and raging. You look at it, admiring and fearful at the same time, but before you can even have a say in what you see, Alastor lifts you off the ground.

He carries you over your arms in a vulnerable position, with your legs apart, wrapped around his waist. You feel him slowly slide inside you, preparing you for what is to come.

The initial stretch is uncomfortable, almost painful, but he allows you to get used to it for a few minutes, where you avoid looking at his face at all costs, embarrassed by your own surrender.

At once, he begins to move, with slow lunges at first, testing your limits. You desperately seek to hold on to something, but it is useless; the only support is Alastor himself, so you have no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his sack as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside you.

You moan, writhe and curse as the demon seems possessed by your inner heat. Each thrust is a declaration of dominance, a reaffirmation of his control over you. Pleasure mixes with pain, excitement with fear, creating a sense of chaos that completely disorients you.

— Who is in control now? —Alastor whispers in your ear, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

You do not respond, intoxicated by the intensity of the act, completely lost in the whirlwind of sensations that consumes you. Your silence is a defiance, a silent rebellion that further ignites Alastor's desire.

In response, he thrusts deeply and rudely against you, at first in an effort to force you to respond, to submit completely to his will.

But when he hears the whimper that escapes your lips, a sound that mixes pleasure and pain, his animal instinct takes over completely. He gasps in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him, as if your tears are the fuel that feeds his inner fire.

You feel his cock press even deeper inside you, twisting with unrelenting fury.

But before you can even look at him, before you can try to regain some control, he begins to fuck you wildly, unleashed. Multiple fast, deep, messy lunges drive you over the edge, forcing you to scream out his name.

You cling even tighter to Alastor, hunched over him completely, digging your nails into his back in search of a foothold. You beg him, desperately, not to go so fast, to have some mercy.

— Please... Alastor... stop, stop, please —you whimper between sobs, begging for a breath.

But he responds with even more savagery, ignoring your pleas, possessed by the need to bring you to the breaking point.

— I can't...I don't want to. — he growls against your neck, his voice filled with an urgency that frightens you.— I want you...I need you.....

Tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, mingling with the sweat that drenches your face. You moan and sob urgently, completely overcome by the intensity of the moment. Every thrust rips a scream from you, every rubbing makes you tremble with pleasure and pain.

You are on the verge of madness, on the verge of losing yourself completely.

— Alastor... Alastor! — you cry out, begging for an end that you know will not come soon.

In that moment of absolute vulnerability, you feel something change in Alastor. His fury transforms into desperate need, his savagery into total surrender.

And in that instant, he understands that, though he claims you as his own, he too is at the mercy of this desire.

Alastor, completely lost in the moment, unleashes dark, glowing magic from his body, chaotic energy pulsing around you. He hears you crying and begging, but he cannot and will not turn back. The point of no return has arrived; it is time to seal the deal completely.

The demon transforms. Red dials flare in his darkened eyes, his antlers lengthen, menacing, and a grotesque seam appears around his smile for a brief moment, revealing the madness that lurks behind his mask of civility.

— Now, sweetness, it's time to close the deal. — he exclaims with complete madness, each word echoing through the space. Give me your soul, your body, your devotion and your absolute loyalty.

He continues to thrust, his voice strained and tight from how wet you are, from the pleasure it brings him. The slippery echo of each movement reverberates through the room, creating an atmosphere of wildness and desperation.

You are simply lost, completely consumed by the sensations. At this moment, nothing else matters anymore.

Fuck those filthy pieces of shit that have your brother under threat. Fuck the plan to research everything about Alastor, his weaknesses and shit. 

The only thing you long for, the only thing you want with every fiber of your being, is to come together with him, with Alastor, to melt completely in this moment of madness and passion.

You nod, completely overpowered by the sensations. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe in the midst of the storm raging through you. You moan a long "yes" against Alastor's lips, without closing the distance completely, offering him a silent promise of total surrender.

He, satisfied to hear your acceptance, closes the deal. A cursed green aura washes over you in the midst of the final onslaught, a magical energy that binds your souls forever. You cling tightly to Alastor as he drags you into the last orgasm, a destructive and messy one that awakens in you an irrepressible urge to kiss him again.

He didn't expect such an action, and surprise runs through him like an electric shock. With that simple act, with that unexpected surrender, he cums inside you with a tense grunt, releasing all the contention he had built up.

And as the aftershocks of climax end, you both remain in that position, breathing hard, trying to regain your breath and control.

Sweat drenches their bodies, their hearts beat wildly, and silence closes over the room, charged with a palpable electricity.

Your soul is now Alastor's; You are bound to him for eternity. And right now, in the midst of confusion and exhaustion, it doesn't seem like a lousy transaction.

And as the haze of pleasure begins to dissipate, allowing sanity to slowly return to your mind, a stinging thought bursts into your consciousness: your brother.

Reality hits you as you remember the reasons you had ventured into this dangerous game with Alastor. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued you until now have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of resignation and... hope.

Now, you no longer feel that paralyzing anguish over your fate. Instead, you cling to the certainty that you have done everything possible for him, that he has sacrificed your own freedom to ensure his survival.

Yet a new restlessness begins to grow within you. Will he understand your sacrifice? Will he understand the magnitude of what you have done for him?

Oh, you hope, with every fiber of your being, that he will truly understand, that he will not judge you for the choices you have made, for the price you have paid.It was all for him, for your beloved brother, the only tie that bound you to your forgotten humanity.

Alastor slowly pulls away from you, watching you with an indecipherable expression. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity, as if he is trying to unravel the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

— So...— he says with his characteristic smile, a smile that is now as familiar to you as it is unsettling. —Do you regret your decision?

You look into his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Even though your soul belongs to him, you refuse to give in completely to his dominion.

— No. —you answers in a firm voice, defying his gaze, — I regret nothing I have done for my brother.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your answer.

— How noble. — he says with a hint of mockery. But make no mistake, your sacrifice does not end here.— Now that your soul belongs to me, you have an eternity by my side.

— What more do you want from me? — you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— I want you to stay by my side. — he whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr. —I want you to be with me, to help me reach my goals. I want you to be my companion... in every sense of the word.

You feel a shiver run through your body. The idea of spending eternity at Alastor's side, bound to him by a magical bond, terrifies and fascinates you at the same time.

— And... what about my brother? — you ask, clinging to the hope that you can still help.

Alastor smiles, revealing the row of sharp teeth.

— Your brother will be safe, my dear. — he says in a voice that exudes confidence. —I promise.

You know you're trapped, that there's no escape from this deal. But you also know you have a chance to change things, to influence Alastor's plans, to protect those you care about.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a hint of hope, you take his face in your hands and kiss it, sealing your fate.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible to make a deal with him after all. You both won, he made sure of that detail.

He may have your soul now, but you still had absolute favor.

Yes, it was definitely a better deal than many you were offered all around Hell.

[reginamillls]

having vampire Eddie thoughts

[zehrbear]

Bones and All

pairing : Dragon!Sylus x fem!Reader

cw: smut, monsterfucking, predator-prey, blood, double P in V, being restrained with his tail, reader has tits and a vagina, sylus wants to eat you :3

Sylus is obsessed with how soft you are.

He’s enthralled by the curve of your hips, the way you yield beneath his claws that leave hollow indents behind on your flesh with every squeeze. You’re his favorite possession, his greatest indulgence to hoard.

The reminder strikes him as he watches you lounging atop the velvet settee, oblivious and serene, against a backdrop of gold and glittering that gleam in the dim light of the cave. His reptilian gaze lingers, drinking in the way your body bends and twists, the natural grace of you as you stretch when you think no one is watching. The lazy roll of your spine, the shifting of your thighs, it all leaves his claws twitching with the need to claim you. He pictures your body beneath him, all pliant and willing, as he maps each curve. He imagines mouthing at your jaw, his lips grazing down your neck to drink in the scent of you.

You’re always so sweet. So soft. So warm.

So fresh.

The thought teeters on the edge of something darker. A place where the line between desire and hunger blurs into a bloody haze as he grapples with his conflicting feelings. As he finds himself unable to discern between his mate and his feed for the night. 

Your head snaps to the side when you hear the sudden shifting of gold, the sliding of coins that lay scattered across the ground against one another, as they do when pushed by something heavy. 

“Sylus?” Your voice is higher than you intended, raw with unease. 

There’s no response. His name echoes back at you, hollow and mocking before the sound suddenly stops. You turn sharply, pulse roaring in your ears, only to meet with nothing.

It doesn’t feel right. Every instinct screams at you to run, but your legs feel like they're in quicksand; lethargic, heavy, unable to move. It feels like you’re sinking into the gold beneath you shifting right below your feet. Your breaths come shallow, rapid, each one colder than the last as you look around for the source of your panic. That is, until your gaze lands on two scarlet eyes, wide and predatory, gazing right at you from the shadows before it disappears once more. 

He’s stalking you.

Coins spill and clatter, tumbling in a slow cascade down mountainous piles on either side of the cave’s walls. You spin again, your movements frantic, and it’s as if the shadows are alive - seeping into every crevice, pooling at the edges of your vision.

You feel him circling you. You swear you can when a brush of heat grazes against your arm, making you jolt upright. Your head jerking to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but once more, you’re met with nothing but the ghost of a touch and the roaring of your blood in your ears.

“S-Sylus?” you whisper this time, a breathless sound barely audible, and in that moment you don’t know if you’re calling for him to reveal himself or begging him to stay hidden.

A growl rolls out of the dark, low and resonant, reverberating through the cave and into your very bones. And in that moment, every part of you screams prey. The frantic thrum of your pulse, the quivers of your body, the way your breath comes shallow and quick betraying the fear you can’t possibly hide.

It’s intoxicating to him.

The world blurs as something crashes into you, an overwhelming force that knocks the breath from your lungs. The gold shifts violently beneath you as you’re thrown back, coins scattering and clattering in a deafening storm. Your body hits the ground hard, sharp edges biting into your skin. You gasp, chest heaving as panic flows through your every vein. 

Before you can even process it, he’s on you.

Sylus looms above you, all dark scales and burning lust, his massive form blocking out the light with a presence that eclipses everything else. A claw makes its way to your face, tilting it upwards and baring your neck to him as the other holds you down by the shoulder, pinning you down easily. You twist and squirm trying to break free, but it’s futile as his scorpion-like tail wraps around your middle, sinuous and heavy, and locks you in place.

His chest heaves, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he lowers his face to yours. His eyes are blown wide, the red of his irises swallowed by darkness, fixed on you with a singular, unrelenting focus. He’s panting, his jaw unhinging just enough for his fangs to glint in the dim light as the slick heat of drool drips onto your skin.

You’re so small beneath him, fragile in ways that ignite something primal within his system. His jaws part as he leans closer, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your neck, teasing the delicate skin stretched thin over the artery thrumming wildly beneath. The sound of your racing heartbeat filling his ears and stirring up a hunger so deep it makes his chest ache.

The conflict burns in him, a raging fire that twists his hunger into something far more dangerous, a carnal need to consume you. Your soul. Your flesh. Your very bones. His tail curls tighter around your middle, possessive and unyielding, locking you in place like a predator fearing his prize might escape. You’re so soft, so flush with life, and it would be so easy to take that all away. To have you fill his mouth another way. To hear your cries warp into screams and see your wide eyes filled with terror.

His hips shift, pressing his arousal against you, the ridges of his twin cocks sliding along your trembling core. The slick heat of his pre smears against your skin, marking you in ways that send a shiver through him as his claws flex again, almost breaking skin this time.

It’s like your every nerve is alight; sparks flurrying throughout your body in flashes of electricity as you feel the weight of him pressing against you. Your cunt tightens as he moves closer, as he prods against your entrance, stretching you out with just the tip of him as your walls flutter around him and you grow lightheaded with fear, or is it anticipation?

Could this heady feeling a mix of both?

“You’re afraid.” He growls low, satisfied with the way you gasp and arch beneath him as if your body is betraying you.

The sound of his voice curls in your ear, cutting through the fuzz as his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck. Sharp points puncture the delicate skin, wrenching a cry from your lips as ruby beads spill and trickle down your throat in a warm, sticky stream. You tremble, caught in a storm of sensation- each spark, each bite of pain, tangled with a pleasure you can’t understand. One that thickens as he shifts his weight, as his hips roll against you with deliberate pressure and the burn of him stretching you open wrenches a choked cry from your lips. He shudders at the sound, growl deepening as his hunger sharpens and it takes everything in him not to give in, to tear you apart and savour the feel of your flesh between his teeth, your blood , metallic and warm in his mouth.

Soft, so soft, and so sweet.

Will she feel this warm when she’s no longer moving? 

As he sinks into your heat, stretching deliciously around both cocks despite the fear in your eyes and the tremors wracking through your body… as he feels the slick coating your inner thighs and your clit pulsing below the tip of his tail, he realizes the truth of it. 

This hunger of his will never go away, will always linger just beneath the surface where it threatens to break and envelop him completely. But this unbearable need to make you his over and over again, is stronger.

Though it’s too much, too overwhelming - your body still clings to him, greedily taking more as though you were made for this, for him. It’s a feeling that coils around you, binding and inescapable. Like a tail wrapped around your middle, tethering you together while he feasts on you.

The pull of something neither of you can suppress.

@awwitschuu <3

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Slippery As An Eel

Yandere Eel Merman x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, violent sex, bloody sex, biting, inhuman genitalia, huge dick, stalking, kidnapping, sadistic yandere, merman, eel man, merpeople, magic, general yandere behavior, reader gets broken ankle, dacryphylia, long tongue down reader’s throat) Word Count: 5.6k (Where I live there is still over an hour of May left, and I posted something for Mermay already, but it did not have smut, so I hope this feeds you all well for Mermay!)

