#predator x prey dynamic
Text
One Slow Blink Part 2
Second part right here due to Tumblr restrictions
Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give?
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.
A/N: This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)
22k words for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)
Masterlist Part 1
You must have fallen asleep like that, as once your eyes open it looks to be almost night, the sun dipping past the horizon. The light slipping past your makeshift curtain is a deep red. You ache all over, especially your shoulder, but it doesn't stop you from smiling.
At some point he must have pulled you on top of him, both arms circling you possessively, holding you to his chest like a child's doll. His member has slipped out of you; you can feel the stickiness of his release coating the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.
Breathing changes as he stirs beneath you, opening his eyes in a squint.
“Hey you.”
He murmurs a soft sound from his chest, licking your cheek with his long tongue.
“Ew! Eddie, you've got dog breath.”
“Charrrming.”
You laugh, hitting his chest playfully, shifting above him so you're straddling him.
“We better get cleaned up, I've got to get to the hospital in a few hours.”
Eddie whines, grabbing your hips as you try to stand, pushing your wet heat against his twitching bulge.
“Eddie…”
You breathe out in a warning, but it sounds too needy. He's not listening, rubbing you back and forth over his swelling length.
“Eddie I don't think I can take another round, you were- oh fuck-”
The sentence falters as he catches your clit, setting a thousand butterflies loose in your tummy.
“I’ll… be gentle.”
You hiccup a little laugh, staring down at him with a raised brow.
“I don't think you can.”
“Forrr you… I can.”
You reach out to stroke his fuzzy cheek and he nuzzles into the touch. The affection he shows from that simple gesture has you relenting, guiding his member into you, slipping in easily, his previous sticky release helping its journey.
Sitting back and allowing yourself to revel in the beautiful stretch, you experience that familiar wash of relief, a calm caressing your very soul. Eddie seems to feel it too, letting out a long breath as his shoulders lose tension.
“This feels right,” you confess, hand running down his chest, “like, like-”
His gravelly purr interrupts your spill words, reverberating through your ribcage.
“Like you… werrre made forrr me, sweet-hearrrt.”
It's much slower this time, more of a languid grinding as you both move against each other, that undercurrent of need more of a smouldering heat, rather than the unquenchable fire from earlier. Eddie pants as he watches you, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth as you reach your precipice, your eyebrows knotting and body shuddering around him.
Falling against his form, entirely spent, skin glowing with sweat, you hold onto him as he chases his own release. True to his word, he's much more gentle, gripping your hips and moving you to meet his shallow thrusts. You see his snout scrunch when he's on the brink, just before he pulls you off of him and holds you to his torso. You can feel his cock pumping out his orgasm against your stomach, glueing the pair of you together.
“Eddie, you didn't need to-”
“Last time we werrre… stuck togetherrr, for half hourrr.”
You giggle, astonished at his words.
“Really? Damn, I must have fell asleep.”
“You did. Couldn't move. Was… nice.”
Reaching up to play with the fur on his cheek, you think about what he just said.
“You know, I think that's knotting. You know, like d-”
“If you say… dogs…” He warns, winding a finger in your hair and tugging gently.
“Fine. Canines.”
He grabs you, holding you in place as he slathers your face with his tongue, drooling all over you.
“Eddie! Yuck, stop, stop!”
“Thought I was… dog. This is what dogs do… rrrright?”
You squeal loudly trying to extricate yourself from his hold.
“OK, OK! You're not a dog! Stop!”
He finally relents and you get up, unpeeling from the sticky skin and matted fur of his stomach.
“Right, I'm gonna have a shower before you start humping my leg.”
He snaps his teeth at you playfully as you leave. When you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you see why your shoulder hurts so much. There's teeth marks in it; pinpricks of broken skin tinged with blood. They aren't deep, but the redness around them looks like it's going to leave a hell of a bruise. For some reason, you're not mad. The opposite in fact. It feels like a claim. You are his, and this is so the world can see.
Once you're clean and relatively dry, you go into the living area to find some food, throwing on one of Eddie's new t-shirts. It may as well be a dress, the hem kissing your mid thigh.
Something doesn't feel right though. Suddenly there's a rolling in the pit of your stomach, a sense of impending doom. The light streaming through the partially boarded windows is still an ominous red. Risking a look, you peer out of the slats and see the sky.
It's flashing red and blue, as if there's an enormous thunderstorm boiling the heavens, but there's no sound. It looks unnatural, colouring the landscape around in the same foreboding hues. You feel hot, and sick.
Eddie barrels into the room with a towel still around his waist, tackling you to the ground.
“Eddie, whats-”
“Stay low… some-thing coming… smells wrrrong.”
You whisper as quietly as you can.
“What can you smell?”
He takes a moment, snuffling at the air with his eyes closed.
“Outside… woods, dirrrt. Frrriends, coming. And… can't ex-plain in worrrds. Sticky… chem-i-cal… pulsing… grrey blue. Wrrrong.”
You suppose that's what you get for asking a question about something you can't possibly understand, what with the stark differences in your senses. You try a different tact.
“Have you… smelled it before?”
“Differrrent… but, similarrrr… to up-side-down.”
There's the shoe that you were waiting to drop. Now the feeling in your gut made sense.
“Eddie, you said… friends were coming?”
“Harrrrrington… and Henderrrrson forrr surrre… smell the damn hairrsprrray.”
In spite of the situation, you giggle. He flashes his teeth, dropping his guard for just an instant.
There's a powerful knock at the door that makes you jump. Eddie leaps up and flings it open with such force that it slams into the wooden wall sending dust flying.
You just about make out the figure of a girl with a shaved head and a bloody nose who thrusts an outstretched hand toward Eddie. Dustin's voice rings out behind her.
“Elle no!”
There's a strange force, like a gust of wind with no air that buffets around Eddie's snarling form. You feel it pulling you, ripping you backwards as you roll across the floorboards. Eddie seems unaffected, not moving from his spot.
“Eleven, stop! You think monsters wear pink towels??”
The girl looks baffled and turns to where Dustin is running forward, waving his arms wildly. Steve is following quickly behind. They both look battered and bruised. As Steve comes into focus you see his entire front is covered in blood.
Instincts kicking in, you shoulder past Eddie and run toward him.
“Steve, what happened!”
“It's alright it's not my blood. Eleven, this is Eddie.”
Ah, Eleven. It makes more sense now. The powers, the shaved head.
“Who- is she?”
Eleven stares at you with a confused expression. You introduce yourself, and explain what you think you are.
“...I'm, er, Eddie's girlfriend.”
Eleven's eyes widen but she doesn't say anything. Dustin, however, can't possibly stop the words spilling from his mouth.
“Girlfriend?? Seriously? But-”
“Henderson, focus! That's not important right now!”
“I was just asking, Steve!”
“Well don't we have other stuff we need to-”
“Hey!”
Shocked, you realise the shout came from you.
“Everyone, just calm down and get inside so we can talk, OK?”
Your words seem to cut through all arguments as everybody makes it inside, standing and looking at you for direction. Attempting to keep the authoritative air you've managed to concoct, you order them to sit down whilst you and Eddie get dressed.
When you're no longer feeling so exposed, you come back into the living room holding Eddie's hand.
“Right now, Steve, you first. What the fucks going on?”
He weirdly looks at Eleven first, who gives a curt nod.
“Right, right, so, it's a little-”
Dustin cuts in.
“-Vecna's back from the Upside Down with his Demogorgons and bats and stuff and they're taking over Hawkins and we need Eddie Dog to help defeat him!”
Stumbling back a little stunned, your wide eyes search his vainly for the sign of some prank. There is none.
“So… you're saying there's monsters in Hawkins??”
Steve responds calmly, juxtaposing Dustin’s trembling form.
“ ‘fraid so. Nance and Hopper and everyone else are holed up in the library. Everyone left in the town’s there. Well, everyone who's not dead or ran away.”
“Wait, so Hopper’s alive??”
“Yes! He was captured by evil Russians but Mrs Byers got him back and-”
“Alright, alright,” you hold your palms up to Dustin, “what does Eddie have to do with this?”
“Listen, Henderson's got this theory that Eddie's… powers… came out so he can stop Vecna.”
“But that's absurd, he was bitten!” You turn to Eddie but he looks just as shocked as you.
“Yeah but, we've seen a lot of people today who've been bitten by something. No one else changed.”
“Exactly,” Dustin says, grinning, “Eddie's got super strength now, he's all healed, I bet he's got other powers.”
Eleven starts talking unexpectedly.
“I tried to throw him. He did not move.”
“See!? He's a superhero.”
“So, wait, Eleven can't throw him,” you begin, “but that doesn't mean she can't throw stuff at him. What's to stop Vecna throwing a car or something?”
Everyone looks at Eleven.
Wordlessly, she focuses on a lamp that sits on a side table. To your astonishment, it begins to float in the air, then hurls itself at Eddie with remarkable force. Then the strangest thing happens. It hovers a few inches from Eddie as if stopped by an invisible barrier, then falls to the floor uselessly.
Silence. You break it, voice splitting as it goes high pitched with worry.
“Right, but that doesn't mean Vecna can't hurt him, just because Eleven can't, right? Right??”
Eddie's the one to respond, holding your hands in one bearish paw.
“Sweet-hearrrt, they'rrre rrright… I can help… I should help… need to prrotect the Shirrre… prrrotect you.”
“But-but-” Tears well in your eyes as you stare back at him.
“I need to… otherrrrwise… I am… this… is all a waste.”
You nod, but pull your hands from his and walk into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. The pain is too much to bear. It does make sense, if you were being rational, but right now you aren't rational. Nothing about this is rational. You've just found the love of your life and you might lose him to this stupid fight.
Fuck. You love him.
It's finally clear. The feeling in your stomach, the draw you have toward him, the fire in your veins, in your heart. You barely know him, but you love him.
And now that might get ripped away because of some damn fight that shouldn't have had anything to do with him in the first place.
You perch on the bed, head in your hands as tears leak down your cheeks. There's no fight in you to stop them, grieving for something that hasn't happened yet but seems inevitable. There's whispering in the other room, plans being made, but it all sounds like it's underwater, drowned by the power of your tears.
After a while, Eddie opens the door and shuffles in the room, sitting down on the bed next to you. He slowly starts to explain the plan to you, how Will can sense when Vecna or the monsters are near, how Elle will help clear a path, how he has the strength to defeat him, since Vecna's powers are all he has. He doesn't have the speed or strength that Eddie does.
There's a loaded quiet when he's finished. You're angry, wiping away stray tears fiercely from your face, but you're not angry at him. You're angry at the situation, at Vecna, at the Upside Down. Angry at the powers that seem to be pulling you apart.
“Fine. But I'm coming with you.”
“No,” he snarls, pulling his arm around you, “they need… heal-ers. You… can help.”
“But what if- what if you get hurt?”
“Won't.”
“Promise?”
Staring up whilst you are brimming with tears, he cups your face, looking back at you with soulful eyes.
“I'll do… everrry-thing I can.”
“No!” You shout, tears falling once again as your face heats up, “you can't say that, they say that in the hospital and people die!”
Wringing your hands, flipping them over and over each other in your lap, you barely notice Eddie falling to the floor in front of you.
Then his burly arms are circling you, his maw pushed into your abdomen, inhaling you deeply, sweetly. It stops your incessant fidgeting, fingers resting in his long locks. They wind into his hair, twisting through to massage his scalp as he purrs into the flesh of your stomach.
“Eddie, if you love me you'll come back to me. Do-do you love me, Eddie?”
He looks up at you, deep chestnut eyes searching your face.
One slow blink.
There's a soft knock at the door and Dustin opens it.
“We have to go soon. Are you ready Eddie Dog?”
Eddie growls low in his throat, swivelling to face him on all fours, hackles raised. Dustin immediately attempts to backtrack, arm raised to try and protect his face.
“I mean, I didn't mean- it's from the demogorgon, you know, demodogs, Eddie Dog, I did think DemoEddie but Dog-”
Eddie pounces, pinning Dustin to the ground. Dustin's eyes scrunch shut as he screams, voice breaking in terror.
“Shit shit shiiiiiiiiiit!!!”
You giggle inanely as Eddie licks Dustin's face wetly. He bounds off him and shoots a wink at you, before lending Dustin a hand and dragging him to his feet.
“I am not… a dog.”
Dustin is laughing in relief, nerves racking through it.
“No you're not, I'm sorry I'm sorry-”
Steve appears in the doorway.
“Guys, get in here.”
All mockery forgotten, you make your way into the living space in silence.
“Steve, what's going on?”
“That's just it. Listen.”
You all stop, ears working in overdrive as you all try to hear what he hears. Breaking the quiet spell that had drifted over everyone, you speak.
“I can't hear anything.”
“Exactly. Don't you get it? All over town, all through the woods, there's been these things. Demogorgons, bats, horrible things. But here, there's nothing.”
“Eddie, you smell anything?”
Eddie closes his eyes, snout wiggling in effort as he opens his preternatural senses. His voice rumbles out in its usual gravelly purr.
“That scent… it's herrre, it's on them… up-side-down smell… therrres nothing close by… except a few deerrr.”
Steve holds a hand up, stage whispering to you.
“He can smell that?”
“Yes… and hearrr acrrross rrrooms.”
“Sorry big guy, I just- that's awesome.”
Dustin is beaming, staring at Eddie like he's a superhero. Steve continues, making sure he's looking at Eddie, you notice, keeping him in the conversation.
“So, if those things aren't nearby… maybe, maybe they're afraid of him? Hate to say it but I'm starting to agree with Dustin. Maybe you're supposed to be like this Munson.”
Sighing in acceptance, you turn to Eddie.
“Fine. If you think you can help you should go. Don't let me stop you. But you have to come back to me.”
He gives you a slow blink, and you nod, accepting fate. Then you move into action, grabbing the partially used trauma kit, along with anything else you think might be helpful. Everyone else is doing the same, as if they were waiting for your approval.
Pretty soon you're being bundled into what appears to be a stolen pick up truck with Eddie sitting in the back, as you race back into town.
If you could call it town anymore.
Your mind rolls to every post apocalyptic movie you've ever seen, but none of them compare to it happening in front of your eyes. Crumbling buildings that you recognise send spears of hurt through your heart. Over there, the gas station where you bought your first underage beers, now a smoking wreckage. On your left, the drug store where you used to pick up your mom's prescription, cracked and half buried in rubble.
A cloud of chattering sound passes quickly overhead; you hear Eddie growling low as batlike creatures wing their way to another destination, seemingly unbothered by your presence. It's either that, or they don't want to tangle with your boyfriend. You pray that it's the latter.
Steve takes a sharp left turn and you fling to the side in your seat.
“I thought we were heading to the library, isn't it that way?”
“Yep, if you wanna cross a gorge. The roads opened so wide that nothing can get through.”