Veeris was a merman, part man and part eel. Though most merfolk stayed well away from humankind, Veeris never managed to shake his fascination with them. They were so limited in their biped forms and yet they managed to traverse the skies and the seas. Maybe not so gracefully as a harpy or a merperson, but they traversed these domains nonetheless. And they did such a wide array of behaviors, from what he observed by watching the beach. They were just so fun to watch, going about their days. So small and fragile, but with little to no fear of predators. Veeris supposed that his own kind did a variety of crafts and hobbies too, but the eelfolk were a bit more homogenous than humans, who seemed far less predictable. Maybe it was just that he had lived among his own species so they just seemed more boring, but whatever the reason humans held some kind of spell over him. But there was one human that held his attention in a way that none others did, in a way that made his heart flutter and his thoughts race. And that human was you. It was a slow development, but after a while he became totally enthralled by you. Not knowing your name he dubbed you his "little siren" for getting him so attracted to you. He first saw you when you were picking up garbage from the beach, an activity that wasn't too uncommon as far as humans are concerned, but not totally normal either, it was always a welcome sight to see a human caring about the ocean rather than just polluting it though.   But another quality you possessed that made it so easy for the eel to fixate on you was that unlike the tourists who came and went you were a constant figure at the beach, you were practically a feature of it. And you weren't just a frequent beach goer, you were also consistent in the times that you went. Veeris could almost always predict just exactly when you were going to be there. At that point Veeris was extremely interested and curious about you, but not yet obsessed. What really made him yearn for you was when there was an oil spill. Of course you were a volunteer on the coast, helping to clean up birds that had gotten oil on them. And when he saw that he realized he longed for your delicate hands attending to him, traipsing over and exploring every inch of his body, in the same way that they were diligently cleaning every inch of the wildlife. Veeris tried to temper his passions, he really did. After all, you were a human and on the land and there was no way for him to even get to you, no matter how much he wanted to. Unless... he took advantage of your natural care for sea life. He was sea life was he not? The eel man knew every single inch of every path you took around the beach when you did one of your trash clean-ups. You always started at the south end and ended at the much more secluded north end. He staked the beach out for days waiting for a moment where there were no other humans nearby when you approached the end of your route. As you were going about using your grabber tool to pick up today's wave of never ending pollution you suddenly saw something large wash up with the gentle waves lapping at the shore. Just about 15ft. in front of you now lay a mind bogglingly long merman. Each of his features were striking in their own right. His rippling muscles, the long dark purple hair, almost black, splayed about messily over his face. The blue freckles covering his face, and parts of his arms, and chest. The dark purple scales covering his webbed hands and going up to his arms. But by far his most striking feature was the over 10ft. long tail. It was large, purple, had fins running all the way down its length, and looked oily, it was currently under a net. You saw his sharp teeth as he looked up pleadingly with his dark blue eyes and spoke in a pained voice, "Please help me, I’m Veeris. I was just swimming along when my arm and tail got caught up in this drifting net and I got washed ashore!" You told him your name and said that of course you would assist him! You ran over to him without hesitation, some humans may be scared of the seafolk, but you weren't a bigot! And clearly he needed your help. As you finished removing the net he struck without warning, wrapping you in his long slimy tail before slithering into the water and quickly making his way to his cave. You were stunned for a moment before you started to struggle, but the tail was heavy and muscular, almost like having the largest snake wrapped around you. There was also the little issue of having to contend with not being able to breathe. Just when your head was pounding and it felt like your lungs were on fire you felt the rush of air on your face as he crawled onto the floor of the seafloor, dragging you behind him. You gagged and spit up some water you had accidentally inhaled. "Wh-why did you bring me here?" You managed to croak out. It was practically unheard of for a merman of any type to eat a human but... with human meddling in the ocean fish may be scarce and anyone could be driven to extremes if starving. And those sharp teeth were definitely made for meat. "To be my mate, little siren!" He coiled around you and looked down at you intensely, this was the first time he had ever gotten to see you close up and he wanted to savor each and every little detail of his precious human mate. You flinched as his webbed fingers gently caressed your face. Welp, better than him intending you to be dinner. But uh... not ideal. You feared that trying to reason with him might make him angry and possibly violent, he clearly was not too rational, but maybe some quick thinking could weasel you out of this situation. “Well, um, I have a lot of responsibilities and a job that I have to do. Bills to pay. I can’t just be stuck here!” Maybe a bit flimsy, but maybe he’d buy it? “Ah, but don’t worry my sweet siren, with you being here you won’t have any of those types of worries in the first place! You can just relax and let me take care of you~” Damn, it didn't work. “But this cave is so damp and cool, surely my health will suffer if I stay for too long! And how am I to eat fresh vegetables or cook?” “Don’t worry, my love, I am good friends with the sea witch, Emrul. She has spent time amongst the humans in their form and has used powerful magic to make the next chamber in the cave habitable for your kind!” For the first time you took notice of your surroundings. You were in a huge room, a large portion of which was submerged in water where the cave led out to the sea, but the other portion was smooth rocky terrain. The walls had faintly glowing shells embedded into them with stalactites and stalagmites running together to form large pillars along the farther edges of the room. A soft moss like substance covered the rocky floor in large patches, it was probably of magical origin given that you could see no other way for it to survive here. Glancing behind you you saw a wide corridor leading deeper into Veeris’ den. Veeris slithered closer and grabbed your hand, leading you into the next room. Despite your reluctance to be there even you had to gasp at the sight before you. The room was enormous. The ceiling was a false but convincing image of the sky, clear blue with moving clouds. It was so real there was even a breeze, if it were not for the cave walls remaining the same as the previous chamber you would have been convinced you were really in a scenic location above water. The room was filled with grass and soil and even trees, there was a freshwater pond to give you a water source and in the distance there was a huge cabin, that even Veeris could easily fit into, in the corner with a sprawling garden free of any pests or disease, it was truly amazing. There was even a miniature river for Veeris to cool off in when he needed moisture and when he needed to get from one side of the room to the other quickly, it had arching bridges over it in several places so you could cross and remain dry. “See? Everything a human needs is here! Fresh air, food, trees, plants, food, freshwater, shelter!” Fuck! No dice. There was one last thing you could try. “Well, humans don’t fall in love or move in so fast… not usually… most of us prefer to date for a bit first.” “Date?” “Yeah, where you get to know someone gradually through planned meet-ups! And if you like them then you agree to be mates!” “Oh, so an extended courtship ritual that you need? Okay, little siren, how do we do a human date? I have already watched you for so long every time you are on the beach so I know I love you, but I don’t mind waiting a bit and doing this for you if it makes you more comfortable~” He looked at you and gave a toothy grin that you supposed was meant to be sweet but his sharp teeth gave you chills. But it wasn’t just that grin that made you exceedingly uncomfortable, apparently this eel man had been stalking you for quite some time. Oh god, it was working! “Well, uh, you can take me back up and we can meet and hang out on the beach sometime. I don’t know how your calendar works… maybe during the full moon, two nights from now?” “Okay!” Veeris took you gently and brought you back to the surface, it wasn’t that long, you could have made it yourself in one breath if you had to… assuming you were wearing flippers. Veeris gave you a hug and you said your goodbyes, once he re-submerged into the blue depths you ran home. You hadn’t brought your car since you lived just up the road. You had all of zero intention of going on your date, instead you started looking into new places to live. The nature of your work meant you absolutely had to be near an ocean, it would take some time to pull off but you sure as shit would not remain anywhere near this beach! Veeris, on the other hand, could not wait for his date. In only two days he would court and win the heart of his beloved, he just knew it! He could hardly focus on hunting, eating, or sleeping. He was just so excited, even a bit nervous despite his confidence that he would win you over. When the full moon started to rise Veeris was already at the spot where he first met you. You weren’t there, but that was okay, he had gotten there pretty early in the night in his excitement to see you again. But as the hours passed and the moon reached its zenith, with moonlight dancing on the water you never showed up. Veeris was heartbroken. At first he was depressed, then he was enraged. How could his little siren do something like this to him? He began to go back to his lair when a thought occurred to him. What if something had happened to you? What if you had been injured or hurt? It was the middle of the night, but Emrul was always up performing rituals and spells during the night of a full moon. Veeris knew he would need her help and did not delay in changing course and swimming directly to her dwelling. Emrul lived nearby, in a small stone building carved into the rocky side of a trench, secluded enough to perform her magical research and incantations in relative peace, but also close enough to the people that sought after her unique services. Her perimeter spell had already alerted her to Veeris’ arrival and she was outside to greet him. She looked very similar to him, with the obvious difference that she was a woman. Her scales were also a very dark, almost black, shade of blue rather than purple. She warmly greeted her fellow eel as they both went into her abode. Vials of brightly colored fluids lined her shelves, a cauldron bubbled with a mystic fluid that was thicker than water, and the smell of pungent ingredients permeated the water. “So, what brings you to me at such an hour? It must be important…” “it is… I really need your help...” And, after explaining his situation to her, he got it. A few days later you were in your house getting ready for bed. You had already arranged everything for your move, it wasn’t too terribly far, just 35 miles up the coast. All your things were already packed. You would miss the area, but you had no familial ties and no friends that lived near so that made things easier. You couldn’t stay knowing what was waiting to drag you into the depths. As you turned off the light and got into bed you slept soundly for the first time in days. But you didn’t stay asleep, you heard something outside. You ignored it at first, thinking it was just some raccoon or other such animal roaming about in the dark. But then you heard pounding at your door. You looked through the peephole to see who could possibly be disturbing you at this hour. What you saw made your blood run cold. Veeris, somehow, this far inland. Except there were now two very human legs where his tail should have been, he had no scales, and he was also dressed in very old style clothing. Like an alien who had seen fashion from the Victorian era and wore it thinking it would blend them in with modern day humans. How was he on land? How had he found you!? You ran back upstairs and hid under your bed, hoping that he would think you weren’t home and simply leave. And if he did come in maybe he wouldn’t find you under there. The pounding at the door only grew more fervent, you prayed he would just take a hint and leave but it didn’t seem like a lack of response was going to be enough of a deterrent for the former eel man. Veeris was worried for your safety, worried something terrible may have happened to you, so there was no force on earth that was going to prevent him from seeing you. And he knew you were inside. Emrul didn’t just enchant him with a temporary human form but also let him have a homing crystal that was tuned to the object of his desire. He knew you were inside this human building. Knocking wasn’t working, what if someone had you bound or you were injured and unable to come to the door? With a mighty heave he snapped the door and entered your home, calling out your name as he searched every room. When he reached your bedroom the crystal grew warm and glowed more strongly. You were close. His heavy steps boomed and thudded around you as he checked under your covers and opened your closet. There was now only one place left to check. Veeris easily pushed aside your bed, revealing you huddled up in a fetal position below where the bed previously stood. He picked you up easily and pulled you into a painfully tight embrace. “My siren! What happened to you!? Are you okay? Why did you miss our date?” Veeris was sure there had to be a proper explanation, like maybe you had been ill or someone had hurt you. You only had to get him to leave you alone for another night and then you could find a human mage, warlock, witch, or sorcerer of some type to block out magical tracking. You decided to go with old reliable. In a sickly voice you answered him after a few convincing coughs, “I-i wanted to come, of course I did but… I was so s-sick. I still am. That’s why I was under the bed, I had fallen and couldn’t even get up!” You finished your lie with a few more fake coughs and a slight whimper of pain. Veeris was totally convinced of your deception. Perhaps, as you would soon realize, just a bit too convinced. “Oh, my poor sweet angel fish, I am so sorry that you have been suffering. Forget the date.” Haha, Success! “You clearly cannot be left alone in this condition, don’t worry I will take good care of you, I will make sure you get plenty of rest and all your needs are taken care of!” FUCK! “No, no! You don’t need to go through all of that trouble! I was already starting to feel a little bit better!” You did not like where this was going. “Nonsense, what kind of potential mate would I be if I just left you to suffer! You don’t need to be so strong, you can rely on me.” “B-but the cold water could make me worse!” “Don’t worry, the swim to my cave is so brief that you won’t be exposed long and we can warm up and dry you off in that human dwelling Emrul put in the cave for us! And here, this will let you breathe underwater! It is an enchanted necklace Emrul made for me.” Veeris pulled a sapphire pendant from his pocket and put it gently around your neck before easily scooping you up into his mighty arms. Then he started walking with you right past the broken door and out of the house. You briefly considered screaming for help but there was no one out and about at this hour and even on the off chance someone heard your pleas for help and called the authorities they would never get here in time, and even if that did somehow happen how would Veeris react to your screaming? He could snap your bones without any effort. It was only a quick jog to the sea and when he reached the water’s edge he shed his antique style human clothing before starting the transformation back into an eel man, scales erupting on his arms and legs before his legs joined together and once more became his tail. He held you tight as he slithered into the water and swam as quickly as he could back to his lair. You instinctively held your breath but remembered the charm around your neck that would supposedly allow you to breathe water. It took a lot of will power to force your body to take a breath underwater, but you finally managed to do it and it worked exactly as it was supposed to. You could certainly use this to escape later. Veeris continued carrying you as he slithered into the large enchanted part of the cave. He took you into the cabin and, much to your dismay, stripped you of all your clothing. You tried to talk him out of it but he wasn’t having it, he insisted on getting you out of the wet clothing and bundled up in bed, you were sick after all and apparently humans were supposed to stay dry when sick as per your earlier worry about being exposed to the water while ill. He also insisted on cleaning you up and drying you off. The eel man took a soft rag and gently washed your body of all the water before bundling you up in the softest blankets you had ever felt and having you lay in the humongous bed. Veeris had never slept in a human style bed before, but this one was enchanted to support his full weight and made to dimensions to fit his full size. He found it very comfortable as he slithered into it, fitting you perfectly into his oddly warm coils. You had thought yourself free of this whole mess but now here you were, naked except for some blankets, snuggled up in the tail of a merman who was determined to prove himself to be a perfect mate for you. One day. Just one day and you would have been significantly farther. Not that that necessarily would have stopped him, but it might have. At the very least it would have given you more time. It was hard to go asleep with the massive man surrounding you, but eventually you did manage to get a few shaky hours of rest before waking up to something poking you in your thigh. You opened your eyes to find he was no longer coiled around you and instead spooning you, and his cock had gone erect in his sleep and slid out of his genital slit and was now leaking pre all over you. You feared the size of it, at least he currently thought you ill and hopefully wouldn’t try to mate with you. There was no way that thing was going in without at least some pain. You managed to suppress the urge to push him away from you, but you didn’t want to wake him up and have to deal with him. That task became impossible though when he began slowly fucking your thighs from behind in his sleep. You began shouting and struggling, but it did nothing to wake him. Thankfully whatever erotic dreams were leading to him to such behavior dissipated before he splooged all over you. He finally woke up, with his cock still between your thighs. He blushed and looked away shyly. “O-oh, I am so sorry my little angelfish, I… didn’t mean to uh…, well anyway your clothes are dry now.” But of course, he still had to dress you. You were there for several days, with each day seemingly getting just a slight bit better. You couldn’t stay sick indefinitely, what if he got his magic friend to diagnose you and tell you he was faking? He said her medical magic and remedies were species specific and she didn’t know how to heal humans, but what if he chanced it if you stayed ill? You couldn’t take the risk so instead you gradually acted like you were healing. The entire time he waited on you hand and foot, it was suffocating, he did not even take time to go hunt for himself. Instead he relied on the human food that grew there, even though it wasn’t what he was adapted to. He was overjoyed when you finally “got better.” And you were happy he did not have to be so smothering. No more being fed or bathed or watched over as if you were the most fragile thing to ever exist. When he finally left to go and hunt for the first time since you had been there you had to fight the urge to immediately make a run for it. You had no idea how long he was typically gone, you needed to wait a few days so that you could memorize his outside activities. Veeris, meanwhile, was so happy that his perfect siren had gotten well and was now staying with him. He considered all the time he spent caring for you to be a good substitute for your traditional courtship and dating. Plus every time he returned from any hunting or other necessary outings he always brought you back some gifts, a shiny stone or shell that caught his eye or other such treasures of the sea, and you always accepted and thanked him for these things. If that wasn't successful courtship he didn't know what was. It had now been days since your recovery from your "illness" and you felt that you finally had the ability to accurately predict approximately how long his outings would take. After he left, and when you had figured that he was far enough away as to be out of sight, you grabbed the pendant that allowed you to breathe underwater and started to make your way to the pool that led out of the cave. But in a tragic stroke of bad luck Veeris had found prey almost immediately right outside his den and was already on his way back as you left. Veeris was stunned when he smacked right into you as he was entering the tunnel back to the lair. After a moment of shocked silence he growled furiously and wrapped his tail around you tightly and hauled you right back into the tunnel you had just come out of. Fuck. Everything clicked for Veeris. This whole time you had faked illness to get out of your date with him. But that’s okay, he wasn’t above keeping you against your will. That was, after all, what he had attempted to do originally. You just had to be shown your place while he proved he was the only mate for you. Your fear in that moment was beyond anything that you had ever felt before, you had no idea what he would do or whether or not he would hurt you. Kicking and punching him did nothing to remove you from his thick coils, when he hauled himself out of the water he carried you aloft with the end of his tail and took you back to the cabin. Once there he slammed you hard into the bed, knocking the air out of you. “You were really going to leave me my wonderful angelfish?” He sounded as though he was on the verge of tears. “After all the gifts and how well I have treated you??” “Please just… let me go…” “NO! You’ll be happy here! I’m the only mate for you and we spent so much time together! I just have to show you, just give it more time and I will get you to love me back eventually, okay my siren?” Veeris was unstable, equal parts heartbreak, despair, denial, anger, and love. “I-I hate you, you fucking freak!” For a moment your anger at being kidnapped by this insane merman overcame your fear of him. You regretted it almost instantly. Such blunt words cut Veeris’ heart, causing him great cognitive dissonance. And he was also angered at you being so ungrateful, he had this whole little world in this cave tailor made just for you, when he thought you were sick he took care of you, and he always gave you tokens of love. Seeing the fury in your eyes you backed up until you were against the headboard. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean i-” He pulled you by the legs back towards him as you tried to get away from him. In Veeris’ mind you had to love him, at least on some level, it didn’t make sense that you didn’t. His brain couldn’t entertain the notion. You saying you hated him clashed with his belief and caused him discomfort and pain until he could resolve it in a logical manner. But now with a frightening smirk on his face everything fell into place. He had to utterly dominate you. You didn’t want an overly gentle mate at all times. You clearly wanted him to prove he was strong and worthy. And you were probably in denial about it too. It all made sense. He needed to overpower and ravage you until you accepted it. You flailed as you remained on your back, still being yanked towards him, all the while he stared at you with a very uncharacteristic grin. “V-Veeris?” Suddenly your pants and underwear were torn off followed shortly by your shirt, leaving you exposed under his unhinged gaze. Veeris bent down and used his insanely long tongue to lick all over you, from your neck down to between your legs. His large slimy cock and balls were now out of his genital slit and he was fully erect. The size of it truly scared you. “No! Please! Don-” You were cut off by that long tong plunging into your mouth and probing every inch, gagging you as it explored a bit down your throat. As he did this he coiled his tail around you almost unbearably tight. He broke the kiss and then positioned you to be turning away from him. You could feel his hot cock from behind begin to grind against your very much unlubed entrance. You instinctively flinched in anticipation for the pain, but it only made it much worse for you than if you had tried to relax. Veeris finally finished with the grinding and jammed his fat cock into you unceremoniously. It felt like you had been impaled by a molten spear and you screamed as loud as you could from the pain. It felt as if your hole was being ripped open with how much your body had to stretch to accommodate his dick. With each thrust into you it drove the pain deeper and deeper. Your body would have been shaking with the force of your sobs had you not been so tightly bound by his strong serpentine tail. But his sensitive body was made to detect any and all disturbances in water, so he could feel every sob and gasp and shake, he reveled in it, it was your body submitting to him. As he continued slowly fucking you he licked up all your tasty tears with his long tongue. You were such a beautiful sight, somehow made only more beautiful by your crying and pain. The hurt and trauma of the rape never turned to pleasure, he was not gentle, he was not doing this just for sex. He was doing it to completely dominate you so that you would understand that you were his mate and that he made the rules. He thought it was what you, deep down, needed and even wanted. Veeris refused to go fast, he wanted to savor every delicious stroke of his cock into your blood-lubed hole. You could feel the blood leaking down your thighs, mixed with his precum. You wanted to punch out, or kick, or at the very least hide your head in shame in your pillow to shield your tears from the world and block out the violation that was happening to you. But his body was tight around you, if he was railing you so violently you probably would have noticed the pain the bondage was causing. Veeris kissed your cheek with mock tenderness before whispering into your ear, “You cry so prettily for me my little siren~” Sharp teeth pierced your skin as he bit into your shoulder and then your neck. You blacked out from the pain right as Veeris pumped load after load of hot burning cum deep into your raw abused depths. You woke up over a day later all bandaged up and with a salve that had been inserted inside you to help you heal. Veeris was nowhere to be found. You even called out to him as loudly as you could, though your throat was sore from all the screaming from the day before. No response. You made sure your breathing pendant was still on you, which he foolishly didn’t remove, before hobbling to your feet. You almost collapsed due to the pain, but you pushed past it. Only one short, albeit painful, swim separated you from freedom. You weren’t broken yet. You were crying, your heart was beating erratically in your chest with anxiety, but you still had hope. You could make it. You got to the submerged part of the first room of the cave, your feet at the edge of the water about to step in. Veeris popped up with a splash before you even put a toe in the water. It had all been a test, a trap, he was going to train you to never dare leave one way or another. “Sorry to have set you up like that, but it is the only way you are going to learn your place.” As he slammed you back on to the bed you were kicking, screaming, and blubbering far too incoherently to make out any words. You were sure he was going to rape you again, his cock impaling you and filling you with the worst kind of pain. But he had something a bit more brutal in mind. Your terrified mind couldn’t even comprehend what he was doing as he held your leg with one hand and your leg with the other. Veeris sneered down at you as he twisted your leg in one direction and your foot in the other. There was a sickening snap as he broke your ankle. You screamed louder than you did even when he was fucking you. Mercifully you passed out from the pain and Veeris saw to your injury. He may have taken some pleasure in dominating and hurting you, but he didn’t actually want to cause you harm, didn’t you understand you were making him do these things? No matter, One way or another you would learn you would learn to never try and leave him.

[wyvernest]

go easy on me (part 2)

part 1

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, inexperienced reader, dom miguel, unprotected sex, p-i-v sex, creampie, established relationship

summary: you've never had anyone bring you to the very heights of pleasure, and miguel changes that.

translations at the end

You shiver, eyes fixed on him. You feel the remnants of your orgasm slowly retreat from your body as you readjust yourself on the couch, digging your elbows into the head pillows. His eyes narrow, a stalking predator, scanning you for any signs of fear or hesitancy.

You feel open, pierced by the intensity of his gaze, almost willing to comply with anything he could ask of you.

“Would you like that, baby?” His face comes closer, inches away from your own, his hot and heavy breath raising goosebumps over your flushed skin.

“Tell me. You want me to make love to you, nice and slow?” The rasps in his needy voice make your head dizzy, and you wordlessly lean forward, tangling your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. Your palms graze over the defined muscles of his back, feeling yourself grow wetter as they shift when he pushes himself into you. 

You’re losing your breath into the kiss, moaning softly. He exhales through his nose, not wanting to break apart from you, and you can barely hold yourself together. This is really happening, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Eres divina.” he whispers breathlessly into your mouth as he rests his forehead against yours. You gasp with a whimper just to catch your breath, your heart rate already flown to the moon. He cradles you in his embrace, strong arms encircling your middle as his hands splay on your back, holding you against him.

“¡Di que me quieres!” he begs, his lips on your cheek, voice deep and drowned in the unbearable heat of desire. 

You close your eyes, letting his kisses dive back to your neck as he savours the small mewls you let out under his touch. Your mind is violently swinging back and forth between fear and excitement. What if your lack of experience will be evident to him, in a way in which you don’t entirely get to satisfy him the way you seek to, so badly? 

“I - ah!” Your voiced reply is interrupted by him finding a particular spot right below your jaw that has your thighs pushing together and eyes rolling back. He nimbles the spot, dragging his sharp fangs over the sensitive area and gently biting down before soothingly licking and kissing the mark.

He pushes himself further into you, burying you into the cushions under his enormous body. You feel the way his abdomen tenses and relaxes rhythmically as he brings his erection right between your legs, rubbing himself on you in slow, careful thrusts, displaying a mountain of restrained force and want. Your wet folds stain his boxers in the process, the fabric almost rough on your still sensitive skin. 

You glance down in between you only to be met with the image of his huge hard-on protruding obscenely through the cotton, naturally proportional to the rest of his body.

You roll your hips ever so slightly against him, and you feel just how massive he is, biting back a moan at the thought that he would struggle to fit himself inside you. 

He groans at the gesture, visibly surprised.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”, he warns, right before his own hips drive harder into you, effectively rubbing his hard, still clothed cock against your clit. You begin squirming underneath him, eyes watery from the sudden intensity of emotions your mind and body are being put through. His palms move over your sides, from the dip of your waist to the sides of your breasts, his touch growing eager and possessive, his fingers clutching harder and harder everywhere they find themselves. 

In a surge of adrenaline, you take one of his hands and place it upon your soft tit, agape mouth gifting him a whisper of his name simultaneously. 

“¡Ay, mami!, he chuckles smugly into the crook of your neck, voice deep and low, squeezing the soft flesh before swiftly finding the hem of your (his) shirt and delving right underneath it, fondling your breast skin to skin, making you gasp and arch your back.

He continues to tease you, kissing at your pulse point and groping you in tandem.

“Te necesito. Let me have you.”, and you feel your whole body quiver at his request. It’s all so overwhelming, the weight of him on top of you, the heat radiating from his body, the sound of his voice right below your ear, driving you mad. 

“Please, Miguel” you sob, pressing your cheek into his for comfort. His dick twitches against you.

“Please what?”, he insists. You reckon he wants to hear you say it. Say you want him.

“Have me, Miguel, take care of me.” you whisper, eyelids heavy as you look at him, spotting an unnatural red tint flood his irises, pupils dilated. He stands up on his knees, shoving his boxers down his bulky thighs, his hard cock springing free, hitting his stomach. You forget to meet his gaze again, too preoccupied with the sight he presented you with. 

He takes you by surprise, grabbing at your waist and readjusting you on the couch, sliding you down, laying you flat on the cushions, manoeuvring you like you weighed nothing more than the pillow he found use of by placing it underneath your hips. He braces himself above you, one arm guiding his cock into you.

You feel the precum-stained head push against your folds, aiming to part you. You breath halts in your throat, betraying fear. He senses it, kissing the top of your head gently.

“I’ll go slow for you, yes? Trust me.” His voice is warmer, more compassionate and careful. You feel relief flush over you, knowing you’re in good hands. Until he pushes forward, the tip breaching you. You feel his whole girth enter you, stretching you, a sharp sting settling on top of the pleasure he had previously caused. You let a pained moan crawl out of your throat, and he comes down to pepper soft pecks over your cheeks, jaw and neck. 

You feel more of him enter you, the stretch near impossible. He stops suddenly, grunting when you clench around him involuntarily. His forehead falls into the crook of your neck as he swears and groans, sliding inside your warm cunt. His shoulders shake lightly with self-restraint. You flutter around him, and his cock responds with a twitch that has you whimpering his name. 

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as he stops giving you quick breaks in-between the inches you were taking, finally bottoming out, his groin flush against yours.

His hips start rolling against you, the slow and steady rhythm of ocean waves crashing against the shore, immensely strong and impatient. Pushing hard into you, his thrusts are now angled downwards, his cockhead hitting that special spot inside you as your breathing picks up in gasps and pants. As he speeds up, you break apart in his arms, legs tied around his waist, nails scraping his massive back as he rearranges your guts even with the most held-back fucking. 

“Ay, que rico, mami” he moans, and you feel your heart rate shoot up at the sound of his deeply pleasured voice. You take in the sight of him, his immense body caging you underneath him effortlessly, claiming you in the first few ways he had imagined since you met. You shudder as his hot breath starts fanning over the top of your breasts, his head now resting on your chest. Before another whimper can exit you, he throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows back yet another grunt.

You feel the very first signs of your rapidly approaching orgasm, instinctively reaching a hand down to touch yourself. He is quick enough to grab your wrist and stop you, shooting you a warning glare.

A bit too roughly for the promise he made to take things slow, he moves his arms underneath your thighs, bringing them on his shoulders. The new position bends you in half as he hovers over you, opening new angles for him to drill his cock into you. You cry out as the hair above the base of his dick brushes harshly into your clit, the combined sensations rushing you towards the edge.

The couch creaks and trembles under his unfaltering force, and your legs go numb as your orgasm builds up so inevitably close, ready to thunder through your nerves and senses. 

"Miguel! M- oh, I'm -!"

And just like that, all the pressure fractures, the electrifying pleasure lighting you up, your cunt fluttering around his girthy cock, helping him towards his own release.

Still not relenting, he keeps fucking himself into you, his arms flexing on each side of your red-painted face, his abs rippling with each drive of his hips, chest heaving into your squished breasts as he groans, close to his own peak. 

You sob through the overstimulation, still eager to feel him finish inside you. The sounds of your love-making echoing in the night-silenced room, the strong scent of sex invading his lungs are enough to drive him mad. His loses momentum, burying himself inside you all the way, revelling in the feeling of the wet warmth of your post-orgasm cunt before his cock twitches, releasing inside you. With each pulse, there came another rope of come staining your insides. 

You moan his name at the strange, unfamiliar feeling, pulling him close to you by his enormous shoulders. He lets himself collapse into your embrace, his body engulfing you completely, chest to chest, skin to skin. He's breathing heavily into your cheek, wanting to calm down so he could kiss you like he had craved for so long. But you're not that patient.

Turning your head , you catch his lips with your own, having him exhale heavily into your mouth, the make-out now sloppy and lazy, but still so undoubtedly full of want and need. 

"Ahora eres mía. Eres solo mía." He breathes, licking over your bottom lip before deepening the kiss, still inside you. His arms encircle you, curling around your waist and torso with a large hand splayed wide on your back. 

"Y yo soy tuyo."

translations:

Eres divina - You're divine

¡Di que me quieres! - Say you want me

Te necesito - I need you

Que rico - How lovely (sexual)

Ahora eres mía. Eres solo mía - You're mine now. You're only mine.

Y yo soy tuyo - And I am yours.

a/n: would you guys be interested in a feral miguel next? with the reader-on-ovulation situation + pheromones + miguel going into a rut?

[imsuperhungry]

4 𝙖𝙢 (entry 007)

"𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐"

WARNINGS: Yandere Themes, Cussing, Descriptions of Violence, Blood Mentions

WORD COUNT: 3276

(12:51 ᴀᴍ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ)

The man's gaze feels like it is sinking into your very being, piercing through you with a cold intensity that makes your skin crawl. You can't move, can't speak—your body frozen in place, as if the mere act of breathing might provoke him. Every instinct screams at you to run, to fight, but your legs won't obey, paralyzed by the terror that grips you.

You glance at Chris and Ashley, still engrossed in their inspection of the dummy, their backs to the masked figure. They haven't heard the footsteps, haven't noticed the air shift. It's just you—and him.

The masked figure hesitates, his machete hovering in the air as if caught between a sudden impulse and an unseen restraint. The tension is thick, almost suffocating, as he shifts on his feet, the weight of the moment pulling at the edges of his stillness. For a brief second, he seems almost human—vulnerable, conflicted—as if something, or someone, is holding him back.

A cold shiver crawls up your spine as the realization hits you like a thunderclap, splintering the moment of stillness. His frame—the way his body holds itself, the subtle lines of muscle, and the way his stance feels so... familiar. It seems impossible at first, and yet as your gaze traces every detail, the shock slowly morphs into recognition.

Your heart pounds so violently you fear it might burst from your chest. The air around you feels thick, suffocating, as his figure takes a single step forward. The shadow of his movements—those familiar muscles, the way he moves—sends a chill down your spine.

The knife in his hands glints in the dim flashlight beam, and that's all it takes. Instinct takes over, and you scream—loud, terrified, the sound ripping from your throat with such raw desperation that it almost doesn't sound like you at all.

The shift in the air is instant, like a magnetic force pulling them from their trance. Ashley and Chris snap their heads toward you, their expressions shifting from confusion to terror in a heartbeat.

Your name, barely a whisper from Ashley's trembling lips, snaps you out of the whirlwind of panic clouding your mind. She's right. There's no time to waste, no time to think. Your heart pounds, adrenaline surging through you as every instinct screams to run.

But you can't.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut—the door is just behind you, but the masked figure looms in your path, a wall of pure terror. The sickening certainty that if you move, he'll tackle you before you can even touch the doorknob makes your stomach drop.

Ashley's hand clutches yours desperately, tugging you toward the door with everything she has. But the instant her fingers brush your skin, the masked figure's stillness shatters. His body tenses, eyes locking onto the movement like a predator honing in on its prey.

His machete twitches in his hand, and his stance shifts—aggressive, ready to strike. Then, with a terrifying growl, he lunges. The blade slices through the air with a menacing hiss, but before it can reach you, Ashley yanks you forward, her grip unyielding.

Chris's muscles tense as he lunges forward, aiming to tackle the masked man to the ground. His plan is simple—take the killer out of the equation, give you a chance to escape. But it's as if the man has already anticipated his move. With inhuman speed, the killer pivots, his machete slicing through the air like it's second nature.

The sharp edge of the blade meets Chris's thigh with a sickening screech, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. Chris's body jerks back in agony as a stream of crimson blood spills out, darkening the fabric of his pants. The sound of the slash echoes in the room, sharp and cold.