The enormity of the situation is sinking into you, winding around your spine, fear clasping you in its unwanted clutches.
Ignore it. Don't recognise it. Turn your back on it. There's people that need your help.
Steve pulls up a few yards away from the library, and you clench your jaw, telling your tears to fuck right off. Now is not the time for tears.
You and Dustin jump out of the truck, and he rushes to the library to bring everyone who needs to be part of this final stand. A final stand that doesn't involve you. A final stand that has the love of your life sitting front and centre.
Running around to the back of the truck you grab Eddie's head firmly in both your hands.
“You- you remember what I said? You need to come back to me, you hear me? ‘Cause if you don't I'll kill you myself. Get it Eddie? You do this and you come back to me!!”
Eddie holds your hands in his enormous paws, enveloping your soft flesh instantly. Nuzzling his snout against your cheek, he breathes in your ear.
“I'll come back… to what's mmine.”
You press fierce hot kisses to the soft fur of his face, over and over, until he pulls you from him, holding your hands away.
“You love me Eddie. I know you do.”
One slow blink.
In an instant, he's gone, quieter than snow. Falling to the floor, you hold your head in your hands, crushed by the barbarity of the situation.
You didn't say it. You didn't tell him you love him too. Saying it out loud would make it more real. Saying it out loud would make the pain worse if you lose him.
Soft fingers pry at you, leading you onward, inside. In a daze you follow, feet on autopilot as you clutch the trauma bag in front of you like a shield.
Inside is a bustle of activity, a hive of ants that all have a purpose and none of them involve you. You're guided gently down onto a seat and the insects run about, fetching food, water, bandages. It all seems to be happening outside of you, following a rhythm that you can't hear.
“Hey, hey!” One of the swarm seems to be addressing you. Tilting your head, you look towards them. It's an older woman; half her face is concealed by a makeshift eyepatch.
“You're a doctor, right? We need someone over here now!”
Instincts take over. Legs rising of their own accord, they march over to a camp bed that's been set up. Another woman lays there, breaths shallow and humanising. There's an enormous gash in her side.
“OK OK, I can help, just don't move too much, I'll try and stop the bleeding.”
Then the next person. And then, the next person.
Mind floating into a subconscious haze, your memories take over. That situation before at the hospital, the textbook you once studied, a hypothetical conversation with a doctor. You take it, all at once, power beyond what should be possible, but you do it.
You do it for him.
Minutes pass into hours unseen as you tear through every available useful item, every strip of gauze from your bag, until it happens.
A pain so profound that grips your shoulder and your heart hard enough for you to look around for the shotgun. It emanates out of the bitemark, pulsing into your veins with alarming force.
“He's hurt.”
Collapsing to the side, you hold a firm hand to your own heart, as if you could will it to slow. Legs give out from under you, your rear landing on the hard surface behind. For a minute you sit, unable to move, unable to think, wondering why everyone around seems so controlled. Don't they realise your entire universe is shattering into splinters before their very eyes?
There's a hand shaking you by the arm, someone asking if you're OK. They lift you, place you in a seat, and keep asking, and asking. Your tongue feels heavy, unable to form words to explain the hurt you're feeling. This deep hurt is rooted into your bone marrow; heavy, hard and cold.
There's a familiar face in front of you, a round childish face with curling boyish locks and a worried expression. Dustin.
“Hey, you there? Can ya hear me?”
Nodding wordlessly, you point to your chest, directly over your heart, eyes wincing in pain.
“Did you get hurt?”
You shake your head, and manage one word.
“Eddie.”
Before Dustin can respond, Nancy runs in, face covered in grime and dark blood, panting for breath.
“They… did it… Hoppers here with Eleven. The gates are closed. But, Eddie-”
Hearing his name you rush back into your body.
“Where is he?”
“Steve and Jonathan are taking him back to the cabin. He's unconscious. He’s… in a bad way, but he's alive.”
He's alive.
“I need to get to him. Dustin, grab any bandages you can find. Nancy, you got a car?”
She nods and leads you outside. The sky has quietened, no longer flashing in supernatural colours. Looking upward, you can almost believe this is a normal night in Hawkins. Taking in the streets, the truth is far from it.
Three monstrous things lay on the sidewalk, covered in some slimy substance and splattered in unnatural blood. Their skin has a blue grey sheen to it, and their limbs are twisted awkwardly. Their heads seem to have been split open, but then you realise it's just one gigantic mouth, unfurling like a gristly lily. The fleshy petals are lined with dozens of tiny sharp teeth.
You press a toe to one of them nervously. Its head lulls to one side, utterly lifeless.
“Hey I got the band- Holy shit!!”
Dustin's voice cracks mid sentence, then he sighs in relief when he realises the monsters are dead. Nancy calls at you both to hurry and you bundle into the car as she races through the cracked, ruined streets of Hawkins.
The gas station, the shops, town hall, it's all unimportant. What matters is getting to Eddie. You need to save him.
Suddenly a heavy feeling in your chest lifts, but not in comfort. It's as if someone's tugged a weighted blanket off of you, exposing your vulnerability for the world to see. Eddie's presence, once a firm hold coddling your heart, is reduced to a whisper of a thought. Gossamer threads tie you instead of lead ropes that you hadn't even realised were there until they were nearly gone.
“Nancy, we need to hurry, he's almost gone!”
She doesn't question how you know, just presses her foot to the accelerator and bombs through Hawkins and onto the familiar country road. She gets as near as the woods will allow, until you're yanking the door open and continuing on shaky legs, feet pounding at the bracken and tears streaming from the corners of your eyes.
A singular thought races through your mind with each footfall. Save him. Save him. Like a heartbeat.
The cabin starts to appear out of the darkness, the lights inside a beacon of hope. As you reach the front door it flies open, Steve standing in the frame.
His hair is sticking out in every direction; part of it is plastered to his forehead with blood. A bat with nails in it is hanging limply at his side and his clothes are torn. There's gashes in his front, as if gigantic claws had swiped at him. Previously you would have stopped, gaping at his wounds in horror and done anything you could to help, but after everything you've seen tonight they seem almost trivial.
“Is he here?”
Steve takes a deep breath in, swinging the bat at his side as if on instinct.
“He's here, I guess. He was awesome, then- he wasn't him, in the end. He's not said a word after Vecna, then when Mrs- well, he passed out. Just, be careful.”
You nod and shoulder your way through, past a long haired guy with the intense expression who you assume is Jonathan, and into the bedroom.
It's a familiar scene, so much so that it borders on comfort. He's strapped down to the bed, a belt wrapped around his feral maw. His breaths are shallow and wet sounding. A snarling whistle of a snore escapes on each exhale.
His wounds are deep, much deeper than before. There's blood pooling at his side from a gaping wound, it looks like one of those bastard monsters took a bite out of him. That seems the worst damage, that and a bite on his shoulder that almost mirrors your own. You'd laugh at the irony if you weren't so upset. On top of that, there are so many scrapes and claw marks and bruises that it makes your heart ache.
“One of you, come in here and help me.”
Steve appears in the door frame, bat held high as if Eddie were about to pounce.
“Steve, put the bat down. I need your help cleaning these wounds.”
He lowers his arm and moves nearer to you, but doesn't let the bat go.
“I don't think you get it. When Vecna- when he realised he couldn't hurt him, those demogorgons got him. He fought three of them at once and then he… well, he tore Vecna in half. Since then he's not… he was a beast. Tried to attack me and Hopper, until Mrs Byers whacked him over the head, knocked him out cold. I'm not sure he's Eddie, anymore.”
There's a tug at your heart, a spindly web like thread that pulls you to your love.
“He's weak, but he's there. I know it. Help me clean these wounds and bind them before he bleeds out.”
The two of you work in silence, Steve flinching when Eddie stirs, but he doesn't wake up. When the hole in his side is padded with gauze and tightly bound with bandages, you work on the rest. There's just so many injuries, it's a wonder he's still alive and hasn't bled out yet.
When it's done, with Eddie patched and bandaged as well as you know how, you collapse onto the floor, hands on your knees. All you can do is wait for him to wake up. That's if he wakes up. If he wakes up as him, and not some mindless beast.
“Listen, you've done what you can. You're awesome, really.”
Steve's hand grasps yours on top of your knee.
“If he's gonna come back for anyone, he'll come back for you.”
The smile he flashes melts your heart as he gets up to leave. A second later, he returns with a musty blanket and a worn cushion. You take them gratefully and get comfortable on the floor, hoping against hope that your love wakes up.
********************
A roaring growl shatters through your nerves and startles you awake, rocketing through your senses before you have a chance to think. Hot breath blows across your face, messing your hair and making you blink in its turbulence.
Eddie's on all fours on top of you, crouched low and teeth bared, bindings in tatters all about you. The belt is gone from his jaw; you can only assume he managed to break it with sheer force. A dribble of slobber hangs from his maw; for some reason it's all you can focus on. It wobbles in your vision, as you scramble for some way to get through to him.
He barks roughly, snapping his teeth barely an inch from your face.
“N-now, you listen to me, Eddie!”
Your voice squeaks, belying the stern demeanour you're attempting to convey. He growls low, crouching even further over you, giving you an undeniable urge to flee. You can't, not with Eddie on top of you. Not just that, you know deep within your bones that if you attempt to escape, you're dead.
It suddenly dawns on you that it doesn't matter. You could just throw yourself out there and be eaten. Sure, it'd be painful, but since he's hovering right over your jugular it'd probably be quick. Living without him seems far worse. Or, you might just succeed, and live.
There's no time for hesitation and pleasantries. So, you grasp the fur around his maw and clutch it desperately, fingers winding into his pelt. His eyes widen, jaw closing slightly, and you take the opportunity to pull his head closer. Your forehead sits flush with his, searching his eyes for any sign of the Eddie you know.
“Eddie Munson, you listen to me! You know who I am! Can't you smell it? My smell, your smell? You're mine, and I'm yours. You promised you'd come back to me! So do it, come the fuck back to me or I swear I'll kill you myself!”
Releasing one hand, you pull your t-shirt over your shoulder and show him the mark he left you.
“You see this? You know what this is? Remember, Eddie!”
There's a flicker in his hard gaze, a flash of something that just might be your Eddie. Pressing his snout to the mark, he inhales deeply. Then, he's pressing his jaw to yours, nuzzling your neck with his nose. Moving your head to meet his affection, you rub your faces against each other. The tension in the room dissipates as you finally start to see the human behind the beast.
As he pulls his face away, you stare deep in his eyes.
‘I love you Eddie Munson. I knew you'd come back. You had to, because you love me too. Right?”
One slow blink.
Then, he's falling to the floor on his side, seemingly exhausted with the strain. There's no way you'll be able to get him back into the bed, so you throw your blanket around you both and snuggle into his warm pelt before you fall asleep in his arms.
When you finally wake up, he's still asleep breathing heavily through his nose. The breaths sound much better than before, a stark difference from the heavy, wet sound he was making previously.
Every joint hurts from sleeping on the wooden floor. You stretch in place, click your elbows, and glance back down at Eddie.
Even a few hours seems to have helped Eddie with his recovery. The small grazes you didn't bother to cover up are completely healed; just tiny fine lines of scars are all that's left, like the inking of a delicate pen.
You try to stand up but Eddie's heavy paw is resting on your hip, keeping your back flush to his torso.
“Eddie,” you whisper, half ashamed to disturb him, “I need to move, my back hurts.”
One chestnut eye blinks roughly at you then opens, shrivelling from the light pouring through your ad hoc curtains. He's not said a word yet, a fact that is eating your insides up with worry, but you don't mention it.
He pushes himself off of the floor, managing to stand shakily before flopping to the bed. Even this small movement has him exhausted beyond what should be possible.
“Eddie, do you want me to get you something to eat? You know, to help the healing?”
Those soulful deep eyes bore into you, stretching time for just a moment. Then he blinks deliberately at you, twice.
“No? So, what can I do?”
Wordlessly, he holds his arms out. You crawl into his embrace as he clutches you to his chest tightly, as if he's scared you'll run away. You couldn't though. Not now, not ever.
********************
After a few hours, he's breathing deeply, and you risk moving to the living space. Once you enter you see Steve and Jonathan there. Nancy climbs out of an armchair and makes her way towards the group, diplomatically standing exactly between them.
“We didn't want to disturb. How's he doing?”
Nancy's soft voice breaks the quiet and you allow her a small smile.
“Great. I mean, he's healing like crazy, seems to be something he can do, and he remembers me for sure. He's not spoken yet, but give him time.”
She beams at you, then flashes a thousand watt smile at Steve. Shaking her head slightly, apparently at her own actions, she grabs Jonathan's hand and gives it a squeeze. You don't miss the slight frown that flickers on Steve's face, or the little wanton appraising look he gives Jonathan. It's funny, viewing something from an outsider's perspective. They're the perfect little threesone and they don't seem to even know it.
There's a stirring noise from the bedroom and you run immediately toward it. Eddie's sitting up in bed; it looks like he's trying to inspect the hole in his side with clumsy fingers.
“Hey, it's OK Eddie, don't touch it. I'm gonna look after you, alright?”
A flicker of relief passes across his face and he settles down into the mattress, placated.
You inspect the wound; his recovery is remarkable but there's still a way to go before it's healed. By rights he shouldn't be breathing at all.
“It looks good, it'll take a while to heal completely but I think you're gonna be alright.”
A large hand reaches tentatively to your face and cups it, shaking slightly with the effort. His face scrunches, an internal pain crossing it that seems too much to bear. Then, words emerge.
“...love… you.”
Instantly welling with tears, you cup his hand in your own.
“I love you too Eddie. Now sleep, you need to rest. I'll bring you some water, and some food in a while to get your strength back up.”
He blinks slowly at you, then settles his head back into the mattress, palm dropping from your cheek almost instantly as he falls asleep. You take the cushion from the floor and anchor his head up, slipping it underneath so he doesn't strain his neck.
Staring at him for a moment looking so peaceful makes your eyes well. Wiping furiously at your face, you disperse the tears and turn towards the doorway.
“You alright?”
Steve's standing there, thankfully no longer holding a bat. You nod and walk out of the room with him, after a final glance at Eddie's sleeping form.
********************
Now the danger has passed, the rest of them leave to go get some much needed sleep. The snippets you've been told about the battle for Hawkins sounded bloody and taxing, they all need to recuperate.
When Eddie starts eating you breathe another sigh of relief. It's a good sign. He seems to be having trouble again with picking things up and using words but it's getting better by the hour.
Collecting a bucket from outside, you fill it with warm water and grab some soap and a washcloth from the bathroom, then take it to the bedroom. Eddie's sitting up in bed, having just finished a whole chicken. He's licking juices from his furred fingers when you walk in.
“Hey, that good? Want any more?”
“Good… forrr now.”
You smile at him and waddle over with the heavy bucket. Placing it on the ground with a heavy thud, you soak the cloth and add some soap to it.