As Chris's body crumples to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, the masked figure's attention shifts—but not toward you. Instead, his gaze locks onto Ashley, who stands just behind you, her wide eyes filled with terror.

You freeze for a moment, confused. Why isn't he coming for you? You're right there, closer than Ashley. But the killer, his movements slow but deliberate, seems to sense something—something about Ashley that makes her the next target. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers curled like claws, and for the briefest moment, you feel a pang of dread shoot through your chest.

"Stay away from her!" you scream, your voice shaking with panic.

But it's as if the killer doesn't even hear you. He lunges toward Ashley, his machete raised high, the blade gleaming in the low light. Your heart stops in that moment, the blood draining from your face as time stretches, each second feeling like an eternity.

"ASHLEY!" you shout, but before you can move, the killer is already on her, closing the gap too fast for either of you to react.

Fear surges through your veins, pushing aside any remnants of rational thought. You don’t know what he plans to do to you or Ashley, but the way he moves—so controlled and sinister—makes you think staying could mean death. Your legs are already moving before you consciously make the decision, your body responding faster than your mind can keep up with.

You bolt toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wants to escape your body entirely. Every part of you screams to keep running, to get away from the man now focused solely on Ashley. Her terrified screams echo behind you, and your breath comes in ragged gasps as you collide with the door, throwing your shoulder into it with all the force you have left.

Each hallway stretches out before you, longer than it should be, twisting in ways that defy logic. The once-familiar cabin now feels like a maze, and every turn you make only seems to lead you deeper into an unknown nightmare. The walls press in around you, closing off any escape, and your breath comes in frantic gasps as your panic mounts.

Your feet pound against the wooden floors, the echo of each step only amplifying the isolation you feel. You bump into walls, the sharp sting of impact briefly snapping you out of your fear, but only for a second. The overwhelming dread pushes you forward, urging you to keep running, keep searching—though you're not sure what for anymore.

Your body hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. A sharp pain radiates through your knees and palms as they scrape against the rough wood, but before you can even process it, a crushing weight pins you down. Panic surges like a tidal wave as you realize what has happened—you hadn't even noticed the footsteps behind you, too consumed by the chaos in your head.

Your breath hitches as your eyes lock onto hers—Sam. It's Sam. The realization hits you like a truck, confusion and panic tangling into a knot in your chest. Her pale skin gleams under the dim light, and the loose towel barely clings to her frame, her damp blonde hair tumbling out of a messy bun. Her wide eyes mirror your own terror, pupils blown in frantic disbelief.

"Sam?" you croak, your voice shaking with the weight of both relief and horror. "What... what are you—?"

She looks just as stunned as you, her lips parted but no sound coming out. For a split second, you think she might explain, might reassure you, but then her hands grip your shoulders tighter, her nails digging into your skin as if anchoring herself.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside fades. "Oh my god, Petal," Sam gasps, her voice trembling as she pulls you into a crushing hug. The nickname—her name for you—cuts through the chaos like a lifeline, grounding you in a memory of simpler times.

You don't hesitate, wrapping your arms around her just as tightly, as though letting go might shatter whatever fragile hope the moment carries. Her damp skin is cool against your cheek, and the lavender scent of her soap envelops you, mingling with the fresh, clean aroma of the towel draped over her.

For a heartbeat, the terror ebbs. You can almost convince yourself you're somewhere else—safe, warm, laughing together about nothing important. But as your senses return and the cold, unyielding wood beneath you presses into your legs, reality strikes like a thunderclap. This isn't safety. This isn't escape.

The chilling familiarity of the floor beneath you makes your stomach churn. It's the same wood you've felt earlier tonight, the same spot where this nightmare began. You're not running forward—you're backtracking, trapped in some cruel loop that refuses to let you go.

"Where's everybody else, Sam?" you ask, your voice trembling, barely holding itself together under the weight of desperation. You prayed she'd give you the answer you so badly wanted to hear. That Jess and Mike were cuddled up on the couch, Emily and Matt were bickering like usual, and Josh was putting a fire on. Maybe, just maybe, Ashley and Chris had imagined the horrors they described, their stress warping reality into something unrecognizable.

But your question seemed to trigger a subtle shift in Sam's demeanor, her expression flickering with something unreadable—disappointment? Hurt? Maybe even anger. Her grip on your arm slackened, and for a moment, she pulled back, just slightly, her wide eyes narrowing ever so slightly as her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Why...are you asking about them?" she murmured, her voice low but with a sharp edge that hadn't been there before. "I'm right here. After everything, after being gone all night, I'm here. And you're worried about them?"

The words hit like a dagger, leaving you stunned. She wasn't yelling; her tone was too measured for that. But there was a simmering resentment in her voice, and it left you scrambling for the right thing to say.

"Sam, that's not—" you begin, but she cuts you off.

"Am I not good enough for you to focus on? Should I just disappear again? Maybe that'd be easier for everyone," she snaps, her voice trembling, not just with anger but with something far more fragile—vulnerability.

"No! No, please, don't even say that!" you exclaim, your hands flying up frantically as though trying to physically swat away her words. The thought of Sam disappearing again, even as a hypothetical, sent a shiver down your spine.

You close the gap between you two, pulling her into another tight hug, this one even more desperate than the first. Your hands move instinctively, rubbing soothing circles on her back, your touch light but deliberate. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I was just worried... for everyone. For you, too!"

You press your cheek against hers, speaking softly into her ear, mistaking her simmering jealousy for fear and desperation.

Sam stiffens slightly in your arms before melting into the embrace, her hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. Her breathing, uneven at first, begins to slow, but the tension in her body remains. Unseen by you, her lips curve into a faint smile—one of satisfaction, of finally having you this close, as though she had succeeded in grounding your attention where it belonged.

"Thank you," she says, her voice trembling as her grip on you tightens for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that. I just... um..." Her voice cracks, and you feel her shiver slightly.

"I'm so scared," she continues, her words catching in her throat. "And it doesn't help that I'm in this stupid fucking towel!" she suddenly blurts, her voice tinged with frustration.

The outburst catches you off guard, and before you can stop yourself, a small giggle escapes your lips. "Sam..." you say through the laugh, your shoulders shaking slightly.

"What?" she asks indignantly, pulling back just enough to look at your face, her cheeks flushed—not just from the cold, but from the mix of emotions swirling in her head.

"You're right, it's not ideal," you admit with a grin, your voice light, hoping to ease her nerves. "But hey, if anyone can pull off a look like that in a situation like this, it's you."

Sam stares at you for a beat, her lips twitching as though she's trying to fight back a smile of her own. Finally, she lets out a reluctant laugh, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. "God, you're the worst," she mutters, though the warmth in her tone betrays her.

The blush on her cheeks and the way she playfully shoved you were a fleeting reprieve from the dark reality gnawing at the edges of your mind. Her soft laughter, the warmth of her touch—it all felt like a thin layer of normalcy stretched over an abyss of terror.

After a few more moments of shared warmth and fleeting comfort (though, for Sam, it was more an opportunity to savor every second of closeness with you), you both rose to your feet.

"Okay," you said, brushing off your pants as you glanced around the dim room. "We need to get you something to wear. You're not running around in just a towel all night."

Sam's eyes lingered on you, a dreamy smile tugging at her lips. "You think I look fine like this?" she teased, though there was an unmistakable edge of sincerity in her voice.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, if you want to give the psycho killer a good laugh before he kills us."

Sam chuckled softly, but the mention of the killer seemed to pull her back to reality, her smile faltering. She adjusted the towel again, suddenly self-conscious.

"I think I have some stuff here," you said, steering her focus elsewhere. "Josh was always begging me to stay longer when I visited, so I left a bunch of pajamas and old clothes behind." You glanced over your shoulder towards the staircase, eyes scanning for the spare bedroom you used to sleep in.

It took you a minute to realize, but then you realized, Sam wasn't making a sound. She wasn't speaking, you couldn't hear her breathing... shit, was her heart even beating?

You glanced back at her, and noticed that her gaze was fixed elsewhere. Her expression was blank—stoic, almost mask-like—but her eyes... they looked distant, glossed over, like she wasn't really there with you anymore.

"Sam?" you called out softly, your eyes fixed on her shallow, uneven breaths. The moment your voice reached her, it was as though a switch flipped. Her eyes snapped back to you, like she had just been woken from a deep sleep. You didn't realize it, but hearing her name from your lips was the only thing that brought her back to the present.

"Uhm, did you hear me?" you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You couldn't understand why she was acting so strange when she had seemed fine just moments ago. Sam furrowed her brows, looking down, then shook her head slowly, as if she was trying to piece something together but couldn't quite grasp it.

She looked back up at you, confusion clouding her expression. "I-I'm sorry. You said Josh was begging you to come here? And you actually did?" she asked, her voice tinged with something you couldn't quite place.

"Yeah! You don't remember him talking about it? I come here so much I have my own room here," you say, awkwardly laughing as you try to lighten the mood. Sam's gaze faltered slightly, and though her face remained neutral, there was a tightness around her eyes. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't really paying much attention when Josh talked about your history. All she really absorbed was that you two had known each other for a long time. But the moment she heard you were childhood best friends, a flicker of something dark stirred inside her—a burning desire to figure out how to close the gap between you two and somehow be the one to take your attention.

"Right, um, sorry. You know, a lot has happened tonight, my brain's just fried right now," Sam says, her voice tight, attempting to mask the annoyance and anger that lurked beneath the surface. But, despite herself, she couldn't shake the growing sense of satisfaction that bubbled up. The truth was, she didn't really have a reason to be angry anymore. Somehow, she'd pieced it all together—Josh was no longer a threat. That left just the two of you. And when it came down to it, she knew that when you escaped, you two would be the only ones to make it out alive. And in that quiet, twisted moment, she realized she'd be the one you'd rely on. The one you'd need.

After a few more moments of tense, confused silence, you found yourself studying her with concern etched into your features. Finally, you shifted, gently slipping out from beneath her. Standing up, you brushed off your clothes before extending a hand toward her, offering a soft smile to coax her from the dirty floor.

She took your hand, her fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary, and a small smile tugged at her lips at the simple contact. You pulled her gently off the floor, her steps unsteady but trusting as you both began ascending the creaking staircase. Your "room" was your destination where you prayed the clothes you'd left behind months ago were still folded neatly in their place, waiting for you both.

Maybe it was your brain shutting down, or maybe the weight of the night finally settling in—the unbearable loss of your brother, two sisters, and the looming dread that your friends might be next. But for those fleeting seconds, with Sam's hand in yours, you felt a strange, fragile happiness. The warmth of her touch, the steady rhythm of her breaths, the quiet proof of life beside you—it all anchored you. You let yourself bask in it, savoring the reminder that, at least for now, you weren't alone.

If you were to ask Sam how she felt right now, she wouldn't have the words to explain the soft, glowing warmth blooming inside her the moment she found you. Sure, she'd always known she preferred you over everyone else in the group—often dropping hints or outright begging for one-on-one time with you. But now, something deeper, more instinctual, had taken root. Her love for you was genuine and unwavering, of that she was certain. Yet, with Josh gone and the world around you crumbling, a new, possessive urge simmered beneath the surface—the need to be the only person you leaned on. And, honestly? That future didn't seem so impossible anymore, and she was happy.

However, if you were to ask Josh how he felt—his figure hidden in the shadows, watching the two of you ascend the stairs together—he would have no trouble finding the words to describe the fury simmering within him. Sure, seeing you crumpled on the floor earlier, soaked in tears over his "death," had tugged at something in him. But he would have preferred that over the sight of you smiling, holding hands with someone else. Still, this wasn't the end. Not yet. He just needed to bide his time—wait until he could methodically tick each person in the group off the list until only you and him remained.

He held no intention of harming you, of course. No, you were too precious for that. He would deal with the others, dispose of the evidence (he had it all planned out), and then comfort you, keep you safe here, locked away in the secluded expanse of trees and mountains. Maybe he'd show you how to sled down the hill in the winter or teach you how to swing a bat under the summer sun. You wouldn't need anyone else. It would be just the two of you, always.

And honestly? That future felt entirely within his grasp. The anger simmered down into something colder, sharper. He wasn't angry anymore.

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

would azumarill be a good pet?

Azumarills would indeed make good pets! Just like their pre-evolution, these pokémon need access to water to play in but have exceptional ease-of-care otherwise, plus they’re super friendly!

They may be on the larger size for a house-pet, but certainly not to an unreasonable level. As I already mentioned, azumarills are big fans of water. Wild azumarills are happy wherever they can find freshwater, like rivers, ponds and lakes (Gold, Diamond). They spend most of their time in the water (Emerald), doing everything from hunting for food (Gold, Ruby), hiding from predators (Crystal), or even sunbathing (Sword). Thankfully, they don’t seem to be too picky and don’t necessarily need water to survive, so finding a way to get them some daily or almost-daily water time shouldn’t be beyond the means of too many owners. If you have a pool, private or public, or live near a natural body of fresh water, you should be covered. Now, if you live somewhere that gets really cold during part of the year, it might get a little trickier. Here’s the good news, though: many azumarills have the ability Thick Fat, which makes them resistant to cold temperatures: so long as the water doesn’t freeze solid they should be happy. I’d recommend reaching out to water-type owner communities in your area, they probably know the best places to get your azumarill some water time.

These pokémon get along well with humans and pokémon, giving them just the right temperance to be a good pet. Wild azumarills are known to pay specific attention to the safety of those around them: azumarills have been reported using their ability to make balloons out of air to rescue drowning pokémon (Sapphire) and often attach these balloons to playing marills around them just in case (Shield). If you’re a lifeguard, you might find just the right partner in an azumarill! These pokémon are highly energetic, so they would fit best in a high-energy home. Despite their goofy look, these pokémon are avid hunters, using their keen sense of hearing to track down prey in fast-moving rivers (Gold, Ruby). This means you will need to offer your azumarill with plenty of toys and high-energy activities to engage in to supplement this behavior in a home environment.

While not violent towards humans by nature, azumarills are no pushovers. Moves like Hydro Pump, Double-Edge, and Superpower pack quite a punch, and Bounce is always a move we look out for. As far as their score goes, though, the detriment of these moves are counterbalanced somewhat by moves like Aqua Ring, a self-healing move that may let you cut down on veterinary bills. While you should never underestimate how dangerous an angry azumarill could be, solid training and awareness of their move should negate much of the risk associated with adopting one. Just be careful that they don’t get too rough when you’re playing!

Overall, while there are a couple of drawbacks regarding this pokémon if you don’t have access to water for them to play in, these pokémon make a pretty good pet. I would recommend starting with a marill if possible, however, as their smaller size and weaker moves make them a better fit for most beginner water-type owners.

[officialweezerelections]

FINAL MATCH

Marabou Stork (Leptoptilos crumenifer)

They kill and eats flamingos as well as anything else they can fit in their giant mouths. They eat fecal matter. They eat crocodiles. They eat trash out of dumpsters. They’ve eaten shoes. They’ll attack you if you don’t give them your shoe. They have no natural predators besides MAYBE lions and some parasitic nematodes.

VERSUS

Giant Petrel (genus Macronectes)

They’re very violent hyper aggressive predatory birds that will kill a seal and dance on its dead body (this is called sealmaster posture) to show everybody else that nobody can do what this bird can do. They love to batter and drown other birds to death—including albatrosses! They’re often dyed red with the blood of their enemies.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

The Devil You Know (Part 1) - The First Sin

Pairing: Demon! Captain John Price x Reader

(No use of y/n)

Warnings: This series will contain scenes of a violent and sexual nature, I will be more specific as I write more parts.

Summary: Reader is a soldier hanging on to their last gasp of life, trying to summon a demon associated with soldiers and battlefields in order to aid them. Unluckily for you though, the demon isn't interested in a short term deal. He finds himself quite attached to you, and he doesn't want to let you go.