“What… doing?”
“Oh, well you've got too many bandages on for me to clean you in the tub, so I thought I'd wash you in here, if that's alright.”
Flashing his teeth in the epitome of a wolfish grin, he purrs out a response as he whips off the blanket covering him.
“Hot nurrrse…. Giving me… sponge bath? Yess please!”
You roll your eyes but you're smiling as you do it, and help him wriggle out of his sweatpants. He's naked, cock already kicking up with your proximity.
“This isn't about that, Eddie!”
“-Orry.”
“And don't just drop your s'es to be cute, I know you can say them!”
He gently grasps your hand in his and you melt just a little.
You start cleaning him as best as you can, tenderly mopping in between the bandages, taking care to remove as much of the crusted blood and grime as possible.
As you work, you feel his furred finger curl under your chin, guiding you to look at him.
“Eddie?”
“You… rrreally carrrre about… mme, don't you?”
Trying to move out of his grip shyly, he holds your chin firmly waiting for your reply.
“I mean, yes, of course. I told you Eddie, I love you.”
Damp fingers twine in his thick burly hand. His eyes are on you but seeing through you, deep in thought. You squeeze his fingers in encouragement.
“What's on your mind, Eddie?”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“It's stu-pid… I just thought… when it all ended… when gate closed… I'd go back… be norrrmal.”
Emotion floods those brandy hued eyes, you force a lump in your throat to go away.
“Eddie, you've never been normal,” you say, smiling at him, whilst he growls a little chuckle in his throat, “but that's not a bad thing. You're different Eddie. You've always been different. You're odd, and funny, and intense. I love you, and not in spite of those things. Because of them. Because you're you.”
Eddie roughly rubs a hand over his eyes to disguise the tears.
“Love you… what the fuck… did I do… to deserrrve you.”
“Don't know, but it must have been pretty awesome.”
You smile as you finish cleaning him, drying him off as best as you can, and let him get more rest. It seems each time he naps his healing quickens exponentially, so you encouraged as many as you could.
It was late evening by the time you saw him again. You had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV, curled up wearing Eddie's black t-shirt and nothing else, with a cushion between your knees for comfort.
There was warm pressure just on the inside of your thigh, a heaviness that for some reason made you feel safe.
Cracking one eye open, you see Eddie is sitting on the floor facing you, his furred cheek resting on your leg. His snout is just breaching the hem of the t-shirt, dangerously close to your heat.
“Eddie, what are you doing?”
He takes a deep breath in and your cheeks flood with embarrassment.
“I miss-ed you… miss-ed this.”
“We can't, like, do anything Eddie, not until you're healed.”
Lifting his head up, he points wordlessly to his side. The bandage has been removed. Amazingly, it's knotted scar tissue; a few tufts of fur are growing on it already. In a few days you'd be surprised if you could even tell the near life threatening blow had even happened.
“Wow, thats- fuck, that's incredible. You're amazing!”
He makes a little satisfied noise at the praise and sits up, towering over you on the sofa.
“So… arrre we good? Forrr… a little game?”
Tilting your head, you mockingly appraise him, looking him up and down and checking each knot of scars.
“Well… seems I can give you the all clear. What did you have in mind?”
Opening his maw, he flicks his tongue over his teeth, and stares at you hungrily.
“I've got… an i-dea.”
He stands up and pulls you to your feet, reminding you again of the sheer size of him, and wordlessly leads you to the back door.
When you're outside, the lack of noise really strikes you. There's not a sound in the woods. An eerie quiet washes over you, making each breath, each heartbeat all the louder. The air is crisp, but not freezing. It nips at your bare legs, trailing goosebumps up your thighs. You look up at the sky; a beautiful array of shining stars fill it, and the moon provides a little light so you can make out the dark shadow of trees about you. It's ethereal and beautiful.
“It's really pretty Eddie, but what's this got to do with a game?”
He stands just behind you, firmly grabbing you by your hips as he bends to speak in your ear.
“We'rrre tied… in ourrr little chases… thought we could…”
“Out here? In the dark? Eddie what if theres-”
“Nothings herrre… animals fled frrrom the monsterrrs… can smell. It's just you… and mme.”
The thought sends a little shiver down your spine, pins and needles rushing from the base of your neck.
“You like the… i-dea. Can tell.”
You curse your own body for betraying you, but he's absolutely right. You're already wet just thinking about it and it's starting to dampen your thighs. A heat floods through you, making you forget about the cold.
“OK… say I'm interested, what are the rules?”
“Two minutes head starrrt… then, when I catch you…” He playfully licks the shell of your ear, “I can do… whateverrr I want.”
“Within reason?” You say, voice already shaking.
“Within… rrreason.”
“Five minutes.”
“Thrrrree.”
“Done.”
Immediately you tear away from his grasp and run, giving him no time to think about it. The forest floor is surprisingly soft under your bare feet, a carpet of pine needles allowing you to run comfortably, unhindered.
Your ears are occupied by the sound of your own beating heart. It's pumping wildly in your chest, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins, making each decision. You zig zag, double back a little, and turn in a circle, to try and throw him off the scent. A part of you wishes there was a river nearby to help confuse the trail further. Then again, most of you is glad there isn't. It's not like you don't want to be caught.
A fallen branch makes you trip and you sprawl unseen in the dark. The rush is still there, but you try to be more careful and take a little time looking for anything on the ground that could harm you. Squinting in the dark, you make out a huge stone in front of you which could have seriously injured you. Skirting around it, there's a copse of close together trees to one side. Then, there's an alrighty roar.
He sounds so close, you must have made less progress than you thought. Dashing for the trees, you enter a little circle of pines and press your back against one panting for breath. You can hear him now. It sounds like he's galloping through the forest on all fours, crashing through branches and twigs like a hot knife through butter.
You daren’t move, you daren’t breathe. This close there's no chance he won't hear you. Thighs clenching so hard you're in danger of losing blood flow, you feel your slick covering them, nearly slipping apart because of it. It's uncanny; you don't know why your body seems to have this visceral reaction to his presence, but really you don't need to know. All you know is that this feels so right, so natural for you, that it's accepted without hesitation.
The absence of noise is what makes you jump. One minute there's crashing and breaking branches; the next, silence. You grip onto the rough bark, fingers white knuckling in fervent anticipation.
You hear him then, soft footfalls crunching and sniffing noises. Keeping your back pressed firmly against the tree trunk, you try to breathe as quietly as you can. Each second that goes by feels like it stretches on for an eternity, as you hear him get closer and closer… and then walk past behind you. Breath leaving you in a gasp, you relax your muscles slightly.
Until he's directly in front of you, completely naked, the sheer weight of him pressed up against you as he pins both your arms by your sides. His cock is throbbing against your stomach, huge and painfully hard. Bending his head to your level, his snout nudges your ear.
“I win… you’rrre mmine.”
He nips at your neck, his sharp teeth breaking the skin. Pain blossoms out from the mark, but it's followed by a wave of pleasure that sends another wash of wetness out of you.
Eddie growls so deeply that you shiver, and suddenly your world is shooting upward as he grasps you firmly by the ass and lifts you up, your t-shirt riding up to your chest. The hard bark of the tree is pressing into your naked skin as he holds you there like a play thing, claws digging in your flesh. His tongue laps through your folds, tasting you with such ferocity that it makes you moan wantonly, your nails scraping into his scalp, hanging on for dear life.
Cloying heat is surrounding you, suffocating you. You pull the shirt over your head and toss it in a vain attempt to get some relief but it's no use. Eddie's tongue is buried inside your tight cunt, a dizzying tornado that's making your head spin, but you need more.
“Fuck- please Eddie, I-I need- oh God- I need you inside me.”
He lifts your back off of the tree, then slams your spine against the rough wood, expelling all breath from your lungs. He's shaking his head back and forth, long snout rubbing over your clit. A hard no, but it's setting fireworks off inside you all the same. He lets up for a moment, just one, rumbling out words so close to your pussy you feel the warm air of his breath and the vibration of it on your clit.
“You want me… so bad… then fuckin’ cum. Now.”
His thumb breaching your weeping sex is a complete surprise. It's just so thick; moving inside you with such animalistic intensity that you're clenching and coming with an obscene scream directed at the heavens. You crumble to ash and dust within his very clutches, the smouldering fire flaming bright and burning all of you, inside and out.
There's no time to recover, to breathe. He slides you down the tree trunk and onto his waiting member, forcing it inside with barely any warning. Tears spring from the corners of your eyes as he forcibly lifts you by your hips and slams you back down, over and over, his powerful thrusts pulling whimpers out of you. You're just so full, his swollen length pulsing inside, throbbing you to ecstasy.
The strings tighten inside you, firming the pressure in your belly, which suddenly snaps, dissolving into an intense wave of pleasure that gushes from your hole and threatens to push him out due to its violence. He shudders with you, holding you close and grinding into you, helping you ride it out with almost gentle movements that bely the ferality he displayed only moments ago. Your foreheads touch softly, breaths in tandem.
For a second you think he's finished. You couldn't be further from the truth. His voice is strained, as if he's trying to keep it under control.
“You… do that… again.”
Before you can blink his knuckles are dragging harshly over your clit, back and forth, sending a shiver through your spine on each rough pass.
“Eddie- oh holy- oh fuuuck!”
You're barely able to speak, to think. Sentences fail to form, in fact your bordering on drooling at the way he's fucking you dumb. In moments you're clenching around him, walls fluttering uncontrollably as you sob out another release, muscles contracting involuntarily and quivering all over your body. After a while, you realise you're weeping, tears streaming with no barriers to stop them.
It still doesn't stop Eddie and his violent conquest over your form. He seems intent on owning you, ruining you, taking every last ounce of pleasure out of you to leave you a shattered blubbering mess. It's as if he needs to get his pain and anguish out; it's pouring from him and into each movement of his hips.
“Again.”
Sobs are bubbling out of your mouth, wet and round, spit gathering at the corners.
“Eddie, I- I can't-”
“Again!”
Then he's pinching your clit hard between thumb and forefinger, as his teeth nip at your breast. The overbearing pain and the zealous pleasure are too much. Shamefully, you release yet again, slick running down your legs and onto the forest floor in a sticky web.
It's only then that he holds you close, hard arms snaking around your back as your legs shake wildly either side of his hips. His bearish hands grasp you tightly as he throbs his own messy climax deep inside you, roaring loudly, pulsing and pulsing until you've milked him dry. Even then he remains, hard and swollen, locked in and unable to separate.
His touch is far more gentle now, lifting you by the hips as if you are to be cherished and placing your back softly to the pine needle covered ground. He hovers over you, almost in fear of breaking you, one rough hand stroking at the delicate skin of your cheek. Staring into his eyes, you see the shame harbouring within them.
Before he can speak, you're grasping his furred cheeks and holding his gaze.
“Eddie, it's OK, honestly. I mean, it was a little rough… but fuck me… that was amazing. You're amazing.”
He nuzzles into you, deeply breathing in your smell as he cuddles you in the softest embrace.
“-Orry.”
“You trying to be cute with me again, Eddie Munson?”
Your stern words just earn you another squeeze, a slightly tighter hold from his firm arms. For a while you lay there, feeling the other's heartbeat and listening to nothing but the wind between the trees.
It takes a bit, but the knot finally subsides and you are able to extricate yourselves from its hold. As soon as Eddie's comforting arms are no longer around you, you start to shiver massively.
“Need.. get you home… climb on.”
He's on all fours, crouching low in front of you like a tamed lion.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
There's a soft rumble in his throat that almost sounds like laughter.
“Get on… beforrrre you frrreeze.”
You can't really argue with that.
Hesitating with your knee up high, you're trying to work out where you need to be. You've never ridden a… a wolf? A lion? A monster? Briefly, you think you've never ridden an Eddie, but you blush profusely when you remember that's simply not true.
Finally deciding on swinging your leg over near his waist at the thinnest part of him, you settle into the soft fur. He swings a paw up and grasps your hand, leading it toward the longer hair down his spine.
“Might want… to hold on… sweet-hearrrt.”
You twine your fingers delicately into the thicker part of his pelt. That is, until he starts running on all fours through the trees. You grip tightly when you feel the sudden rush of speed, fingers losing blood as you hold on in fear of crashing to the floor.
Once the initial shock is over, it's electrifying; a thrilling, hedonistic mix of riding a horse and a motorcycle at once. The wind whips through your hair and stings your uncovered skin, making you feel oh so alive. The constant push and pull of powerful muscles beneath you make you realise just how strong Eddie is. It suddenly dawns on you that no matter how rough he's been with you, he's holding back. If he showed you half his power you doubt you'd live to tell the tale. That stark realisation has you falling for him all over again.
It's that power that seems to flow up from him and through you. You feel like some sort of heathen queen, riding through the forest on your monstrous steed, naked as the day you were born. Wild, savage, and formidable.
Too soon, your impromptu ride is over as he lopes toward the lights of the cabin, eventually coming to a stop. Sliding off of his mighty form, you land on both feet practically buzzing with excitement, caring not a jot for the fact that you were still naked.
“Eddie, that was incredible! We need to do that again, like, every night. Fuck, I'm shaking!”
You beam at him, glowing inside and out.
“If anyone else… said that… I'd bite them. But… it's you. I'll be you’rrre… steed.”
“You just want me to ride you again.”
In the short time you've been together, you've gotten used to the subtle signs in his face, in the looks in his eyes, enough to be able to read him. You don't need any of those though, not when his usual whiskey eyes are blackened with desire.
“You… not done?”
Grinning profusely, you open the back door and beckon him with your finger.
“Nope.”
“You… animal.”
You laugh; a messy, loud, belly laugh at the pure irony of the situation.
Walking into the bedroom, you watch him follow you in. There's pine needles stuck in his fur, and mud crusted into his hands and feet. The very air surrounding him is of forests; of damp and bark and moonlight.
All it's doing is stirring up your insides further. Right now, this heathen queen needs her monster king.
“Lay down.”
He huffs lowly, towering over your tiny form.
“You… telling mme… what to do?”
“Yes. I am. You got a problem?”
You push lightly at his chest, making him collapse mockingly onto the bed, face twisted in taunting pain, as if you had caused him serious harm.
“Don't… hurrrrt mme, prrrincess.”
“I wasn't going to… hurt you, exactly.”
You straddle his body, backwards, mouth hovering near his already firm length as your ass swings tantalisingly just out of reach of his drooling maw.
“Now…. Sweet-hearrrrt, fuuuck… so unfairrr…”
You can feel the breath expelling from his mouth, the way the sweep of his tongue creates air that is failing to make it between your folds. It makes your cunt throb from the lack of attention, still puffy and drooling from your encounter in the woods.
You lick a firm stripe from his heavy balls to the tip of his engorged purple member, watching it shiver with the affection. There's a salty, brutish taste to him, mixed with the sweet, feminine tang of you, that makes you want to lick him over and over. Rolling the tip of his weighty length into your mouth, you roll it around with your tongue, licking any trace of you and him together away, to be stored in your memories forever.
“Sweet-hearrrt… please!”
He's panting, each short breath firing bursts of air at your cunt. You don't let up, not yet, suckling at his tip, pressing firm kisses to the slit on the tip. He's growling and whining, muscles twitching all over.
There's no way you can take more than a third of his threatening member into your mouth, but you do what you can, stroking firmly with both hands what you cannot take. Spit dribbles out of your mouth and down to your fisted palms, wetting the rest of his length with soaked, messy need.
He roars, lion-like behind you, fingers pressing further bruises into your soft flesh. You don't let up, you can't. You need to make him tremble beneath you; to feel those controlling muscles fold under the feel of your mouth.
The thrust up into your wet lips has you gagging around his length, gargling and spluttering around his thick head. You can't chide him for it, not since the movement sets your insides ablaze with need.
He curls as hard as his spine will allow; the tip of his tongue ghosting over your slick heat. Quivering, you let up on your assault with your mouth, and twist so you can face him. Whines and whimpers expel from his throat as his thick fingers wind around your waist. Before they can contort into growls and snarls, you sink down onto his slippery cock, all the way to the hilt, as if he were the perfect sword to your tight sheath.
“Lay back and relax… There's a good boy.”
Instead of taking control, he gives it to you. A whine, high pitched and needy, rolls out of his mouth.
Bending down, with him still flush inside you, you press your pretty lips against his slathered maw. Open mouthed kisses are pressed onto his jaw, tongue sneaking in and feeling his pointed fangs delicately. He licks purposely into your mouth, dancing against your tensed muscle.
Grinding hard into him, his solid weapon presses harshly against your g spot, stars forming in the corners of your eyes. He sits up so he can lace his thick arms around you, as if he needed to be even closer somehow. Responding in kind, you position your legs around him, holding tight as he thrusts up into you.
Sweat is glistening, dripping down your spine at the proximity of his boiling hot body. Your fingers wind into the thicker fur on his spine as he rocks into you, feeling him in your very core.
Suddenly he's grasping your hips, about to pull you off him. Whining, you shake your head, forcing yourself back down.
“I'mm gonna-”
“I know, please, I need to feel it, fill me up, please!”
Those words are all it takes for Eddie, pushing him over that precipice, free falling into ecstasy. You join him, plummeting into your own release as the feel of his knot consumes you.
For a while you hold each other, the only clue that time had failed to stop being your panting breaths. Your head is snuggled into the soft coat of his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head. As his hardness finally begins to subside you still remain, the sanctitude of the moment ongoing. It feels as if it will be an ongoing memory to play on a loop in the back of your mind, forever.
********************
The following two weeks flew by in a hum buzz of activity. You're pulling shift after shift at the hospital and helping out at the emergency shelter when you can. The town is pulling together, trying to heal and coming to terms with what will forever be a little bit broken.
Eddie's mood has been in a shifting, unstable state since the night he defeated Vecna. The nightmares were the worst part of it; on more than one occasion you've had to physically hit him to get him to wake up and stop thrashing in panic on the bed. You try to soothe with words, soft touches and kindness. It's helping, but you know he's got a long way to go.
Being busy has helped. He and Hopper have come to form an odd friendship. To his credit, Hopper never treated Eddie any different despite his appearance. In fact, he said he's one of ‘Hawkins’ finest upstanding citizens’, since he can't go out and cause trouble. It's not like he can be the town's weed supplier, after all.
Eddie needed something to do. Hopper understood that deeply, he explained, from his own past traumas and grief. So, he started towing cars to the cabin, getting Eddie to fix them up and send them back as an impromptu mechanic. Fixing things and earning a little money have certainly improved his mood. When he wasn't doing that he was working on the cabin which was starting to feel like home.
You're on your way there right now. After the conversation you had with Hopper this morning, a huge smile is glued to your face.
Approaching your home, you see Eddie outside working on a car. When he sees you he bounds over, grabbing the two enormous suitcases you've been struggling with and lifting them with ease.
“What's all… this?”
“Take them inside, I've got some news.”
He does as you ask, depositing them on the floor before he holds you close, snout breathing in your scent at the crook of your neck.
“Eddie, I spoke with Hopper. He's agreed to give us the cabin for nothing. I just gave away my apartment, so I can stay here with you.”
Eddie barks with delight, picking you up and spinning you around. You giggle, holding onto his shoulders. He presses his maw to your tummy, breathing you in.
When he puts you down on the floor, there's a queer look in his eye.
“Eddie, something wrong?”
Shaking his head, he falls to his knees so he can look you in the eyes as he holds both your hands in one enormous paw.
“Not wrrrong… differrrrent. We'll need the cabin, forrr all of us.”
You tilt your head, confused.
“What do you mean? There's only me and you.”
Staring at you as if to gauge your reaction, he presses one bearish hand to your stomach reverently. The hint isn't lost on you, eyes widening in disbelief.
“Eddie, are you saying that you think I'm… pregnant?”
One slow blink.
Legs wobbling, you sit on the floor in front of him.
“I'm on birth control, I mean, surely I can't be… are you sure?”
Eddie taps his nose.
“I'm sure. Is it… a prrroblemm?”
Searching your thoughts you realise it isn't. It really isn't. There's nothing you want more than to spend your life with him, to have a family, no matter what that looks like.
“No, not at all. It's a little… fast, but I want this.”
Holding your cheek with his rough hand, he makes sure you keep your eyes trained on him.
“Are you surrre? What… if it's…”
He gestures to himself, in all his monstrous glory. Cupping his hand on your face, you shake your head.
“I don't care if we have a baby, or a-a cub, or a pup, as long as it's yours and mine.”
He holds you then, softly and close as you twine your fingers into his thick pelt.
A life lies before you, one that you couldn't have possibly predicted. A fairytale life; one where the monster gets the girl, and gets the happily ever after.
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#ms gexy writes#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie x you#eddie x reader#alpha!eddie munson#alpha!eddie#monster!eddie#monster eddie munson#alpha eddie x omega reader#predator x prey dynamic#stranger things smut#stranger things fix it fic#stranger things eddie munson#monster!eddie x fem reader#dom!eddie#dom!eddie munson#dom eddie x fem reader
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currently Terminally In Love with your fae!Simon au, and it has resulted in some ✨Thoughts✨
so, the bond that’s between Simon and reader — we’ve seen how it functions as a kind of honing beacon that allows Simon to know if reader is being fucked with by any other fae who dare to touch what he’s laid claim to… but from what I could discern the mark reacted so violently and allowed him to come to reader’s rescue solely because it was reacting to foreign fae magic… does it work the same for physical, nonmagical harm?
(and further, asking for the girlies…. what would Simon feel through the bond if the reader were to die 😚)
So glad you asked because it means I get to do some horror stuff. The short answer is Ghost's mark doesn't react the same way to human danger, it just pings Ghost to let him know there's trouble. The long answer is, the mark is stupid and will lash out at anything that is scaring MC, which sometimes includes Simon. Most of the time it just functions as an alarm system, but there's an adjustment period when Simon sort of has to train it on who it's ok to bite.
You've been followed since you got off the train. He's not even being stealthy about it. You make a turn, he turns, you stop, he stops, always a few steps behind you. No one else seems to notice or care. You look over your shoulder and see the same crewneck, the same beady eyes. His lips curve red into a smile when he knows you spot him. Your chest is tight, you try not to look at him. You thought you were past this, always looking over your shoulder isn't a good look. Then again neither is being dead. Better to be paranoid and alive.
It's getting dark. You don't live that far from the station, at least you didn't think you did. Maybe it's fear making the street feel longer, emptier. You pick up the pace, hearing the sentiment echoed behind you. The thud of footsteps getting progressively louder and closer, until you're forced to sprint. The effort is wasted immediately as you're grabbed and dragged into the nearest alley. Your chest squeezes with fear, your heart pounding in your ears as you're thrown against the brick wall. The buzz under your skin expands and contracts with your breaths, trying to do anything but calm you down. You think it might actually be driving your anxiety higher, towards a full blown panic, as the man grips your arms tight and grins down at you.
"Don't you know it's dangerous for little girls to wander alone at night?" He asks, he's close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Your skin hurts where he touches you, bubbling with something you can't put a name to. The buzzing doesn't fit right, it slams against your ribs as you draw in shuddering breaths, there’s nothing for it to latch onto. You glance towards the mouth of the alley, the street was so empty, who would see you? This isn't right, he told you you'd be safe-
Something wet hits your face. The buzzing under your skin is reaching a fever, shaking you to your bones. You look up at the man, at the thick red and black mud falling from between his lips. He gives a wet cough. Your eyes drag to the black talons protruding from his chest, a hole punched through his ribs as if it were paper. The ribs themselves are warped outward and folded back away from the intrusion, more like wire than bone. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight, from the slick clawed hand dragging its way backwards through the viscera as you feel your buzzing start to move.
The silhouette that the collapse of your aggressor reveals is abyssal. Absorbing the shadows of the rest of the alley in a way you've never seen before. The air around it swirls with them. It's holding the man's heart in one clawed hand, tipping it's head back to swallow the organ whole. You are pretty sure you're having a panic attack. The abyss moves towards you like a ghost, and the buzz under your skin takes hold and forces you to MOVE.
The nose your fist collides with is startlingly human.
"You little bitch," Ghost snarls, making a grab for you as you sprint from the alley. Your feet slide against the sidewalk as you round the corner. The buzz under your skin rears back and strikes as his claws just miss you. "Not me you stupid-" he swears, you think he swears, you don't understand it but the buzz cowers.
You don't stop. Not even when you pass the door to your flat. You run because you can hear him running after you, can hear the scratch of his claws on brick and concrete as he tries to grab you. The gouges that he leaves in everything he touches, you don’t need to imagine what he could do to you, you saw it. You catch a glimpse of him as you turn a corner, his teeth are bared, his movements wild and animalistic.
His claws wrap around your throat, and you’re slammed into a wall for the second time tonight. He’s huge when he presses against your back, his chest expanding around his labored breathing in tandem with yours. You try to turn your head to look at him and he yanks your head back to stare at the stars. You both breathe, the night filled with the sound of your desperation. You swing your arm behind you to try and hit him, anything to make yourself more difficult prey. He catches your wrist easily and twists it behind your back, growling in your ear as he leans his weight on you.
“Not Me,” He tells you, it thrums through you like a universal truth, the buzz under your skin going warm and shivery, “You don't run from me. Not unless I tell you.” You nod, desperate to do something to ease your situation. “Good girl.”
His hand slides through your hair, fingers pressing to your forehead, and it all goes black.
You jolt awake shaking like a leaf. You press a hand to your mouth, choking down a sob. You’re terrified, it’s too dark in here, your skin feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, you feel like you’ve run a marathon. It must have been a nightmare, it must have been.
Simon turns on the light by the bed, woken up by your movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks, still half asleep. You shake your head, trying to get the shaking to stop. You feel like your body is trying to rip itself apart. Simon reaches a hand towards you and you jerk away, falling in a heap off the edge of the bed. You scurry away from him, you need distance, you need to get away from him. From the nightmare. Your back hits the wall as Simon stands.
“What did I say?” His eyes tear holes through you, you press against the wall trying to make yourself small as he stalks towards you, “Not. Me.”
#tw stalking#nonconsensual predator/prey dynamic#i guess???#Love's mark fucking BIT him#Fae!Ghost#being absolutely feral and scaring the hell out of Love#He'll tap her good so she forgets don't worry#do we all like the horror? Just me? Well that's fine I'm my own target audience#simon ghost x reader#reader x ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#this is something that will likely get heavy updates in the actual fic#because I worry it is too vague#hmmmmm perhaps I should write some ghost perspective stuff
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Alastor The Radio Demon and Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and Heir to the throne, from Hazbin Hotel by Vivienne Medrano. I drew Alastor obviously wanting to control Charlie...to use her and her ridiculous hotel for top notch entertainment... but he’s dealing with the actual Antichrist. I hope Charlie Morningstar gives him hell. There’s so much push and pull dynamics that could happen and so many possibilities 😈
Drew this in procreate. Please credit me if you post it anywhere! 🖤
#hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor and charlie#hazbin charlie#hazbin alastor#hazbin art#hazbin hotel fanart#vivziepop#kara lija#charlastor#chalastor#alastor x charlie#charlie morningstar#hell#push and pull dynamics#predator and prey#antichrist Charlie#the radio demon#temptation from both sides
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Hey there! Hope, your having a great day! 😄 How about 20 & 21 for Mahito?
I am, thank you!
This was fun to think about, I love these two together with him.
Warnings: Implied kidnapping, Implied punishments, Predator/prey dynamics if you squint, Implied noncon. Not edited.
Word Count: 446
“Don’t pull away from me, the game hasn’t started yet!”
The proximity of Mahito’s voice to your ear made you flinch away out of reflex, and only added onto your current struggles.
You had gotten so close to slipping away from Mahito’s den unnoticed that you had either gotten careless, or forgotten just how much the smallest sounds traveled along the sewer system. Whether it was the sound of debris crunching under your shoes, or the fact you kicked a rock by accident, it didn’t matter because it ended in the same result regardless.
He had you on the ground, sitting cross-legged while trying to hold you in his lap. To an outside party it would look similar to the way a parent would try and control a squirming toddler, only Mahito seemed to be enjoying himself immensely rather than getting annoyed by your antics.
At one point you screamed out in frustration, the sound echoing along the walls of the sewers as you kept struggling in vain. You knew you were tiring yourself out, and the longer you tried the more useless it would be, but you didn’t care.
“I’ll give you a ten second head start,” Mahito batted your hands away from his face effortlessly, pinning them down by your sides. “And after that I’ll come after you, sound good?”
You laughed, but the sound held little humour.
Ten seconds, what a joke. That barely gave you any time to choose a tunnel, let alone make it down any of them and he knew that. Especially after trying and failing miserably to escape his hold, you were tired - emotionally and physically - but even more than that you were scared beyond your wits.
“I hate you.”
His condescending pat on the top of your head only served to drive that hate deeper into your soul, something which only earned you a grin on his part.
“Okay fine, fifteen seconds.” He pulled you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder - content in the fact you had stopped fighting as much, at least for the moment. “If you reach the ladder leading up to the manhole cover, you win and you can go free.”
You didn’t believe him for a second.
“If I win, I get free reign with your body and soul as your punishment, mmkay?”
It was hard not to let the defeat sink in prematurely as you finally went slack against him, screwing your eyes shut in a last ditch effort not to cry.
“Wishing you didn’t struggle so much, now, aren’t you?” He giggled, pressing his lips to your ear. “Tell me, how fast do you think you can run?”
© absolute-flaming-trash 2022. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.