-🔥-

Disembodied hands shook wildly as they set about their terrible task. At least that’s how it seemed to you - appendages moving around a blurred screen, drawing dirtied red symbols with panicked uncertainty. You swiped another slick fingerful of your blood into the dusty concrete and clenched your aching teeth together, finishing off the last curve of the sigil with a snakish hiss.

 “I call to you…with the blood of my battle wounds. Jo- Jotan, I will be your willing servant.”

You looked around, eyes darting wildly for movement or any sign that your ridiculous little saving grace had worked. Though nothing happened. You blinked feverishly, feeling your lip wobble at first and then your entire body shake as you absorbed the facts in front of you. You were actually going to die. 

A cackle broke out into the room, competing with the baying gunshots outside to break the walls of the decaying shell of a building. It was you. You were finally losing your mind, absorbing the facts in front of you with detached horror.

Perhaps the ruins were an office before, but now it was the final resting place of a desperate lunatic who’d decided to decorate their sepulchre before laughing themselves into death’s arms. The cruelty of it burned in your throat and stang at your eyes, soon searing hot tears into the ruined flesh of your cheeks.

It was a foolish last ditch effort anyway, you mused, collapsing onto your back in the middle of the blood seal. A stupid myth you’d clung to in a final attempt to save your life, a ritual told to you by someone that was long dead themself. If they presumably hadn’t bothered to use it, then why would it do you any good? 

“Oh dear…I’m not too late am I?” cooed a soft rumbling voice. 

Your eyes opened wide, the owner of the call demanding to be seen. That murmur fizzled in your ears and vibrated in your blood, forcing your hands to scrabble at the ground and set you into a sitting position again. 

When you finally rose, you were held in place by the stranger. His onyx black eyes pinned you into place, watching you twitching and panting like a caught mouse. Apparently you amused him with this. His lips pulled into a grin, revealing a row of white teeth that curved into points at the canines and outer incisors, it was the smile of a predator. As if he needed to advertise any more warning signs. 

His body was big and broad, his chest a large plane of solid flesh dusted with soot and soft dark hair that matched his bristly beard and hickory hued hair. His large arms were decorated with similar etchings to the ones you’d messily painted, both of them circled in two iron bands at the bicep and forearms, they looked like they could crack teeth in a pinch. There were also a few bands on the thick dark tail that waved behind him too, a detail you only noticed as it seemed to lovingly caress the shadows around his legs.

It was what finally confirmed for you that this was him. The fabled demon of battlefields - Jotan. 

“You came,” you whispered.

“You called,” he returned, tilting his head at you. “Surprised you managed to complete the circle. You’ve lost a lot of blood, Sergeant.”

“I…I have,” you replied, feeling another wave of nausea roll through you. 

“And I suppose you want me to do something about that?” he said, mouth twisting into a wry half smile. 

It was almost worse than when you’d seen his fanged teeth. He looked positively ready to devour you, his gleaming eyes fixed on you like a tiger. You were just waiting for him to pounce, breath catching in your dry throat as you anticipated the killing bite. Suddenly you’d forgotten that it was you that called the terrible entity here, that he was supposed to be serving you rather than terrifying you. 

“C’mon now, Love. You clearly knew enough about the ritual to get me here…aren’t you going to follow through?” he prompted, leaning down to meet you at your level. “It’s rude to keep a demon waiting, you know.”

His arms folded over his dark trousers, crossing over each other at his lap as if he were asking you to do something so completely mundane. He tilted his head at you again, flicking his eyes up to the doorway on the other side of the room as it started to shudder and bang. Voices were worming their way through the debris, shouts blasting in through the cracks. 

Bang, bang, bang.

You didn’t have much time. Not that your body would be able to hold on much longer anyway. 

“I want you to- please…take me back to exfil. Get me the fuck out of here and safely back to base and I’ll do whatever you want,” you said, voice cracking as you made your plea. “Ask anything you want from me, Jotan. Just get me the fuck away from here.”

His eyes curved into shadowed moons, once again he beamed at you. It felt like the stifling room heated a few more degrees. To add insult to injury your lungs began to struggle, it felt like your body was in its last stages of failing.

You briefly wondered if all this just might be a delusion. Maybe your head was presenting you with him as a way to cope with being turned to pink mist by the men that still called from the door outside, as a way to forget about your torn up arms that’d been sliced open by the bombings, and the bullet hole that had been weeping silently in your leg.

Bang, bang, bang.

“I’ll tell you what…I’m feelin’ generous,” the demon murmured, reaching out and forcing your chin up with in his charred fingers. “I’ll take you back to base, just like you want. And now…I could ask for your soul in return, for you to be my eternal servant when you do meet your end, and I really could have you do anything for me. However I won’t do that. Instead, I want to lend you my power. Just for today. That is my only offer.”

You frowned, a million racing thoughts crashing through your mind all at the same time. You’d made peace with the fact he’d ask for something awful, known it even. This clearly had to be a trick. Nevertheless, your head throbbed perilously and the door and furniture you’d messily propped in front of it were going to give way.You didn't have much time. 

Bang, bang, bang.

“What will I do with your power?” you asked desperately, looking from him and to the end of the room. 

“Let me worry about that,” he chuckled. “I’ll guide you, Sergeant. All you have to do is agree…that or let them flood in and kill you.”

Bang, bang, bang.

He motioned to the thundering door and raised his brows at you. At that point his dark eyes were like vortexes, they dragged you into his orbit and had you falling under his spell. You knew logically that whatever was going to happen was going to change the course of your life forever - and not for the good. Even then, you couldn’t find the strength to deny him, couldn’t hold enough faith in a glorious next life to accept that you’d leave this one. 

“Fine! I accept,” you said, eyes wet and heavy. 

An animal growl rattled through your bones and shuddered throughout the skeleton remains of the office space. Your body flinched back, responding just as your instincts wanted, but the demon didn’t allow you to retreat. He was quick - arms lashing out and moving like a whip. He gripped your neck like a farmer does to his chickens come dinner time, and just when you were ready for the snap, your body jerked violently. 

You forced yourself to your feet, no, you surged upwards like you were under possession. Your legs didn’t feel like they’d buckle anymore, they felt renewed. Your heartbeat was steady like a punctual train, and your breathing returned to normal, better than normal even. Everything in you felt like it was new, like someone had taken out your broken parts and given you an upgrade. You smiled, lips curling over your teeth unnaturally.

Wait- were those…fangs poking into your bottom lip?

Bang!

There was no time to wonder at the strange way your mouth felt. Your head jerked up and suddenly you were greeted with the second worst sight of the day. The enemy soldiers had you surrounded, they flooded into the room like a locust swarm and pointed their guns at you, faithfully looking toward their Captain for the authority to execute. 

Normally you would’ve shuddered, or maybe even fallen to the floor, but you held fast. Your breathing remained calm, but your vision went dark. That’s not to say you passed out, but a thick hazy filter seemed to descend across your eyes. Then just when you were about to question it, your arms reached out as if you were being puppeteered and your entire body unwillingly  shot forward. 

There was no time to even think to connect your actions to the seemingly absent demon then. Instead you latched onto the soldier in front of you like a bear and sank your teeth into his neck. The man screamed, and yelped, and made all sorts of inhuman noises as he struggled to try and pull you off. Though there was no helping him. You continued to bite at his arteries and savage him until his screams were silent and overtaken by the men around him. 

Gunshots rang out, but none pierced you. Men beat at your back and pulled at your arms, but you didn’t break your hold. Copper filled your mouth, but you didn’t spit. You smiled with glee and licked at your own salty tears, disengaging from your target only when you were ready.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of the butchery. 

-🔥-

“For fuck sake, get yersel’ to the sink ye riot!”

You jumped out of your thoughts and hazarded a quick look up to your worried manager, following that up by nodding silently and running off to the bathroom. Fuck. All that you could do was grimly stare down at the blood while it merged with the clean tap water and remind yourself that it was fine. You weren’t outside the wire anymore, you were just wait staff in a small restaurant, and you didn’t need to worry about bleeding out anymore because the biggest hazard you faced now was apparently picking up a dirty knife the wrong way. 

“Fucking hell,” you chuckled, quietly facing yourself in the mirror and taking a pause from the gory scene below. “It’s just a tiny cut.”

For a second, so quick you only just registered it, black eyes flashed behind you. You jumped back and hyperventilated, doing everything you could to stop yourself from screaming. Though it couldn’t be helped. You forced your hands over your mouth and yelled a muffled cry into your palms instead and rode out your panicked heartbeats until you could be sure you wouldn’t collapse. 

You did a double take, searching the mirror for those horrible eyes or any other signs of their proprietor. However, there was nothing else to see but a pathetic ex soldier, black tile and cheap imitation herringbone wood flooring. Suddenly you felt absolutely ridiculous. 

You slipped your hands from your mouth and covered your eyes instead, rubbing at hideously embarrassing tears with anger. That stupid therapist you were going to was so wrong, you thought bitterly, you were never going to make progress. You constantly swore that you could see those demonic eyes wherever you went, and sometimes you even thought you saw him. Well not the demon exactly, but a man that so closely resembled him - just without the tail and black eyes. 

It’d been a full year since you’d been honourably discharged from the military, and even in all that time, you still hadn’t healed. Sure, the cuts and bullet wounds had made miraculous progress and faded to tiny scars, but inside you may as well have been a shooting range dummy right at the end of target practice. While your superiors had seen fit to dedicate you with a medal for the miraculous fight you put up against the enemy, your head still hadn’t gotten to grips with just how you did it. 

Multiple therapists had put it down to repressed memory. They told you that whatever had really happened must’ve been replaced with that accursed demon summoning ritual that you dreamed up in an adrenaline filled haze. They said you might remember it all eventually once you’d healed more, or even that you might never get the answers you sought. There was no footage from your vest cam, and no other eyewitnesses left alive to say what had happened. Just you and your janky, wacky memories.

“Hey, Riot! You gonna come back on shift anytime soon or do I have to explain to Marco why the big bad ex-soldier is dying over a little cut?”

You turned to the door and smiled to yourself, feeling your chest grow lighter the second you heard that voice. Emily always knew how to pull you out of a funk. With that in mind, you shook your head, felt your goosebumps retreat away and stepped out into the scorching warmth of the restaurant. Once more back into the fray. 

“The big bad ex-soldier had a lot of blood coming out that little cut,” you shrugged, “can’t be creating a healthcode violation, you know that.”

Emily raised one of her thick dark eyebrows in question and put her hands on her hips. Oh no, this was the serious stance. In fairness, the tables were mobbed that night and she’d been run off her feet by two difficult tables that were ‘not getting acceptable service by any definition of the word’ as one of them had apparently said. 

“Put a blue plaster on it and get back out here before I give you a real war wound,” she growled. 

Your eyes widened, but you still smiled despite yourself. 

“You’re the boss!”

You rushed off to do as she said, ready to come back out and assist her, and if necessary neutralise any threat to her sanity. Emily was one of the few people you’d reconnected with after coming back home, and anyone that messed with her henceforth, was now messing with you. 

She’d seen you out and about at the park one day, taking one of your ‘haunted walks’ as she called them - only because you had trouble sleeping and would walk around in a black hoodie with the hood up. It was like something clicked, after being so reluctant to share anything with your family, or military buddies that tried to reach out, it was like you’d found your key. You’d babbled to her about how badly you were struggling to adjust to civilian life, leaking your frustrations like a bled radiator, and she accepted you. She listened without pity. 

Now while you wound a plaster round your silly little cut, you watched her zoom round the tables with true gratitude. She was the only reason you’d gotten the job, and been able to integrate back into real life. As much as you had your moments of frustrations, and had brief run ins with your PTSD, you at least had something to distract yourself with. Something that grabbed your attention and set your breathing straight again, when before you would curl in the corner of your room and scream for many minutes at a time. 

Once the plaster was affixed, you fiddled with the cracked old first aid box and wrangled it shut, stowing it back into place with a thud before rushing back out to the floor. The smell of garlic and pasta filled your senses, and the voices of the patrons roared rapturously in your ears again. The normal hustle and bustle of the place set you back into your rhythm and the ramped up tempo sent you hurtling toward the kitchen. 

“Where’ve you fucking been?” one of the chefs groused, “we’ve got a million plates for table ten here that need serving! I can hear them bitching from here, get moving!”

“Had a little accident getting the plates to Frankie,” you said, motioning to the plaster and your fraught KP behind the pass. “Good to go now!”

Rather than stay to hear the chef's curses, you rushed off with the plates and delivered them to the table, plastering on a smile as the customers moaned up a storm to your face. After offering them your apologies and promises of free sides, they hushed up and all was good again. You tended to your other tables and resumed duty as normal, rotating around Emily and the other waiter, Michael, like little clockwork toys. You all ticked along perfectly, leaving full stomachs and mostly happy faces in your wake. 

“Can you take this to table thirteen, please? I gotta piss like crazy!”Micheal ordered. 

He handed you a steak that was positively dripping in blood, almost setting you off again were it not for the fact that you were so confused by his request. There’s potatoes and salad and sauce on that plate, you thought to yourself, its not a body, just a hunk of meat.

“There isn’t a table thir-” you started, soon trailing off. 

Michael had long since dashed off before you could correct him and you sighed to yourself. Great, now who on earth could this be for? You knew every table in the restaurant of course, your knowledge on the place was near perfect with Emily acting like a drill sergeant during your probation stages. However, you didn’t know where thirteen could be, because it didn’t exist. Most people knew that restaurants skipped that number because it was unlucky. Apparently not Michael though. 

“I believe that’s for me,” called a rumbling voice. 

You frowned and looked down to the man before you, startling as you realised that a table had been placed where it shouldn’t have, and in turn you were standing right over a poor customer. No wonder Michael had made the mistake, you had no idea where the table had even come from. Though you were too embarrassed to worry very much about that in the moment, you needed to recover in front of the man before you made an idiot out of yourself. 

“Apologies, sir,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It’s been a busy night. Can I get you anything else?”

You placed down the food in front of him and were glad for it after you’d made eye contact. There was something strange about the man that made you jump. His stunning blue eyes captured your gaze and made you feel like you were in the middle of a laser sight. You gulped and looked away for a second afterward, trying your best to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” the man said softly, still fixing his eyes on you. “This is perfect.”

His sly grin struck you as familiar, but when you studied the man more, you couldn’t place him. He had a dark peacoat draped over his chair and wore a black shirt and fitted jeans. His beard was trim and cut close to his jawline, and his hair was near perfect, combed back neatly over his head. Everything about him was perfectly ordinary, perhaps would’ve been completely innocuous if not for his eyes. 

You could’ve sworn there was a little black band circling the pupil, but just as you thought you’d lost yourself in them he chuckled at you. Causing your face to flame up in burning shame. 

“I’m so sorry for staring,” you apologised, holding your hands up in appeasement. “I don’t know what that was about, sorry. You just seemed familiar for a sec.”

“Oh really?” he laughed, “Don’t happen to know a Jonathan Price do you?”

“Jonathan Price?” you repeated questioningly.

“My name, sweetheart,” he grinned, showing off his pointy canines. “Though you can just call me John if you like.”

“Oh my god, my brain’s going tonight,” you laughed, trying to get yourself away from him and the bloody steak that seemed to ooze with every passing second. “I’ll stop bothering you now, Jonathan! Enjoy your steak.”

His name sat heavy on your tongue, as if a fizzy sweetie had stung at the nerves and left it swollen and red. Jonathan. There was something about it that didn’t fit right. An unnatural force wanted you to turn round and call him a liar, demand that he reveal himself for who he really was. 

Though you didn’t put much credence in unnatural forces anymore. Not when unnatural forces tended to be symptoms of your mental illness. Instead you shook your head and kept working, making a note to yourself that you needed to get more sleep that night. Sleep and meds usually helped, and you were praying that they’d set you right again the next day. 

[ravengards-rogue]

[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support. 

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way.  Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all. 

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms 

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all. 

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap. 

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants. 

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick. 

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.” 

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.  

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more. 

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?” 

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.” 

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.” 

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin. 