#riri writes#600 followers event#Mahito#Mahito x Reader#JJK#Jujutsu Kaisen#tw yandere#tw implied kidnapping#tw implied noncon#tw implied punishment#tw predator/prey dynamics
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Title: In The Serpent's Den.
Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 4.7k.
TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.
“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”
His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.
“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”
Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.
You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”
You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.
Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.
Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—
Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.
Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…
You felt warm.
Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.
He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”
“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”
“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”
“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But, you bit—”
“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”
You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”
“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.
He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”
Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”
Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.
“Hybrids go into heat.”
A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.
“…heat?”
“Heat, little rabbit.”
His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”
“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”
“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”
“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”
The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.
Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.
You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.
Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.
You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.
You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.
You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.
You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”
Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”
“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”
You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.
Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.
Immediately, it felt wrong.
You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.
“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”
Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”
“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”
One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—
And he was inside of you.
Completely inside of you.
You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”
His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.
Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”
Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.
As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.
You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.
~
Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”
It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.
Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”
“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”
You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”
You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.
You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#hybrid au#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#jjk imagines#yandere geto suguru#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
WC: 1.1k
CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included
Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)
Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.
It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.
What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.
He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.
You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”
You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.
“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.
You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.
“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”
You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.
Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.
He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.
He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.
“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.
What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”
#kinktober 2023#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x y/n#miguel x you#miguel smut#miguel o’hara smut#dom!miguel o'hara#sub!reader
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What Goes Down in the Forest
Pairing: Male Forest!Monster x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, predator/prey dynamic, fear play, biting, size difference, creampie, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, rough sex, brat taming
Word count: 1.7k
A/N: It's raining right now so that puts me in a monster loving mood.
It was you who suggested this little game to him. The forest was his domain, he knew it like the back of his hand, moved through it seamlessly, with out any issue. And then there was you, you who kept tripping on logs, getting caught on crunches, slipping on the dirt all the while looking behind you to make sure you put enough distance between you and the tall monster chasing you.
To make sure you didn't get too lost he marked the trees you passed by every now and then. You didn't have to be scared of getting lost and even if you did you could rest assured he would bring you back home safe and sound.
"What are you so afraid of then?" The voice came from somewhere behind you. "Is is just adrenaline pumping through your veins that's making your heart beat so fast?" You heard him chuckle, "You don't smell very afraid to me. Horny little human, getting your kicks from something like this. I knew I chose right."
The trees and the wind carried and obscured his voice, still making it impossible to know how close he was. This forest, you learned, worked how he wanted it to.
Everything in here was his. Including you.
You stepped back without looking, your foot catching on the thick tree roots. You yelped, expecting a hard hit. Instead you felt strong arms wrap around you, shielding you from impact. "Are you alright?" His voice calmed you, as deep as it was.
You meet his eyes, deep green in a sea of stormy gray, filled with worry. In his forest you were under his protecting, just like everything else. "Pet, are you hurt anywhere?"
"Ah, no. I'm alright. Thank you for saving me. That... that was lame." You ducked away from his gaze only for one big, clawed hand to cup your cheek. His lips, and upper fangs, pressed against your lips, soothing your worried, "Did I ruin the mood?"
"Does it seem like you did? Look." He gazed down to his cock, still very hard between his legs, aching to be inside you. "I want you, clumsiness and all." He assured you in-between kisses. "Can you run for me again? Put up a fight for me? Or shall I take you as you are? You smell more then ready enough." His hands grabbed both of your hips and lifted you up, his nose pressing against your pants and breathing in the horny scent between your legs.
As much as you wanted to give in right now he just asked you to run for him. So you will run, you will fight and you will get him to rut into you until you can't walk.
You pushed on his slightly curved, dark green horns, feeling the intertwined branches and leaves under your fingers. They wrapped around his horns and his head like a crown, almost giving him an air of royalty, or a god. Truth be told you still don't know if he's either of those. All you knew was that he was the protector of this place.
Gripping his horns tight you wrestled his head away which elicited a deep groan from him. He snarled at you when you kicked him away and started running again, in any direction your legs carried you in.
Before you knew it you were out of breath again. Panting you leaned against a tree. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" The tree had claw marks on it! How the hell did you get turned around?! Was this a trick? He did say he liked to toy with his prey.
Or he somehow ran ahead of you and marked this tree before you got to it. Which meant you needed to run back. Unless that's what he wanted you to think! He was playing mindgames with you, and you weren't in the mood. The blood was not going to your brain at this time.
Two strong hands gripped you from behind the tree, one on your mouth, muffling your screams, the other around your hip, keeping you pinned. "Kicking me in the face? Brave human." His voice was now next to your ear. It was then that you realized that the voice and the arms wasn't coming from behind the tree but from inside it. A male body pushed itself from the bark, stepping next to you but your hands and mouth were still pinned, still closed.
He could do that?
As he looked at you in that helpless state he smirked, his pointy teeth catching your eye, "I'll have you know I've killed people for far less." He tilted his head as he bent closer, his eyes roaming across your body. "Lucky for you, I value the pleasure you provide."
"Do you? Because I haven't gotten any in a while. What would you do if I ended our contract?" You smiled at him, watching his cock stir in protest. "Who would fuck you then? You'd have to wait for some other poor human to get lost in here. But if you can make me feel good now, I might reconsider." The truth was you could do this, if you were an asshole or didn't love your boyfriend. But this was part of your game, you egged him on, wanting to see how he would react.
"And you think I would allow you to walk out of my life just like that after I made you mine? Everything in this forest is mine from the moment it steps foot in. That includes you, my pretty human cocktoy." His hand lazily stroked his cock as he approached you. "I decide if you leave here walking, or carried in my arms, with my cock still inside you. And since you don't seem to understand that I will have to remind your cunt who truly owns it."
His nails turned into sharp black claws and tore through your pants. The cold air hit you immediately. You watched as the green of his eyes eclipsed almost all of the gray.
"Wet and ready. Just how I want you." He growled as he grabbed your leg and pushed it up, revealing your dripping pussy to him. "There it is. My prize."
Rough hands held both your legs open as his cock pushed inside with single smooth stroke. His own pre-cum made it easier then ever before, you could already feel his seed coating your inner walls. "I love how you split me open with your cock." You had to get used to the size, the thickness, the slight structure of it that dragged and stimulated your pussy with every thrust.
His horns grew at your praise, hips pushing closer until they were flush against your own. "I love how well you take me. As if you were made only for me. My cock. My seed. My offspring. Yes... I should... maybe if I put a damn bastard child in your womb you'll see how much you love me."
Your back arched and pussy squeezed around him immediately. You didn't have to say you wanted it now, your body was doing it all for you. "Are you sure it's possible?"
"I will make it possible." He snarled. He pulled back until only the tip remained and then slammed in at full force. Again. And again. And again. "My seed will take." The truth was you were pretty sure it was quite difficult between you two. If you could have gotten pregnant easily you would already be pregnant. He hated condoms. "I'll make you swell with it."
As his pace increased the forest echoed with your moans, the wet pussy squelches, skin slapping against skin, the sound of wood being broken and healed. You pulled against the rough bark around your wrists, aching to get closer to your lover.
His claws dug into your meaty thighs, marking you once again.
It wasn't enough for him. No mark was ever enough for him. As soon as one healed he put a new one in his place. "Tell me you accept it, human. Tell me how much your womb wants my seed." He pushed in all the way, letting you feel his cock pulsing inside you, then pulled out, in and out, deep and long strokes that made your breath hitch. "Tell me!"
The booming voice made your body flinch and your cunt spasm around him. "Fuck! Don't stop now, keep fucking my pussy! It feels good, I-" You whimpered, taking in a quick breath.
He wasn't calming down, wasn't letting your orgasm end, pistoning in and out of you and clenching his teeth to hold his own orgasm back until you told him you wanted it.
"I want you to put a baby in me. Fuck me. Breed me full of your cum. Make sure every human, animal and demon knows it was you who got me pregnant, that it's your kid I'm carrying." The forest itself shook and awoke with his deep, guttural roar. "Right in there, right in my pussy, fuck it all in."
"Not a drop will go to waste." He promised as his hips came to a stop against yours, his arms finding the small of your back as your legs wrapped around his broad hips, feeling the soft fur starting at his hips and running down his legs. It was soft and sticky with cum. It should have been gross, but you loved how it was evidence of your love making. Simultaneously the bark around your aching, bruised wrists dissolved, which allowed you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your hands into the long black hair that run to his shoulders. "You know I love you. I truly do wish to have a family."
"Maybe it'll work this time. If not we can always keep trying." His forehead pressed against yours, "Hey, even if we can't I won't think less of you. You're the love of my life. And it's not like you see couples like us in nature a lot."
"Nature is supposed to bend to my will. At least in here." His nose brushed against yours, "Let me carry you home."
"Okay. But don't pull out yet. I'm comfy." He chuckled at your cuddly nature. He shared it, so he couldn't blame you. When he walked with you he left new flowers everywhere his foot stepped.
#monster romance#monster x reader#monster love#monster smut#monster boyfriend#monster x human#monster x female reader#monster x girl#monster fucker#terato#monster lover#monster lust
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Down & Dirty
Fandom: “Outer Banks”
Pairing: mean! Rafe Cameron x fem! Pogue! Bimbo! Reader
Cw: dark themes— dubcon, angst, manipulation, nsfw . Gunplay, dumbification, mud scene, codependency, subspace, anal, breeding, daddy kink, extreme domination, size kink, predator/prey dynamics
A/N: bro I was fuckin FERAL writing this .
Fear courses through you as Rafe Cameron’s hand covers your mouth and he drags you away towards his truck. You knew it was a bad idea to come here by yourself, but you went against your better judgement.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” He calmly but scarily murmurs as you struggle. His bottom lip peeks out and his eyes are almost vacant.
You’ve always known that Rafe is somewhat of a bad person, given the torment he had always given you being Sarah’s best friend— but now, with his grip tight and mean, gun barrel pointing at your skull, you know now that something has shifted inside him — something dark and unforgiving. The hands that had once been soft on your skin, the eyes and body that had comforted you once or twice, regardless of Rafe’s violent tendencies with your pogue friends, we’re now aiming to end your life .
“Rafe, please…” You plead with him, as he yanks you by your hair.
“Rafe, please,” he mocks. “Jesus, you’re fucking pathetic. You’re lucky that I haven’t put a bullet in that pretty fucking skull yet.”
Tears well in your eyes and you kick him in his groin. It makes him groan, and he drops his grip from you. You run away from him, at a certain point having to stop and take your favorite pair of heels off. You were incredibly stupid to wear them here.
Rafe catches up to you quick. He tackles you, and with a loud sloshing sound you both land in the mud on the ground. He wrestles you down until his hands are around your neck. You gasp, trying to run away again, trying to get away from this guy you had once recognized as a form of comfort for you, but to no avail.
“You fucking bitch.” The gun has been lost somewhere beside the both of you, but that doesn’t make the boy any less threatening. “I never wanted to hurt you! You did this to your self- stop fucking squirming!”
You sob as his hands loosen a bit on you. He looks down at your supple chest, your bra now peeking out of your tank top from all of the movement.
“Even now you’re dressed like a fucking slut,” he growls. Your brows furrow. You’ve been avoiding eye contact with him, but now you meet his once again. He looks like a predator about to catch its prey.
He looks angelic, almost… a fallen angel. You breathe out, and with enough strength to pull forward, you kiss him.
You don’t know why you do it— sex is the thing that most men want from you, so maybe that’s why. As a way to plead for your life.
His tongue finds its way into your mouth for a moment, his teeth clacking against yours, but as if pulled out of a trance he rips himself away from you. Mud cakes his face and arms as he gets up to his feet.
You let out a tiny whine as he looks down at you, from frustration or fear you don’t know. Probably both. You flimsily move up on your knees, doe eyes looking up at him with a begging expression.
Rafe’s eyes dart to the other side of you, and he catches sight of the loaded gun laying in a heap on the ground. He grabs it and shoves the barrel against your skull. With one hand he wraps it around your neck and pulls you closer to him.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” He says with a disgusted tone.
You don’t say anything, just let out a little whimper. He catches sight of your tank top again— and a small smirk glazes his features.
He grabs the strings of it and rips the flimsy thing right down the middle. When it settles in what’s about to happen, a wet spot forms in your panties.
You might die right now, covered in mud and grass, but you’re fucking horny.
“I should kill you right now,” he whispers heavily against your ear. “But that’s not what you want, is it? You want me to fuck you, right here on the dirty fucking ground. Don’t you?”
You nod your head, desperate. For what, you don’t know.
He smiles, demented. And he moves the gun down to your mouth. “Just a dirty little pogue that wants to get filled with dick, right?”
“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumble. Your tongue lolls out to lick at the gun barrel. “I wan’ it..”
And that’s all the confirmation Rafe needs. He places the gun in the back of his waistband and begins to undo his belt.
“Of course you do,” he rambles. “That’s all you’ve ever fuckin’ wanted was to get dicked down by me. I always saw the way you looked at me, y’know.”
You move closer to him when he pulls his lengthy cock out of his pants. It’s heavy, thick and long, circumcised, with precum coating the tip. A vein runs down one side of it, almost throbbing.
You reach out and lick the tip of him. He tastes absolutely divine.
“‘S so pretty..” you whisper. You drag your face along it, just to feel the warm skin and lick it all up.
Rafe, bored, grabs your face and positions his cock in front of your mouth.
“Open that fucking mouth as wide as it can go.”
You obey, mouth opening to take him; he shoves his cock in as deep as it can go. He reached behind him to his waistband and the gun is back in one of his hands again. He shoves it against your head for a third time. He groans when you gag around his fat prick, and your body naturally moves forward in between his legs. Rafe takes notice and is quick to wrap his thighs around each side of your head, making sure to squeeze. It’s too much pressure on your head, and you try to move away. But Rafe slaps both sides of your blushing face and thrusts so hard that you gag.
“Don’t fucking move. You move, I’ll fuckin’ shoot you. Do you understand me?”
You can’t nod, but you cry out around him. He holds the top of your hair with his fingers and keeps you down until you can’t breathe.
But seriously, you can’t breathe— your vision goes blurry and you’re almost close to passing out. You’re too dazed to care, But thankfully Rafe doesn’t want to kill you just yet. He forces your head away. You gasp, choking and sputtering, trying to get more oxygen back into your now sore throat. He’s back on you in an instant, though, and he’s leaking so much precum and you’re drooling so much that it’s dripping out of the sides of your mouth. His balls slap against your chin; your nose presses into his pubic hair, and he smells so delicious that you almost start rutting into the filthy ground.
He pulls you off of him when he’s about to cum. You get thrown to the ground, your head hitting the soft mud and caking your face. Rafe discards the gun again, gets down on his knees behind you, and rips your skirt and underwear down your legs vigorously. Your puffy cunt is revealed to him. He tsks, running a finger through your folds.