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.” 

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights. 

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle. 

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch. 

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.” 

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —” 

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously. 

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.” 

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon  slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

 The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again. 

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you. 

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him. 

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time. 

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for. 

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?” 

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace. 

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it. 

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.” 

 Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here. 

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum. 

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for. 

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him. 

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,” 

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,” 

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head. 

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.” 

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over. 

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter. 

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.” 

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady. 

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases. 

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine. 

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed. 

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion. 

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.” 

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery. 

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright. 

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.” 

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.” 

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.” 

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.” 

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.” 

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.” 

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.” 

“Or I could carry you like a bride.” 

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.” 

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by.  “Of course my love,” 

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

[hadesoftheladies]

TW Rape

there's only one thing that really makes me doubt men aren't born evil.

when someone is a harm or terrorist to a community, you can lock them up, penalize, re-educate or execute them. when someone does an injustice to you, e.g., killing your family, your righteous anger is usally fixated on ridding the earth of them. you want to deal directly with the problem, which is take them out of the equation.

what i can never understand is how men see someone they despise and think "i want to have sex with them." like we know sex to men is already usually violent and degrading, and that's the point, but man if i met hitler i'm not interested in any body parts of ours touching unless i'm snapping his neck.

who has rape ever helped? everytime a man rapes, it is a threat to women. every time. every time a man rapes, he becomes a rapist. there is no moral way to be a rapist the same way there is no moral way to a pedophile. there is no moral way to get off to rape. if you get sexual gratification from sexually humiliating someone, that makes you a predator, not a hero. there is no way the act, no matter who it is done to, can redeem the rapist. they are a rapist because they get off to sexually violating people. they could humiliate someone without bringing their dicks into it. without getting a hard on from it.

like how do we take men seriously? what kind of degenerate ape do you have to be to think "you know what would really make me orgasm? forcing myself into someone i genuinely loathe." how does anyone seriously think men are normal? there's no logic or justice to it. there's no humanity in it. it is purely an act of self-gratification, not justice. and it confirms the nature of the man who rapes. only rapists can enjoy rape. only degenerates enjoy sex that is degrading and humiliating. that is literally who they are and there is no moral way to be such a thing.

[loveydoveymonsters]

this isnt a specific monster but like a sort of humanoid praying mantis x reader?? I tried finding something similar to what I have in mind but I could only find aliens not actual mantis people, and I really want that forest-cryptid kinda vibe not sci-fi space. do with this what you will :)

Well my sweet dove lets see what I can do for you, I hope you enjoy!.

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Praying For A Miracle

Hybrid!Praying Mantis x reader

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You have strayed too far from your path. A little forest nymph that's wandered too far away from their God. The night is harsh and unforgiving as you stumble through the thick bramble and bushes, desperately searching for shelter in this magical forest. Creatures of all different shapes and sizes reside here. Creatures who are seeking refuge from warmongers and poachers who would rather see their heads on spikes than on their bodies. Most of them are friendly, but there are some strays that sneak in under your God's eye, corrupted creatures that go unnoticed until it's too late. Usually, they target little nymphs like you, defenseless, weak, and delicate, you have no way of defending yourself against an attacker should you face one. That's why you shakily wander the woods searching for a tree trunk you could reside in or perhaps a friendly creature that could bring you back to your home. 

It was your own fault, you realize that you shouldn't have wandered off but you saw flowers, beautiful flowers that never bloom. You foolishly got distracted and now you're in the perilous clutches of a corrupted creature that had gotten the jump on you while you were lost in your terrified thoughts. You can't even tell what it is, it's large, and snarling, and its fangs look like they would hurt if they pierced your soft skin. You shake and tremble quietly. It's not in your nature to scream or fight. Nymphs are supposed to show kindness and love to all creatures including the ones that intend to harm them. That's why you lay there, shaking uncontrollably ready to accept your fate, your brutal death at this evil beings’ claws. Your God is nowhere to be found, probably drowning in the wine that was gifted to them during the last festival of the forest. You're afraid, yet weirdly you're at peace. You've had a very peaceful life, while your death may be violent, at least you know you've never had to worry about anything. Not predators, not starving, not becoming so dehydrated you could barely move. You've been taken care of so you guess this is the end…

The creature cries out in pain when something bites its nape. It reels back and tries to swipe at the thing currently attaching itself to its spine. You catch the sight of something green before it's gone just as quickly, the creature spinning trying to whip the hybrid off of him. You can see human legs and roughly a human body but you also see antennae, wings, and large raptorial legs that act as its hands. You honestly don't know what you're looking at but regardless of that, you're thankful for the creature's aid. As the violent creature finally shakes off the hybrid and runs off completely terrified you shakily stand and make your way over to your savior. He stands as well rushing over to check on you. Nymphs are treasured amongst non-corrupt creatures so it wasn't surprising when he immediately started fussing over you and using his raptorial arms to check you over.

“What…are you my savior? You're a hybrid of some sort but I can't seem to place the creature you're mixed with. Please do enlighten me, my hero.”

You stare as his greenish-tinted skin becomes a few shades darker as he blushes. Evidently he's not used to receiving such praise from nymphs, being called a hero and a savior is new. He doesn't dislike it but he's certainly not used to it either, it takes him a moment to recover before he can speak to you without stuttering. While he is recovering you just stare at him, wide-eyed, curious, like a child staring at a brand new toy. 

“I-I'm a praying mantis hybrid…Your God created me this way when they were first experimenting with creation. I am the result of a few failed hybrids…My name is Bleez. No need to introduce yourself little nymph I've been watching you for a while. I'm well aware of who you are although I'm not a hundred percent sure why you're wandering the woods alone.”

“Oh, I strayed from my usual path and stopped to smell some flowers. I guess I walked too far away and couldn't find my path again so I guess I was just looking for a guide to help me find my way home! Or somewhere to stay for the night. I'm sure I'd have better luck if I could actually see where I was going.”

“You're welcome to stay with me, I don't live far from here, come. There are far worse creatures than that one in this part of the woods.”

Before you can respond he lifts you up and slings you over his shoulder, stumbling slightly at how light you are to him. All nymphs are light though regardless of their body type, they're essentially made of pure air and the spirit of the God themselves. You look back at him, turning your body and just sitting on his shoulder noticing how his wings stretch out and cover his body. You tilt your head, analyzing his features once again. It's rare to see a hybrid, let alone a hybrid insect yet here you are, riding on the shoulder of one, one that risked his life to save you when he did not need to. 

“So Bleez, you say my God created you? How come I've never seen you before? I've been alive for quite a long time you know.”

“I've kept myself hidden, I'm not exactly confident in my appearance. Other creatures run from me even though I'm not a predator, it started to hurt after a while so I just sheltered myself away. Plus there was no way a beautiful nymph like you was ever going to notice me.”

You stare at his face for a minute, just now noticing the extra long mouth parts coming from the corner of his lips. It must help him eat meat and prey if he does decide to become a predator. You don't see anything wrong with him though, you don't understand why other creatures are afraid of him. Then again you don't understand why creatures are afraid of predators either. You're designed to love all creatures equally and you find them all equally beautiful, equally handsome, yet there was something about this one, perhaps it's the fact that he saved you. That made you just a little bit more loving.

“What are you talking about? You look amazing. My hero is the handsomest hybrid in the world!”

He nearly drops you when you say that but thankfully he arrived at his home in a tree trunk, the tree is as wide as a small cabin. He opens the side of the trunk and sets you down on the soft padding that he uses as his bed before shutting the trunk behind him and lighting a lantern as well as a fire to keep you warm. The magic of your forest amazes you sometimes, the fact that a small home can fit into the trunk of a tree without any worry of the tree being set ablaze by the fireplace makes you stare at it in awe. He awkwardly stands beside you, before sitting on the floor and pulling out a cast iron cauldron to make you some soup. He's taking care of you, nymphs are precious, nymphs are everything, that's what he's been taught since he was little. He sees why, you're so innocent, so pure, you must be protected at all costs and he wants to make sure you're fed and kept warm and you enjoy your stay for however long you reside with him.

The soup is good and healthy, and you remain nice and warm throughout the night. He slept on the floor and gave you a ton of wool blankets to keep you comfortable while he slept with a small sheet that you could almost see through because of how thin it was. About halfway through the night, you woke up to his teeth chattering, looking over the makeshift bed to see him shaking and trembling. You weren't having that at all, you were a guest in his house but that didn't mean you had to be treated like royalty. You knew he would argue if you tried to get him to climb into bed with you so instead you joined him on the floor. Wrapping all of the large wool blankets around both of you before curling into his back, hoping your body heat would be enough to comfort him, the human in him must be ice cold. You flinched when you brushed against his arm and felt the true temperature of his body. Regardless of how uncomfortable you were you went back to sleep and you slept well, especially when he stopped shivering which reassured you that he was finally sleeping peacefully himself.

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The next morning came soon enough, you awoke to the smell of eggs as he once again cooked for you. You realized you were back in bed and you looked out of his window in the trunk only to see chickens, cows, a bunch of barn animals outside. He does absolutely everything he can not to go into civilization which means raising these animals to get the ingredients he needs for food and nourishment. You find that impressive, he's built his own little world just outside of the outskirts of the center of the forest where most of the creatures live. You turn to him taking note of his abdomen and the scars over it and you watch as his antennae twitch before he turns to you having sensed your movement. 

“Good morning little nymph! I've made you food and here’s some milk to drink. I figured we could start heading back to your home as soon as you're done eating. People are probably worried about you.”

You eat your food, staring at him in awe. He's so caring, so kind. 

“Oh, no one's worried about me. Nymphs go missing all the time eventually we all wind up getting replaced. Hey, how'd you get those scars? Have you fought very many predators out here?”

“I would rather not discuss that with you nymph. Doesn't that bother you? That nobody would miss you if you were gone? I'd be so concerned I'd search the entire forest before even thinking about “replacing” you.”

“Aw that's sweet, are you starting to like me yet? Sounds like it.”

“H-Hardly…let's get going, you certainly did stray far because we're not exactly close to any nymph nests. Would you like to ride on my shoulder again? You were quite light so I don't mind.”

“Actually I think I'd rather stay here so that's what I'm going to do okay?”

He stares at you for a little while, a strange smile on his face as if he didn't really register what you said. When it did click though he looked at you completely shocked, he's dead quiet as he tried to ponder what to say next, he's got nothing, this was such a strange situation for him, no creature had ever flat-out told him they were going to stay with him before. This little nymph just pushed him straight over the edge into a massive pit of anxiety and confusion. 

“......Huh?”

“I want to stay with you! You have such a beautiful home and I'm sure I could be of use to you and helping to tend to your creatures! Plus you said you'd miss me if I was gone.”

“No no no no no. I said I would be worried if you randomly went missing. There's a difference there. Why would you want to stay here?...No it's absolutely out of the question I'm bringing you home now.”

“You absolutely are not. I'm not going with you willingly so you'd be forced to hurt me if you're trying to transport me. I will scream Bleez don't test me.”

“You are absolutely infuriating, if you insist on staying here then stay here! I highly doubt you'll last more than a day without any type of socialization. Nymphs are social creatures, I know all about them you need to be around people. You'll be begging to go home within a day.”

“Why would I need to be around people when I have you?”

He groans in frustration before storming off, leaving the small home in the tree trunk to go tend to his barn animals. Yet he did not argue with you after that, in the coming days, he found himself enjoying your company, willing you to stay longer even if you started getting bored. You didn't start getting bored, like you said before you don't need other people when you have him. As long as you can socialize with one person you won't become lonely, you won't start craving that social attention that most nymphs need. You thought eventually he would get tired of you and force you to leave yet he didn't. He in fact encouraged you to stay and cheered you on whenever you helped him reign in his sheep and cattle. He was proud of you, of how far you came in such a short amount of time. Little did he know you would only continue to grow, no longer weak and defenseless. You wanted to protect your new home so he started teaching you how to defend yourself, how to defend your creatures. Eventually, he found himself wanting to sleep with you more, wanting to be by you, craving you more than anything. His antennae twitch whenever you're around, and his wings stretch and hug you tightly whenever you're close enough. He's falling for you, and he's falling fast, his large eyes stay locked on you whenever you're out in the fields that surround his tree. His long mouth parts rub against each other in an attempt to stimulate him at least a little bit…This is starting to be quite the problem. 

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It all comes to a head six months after you started living with him. He climbed into bed with you and for the first time in his life, he felt, hard, insanely hard. Painfully erect as he pressed against you. There's no way you didn't feel it either, the way your eyes widened and you turned to stare at him. It was obvious he had no experience, he'd been isolated since the day he was born. He had no interest in ever acting on whatever urges he had so eventually he just didn't feel them anymore. But now that he had the potential to have a lover, someone to mate with it was driving him insane. The mantis in him was also worried, aware that females tend to eat the heads of the male once they finish their mating ritual however he's aware you aren't a mantis so he should be just fine. He doesn't even know if you want him though, he's not exactly attractive to most people, to most beings that is. However, you never once shied away from him, you always treated him like he was special and yet also normal. You've seen so many creatures that you probably are attracted to him in the way he's attracted to you, he shouldn't be afraid but he is. He can barely stutter out the next words that leave his mouth. 

“H-Help me…P-Please.”

You smile, gently kissing one of the mouthparts. This beautiful nymph couldn't possibly be trying to comfort him yet you are. You shift between his legs rubbing your thighs against his slacks, knowing that he's hurting. You kiss his lips gently, reaching behind him to stroke his wings, your other hand moving to his antennae. You're stimulating every single part of him, he's losing his mind in pleasure, his hips moving erratically. He can't control it, he's sorry but before he can stop he finds himself spilling all over your thighs making them sticky as you continue to stroke his most sensitive spots. You don't stop until he's hard again until he's needy and aching for you. Begging for you to touch him, begging you for more and more until he can't take it anymore. Then without you having to even do anything he cums again completely untouched. Just a thought of being inside you was enough to stimulate him to the point that he was a panting, blubbering mess. 

“F-Fuck…Fuck more, give me more please I need it. I'll be good I promise. Please please please-”

He moans desperately when you lift your leg, keeping him on his side and letting him slide between your thighs. You don't want him to roll over and crush his wings. You traced the patterns on his wings as you took his hard cock and positioned him at your slick entrance…He moved on instinct, shoving himself inside of you, nearly finishing right then and there but not wanting to disappoint you. He forces himself to stop moving, panting into your neck, licking up the column of your throat before using his long mouth parts to bite down on you remarkably hard, making you bleed. You cried out in pain and he apologized but he bit you again. He needed to do something to anchor himself or he was going to lose his mind, he started moving. Slow grinding thrusts that had you feeling every single inch of him. His wings flapped and slapped his back, the sound distracting you but you're brought right back into the moment when he suddenly starts moving fast, hard, he once again can't control his hips.

“I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. You feel so fucking good so good I'm gonna-”

He spills inside you, his raptorial arms wrapped around you tightly as he prods at you, that's his way of checking on you, trying to show that he cares. He pulled out of your slick a mix of your juices falling out of you. The both of you lay there panting, it was quick, it was needy, it was absolutely perfect. He stares at you for a long while before suddenly breaking the silence, wanting to talk to you, wanting to hear your voice, wanting to know if you enjoyed him even though he was fairly new at this. 

“Are you…okay? Did you enjoy it?”

Your giggling was music to his ears. Your smile is his sun.

“Yes I enjoyed myself thoroughly…who knew your antennae would be so sensitive.”

You caress his head right around the base of his antennae and he shutters.

“D-Don't do that.”

You pull your hand away and kiss him softly, caressing his cheeks and then reaching down to caress his scars. 

“Do you still want to know what happened? How I got these scars?”

“Only if you're comfortable with telling me.”

He hesitates for a moment before sighing, caressing your hair, and finally speaking.

“I told you how your God created me right?”

“Yes, although you didn't seem too happy about it.”