“So wet. And shit—“ he pulls your cheeks apart, exposing your juicy pussy and tight asshole to the warm air. You clench around nothing as he spits down in between your ass cheeks. “All your little holes are so tiny. Fuck, this is gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”
“Please..” you whimper, pushing your body back against him on your hands and knees. “Need daddy’s big cock. Need it ‘s bad.”
The fact that you’re talking in third person like this should be a bit concerning. Your mind is so far gone. But Rafe doesn’t care about that— all he cares about is ripping your sloppy cunt open.
“I know you do.” He states. His tongue goes down to your asshole. He runs it along that place there, and down to the place in between your ass and pussy. His thumb moves around and lightly massages your clit. It’s the first kind of stimulation he’s given you and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He mutters. “Maybank ever do this to you?”
He’s referring to JJ; he has, although you don’t want to admit that to him. Rafe isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked, the first guy to finger your pussy. But he’s by far the best.
“S-Sometimes..”
It comes out low, and his fingers stop.
“Yeah? You slut yourself out to all those dirty pogues?”
When you don’t answer, his hand comes down on the fat of your ass. You sob.
“No! N-No, just JJ, I swear!”
He reaches around and slaps your pussy. It hurts, and Rafe thinks that you let out a sound like a pained little bunny. The nickname makes so much sense to him, and he’s angry as he lines himself up to your puffy entrance.
“You’re never gonna see him again.” He states. His tip sinks into you. The stretch stings, fucking hurts so bad. You’ve sucked cock but you’ve never had one inside your cunt. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You dumb fucking bunny.”
And he pushes himself in, in, in, and you’ve never felt so full, so dirty, so claimed. He pushes past that thin little wall inside you, pops your cherry with his cock’s mushroomed head. When it breaks through blood coats his length; he knows because he begins to move quick after that, sees the red coated on his dick. You’re so tight and sweet and fuck— Rafe doesn’t think he can kill you anymore. He needs to be inside you forever.
“Mine.” He growls. “All mine.”
You’re laying there, having no choice but to take it. The pain feels good. Rafe grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back as he begins to pound you right there in the dirt.
Little ah ah ahs leave you as his balls slap against your clit. He shoves one of his fingers into your mouth. You can taste the grittiness of dirt and under that, his natural taste— mixed with the taste of hand soap, almost. Probably the one that sits back in the Cameron household’s second bathroom, on the counter. Or maybe it’s the body wash that he so often washes himself with; you know this because you use it sometimes. You like the way the boy smells.
“Little pussy’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” He groans. “Best pussy daddy’s ever had baby, fuck.”
He’s almost a whimpering mess himself. He’s not gonna last long because of your cunt— and he intends to make the most of it.
He grabs you by your throat, has bent backwards against him as he presses a messy kiss to your mouth. It’s hungry, it’s crazy, the whole situation is. But you’re both at each other like fucking animals.
“Whose pussy is this?” He demands. You lick at his bottom lip, clench around him just right.
“Yours! ‘S all yours, daddy!”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He huffs, then he thumbs your asshole and watches as you suck him in. “Gonna fuck this tight little ass after this. Gonna take you home and take you right there on my fuckin’ staircase.”
You mewl, and you can tell that he’s close. You reach around to try and rub your own clit, but Rafe slaps your hand away. He turns you over on your back. You can see him a lot better this way, and he looks like a fucking God, pounding you so good like this. He pushes your legs over your head and slides back inside your gummy walls. He buries his face in your neck and his fingers move down to your clit. When he rubs you, it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on him with a scream. Your cunt tightening around him makes him let out a growl, and you beg him for his load.
“Please, Rafey,” you whine out. “Please cum inside me. I need your cum in my tight little pussy.. wanna be a mommy, wanna have your baby, please please please—“
He lets out an animalistic shout, and his cock squirts warm, white cream right against your cervix. He pounds you even more at the force of his orgasm. When he comes down, he slows and breathes in your scent. The sweet strawberry perfume you wear is right against his nostrils. He pulls out of you, slow. He spreads your pussy lips apart and watches his seed drip out of your gaping pussy.
“Good girl..” he coos, oddly sweet. “Daddy’s good little cocksleeve..”
Your mind is hazy, and even here in the woods you grab his hands and grab him to pull him closer to you. He pushes you away, however, and grumbles, “Don’t. Cmon, get up.”
You comply, on shaky legs. He picks up your tank top, slips it over your head. Your skirt is practically in shreds, so he just puts your panties back on. You’re too fucked out to even care that he’s dragging you to his truck, half naked, cum dripping down your legs. You don’t care.
The ride to the Cameron residence is quiet. Rafe threw the gun in the console when he got in. You fall asleep halfway there, and he turns the radio on softly.
He looks over at you. Caked in dirt, cheeks red, scratches all over your thighs. You must’ve got them from the twigs in the mud.
Something tugs at his chest. He blames it on the adrenaline.
The house is empty; Wheezie, Rafe had sent off to a friend’s. Sarah, running around with the pogues, probably trying to find you. Rose, god knows where. His dad, dead. He does what he said he would do. He sits himself down on the staircase, pulls out his cock, already hard from the way your thighs are wet. He positions you on top of him as you look down at him tiredly. You want to be good for him, though, and let him stretch your ass out on his fingers. Afterwards you move your panties to the side, grab his cock and slide it inside your heat. You bounce on him, mouth agape as you look into his eyes. There seems to be more emotion in them now. He’s calmed.
He digs his fingernails into your hips, and he grunts when your lips find his neck and you suck a bruise onto it. He spills inside you for a second time, and then he makes you go upstairs with him. He pulls you into his bathroom, the one connected to his room, that you’ve never been in. He takes off the both of your clothes and starts a warm shower. He pulls you inside of it, takes a rag and begins scrubbing the both of you down. You lean against him as he does so, leaving kisses against his now bare chest. His fingers come down to your pussy and make you cum again, an oddly selfless act preformed by the boy. A reward because you were good, maybe? He turns the water off when you’re both squeaky clean. You don’t let him out of your grasp until he gets out of the shower and you follow him. He grabs a towel and dries your used body off with it, and then grabs another and does the same for himself. He guides you to his bed, and you crawl into it.
Your mind is still a mess. You feel alight, like you’ve been touched by god himself. But Rafe’s distance from you when he sits beside you makes you frown. It saddens you so much even, that tears well in your eyes again. Rafe can see the tears coming down your face.
“Jesus, are you fucking crying right now?”
Silence, and then a small sniffle. He scoffs.
“Need me to fuckin’ coddle you, or somethin’?”
You don’t say anything, but you do want that— you don’t know why. He had just taken you in the literal fucking mud, like a disgusting fucking animal. But his warm embrace sounds like something that can ease the headache forming in your skull.
Rafe must sense this. Because he groans, and lays himself down in the spot beside you.
“Come here.” He demands, harshly. You turn over, surprised at his words, but comply regardless. You bring your arms up around his neck and nestle in the space between his arm and torso; it’s comfortable there, it’s warm and soft. You like it. Maybe you’re losing your fucking mind.
You feel the need to thank him for his generosity— you still haven’t gotten out of that space he had forcefully thrown you into— and you need him to be proud of you, almost.
“Rafe—” you say, voice a bit hoarse.
“Did I say you could talk?”
“No..” you murmur. “‘m sorry.”
“Better be.”
He pulls the comforter over the both of you. He remembers the gold, the entire reason why this had occurred in the first place. But it can wait. Exhaustion overtakes him. After a moment a small sigh emits from him and his thumbs rub soft circles against your shoulder.
And soft, almost like an angels wings, he kisses your head with plush lips.
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One Slow Blink Part 1
Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give?
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.
A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)
22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)
Masterlist Part 2
Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down.
You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face.
He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand.
There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?
A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.
Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face.
A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be.
A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood.
“Is he why-”
“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!”
“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-”
“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly.
Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.
“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-”
Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing.
“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!”
“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?”
Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances.
“Alright, you better come with me.”
He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into.
The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently.
“He's through here.”
You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life.
“What… is that?”
“That is Eddie.”
There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it.
Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.
“You said this is- this is Eddie??”
“Listen, I know it's insane-”
You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes.
“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-”
“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”
Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings.
“Eddie.”
You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle.
“Eddie, I'm here to help you.”
Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you.
You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you.
“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!”
The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy.
Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm.
“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?”
A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes.
“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?”
His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now.
“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?”
He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens.
“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?”
He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again.
“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.”
Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands.
“That was- how did you do that?”
Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle.
“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.”
A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm.
“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?”
One slow blink.
“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.”
Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body.
“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?”
Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches.
“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.”
You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed.
“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.”
Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion.
Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off.
Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room.
“I think he passed out.”
“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.”
“What do you mean you suppose?”
“Steve!”
“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.”
He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint.
“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.”
Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts.
“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-”
“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to.
“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.”
As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.
“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.”
You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.
“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?”
“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.”
“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.”
“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.”
“I got it.”
Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket.
“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?”
“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.”
He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly.
********************
You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness.
You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved.
With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep.
Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip.
Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it.
Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package.
The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view.
You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out.
He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything.
By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen.
“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?”
“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up.
“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-”
“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.”
Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently.
“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?”
“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.”
Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else.
“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.”
“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down.
“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.”
You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye.
“Eddie, how you feeling?”
He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm.
“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?”
He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft.
You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours.
When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly.
“You want some water?”
He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face.
“Oh you remember that?”
Another slow blink.
“Good. Let me get you some water.”
You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass.
“Hey Munson, still alive then?”
Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it.
“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.”
A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it.
“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?”
He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist.
When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.
A word emerges.
“...Thank.”
It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word.
“Eddie, you can talk?”
Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw.
“...harrrd.”
He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.
“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?”
He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm.
“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?”
He blinks once.
“OK, does it hurt a lot?”
Two slow blinks.
Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them.
“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.”
Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes.
“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.”
He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress.
He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently.
“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.”
He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes.
“Yes, tail. Look.”
His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing.
“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall.
“Woah, easy there, big guy.”
You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway.
“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.”
He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you.
“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.”
Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded.
“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.”
Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath.
“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.”
You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him.
You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.
“Eddie, what's wrong?”
Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word.
“Hurrrt.”
“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?”
Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes.
“Eddie, I can't help if-”
He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself.
His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur.
Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks.
“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?”
He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.
“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?”
It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws.
“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.
You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right?
“D-do you want me to help?”
His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you.
Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch.
You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.
You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again.
A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding.
A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut.
“Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.”
He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses.
“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.”
You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes.
What in the absolute fuck was that?
You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear.
Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open.
“You OK? Can I help?”
“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”
“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough.
“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.”
He snaps his head towards you, whining.
“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.”
He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name.
********************
You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that.
With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him.
It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed.
Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone.
As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open.
“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.”
Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming.
“What the hell happened?”
Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm.
“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.”
“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?”
“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.”
A crash next door makes you all jump.
“Are you gonna-”
“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.”
As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’
“Eddie.”
It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft.
Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes.
The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go.
“Eddie what the hell happened?”
Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides.
“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.”
His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else.
“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!”
You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief.
“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!”
He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them.
“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!”
Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens.
“AARRROOOOOOO!”
It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound.
“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls.
“Are you OK, I heard- oh.”
Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy.
“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-”
He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained.
“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.”
You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running.
“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?”
The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet.
“-Orry.”
“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”
Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret.
“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door.
“But we- what if he-”
“Steve!”
“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.”
“We’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder.
“We'll check on you tomorrow!”
“OK!”
The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so.
“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.”
A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet.
“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something… is there a toolbox or…”
Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file.
“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.”
He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady.
You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad.
“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.”
A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything.
“I brought some beers, you want one?”
He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation.
“See? That's great! You just need practice.”
“Prrractice.”
“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.”
You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you.
“What is it?”
Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form.
“-rreak.”
“Sorry, what?”
“F-rreak.”
“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”
He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern.
“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”
Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out.
“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.”
You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed.
When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him.
“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?”
He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket.
Eddie appears in the doorway.
“No.”
“Huh?”
You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom.
“You, herrre.”
He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up.
“Wait!”
As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence.
“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-”
Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently.
“Herrre?”
“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.”
Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air.
Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee.
“Goodnight Eddie.”
“-Night.”
********************
When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday.
The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth.
Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan.
“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?”
He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you.
“-orrning. Bet-terr.”
“Are you making breakfast?”
He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit.
“Prractice.”
You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie.
“You need any help?”
He shakes his head and gestures to the table.
“Sit. Eat.”
You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it.
“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.”
“You'rre -elcome.”
“And you're speaking so well!”
“Prrractice.”
He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate.
“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”
He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more.
“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”
Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit.
Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain.
When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes.
Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out.
“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?”
He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words.
“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.”
You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.
A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.
“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle.
“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!”
You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head.
“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?”
Eddie flashes his teeth.
“Bet-terr.”
“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?”
“Sure did. Eddie made it.”
“Really?”
Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you.
“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.”
“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.”
“I… can hel-p.”
The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens.
Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.
“Woah, don't think we need all-”
Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once.
“Ah. Right.”
“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?”
Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth.
“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.”
Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you.
“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.”
“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.”
You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens.
“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.”
Eddie growls in his throat.
“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!”
After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway.
Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm.
“You good?”
You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you.
“Yeah, of course, I'm great.”
“Liarrr.”
Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond.
“You want me. You… want… this.”
He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth.
“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?”
“Can scent.”
“What?”
Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts.
“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!”
Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine.
He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation.
“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.”
“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-”
“Want to.”
He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink.
Are you really gonna do this?
Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose.
“Could you… please?”
Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands.
You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver.
Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you.
Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach.
Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over.
Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder.
You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face.
He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks.
“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.”
Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you.
He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did.
As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck.
“Wan’ kiss you.”
You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast.
You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words.
For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into.
********************
“Eddie, come try this!”
Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake.
“Eddie?”
All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open.
Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.
“Eddie?”
Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you.
“Wherre you find… the aprrron?”
You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him.
“Oh, it was in a drawer.”
“Hot.”
You giggle, cheeks flushing.
“What you doing Eddie? Practising?”
He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed.
“Trrrying. Not good enough.”
“Yet.”
Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you.
“Yet. What you calling forrr?”
He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.
“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin.
“Well, I was asking you to try this.”
You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh.
“Don't… do…”
“What, don't do this?”
You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout.
“What you gonna do about it, huh?”
He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown.
“One… two… thrrree…”
“Oh, it's like that is it?”
“...fourrr… five…”
You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past.
Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall.
There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists.
Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest.
He makes a face, scrunching his snout.
“That bad?”
“I know… what rrrather eat.”
Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face.
“You like this.”
“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over.
“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose.
He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip.
A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…
Then the front door flies open.
“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!”
Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow.
“Steve, I don't think-”
“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps.
“What- what's going on!”
Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child.
“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-”
His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch.
“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-”
He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.
“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.”
“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-”
“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”
Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it.
“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!”
Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas.
After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first.
Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie.
“I'm sorry about him.”
Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch.
“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.”
You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile.
“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?”
Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks.
“Eddie?”
He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders.
“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.”
An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.
“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.”
Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath.
So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else.
“Seems I won.”
His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion.
“Our little chase?”
You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind.
“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.”
Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting.
“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?”
Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek.
“Don't count… Caught you.”
“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?”
Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips.
It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass.
When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged.
“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.”
“Interrrrup-ted.”
“Huh?”
You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back.
“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.”
“Ah, I see. So what do you-”
“One. Two… thrrree…”
This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed.
It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room.
He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space.
The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head.
The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench.
“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…”
His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.
You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle.
He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.
“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?”
He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below.
In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically.
“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl.
“I can smell yourrr cunt.”
You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.
Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.
Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.
“Eddie, Eddie please.”
Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple.
You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex.
Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning.
“Fuck, that- that feels so good!”
Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger.
He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting.
“Eddie, too much, please-”
He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside.
“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.”
You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.
“See… goood girrrrl.”
You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base.
“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.”
Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling.
You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be.
No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans.
Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort.
Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other.
His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.
A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear.
“Mine.”
Part 2
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Bound By Blood (m)
synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.
k.taehyung x f.reader
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
The Kim Empire.
Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.
They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway.
He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums.
Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is.
Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass.
You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath.
The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god.
You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety.
You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.
Love is something you will never be granted the property of.
You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper.
You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed.
One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor.
Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene.
You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath.
You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on.
A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced.
It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain.
For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time.
Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe.
How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that.
“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.
You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should.
Prince Kim has never been known for being kind.
Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face.
“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again.
Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.
You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.
“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want?
All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you.
Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action.
The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone.
You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.
Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.
You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful.
Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again.
A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before.
He desires an answer.
“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height.
You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive.
You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way.
You think you dislike the feeling.
“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.
You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart.
“I suppose so.”
He frowns. Try again.
“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel.
The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down.
Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you.
“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead.
You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment.
“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants.
“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you.
“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage.
“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it.
All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady.
You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.
“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top.
He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it.
You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.
Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely.
He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.
“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.
When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens.
“Purity.”
Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon.
He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.
It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions.
Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status.
The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive.
It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.
You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything.
The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones.
You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs.
It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one.
Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter.
A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons.
“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor.
You simply shake your own.
“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again.
“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.
“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is.
“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation.
You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace.
You had not been optimistic since then.
She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks.
“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.”
You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.
“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?”
You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design.
Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world.
You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.
“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.
“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.”
Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before.
Ah. It all makes sense now.
“Oh.”
“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.”
Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him.
However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut.
“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.”
She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.
“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.
“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.”
You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement.
“Good.”
Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest.
Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest.
You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable.
Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.
Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall.
Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway.
You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them.
You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms.
Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why.
His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status.
He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that.
You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!
You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught.
His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back.
Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before.
“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.
It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion.
“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy.
He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being.
“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place.
You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.
“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam.
His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features.
Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.
Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.
They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?
“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.
“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic.
“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.
You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.
“Yes. Thank you.”
You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms.
Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.
However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.
“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.”
You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone.
“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.”
“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.”
He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.
“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.
“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.
You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is.
“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too.
“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.”
He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.”
You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.
Ah. Right.
The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown.
He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother.
All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise.
Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white.
How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing.
“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares.
If he does, he doesn’t show it.
“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips.
Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it?
“When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast.
“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them.
“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.
“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him.
“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head.
“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more.
“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.
“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.”
He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.”
In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway.
The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night.
You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible.
It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions.
Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined.
In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach.
Why did he know your name?
It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in.
This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages.
He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby.
You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort.
Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.
You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else.
Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath.
Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on making his war for you.
Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne.
You only wish it was that easy.
“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that.
The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths.
At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position.
A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door.
Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster.
A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears.
She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen.
You do not like to think of them.
Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess.
“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away.
Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm.
“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading.
“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.
This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!”
“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before.
“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls.
“And what am I meant to do?”
“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!”
Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!
You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?
“I understand. It will be dealt with.”
The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart.
At least that is what you hope.
The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents.
A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month.
He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible.
Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid.
What a strange feeling it is.
The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.
You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.
Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake.
His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend.
Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered.
You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–”
His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own.
His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.
Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own.
You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people.
But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain.
You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance.
They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible.
You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire.
“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems.
“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.”
You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales.
The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body.
“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction.
You pause.
“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer.
“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would.
You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.
“But if someone were to see them–”
“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.”
Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut.
You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.
“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear.
“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone.
He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.
“Good lamb.”
You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge.
Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else.
That is the only logical solution, at least.
But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well.
Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week.
It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect.
You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can.
His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name.
You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.
You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior.
His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has.
You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away.
The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.
More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.
Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor.
She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.
Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form.
You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being.
Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose.
Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them.
Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for.
You reach to spray your second favourite perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.
Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.
It is all too strange for you to want to understand.
Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible.
The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.
A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can.
But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?
A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you. It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed.
So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?
No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.
Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn.
Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it.
You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.
A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it.
You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.
Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open.
There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.
But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you.
The future king would be a fearsome thing.
“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore.
You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…”
“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.
“I– Prince Kim…”
“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.
“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of.
“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.
You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse.
That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape.
“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it.
He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you.
Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof.
“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal.
Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.
“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore.
His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?”
“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”
You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room.
“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt?
Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country?
You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft.
“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.
“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft.
It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever.
“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.”
You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment.
A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh!
He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?”
A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable.
Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before.
“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine.
“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you.
“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.”
You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.
Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.
“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day.
“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own.
He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself.
“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.”
What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?!
Oh heavens, oh gods.
“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.”
You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be!
Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.
It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place.
Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.
“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”
The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long.
“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating.
“What…?”
His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.”
“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again.
You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order.
In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him.
You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare.
You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory.
You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do.
As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.
When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it.
His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core.
“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.”
“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest.
Only words you can manage at the revelation.
“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself.
The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen.
You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–”
“Taehyung.”
“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.
He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth.
“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”
He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well.
He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly.
“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”
You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.
With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours.
Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own.
His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it.
His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body.
Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse.
The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.
The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.
This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince.
The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste.
“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own.
Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him.
When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him.
Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.
For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well.
He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever.
He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.”
He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him.
God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.
“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.”
O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god.
His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left.
When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort.
“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core.
Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal.
You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.
His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being.
“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.
“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else.
The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting.
“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige.
His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him.
You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you.
Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth.
He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal.
A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything.
Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life.
You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible.
His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.
All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting.
He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.
It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.
His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit.
A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt.
You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact.
Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering.
His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue.
Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.
“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him.
He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high.
It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle.
Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form.
Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled.
He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them.
“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt.
You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place.
He will not have you running away.
Not now.
Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters.
He is.
He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows.
Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.
He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.
“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels.
Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality.
He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good.
His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”
Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through.
Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.
You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want.
“Please.”
He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.
Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you.
But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.
One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for.
Not yet.
He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it.
He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity.
“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes.
He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more.
He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk.
So sensitive. So ready for him.
As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet.
He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck.
His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls.
He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take.
A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock.
He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort.
You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there.
Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity.
Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.
“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.
But he holds restraint. Just enough.
The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more.
He is falling apart before you, because of you.
He has gone mad because of you.
The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.
You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.”
He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.
You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs.
“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.”
He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.
“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly.
Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?
His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.
You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused.
With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop.
“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.”
He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him.
Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.
He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.
Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.
“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit.
“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.”
He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him.
“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul.
That is close enough to the truth, anyway.
“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him.
Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.
“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!”
He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.
His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more.
“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body.
“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!”
He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter.
It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.
“Who are you going to marry?”
You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?
“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by.
“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him.
“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel.
“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore.
Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.
“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck.
“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.
“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment.
His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.”
Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe.
You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide.
Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise.
“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing.
Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body.
“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.
Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.
“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright.
“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already.
“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.
You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.
“Goodnight my lamb.”
The Kim Empire.
His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.
Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you.
When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.
He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.
At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.
Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases.
It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games.
But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.
He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.
He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it.
Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night.
But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you.
Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time.
God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.
If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.
You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him.
It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth.
He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.
You are bound to him by blood after all.
© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.
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𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG
ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852
𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…
𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.
HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.
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The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.
It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.
At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.
You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.
“Quickly.”
It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.
“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”
“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”
On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.
Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.
There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.
“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”
“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”
…Pornstar?
Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…
“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”
“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”
The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…
It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…
“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”
You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.
Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…
Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?
A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”
“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.
You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...
“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”
“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…
König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.
“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.
“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”
As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.
That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.
“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.
“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”
Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.
Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.
After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.
You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.
Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.
You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.
To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:
[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole
[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain
[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens
And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…
You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.
“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”
Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.
It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.
“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.
“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”
You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.
When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.
You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.
“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”
Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.
such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks
i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place
how many times did she come already 😂
You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.
The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.
“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”
ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by duskidraws ♥︎
𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins
#🕸️. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃#codmw2 smut#codmw2#cod x you#cod x reader#ghost x you#konig x you#ghost smut#konig smut#call of duty x reader#call of duty mw2 smut#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost x reader#konig call of duty#konig codmw2
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TIL' DEATH DON’T WE PART ft. Yandere!Alastor
⃝𖤐 VALENTINES DAY 2024 SPECIAL…
⃝𖤐 SUMMARY: After fleeing from your fiancé, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it—on Earth or not.
⃝𖤐 CONTENT WARNINGS: afab, fem!reader, yandere!ex-fiancé!alastor x reader, alastor being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick alastor—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, alastor uses his shadows,
⃝𖤐 WORD COUNT: 3.9k | 2k plot, 1.9k smut
⃝𖤐 STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER !😋i am IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN GUYS
⃝𖤐 MASTERLIST. Main blog @peachedtv
Alastor felt you were quite silly, even from when the two of you were small.
So silly, in so many ways.
You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Alastor wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the radio he’d hum to silently during his auditory carnages. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth swing of jazz muffled through a radio’s buzz.
Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Alastor wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.
He’s adapted that wish somewhat.
What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,
Alastor always fell apart.
Even in the room of his own heart.
Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.
Alastor was always in control.
Control of his subordinates, control of his manipulation, his chaos around him. So why couldn’t he control this?
What were you doing to him?
He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.
“Are you okay?”
By now, this memory had occurred over a century ago, on the Earth he no longer lived in.
The first day you two had met, Alastor was a clumsy boy. His two feet carrying him slower than the beat of his heart, tumbling him down onto his knee into the unforgiving concrete. It hurt. A sting and burn that tugged the corner of his lips into a frown, holding back tears as other children ran past him without any acknowledgement.
He never wanted mother to worry, and so, he always sucked it up. Tugging his knee into his chest, he blew onto the wound and hugged his leg—his lips wobbling.
And suddenly, there you were.
A small, petite child then. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, your hand extended to him as the other rested on your knee. Alastor was surprised. Enough so that for a split second, he had forgotten of his wounds, of the pain. Cautiously, he took your hand.
Your hand felt right in his.
Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. Soon, your fingers were almost always intertwined with his. Alastor’s mother would coo at the two of you each time Alastor brought you over to dance, smiling happily as you stumbled over his feet in the living room—his favorite radio buzzing soft melodies in the background. Alastor moved gracefully, having danced with his mother in preparation. You were not the same. You couldn’t help but have your eyes stuck on the floor, eyebrows raised in concentration as you followed his steps.
One step,
two step,
three step,
four.
You weren’t a great dancer. And after a long afternoon of clumsily tapping your feet around, the sun began to retract past the skyline, and Alastor had offered to walk you home. It was bright, really bright. Your eyebrows furrowing at the light from Earth’s warming star, a small hand raised to your forehead to soothe your eyes from the bright light.
“Al, look!” You pointed to the sun. Orange hues trailing red as the two colors bleed together, warm tones mesmerizing your childish heart and sparking wonder into your eyes.
Meanwhile, Alastor was looking at a different star. His star.
“I want to make a deal.” Alastor spoke softly. And slowly, you turned to him, curiousity tilting your head as you met Alastor’s timid expression with a hum of acknowledgment. Alastor raised his pinky finger.
“I want to be with you forever.” Alastor tucked away into his body. For the first time, his eyes looked away from you—the warmth from the sky traveling down to blush his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features. To his surprise, your pinky hooked onto his in an instant.
“Forever.”
And there was Alastor’s first deal of souls. A deal that tied your essence to his until the end of time—for a promise between two whom are pure surpasses the strength of any other.
And forever meant forever.
Years together flew by, and Alastor became your fiancé, set to tie your love together by law in a couple months. You both had your own jobs, despite his insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Alastor’s dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.
“I missed you, Cher.”
Your voice was like honey.
“I missed you more, my Dear.” Alastor greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Alastor looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.
Alastor did not want you to continue working.
Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.
The company was in disarry, having strangely lost empolyee after empolyee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your empolyer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Alastor.
Although, something felt off.
With Alastor home, it was always lively. The ambience of radio would hum an electronic swing of jazz, a low vibrato of your home’s ventilation system, and the comfort of your fiancé’s presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt presences of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creacking the dark oak louder than usual.
Without Alastor, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring as the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.
Was there always a lock?
A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.
Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.
The hand of your fiancé.
You were terrified.
“Dear, what are you doing?”
You couldn’t think.
Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even moreso with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and empolyer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.
What was that dinner Alastor served these passing evenings?
And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.
This time around, nearly a century later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of a new, Hazbin Hotel. Advertised as a place for refemption, a gateway of return to Heaven—the place you swore you should have ended up in. And yet, nostaglia always played its role.
Just as a century ago, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice staticy, strange, and terrifyingly familisr beneath it’s vintaged filter. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in 1933. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.
Your fiancé’s hand.
“I missed you, my Dear.”
You didn't know what was happening.
You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Alastor's hand off your shoulder when sharp, black tendrils gripped your wrists in an instant. By the next, it seemed you were melting into the floor, the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.
You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.
You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a sharp, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.
Even back then, you always felt Alastor’s deep eyes lacked light. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.
Alastor still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into Hell. Sharp teeth, discolored skin, bloodshot eyes that contrasted against dark red sclera. He looked terrifying. His body was misshapen, large, his face framed with blood-colored hair and root-like antlers protruding from his head. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.
“Al—“
"You recall the time when you'd say it back, don't you, my Dear?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A static like radio and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.
Meanwhile, Alastor felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did nearly a century ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.
He needed you. Now.
Alastor brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.
Your terror only fueled him further.
His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Alastor licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Alastor marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.
The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Alastor held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Alastor got from the sight of you.
His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.