“I was a nymph once. I used to be just like you until I stole from your God so they turned me human and kept me imprisoned until they decided to fuse me with a creature. I had a choice but I didn't choose the creature they wanted so they fused me with the mantis. It was painful, agonizing. I suppose I deserved it. I knew what would come if I got caught stealing from a god. The torture I endured is something I would never wish on anyone little nymph.”

“...I'm so sorry Bleez I don't know what else to say.”

“There's nothing else to say, my love. I simply wanted you to know because you were curious. Rest now when you wake in the morning I'll make you some breakfast and we'll go for a walk on the same trail we met. How does that sound?”

“That sounds nice…Goodnight, my love”

“Goodnight.”

From that moment on everything changed, you were his and he was yours. All the trauma, all the agony, all the abandonment you worked through it together, and eventually he was able to overcome the fear he had of your God and rejoined society long enough to get officially wed to you. That was all he needed you. A little nymph that got lost in the woods, a little nymph that was praying for a miracle. He just so happened to answer.

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 9

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 8 Index Chapter 10

Author's Note: Slowly building up to the climax* @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911 @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

The barracuda flailed helplessly in your grasp, a pathetic attempt to escape before you crushed it in between your jaws. Its tangy blood filled your mouth and you resisted the urge to begin eating. No, Brizo, this one is for Lotan, you reminded yourself. He always eats first, and always the better catch. You can finish what he doesn’t.

These were one of the rules that he began implementing after the two of you were expelled from the colony. It felt like a lifetime ago since that night, but now you scoff when you remembered how weak and terrified you had been. You couldn’t remember why you had approached that mermaid in the first place, but it didn’t matter. Her young were sickly and you wouldn’t be surprised if they had already been claimed by the sea. You hoped that they had - the entire colony deserved to die for their outdated standards, the ones that dared to ever make Lotan feel undesired by the females.

You moved through the abyss with the practiced ease of a creature born of it, your long, powerful tail slicing through the water like a blade. Your sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, the light from the surface dimming as the water grew thicker. You weren’t afraid of the dark anymore. You didn’t need to be. Not when you had become a weapon of the depths — fierce, quick, deadly.

It was cruel at first - but the ocean had no mercy, no time for weakness. You had to quickly learn how to survive in this environment, and you did. Lotan was your one source of comfort, the only thing keeping you from being all alone out here, completely forgotten by the rest of the world. Such a fate would destroy you! Even now, even being away from him on this hunt… you could feel a horrible sense of dread begin to grow inside of you, so much colder and heavier than the water surrounding you. You needed him, so much more than he could ever realize, so much more than you’d ever be able to tell him. 

So instead…you would show him. Your life now revolved around his happiness. You would hunt for him, build a home for him, attend to every one of his physical and emotional needs. You had become an extension of his will, your desires folding neatly into his. Your body was a map of scars now, each one a badge, a symbol of your loyalty and strength—marks left by predators you had dispatched, enemies who dared approach what Lotan had claimed.

At first, you had thought them ugly—horrible reminders of your violent nature. But when Lotan told you he liked them, told you they were proof of your worth, your victories, you learned to accept them. In fact, you learned to like them because he liked them. Your body no longer frightened you. Now, you only saw the proof of your usefulness in each jagged tear on your skin. Every scar was a story, every fight was a victory for him.

Finally, you were home.

The dead reef had once been a place of eerie stillness—silent, abandoned, a hollow shell of what it had once been. Now, it was where he waited for you.

Lotan lounged in comfort as you swam up to him, taking the fish out from between your jaws and offering it to him. His laugh seemed to fill the dark cavern as he examined it, his talon gliding through its soft underbelly with ease.

“You remembered my favorite! Oh, Brizo, you always treat me so well.”

Your nerves quelled at his praise, and you waited for him to finish eating before you began. You had your own meal, of course, but that didn’t matter. We wait out of respect, he had taught you. We wait to ensure that our superiors are well-fed, and that they can have our meal if they need more. Not a traditional rule that merfolk practiced, but when he came up with the idea you found yourself promising to adhere to it. 

—

You were almost done, you could feel it.

Your home had been undergoing many changes lately, and you had been working tirelessly to make it perfect. Rocks piled high into uneven walls, the bones of your mightiest kills displayed prominently for all to see. Decorations made of shells and plants, and a bed of sand that you were currently forming into soft, circular patterns, although you had no idea what they symbolized. 

You could feel his eyes staring into your back as you worked dutifully to match everything to his specifications. As nervous as it made you, you were quick to remind yourself that it meant that you were not alone. You would never be alone. You would never be lost or forgotten about again. And so, you reminded yourself to be comforted by his gaze. 

You stopped to admire your work. You had completely transformed this dead, empty reef into a formidable… Your mind struggled to find the word for it. It was almost like a lair, but one meant for a large group to live in.

“Briii-zoooo…” Lotan purred, shaking you from your thoughts. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I- yes, of course!” You uttered. They were the first words you had said aloud in a very, very long time. 

“And do you love me?” 

“Yes! I love you so much, Lotan…!”

He hummed in contentment, his tail lazily flicking as he watched you closely. He slowly began to approach you, and you tried to not let your disappointment show. His appetite had been rather… ferocious lately, and although he had explained to you that this was normal for him, the energy spent between your daily lovemaking sessions and building the… the lair had left you sore and exhausted. You were hoping to spend tonight relaxing your aching muscles and resting with Lotan, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You couldn’t. You couldn’t hurt him with a rejection, not when he had been hurt by so many in the past. 

“I know. I’ve always known. Look at what you’ve done for me. You’ve built me a nest to raise our young in!”

Nest. So that’s what this was. You began to feel lightheaded as he wrapped his arms around you and began kissing the back of your head, your cheek, your neck.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”

You should’ve known. You did know. Lotan had never been shy to explain your purpose in life. But now, the time has come to realize his plan.

“You’ll do such a great job as a mother, Brizo. I know you will.” He spoke so reverently as his head rested in the crook of your shoulder, as his hands began massaging your back. You could feel him moving them forward to caress your bare chest, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts to react. You realized then that you knew nothing of motherhood. You struggled to remember if you even had a mother of your own. You felt your stomach turn.

“Lotan…? I’m not re-”

“Heh… those bastards. They always told me that I’d never find a mate, that I was unfit to procreate. Tainted genes, they called it. They were always - so - so…”

“Lo-”

“Well, look now… look who’s laughing now... I’ll show them all. My sons and I - we’ll slaughter them! We’ll enslave their children…!”

His words were drowned out while you tried to get a grip on your own mind. I should’ve been more prepared for this, I knew this was coming, this was natural, this will make him happy, and to make him happy is to make myself happy. You chanted these mantras to yourself over and over again, hoping that it would soothe you. But it all felt so wrong!

That same old response overtook you then, the one that you tapped into whenever you felt any semblance of fear. Your emotions began to flatten and your senses dulled. An emptiness settled deep inside as Lotan returned his attention to you.

“You’re so good to me, Brizo. So perfect…” his scaled hands began to move down from your chest, gently brushing over your gills, your abdomen, until his webbed fingers began to enter your genital slit. 

“...And you’re going to make me so happy.”

[leresq]

Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine. First of all I was not coming into this with high hopes because even though everyone was talking about how good this movie is I've never found the Deadpool movies funny. To me they're just different variations of "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" stretched into two now three feature length films. But honestly I liked it at the end.

- Why are Logan's ears and one of his eyes not decayed when no other part of his body is intact? Why does he have a beard on his jawbone?

- I'll bite, the Bye Bye Bye is a fun idea. The wintery forest setting is cool.

- I can't enjoy that opening fight scene because it's not how anything works. You don't get bludgeoned with a dull object, have your body armour completely give way, and have a pint of blood splash out. I understand the whole point of Deadpool is that it's over the top, but this is just so overly gratuitous it's insane. I feel like Marvel Studios felt like they had to make it so unrealistically violent to try and separate it from the mainline MCU to get the people who have Deadpool funko pops to guffaw in the theatre. It's "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" with zero words spoken. Honestly incredible.

- The CGI is better than it's been recently but it's still noticeably bad

- Peter Parker's Iron Man mask is on the desk in the background! How did that even get there.

- Why is Tony's ARC reactor on the table, I thought that was pushed into the river at the funeral

- The timeline is just so incredibly fucked. I still don't understand how the X Men timeline reboot works, or how Logan fits into it; if Logan dying means Deadpool's universe collapses, that implies the Logan movie is in the X Men reboot franchise, but Patrick Stewart is in that and James McAvoy plays him in the reboot making me think it's a one off... Augh my head...

- Something looks up with John Favraeu. I don't know if his wearing a wig is supposed to be obvious, I don't know if he's just under a lot of makeup or it's CGI, it's just weird.

- Deadpool is never going to be an Avenger because Marvel Studios would rather execute everyone working for them than give up the licencing deals from making PG13 movies, and Deadpool wouldn't feel the same in a PG13 movie.

- I think any brand would let Ryan Reynolds walk all over them in muddy boots, for some reason he gets the pass to slander anyone he wants to and he gets paid by the companies to do it.

- 'I don't have a lot of v*ginal sex' 🤨 that has numerous connotations. Also can we not do sex jokes in front of 12 year olds

- I was not expecting a Deadpool movie to contain any hints of character development because the previous two instalments seemed to be hellbent on making sure I understood nothing of emotional value would ever be allowed to appear without being undercut by a sex joke.

- "I've never been a natural bottom" 🤨🤨 I thought Poolverine was just the average two male leads naturally gets shipped together thing but no they're sowing the fields

- If that Thor crying over Deadpool never comes back I will say something about it

- If they didn't want me to know Paradox was going to be a villain why would they make him British

- The 'Suck it Fox' cut to nothing being there is the only time I will accept something raising more questions than answering them at this level as funny

- "Your tailor is a predator" caught me so off guard I started coughing

- Wow I wasn't expecting them to pull the Paradox is actually evil card not even a third into the movie. Honestly a good subversion of expectations.

- How is Deadpool's universe going to evaporate in 74 hours, I thought time doesn't exist at the TVA?

- Are they going to explain why Deadpool's suit can just fix itself now. It used to keep its holes.

- Finally, I think the first time we ever hear Deadpool is from Canada in the movies! I wonder if Ryan Reynolds only wanted to play him in the first place because they're both Canadian...

- "You two gonna fuck or fight?" 🤨🤨🤨

- I actually understood the Honey Badger reference

- the FF floating platform thingy is another reference I'm surprised I got

- The Human Torch CGI is actually really cool

- "Not all of you was asleep" after waking up on his shoulder 🤨🤨🤨🤨

- Too many cameos in Cassandra's little alcove so I'm not even going to bother looking for them all

- I'm not sure if Johnny Storm's death was supposed to be played for laughs or just shock value, either way I'm not laughing I loved those movies ;(

- How does Cassandra know she's Xavier's sister if she was sent to the Void before she could walk?

- Wolvie being nice to Johnny post mortem is cool

- Nicepool having a stronger Canadian accent is a good joke, and Deadpool looking on in disgust as Nicepool talks about his dog's 'G-spot' is good. At least that's not played off as just a normal thing to say even if it is a joke

- "I identify as a feminist" could easily be misconstrued as an 'anti-woke' joke but all of the jokes of a similar calibre in this movie seem to be made ironically. Example: Nicepool is a creep

- "Where's your mask" and Nicepool points to his face actually implying his nice guy attitude is a facade for being a shitty person is actually really good

- Why is Nicepool's car surrounded by untrampled corn, how did it get there? Who grew the corn?

- Deadpool includes Colossus in his world 🥺

- Wolverine is nothing if not an excellent shit talker, and it's actually very out of character for Deadpool to actually get affected by insults

- I wish The Greatest Showman soundtrack was incorporated for more than just a third of a second

- 'Close up magic' ant man reference?

- 'There's only ever gonna be one Blade' about that...

- I think that's Apocalypse's throne in Cassandra's room? Or Thanos's

- I never thought about how both Cassandra and Xavier's powers radiate from their heads until the Juggernaut helmet scene

- Finally some real actual genuine character development that's not thrown away for a joke!!! The best part of the movie to me was Cassandra's redemptio-. Oh. Nevermind. Anyway I like it better than if it were just shoved away for a joke then she died

- Deadpool waiting for the 'extras' to clear was, to me, a good indication that he's a hero now. Caring about civilians is #1 on my makes you a good guy requirements

- "You smell something?" "Yeah you" 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- And there it is. Nicepool's death is probably the most predictable death I've ever seen on film.

- Eastside Pharmacy?! Agatha All Along reference???

- Wolverine's helmet looks like a rubber playground ball

- Will Marvel Jesus come back in three days however?

- Staring at Hugh's abs? Same, but 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- That hand holding ending was actually impressive, I wasn't sure what was going to happen and it actually kicked ass

- Is the guy with the mug who stared at Deadpool in the beginning Marvel's first gay character

- The introducing Logan to Blind Al is so unbelievably 'the parents meeting the boyfriend' I could die there's no fucking way that wasn't on purpose

[adhdnursegoat]

Reformed! Arkhamverse

cw: fluffy angsty goodness 😊, comfort

note: took a page from @caesariawritesstuff's Cat & Mouse because this Eddie is reformed and is more like Origins Eddie :) also, this was supposed to be for Friday 10/12 but this apparently wants to be posted. So enjoy a day early!!

“I’m going to kill him.”

word count: 2.1k

And you know he’s serious.

Edward stands before you, an embodiment of barely restrained fury, his clear blue eyes blazing with a fire so fierce you almost have to look away. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides, the muscles in his forearms bulging against the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeves, straining as though they’re moments away from snapping. You can see the twitch in his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, you can hear the shudder in his breath—he’s holding himself back by the thinnest thread.

It’s a testament to his self-control that he hasn’t already lunged at the man who dared lay a hand on you. His body trembles slightly, vibrating with tension, each breath a calculated attempt to rein in the storm brewing inside him. The air between you is thick with his rage, a palpable force that both grounds you and sends a ripple of unease through your stomach.

And yet, instinctively, you step closer.

You don’t know whether it’s to shield him or keep him from unleashing the tempest stampeding through his veins, but you place yourself between him and the man now wisely retreating, his face pale with terror. You could see it in the man’s eyes—the dawning realization of who he’s offended. He had no idea whose partner he was touching, whose wrath he had summoned. Now he knows. Now he sees. He’s an idiot.

“Edward, stop,” you say, your voice firm yet soft as you press a hand against his chest. Beneath your fingers, you can feel the wild, erratic beat of his heart—each pulse heavy with the weight of his restraint. It’s a force of nature contained only by sheer willpower.

But his eyes remain locked on the man, unblinking, his focus so laser-sharp it sends a shiver down your spine. The man is retreating, inch by inch, but Edward’s gaze is fixed, dangerous, a predator sizing up its prey. You’re not sure if he’s listening to you at all. The world has narrowed to one point, and all he sees is the insult, the violation, the audacity.

You take a breath and push harder against his chest, leaning into the pressure, hoping to anchor him, to bring him back from the brink. “Edward, look at me,” you plead, voice lower, softer, the kind of tone you know reaches him when nothing else can. “Please.”

“I’m not letting him get away with that,” Edward grits out, his voice low and seething. It’s a guttural sound, a primal instinct clawing its way to the surface. You can hear the squeak and grind of his molars, his jaw clenched so tight you worry he might crack a tooth. There’s a dangerous edge to his demeanor, a violent energy that radiates out. He tries to push past you, but you hold your ground, splaying both hands against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“Yes, you are,” you reply, your tone unwavering as you meet his furious gaze with calm determination. You try to find his eyes, to anchor him to the moment, to you. “Look at me, Ed… Please, just look at me.”

After a beat, his lips remain pulled into a dangerous sneer. Then Edward ’s frozen flame eyes flicker down to you, their usual bright intensity now stormy, darkened by rage. For a fleeting moment, you think you’ve lost him to his old impulses, to the Riddler who took what he wanted and punished those who crossed him. There is a glint of something wild and predatory in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. You grimace, not enjoying having this energy now focused on you.