Pilant.
Obidient.
And what better way than halfway choking you out?
Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.
You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Alastor that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Alastor was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.
His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Alastor pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.
"A-Alastor—!" He only smiled in response.
"Quite sensitive, hmm? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.
You always fell apart so prettily.
Your hand shakily reached out to Alastor, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.
Alastor stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Alastor kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Alastor, the black tendrils appeared once more. Grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Alastor to slow down, to be more gentle.
A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.
A burning desire began to pool in your gut.
"Alastor, p-please—"
A hand gripped your throat.
"What was that?"
"A-Al, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You always were a quick learner.
"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, brusing your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Alastor smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Alastor continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitched and whimpering in his bed. Broken.
"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Cher?" Alastor was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clencthed around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.
"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Alastor having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.
"Al, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Alastor suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.
Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.
"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess a little force would be needed in the end." Before you could understand what Alastor meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.
Before you knew it, Alastor pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Alastor pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Alastor only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.
He wanted to rip you apart.
Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.
"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Alastor where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-fiancé's cock.
"Don't you dare."
"Please, Cher."
Fuck.
You drove him fucking crazy.
Alastor swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him Cher once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Alastor laughed.
"You truly know me so well, my Dear." Alastor's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.
"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.
Alastor pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.
"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Alastor's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.
"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Alastor's shadow taking his place on your clit as it swrled the bud ruthlessly—his now free hand grabbing your face to squish your cheeks.
"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.
"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.
"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Alastor let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Alastor continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.
"C-Cher, Al—please, I can'—"
And for the first time since 1933, and for the first time together, in the new realm of Hell—Alastor kissed you.
His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.
He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Alastor's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.
Maybe you still love him, even after it all.
Alastor's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Alastor allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.
"I love you, my Dear."
Alastor spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.
"So don't leave me ever again."
You're watching...
© Peached TVs 2024
#PeachedTVs#ft. Alastor#alastor smut#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#alastor#radio demon#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor x y/n#hazbin#the radio demon#hazbin imagine#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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Yandere Head Canons:
Predator and Prey
Yandere Various Beastmen/ women x Human Afab Reader
You live in a world ruled by beast men where you are the lowest on the food chain. Sadly for you, you’re often treated like a play thing by your coworkers…
Tw: Breeding, lesbian sex, smut, mounting, predator/ prey dynamics, Yandere behavior, etc
Leveret- Holland Lop
Leveret was your sweet childhood friend and loyal companion! He was incredibly shy to the point you’d always have to stand up for him. He has always looked up to you ever since you were kids… you were his hero!
Leveret is your standard pretty boy. Hyper feminine and lean, he often wears pastels. His fawn colored hair is usually a bit long and very fluffy, just like his floppy ears! Leveret is very cute but equally pathetic. He never stands up for you, but you’re never upset with him since he is a rabbit. What could prey do to a predator other than run away? It made his heart soar that you were never upset with him… Leveret wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you hated him!
Leveret went to work in the office with you so the two of you are together forever (just like you promised as kids). He doesn’t want to lose sight of his shining star!
Leveret love when you scratch his ears. He automatically thumps his foot which makes him embarrassed so you often reassure him. Leveret loves how sweet you are to him.
Leveret secretly idolizes you and has an entire shrine dedicated to you. He’s a pathetic man. He’s too scared to confess his overwhelming feelings so he settles for collecting keepsakes from you. Nothing you’d ever miss of course, but they meant the world to him!
Chapsticks, silverware, panties, it didn’t matter! It was all kept in a box under his bed for him to romance through when he felt especially pathetic.
Leveret often huffed and humped your soiled panties like the pathetic loser he was! He’d be over the moon if you saw him like this… if you told him how pathetic he was. It was his deepest fantasy! To be dominated by you! To have his small, pathetic cock inside of you. He’s a bunny so he could go for hours! Whatever you want…
Leveret often stalks you when you’re not around him and it turns him on to see you taken advantage by the other beast men, especially Amara.
He often wishes he was a predator so he could be more dominant and confident but he’s okay being a prey instead. You’re never suspicious of him this way… so it’s much easier for you to let your guard down around him
Amara- Spotted Hyena
Amara has a dirty blonde and black spotted wolf cut and scars from one side of her cheek to the other. Her whole body is covered in scars from her constantly picking fights.
Amara is a bully. She’s the meanest coworker to you just because of your species (human).
She often slams her shoulder into yours, knocks your papers out of your hands, or spills food/ drinks on your clothes. Luckily her bullying is only physically since the entire office dislikes her. Arielle is especially not fond of Amara.
You often see the African lion and spotted hyena get into spats
Her loud cackles always fills the office which raised the concerns of your coworkers. Arielle is often the one to come to your rescue. Which only makes Amara more agitated
Yet despite her cruelty to you, you’re not mean to her since you understand why she is the way she is. She had a hard home life since she was the youngest in her pack so you knew she was trying to seek power elsewhere
It’s when Amara hears you defend her to Arielle that the bullying begins to stop. “I know it’s just Amara’s nature and if it makes her feel like the leader then she’s fine picking on me. I’m just a human anyways, it’s not like I could ever defend myself.” You understood her instincts? Amara didn’t think a human would understand her more than other beast men would… it started her interest in you.
Amara will stop being physically mean to you since you’ve shown submission to her. Now she will share her lunch with you in an, albeit, forceful way. She will scare off your bunny beast man friend so she can sit with you in the break room instead. The hyena insistent that you needed more protein or you’d be too weak.
Amara is insistent on walking you home. Her hyenas ears flip back and forth on her head to listen to any danger. Her scarred and muscular form was enough to intimidate anyone away from you. Not to mention her 5’11” frame. She was definitely a predator not to be messed with.
Amara will become suffocatingly clingy to the point your boss has to separate the two of you in fear of your safety (and a lawsuit). But that doesn’t stop her from finding you during break time (and to rip you away from Leveret)
Be prepared for the spotted hyena to corner you in the bathroom, her hands grabbing you in every place she can reach as her nose is buried in the crook of your shoulder. How could she not votive how good you smell?!
It isn’t long before she has you bend over the sink, her pseudo penis pressed against your backside as she humps you. She may not be a male, but her organ is perfectly functional for mounting. Won’t you indulge her? Amara hasn’t mounted anyone yet and you said you understood her nature. So won’t you indulge her? It’s not like you could defend yourself, you said so yourself…
Amara may be a woman but she was sure she could please you just as much as a man! The two of you could be mates!
Amara is quite rough and her psuedo penis is quite big. She’s a true dom and has a biting kink. It’s best to avoid being alone with her… unless you enjoy being mounted
Arielle- African Lion
Arielle is a respectable figure in the office. Her ginger hair is usually kept in a pixie cut. She’s a handsome woman with a scar across the right side of her lip. She’s usually the best dressed in the office. She often has to shave her face and arms since she’s a trans woman. Arielle hates her mane that constantly tries to grow back and the excessive body hair (but she’d be over the moon if you tell her you like her hairy arms, she’ll keep them then),
Arielle was the first in the office to take you under her wing and to protect you from the others. She isn’t very fond of the way the others treat you. You’re a rare human! You should be respected…
Arielle often carries extra set of clothes on her so you have something to change into when Amara decides to make you wear a meal or beverage. As much as Arielle hates Amara, it satiates a part of her that adores you in her clothes. Something about it is sexy to her. Especially from how much smaller you are than her.
If you seek her out for help or guidance, you’re instantly in her good graces. You feel safe around her? She’ll keep you safe. You like her clothes? She’ll bring you more. You like her hairy arms? She won’t shave them anymore. You think she’s a beautiful woman? She’ll show you how beautiful she finds you.
Arielle is the most passionate amongst the beast men. She loves to trail kisses across your neck and chest. Her clawed hands are always gentle so she doesn’t hurt you. She’s so happy you don’t mind her genitalia. It makes her cry and purr to be accepted.
Arielle is a little sucker for praise of any kind. She’s quite a lax lover but don’t let that fool you. Arielle is quite protective of you and is willing to shed blood for you if she has to.
Arielle doesn’t mind sharing you with Eden but she’s not fond of the other workers. She especially dislikes Amara and Leveret.
She scents you more than the other beast men. You often find lion hair all over your clothes after a night with her…
Conan- Eastern Wolf
Conan hates humans so he avoids you like the plague. If you try to talk to the gray haired man, he will leave the premises.
Conan is a very attractive man with long gray hair and icy blue eyes. He’s usually quite stoic and quiet so no one ever knows what he’s feeling if they look at his face… his tail tells a different story.
Conan will eventually open up to you when he sees how hard you try to understand the beast men’s behaviors. You’re not a bad human like the others he met and it was rude of him to make such an assumption.
Conan will apologize to you but he still keeps you at arms length, until he notices a certain rabbit being odd. Hell, everyone was odd to you. And Conan didn’t like it.
Conan will offer you solace if the others start to be too much. He’s a bit higher up in the office so you can hide in his office to get away from the stage five clingers but it won’t be long until they find you.
Conan is great at giving advice and he is a great listener. He just never expected to grow fond of you as well… you were too nice for your own good.
Conan refers to you as little red riding hood. “Little red, don’t you think you should avoid someone like me?” And you’d always smile at him. “I think you’re nice though, Conan. You have such kind eyes… I’m happy you became my friend.”
Curse you. Curse you and your kindness. Your gentle scratched behind his ears and your soft words that made his tail wag. Conan began to crave you more and more until all he wanted to do was to breed you like a proper mate should.
Conan will try to stay away from you when he’s in heat by locking himself up in his office. If you choose to ignore the “do not disturb” note on his door because the others are scaring you, he cannot guarantee he won’t pounce on you.
Conan would apologize the entire time as he stuffs you with his knot. But this was your fault. You should know not to get too close to a predator. Didn’t your family ever warn you about the big bad wolf, little red?
Eden- Grizzly Bear
This giant woman was in love with you at first sight. You’re so small compared to her and that meant you needed to be protected!
Eden is the tallest amongst the other people in the office. She’s built like a powerlifter with strong arms and a strong back but has a tummy on her. Her hair is in a chocolate brown mullet and she’s covered in tattoos. She is also openly lesbian.
Outside of work, Eden wears flannels and resides in a cabin in the woods. She enjoys hikes and wood cutting. You jokingly call her a lumberjack.
She loves to talk. Eden is the office chatter box with a gregarious personality. She’s quite boisterous but she’s not a bad person. Eden is thrilled that you don’t mind her incessant chatter, you’re one of the few people…
This giant woman often greets you with a toothy grin and shoves Amara away from you. She’s one of the few people in the office that likes humans. 
Eden will share all her snacks with you from the get go and she will be so happy if you share yours! Sharing is caring after all!
Eden loves honey straws that are supposed to be used for tea. She sucks on them like suckers any chance she gets. You often stress concern for her and her love of sweets but not to worry! She’s a grizzly bear! She will be perfectly okay!
She may seem like an idiot but she’s far from it. She notices the way Amara changes her beat around you in a second. And she doesn’t like it. If you build a strong bond with Eden, Eden will go to the bathroom with you and she will pull Amara off you. A bear is not to be messed with, especially not a grizzly.
Now you have this tank of a woman following you around work. Eden offering you snacks and protection in exchange for you talking with her. She’s a lax Yandere save for her over protectiveness.
Eden will take you on hikes and foraging in the woods. She will even teach you which berries and mushrooms are edible! Whatever you want, she will be happy to oblige.
Eden is perfectly okay with just being friends too. She doesn’t mind! Eden just likes being around you. But if you want more with her or if you want a third, she’s open.
Eden is a very giving lover. You will be her cute little princess pillow almost every time. She’d rather do all the work so the two of you can cuddle and watch movies but won’t reject you if you want to go down on her. She gets especially riled up if you offer to suck her strap. How naughty
Eden wouldn’t mind sharing with her best friend, Arielle. She finds it kind of hot to have you crying and moaning under her and the lioness. She’s kind of jealous that Arielle would be able to get you pregnant while she can’t, but she’s still happy to stuff your cute pussy with her strap or her fingers. You’re so fucking cute. Won’t you stay with her forever?
The two (or three) of you could live a pretty efficient life in the woods. So why don’t you just stay here where she can properly protect you?
#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere criminal#yandere obsession#yandere harem#yandere monster x reader#yandere merman#monster yandere#yandere monster#monster fucker#monster x human#monster x reader#monster x you#size difference#size k!nk#human x monster#monster smut#yandere males#yandere male#yandere lesbian#yandere boy#yandere wlw#yandere oc#yandere original character#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#bully yandere#tw.smut#tw.breeding
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I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.
Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.
@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!
Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader
Word count: 5 k oneshot
Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI
A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3
The screams are the worst part.
They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.
Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...
And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.
Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.
Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.
You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.
Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place.
And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.
Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.
The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.
There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.
So, Theseus is dead...
So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.
Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.
You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.
You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)
And your luck is cursed.
The beast shifts.
You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.
“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay.
“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”
He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.
Don’t blow out the candle...
If you blow it out, you’ll die.
It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages.
So you still your breath and wait.
Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue.
And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox.
The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots.
The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.
“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom.
His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.
The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger.
He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…
“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.
And you believe every word he says.
Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.
A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.
Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?
Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.
“I know.”
Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.
But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious.
Why would you say that?
Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?
The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.
There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion.
There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.
“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.
“...What?”
The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you.
“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”
His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.
He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.
“You think talking will save you, female?”
He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.
But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.
“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”
“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.
And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile.
Why would anyone want to stay here?
You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur?
Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…
“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”
You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you.
“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”
It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.
And the beast accepts.
“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly.
Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.
But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you.
“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.
“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”
He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.
Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?
“You’ll lead me to my father.”
His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.
And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears?
“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”
You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat.
Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to…
The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.
And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels.
Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.
He also wants to touch you.
A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.
He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats.
You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use.
Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?
“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want.
Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man.
“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”
He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone.
Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out.
“Priestess…?” He rasps.
“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”
He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.
“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”
He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand.
He wants you to guide him to his father.
To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.
The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.
“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”
“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”
You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years.
“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”
It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.
If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens.
“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”
His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you.
The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.
“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.
The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.
“Sound like a virgin…”
Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.
“Feel like a virgin, too.”
It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is.
No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.
But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh.
How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out.
You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.
And you’ve gone mad, surely.
You want to touch him too, just to test another theory.
Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.
He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand.
And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission.
Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm.
If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...
In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be.
“So do you, Bull of Crete...”
His gaze flickers.
The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.
It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.
He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…
“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”
You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.
“You must promise to be kind to me.”
“Kind...?”
“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”
Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.
“But... You smell like you want to fuck.”
Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.
“I don’t–How would you know that…?”
The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.
“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to…”
He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.
You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick.
“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”
The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.
Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...
And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.
“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.
“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.”
You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.
You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.
“Lead the way, maiden.”
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