But then he blinks, seeing you through the red mist encroaching his mind, and you notice a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes. Finally. It’s the crack you need to reach him, a momentary opening in the armor of fury that surrounds him. You hold his gaze, feeling the intensity of his anger crackling, popping, and slowly fizzling to a smolder between your eyes, much like a fuse burning out seconds from an explosive ignition.

“That’s it, my love,” you coo, your voice soothing as you stroke his chest gently. Your fingertips brush against the fabric of his vest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath it. Each breath is a tumultuous wave, the tension in his muscles beginning to ease just a fraction under your touch. “Just breathe, okay?”

He lets out a ragged breath, the sound escaping his lips like the release of a pressure valve. The tension in his shoulders sags slightly, and for a moment, you both stand in a fragile silence, the world around you fading into the background. “He touched you…,” he grits out, his voice husky with anger, each word tinged with a raw, protective instinct. It churns within him, a wildfire ignited every time he thinks of someone disrespecting you, of someone daring to encroach upon what he sees as rightfully his. But when he sees the steady look in your eyes, something shifts; a tremor of doubt flits across his features.

Edward closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, as if trying to anchor himself in the storm. When he opens them again, the tempest begins to subside. His blue irises are bright once more, though his brows remain furrowed in concern, a cloud of worry hanging over him like a shadow. “I can’t just stand by and do nothing when someone thinks they can treat you like that. Thinking they can touch what’s mine.”

The intensity of his possessiveness washes over you, wrapping around your heart like a tight embrace, both exhilarating and unsettling. You can feel the heat of his anger morphing into something deeper—an unwavering desire to protect, to claim, to own. And while you understand the danger embedded in his rage, the way it ignites his passion is undeniably intoxicating. The knowledge of how far he’s willing to go for you sends both a thrill of apprehension and arousal dancing down your spine.

Yet, your heart twists at the sight of him struggling, wrestling with his old instincts. Edward is trying so hard to change, to leave the darkness behind, but moments like this threaten to pull him back into the shadows. You lift a hand to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb gently across his skin, grounding him in the present.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know you want to protect what’s yours. But you promised yourself you’d do better, remember? And you’re doing so well, Edward. You’ve come so far.” Your other hand finds his face as well, ensuring his attention is fixed on you when you say, “I’m so, so proud of you…”

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with sincerity, trying to mirror the warmth of your words. You continue to pet his cheek, showering him with the tender love and care he needs—no, deserves. “Don’t throw that all away because of one jerk. He’s not worth it.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights to steady his breathing, the rhythm still uneven. “I can’t do this. I need to break his fingers. I need to-”

“Shh,” you interrupt gently, pulling his face towards yours with a delicate touch. You lean in, resting your forehead against his, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. You can sense his rapid breaths, his body still coiled like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. “You need to use that big, sexy brain of yours and reason with yourself. You can. I believe in you. You are the smartest, most resilient man I know. World’s Greatest Everything—right? You can do this.”

You feel him exhale shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans into your touch. “You’re right…” His hands, which had been hanging limply at his sides, now come up to hold your hips. His grip is tight, almost desperate, as if he’s afraid you might slip away. “I hate this.”

“I know you do,” you say softly, nuzzling his nose with your own. Then you let you hands push back into his hair, fingers threading into the dark strands. “What matters is how you handle it, and you’re handling it right now. You stopped. You listened to me. That’s progress.”

He opens his eyes, looking at you with frustration but vulnerability. The dark shadows beneath his blue irises betray the tumult swirling in his mind. “You make it sound so easy,” he murmurs bitterly, his voice laced with a heaviness that echoes the struggle within him. “But it’s not. I want to hurt him.”

You sigh, your fingers instinctively playing with the dark hair at the nape of his neck, seeking to ground both him and yourself. “I know. And it’s okay to want that. It’s okay to feel angry, to want to protect me. But both of us—even he knows—you could yeet his ass from this mortal coil.”

Edward chuckles at your silly encouragement, the sound breaking through the storm of his fury. It’s a crack of amusement in his dissipating rage, and it makes your soul sing, a warm note of relief coursing through you.

“But you don’t have to act on every impulse,” you continue, your voice softer now, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. “You’re more than your anger.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find the truth reflected back. His brow furrows as he sifts through everything you’ve said. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, letting the gentle tide of your voice roll a wave of calm through his body. He sighs, pressing his forehead more firmly against yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you both in this fragile moment.

Then, finally, he exhales a slow, shuddering breath, a release of tension that seems to echo in the air around you. He wraps his arms around you completely, pulling you into a tight embrace— a recognition of your unwavering support. You can feel the tension in his body slowly easing, replaced by a weary sort of resignation, as if the weight of his burdens is shared in this closeness.

“Okay,” he murmurs into your hair, the sound softening the edges of his earlier anger.

You nod in appreciation, your arms encircling his neck, anchoring him further. “You’re doing your best, Ed... That’s enough for me.” You offer a small smile, one filled with warmth and understanding. “Now, how about we get out of here? Go home? We can sit down, relax, and forget about that asshat. I can massage your neck and shoulders. That always makes you feel better, yeah?” Making your point, one of your hands strokes and squeezes the tight muscles at the back of his neck, feeling the tension begin to dissipate beneath your touch.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he groans, leaning into your caress, and he nods. “Yeah. A massage sounds wonderful,” he purrs, his voice still hoarse but no longer filled with fury. In a sudden surge of affection, he reaches forward, cupping your cheeks in both hands and drawing your face closer to his. “You’re never leaving me,” he declares, his tone possessive yet tender, as he presses in an affirming kiss on your lips. It’s firm, grounding, a period instead of a question mark.

You break the kiss, whispering “promise” against his lips, before kissing him once more, and then his nose, a playful gesture that earns you another soft chuckle from him. You pat his cheek, then take his hands from your face, your fingers interlacing with his. Feeling a warm glow well up in your chest, you give him a soft smile, a gesture filled with tenderness, and then you tug him gently. “Let’s go home.”

As you pull him through the bar, the atmosphere around you shifts, the noise of the crowd fading into a comforting background hum. You glance back at him, giving a warm, knowing smile. “You know, the new season of Love Is Blind is out now. We can watch that when we get home too.”

Edward’s blue eyes widen behind his glasses, and a spark of excitement ignites in his gaze. He starts walking faster, now tugging you along with newfound energy. “Darling, why didn’t you say that sooner? You know I love watching those idiots torture themselves in that sorry excuse for an experiment.”

[morgana-ren]

Come down to the Black Sea VI

I just realized I never even posted part fucking six on here, so here's a read-up before I post chapter VII.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, attempted assault, slight sexual content, one very pissy, overgrown fish and bad writing. It will get worse. Just trust me on this one. I don't write anything without gratuitous smut in it. It's sorta my baliwick.

In other news, several bodies were found mutilated along the south beach early this morning leaving investigators absolutely baffled. At least two women and one man are dead– but how? The police seem entirely unsure. They say it’s too early for a definitive call, but speculations range from-

You’re convinced the world has gone absolutely mad. 

Watching the news as you’re grasping at straws to find the motivation to continue living, getting ready for work and venturing outside your apartment again probably isn’t the best call, but given how insane things have been lately, it’s hard not to watch with a macabre fascination. It’s like watching a train go off the rails in real time. 

Horrifying, but you have a difficult time tearing your eyes away.

‘-unlike anything we’ve ever seen. They were just left completely bare in the sand 20 feet from the parking lot where kids could have found them. The ferocity of the attack is– well, it’s horrifying. We’ve got officers working the scene who have been on the force for 20 years and haven’t seen anything like this. We’re working overtime to try and discern the nature of these attacks so that their loved ones and the general public can rest assured-’

Things used to be quiet here. Slow and simple and easy. A tad boring at times, but danger was far from most people’s thoughts. The biggest threat one could face on a daily basis was a sudden, violent shift in the tide or a tricky undertow hellbent on sucking you under. Maybe a particularly tumultuous storm, on a really bad day.

But that’s before he arrived, isn’t it? 

‘-ruled out any sort of foul play. What happened here early this morning is a tragedy, and we can’t say for certain, but the evidence points toward some sort of animal attack, likely a predator driven from their habitat by-

Separating yourself from the situation has made it seem even more surreal than it did to begin with. Now that you’re not attending your nightly meet-ups with Shigaraki, it’s allowed you some time to reflect on just how odd the entire ordeal really was. Feeling like a fool is a hard pill to swallow, especially when he was so upfront with his intentions from the get-go. Why you ever expected him to actually care is beyond you. 

For one measly, shitty little minute, you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. Caught up in the illusion, it was all too easy to believe that this creature with claws for rending human flesh and teeth for gnashing bone could have the capacity to care for you to some degree. The congratulations he’d given you when you told him you found someone seemed as genuine as you could get from him, and he’d listened quietly– albeit with a few eye-rolls– to your endless babbling about how you felt renewed and he’d given you to motivation to start trying again with his weird philosophy of ‘do what you have always done and you will remain as miserable as you always are’-- even if that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. 

But that’s his nature isn’t it? Spinning pretty lies into an ensnaring web of beautiful falsehoods. Luring you in with those beautiful eyes designed to reel foolish humans like you in and yanking you under when you go to reach for him, both metaphorically and literally. He’d told you what you wanted– or needed– to hear at the time and banked on the opening it left and the trust you’d given him after. 

Forgiving him for his little flare-up that night had even been easy to achieve after a few drinks and a quick pep-talk. He’d waited the next evening– much like he always did– at your rock, for you to sit with him. It’s not in his nature to apologize, but he was more than willing to carry forward even given your hesitance. Words like ‘patience’ and ‘understanding’ might be a bit far-fetched, but it was more than you thought you could expect from him nonetheless.

It seemed, for one fleeting moment, like everything was okay.

You were practically raised on tales of nefarious sea creatures that lull you into a false sense of security and then feast on your viscera. So why did you think your fairytale ending would be any different?

Heroine syndrome is a fair guess. Everyone wants to be special. Everyone wants to be the weakness cradled in the monster’s ribs– the weight they carry willingly. It’s a stupid little dream a lot of kids have, to grow to become revered in the arms of a titan, to be swept away from the mundane life they’ve come to know. 

But the original fairy tales don’t have a happy ending. They weren’t written with happiness in mind. Princes are often fools and monsters are just that– monsters. They’ll rip you apart if you give them the chance and your memory will be used as a cautionary tale. A beautiful beast is still just that: A beast. 

Endearing yourself to him had been a foolish venture, and if you hadn’t been so clouded by your own vanity, you might have seen that. You had been toying with a very dangerous, very real predator and opted to treat it like he was a mere fish in a tank, despite how many times he’d almost killed you. 

The wound on your arm pulses, and you can’t help but run a finger over the gnarled skin, puffy and barely healed. You’d only recently been able to remove the bandages, and it was probably fair to say that it would scar over something nasty. A constant reminder of your short-lived time with him. One you would carry for the rest of your days. A reminder of what dwells deep in the ocean and why you should keep very, very far away, even as the ache deep in your gut never dulls and the restlessness breeds a garden of misery that suffocates you. 

‘-urge all beach goers to exercise caution at this time and try to avoid visiting after dark until we know what it is we’re dealing with. If you have any information, please call-’

Your finger finds the big red button on the remote, flipping the TV off. You’ve heard enough for today. There’s more misery on your plate than you can finish in one sitting, and drowning yourself in it isn’t going to do anything decent for your mental health. Not when you’re mourning a loss you can never speak to anyone about and a betrayal—

Does it really count as a betrayal though? 

It sure as hell hurts like one. 

It’s probably your own fault, but stabbing yourself doesn’t make the wound any less painful. When you’re lonely, you’ll reach for any driftwood your listless body wades to. 

You offered the sea your loneliness and she gave back what she could: a lesson. 

You’d like to think you’ve learned from the experience, that you’ll never let yourself be fooled by supernatural beauty and wonder ever again, but if the wendigo or chupacabra knocked on your front door to ask for some sugar, you’d probably give it to them. 

Humans just don’t learn. Shigaraki was right. It’s amazing we’ve gotten this far. 

You sling your work bag over your shoulder, wondering briefly if he's shouldering the same burden as you; does he feel this hollow ache in your absence? 

He’s probably more pissed off that his dinner reservations got canceled. 

It’s a pathetic line of thought, but that strange emptiness refuses to listen as you rationalize with it. You’d been dumb enough to count him as a friend– albeit a very licentious, very moody one– even though he’d made a point to never tell you as much. You’d viewed your relationship with him through rose colored glasses and it left you completely incapable of seeing all the red flags, even as he made no effort to hide them. 

Now that he’s gone, it’s back to a lackluster existence– minus the sea. The sea that you’re surrounded by and can somehow never touch again. There’s not a doubt in your mind that if you were to touch the water, somehow he would know and find you again, and judging by the world class fit he threw, he’d have no qualms about just killing you this time. 

In a way, you had grown to actually care for him a little. Or maybe that was a strange form of Stockholm syndrome. Either way, he still seemed like a friend, and it hurts a bit that he’s no longer a part of your life, though perhaps a part of that is the human arrogance of losing a supernatural buddy.

Who else can say they’d befriended a siren, after all?

Ideally you could take your mind off of it and focus on work, but the sad truth of the matter is that you’re likely just going to fixate on it while your job finishes dead last in the mental race of ‘things I give a good goddamn about right now.’ 

Tomura would have told you that if you hated it, you should quit. Why force yourself to do something you hate? 

But Tomura isn’t here. 

The most you can do is pray it’s a slow day and that your boss doesn’t notice you slipping. No way to explain that, after all. 

With every last ounce of willpower you can muster, you manage to tie your shoes and lock your front door, slipping out into the streets. 

The streets are crowded and filthy and rotten and loud , the tarmac packed with vehicles and the sidewalks blotted with all manner of people. Self-important businessmen shouting into their phones, aimless sightseers, and hoards of shrieking children barely clinging like a thread to their mother’s hands while being herded like cattle to whatever unfortunate restaurant will host them that evening.

He ignores them all, leaving the responsibility to dodge his hulking body wholly on them as he storms forwards towards his destination: You . 

Where that is exactly, he doesn’t know, but he follows your scent– still thick on the scrap of fabric he keeps fastened to his wrist– deeper into the city and away from the waters he calls home. 

The sensation of shoes on his feet is deeply unpleasant, and the clothes he’d stolen from his breakfast were ill fitting and uncomfortable, leaving him shifting and squirming and resisting the urge to shred it clean off. Anger burns a hole in his gut at having to cover his form simply for their sake, but there’s more important matters to attend to, and as much as he’d like to think that he could, taking on an entire city’s worth of humans outside of his home turf might be a bit of a stretch. Rather than giving into his rage, he keeps the hood firmly yanked up over his silver hair, his features hidden behind the thick curtain of his bangs and his hands firmly shoved into the kangaroo pouch. 

From an outside perspective, he looks like a drugged up local with a pituitary problem on a particularly bad trip, but he could care less about what the human infestation around him thinks. So long as none of them bother to look for too long, he’ll leave them be. For now. 

Agony still wracks his bones and relearning to walk on two legs is humiliating in a way he doesn’t care to think on, but the rage carries him through. The human body is disgusting. How you exist like this is beyond him, but it offers you one singular advantage that he couldn’t overcome in his true form– the ability to find shelter away from him on land, far from the reach of his claws. Far away from him. 

It’s a testament to how much he hates you that he subjects himself to this. 

You dared to defy him not once– not twice– but three times, only narrowly escaping your fate each time, and then you had the audacity to just leave . He should have killed you. He should have. It was a mistake, and one he swears won’t happen again. This time, when he finds you, he’ll do what he should have done from the start. 

You won’t talk or enthrall your way out of it this time. He’s going to get what he came for. His pride demands it.

But you’ll figure that out soon enough, won’t you?