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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

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Ktober 2023 Day 31- Free choice

Fee use orgy with the Narcos boys

Horacio Carrillo x Javier Peña x Steve Murphy x fem!reader

Word count- 2.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), restraints, blindfold, free use, group sex, piv, anal, oral, pussy slapping, overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, praise, no use of y/n (there's a lot in this one so please let me know if I forgot anything!)

About this reader- stated to be involved with both Carrillos but I left it vague so it's open to interpretation, also mentioned she used to be involved with Javi but again it's open to interpretation, hinted to be bisexual but can be left up to you how you read it, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Going out with a bang here literally lol! Oh I had so much fun with this one so I hope y'all have just as much fun reading it! And by far this is the longest fic of the month. Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Peña. Murphy. My office,” Colonel Carrillo ordered the two men. It was late in the day, and only a skeleton crew still lingered behind.

The two agents looked at each other with a serious expression before they silently stood and followed the Colonel. He seemed stiff, and his expression was unreadable. Neither Steve nor Javi knew what to make of him at that moment.

Carrillo glanced around the empty office as half the lights shut off on their own, leaving the three men in shadows. He inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest as he did so.

Once Javier and Steve reached the doorway of Carrillo’s office, he paused and turned to them, “It has come to my attention that the two of you have been working too hard lately.”

“And?” Steve huffed as he crossed his arms. Javier mirrored the action.

Carrillo flashed a smirk before he opened his office door, “This way.”

Javier and Steve exchanged one last glance before they followed into the dark office. Carrillo was right behind them, and they noticed that he closed and locked the door before he flicked the lights on. And when the two men laid eyes on what surprise the colonel had in store for them, their mouths dropped open in shock.

“Hello boys,” you purred from where you were laid out on the desk.

“Wait a second,” Steve sounded flustered as he tripped over his words.

Javier just grinned, “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he turned to address you by name, “How did you get roped into this?”

“This is some shit Javi would think up. Not you,” Steve interjected.

Carrillo raised his hands in surrender as his eyes dropped to the floor, “This was her idea actually,” he sounded uncharacteristically sheepish at the confession.

The grin never left your face, entertained by the expression of shock and confusion on Steve and Javier’s faces. Finding you naked and tied to Carrillo’s desk was the last thing they expected. But, you had a feeling this was just the perfect remedy they needed.

“Horacio has been under a lot of pressure lately,” you explained, “Juliana and I can tell when he’s off. And… We came up with this arrangement,” you shimmied your shoulders as much as you could while bound by Carrillo’s tight binds, letting the rest explain itself.

Steve and Javier looked at Carrillo. Then, Steve turned to Javier, “How do you know her then?”

“We have a history,” Javier left it at that. His eyes never left the Colonel, though, surprised to find you of all people involved with him.

“Wait, wait,” Steve protested, “I have a wife, you know.”

“You could have brought her too,” you smirked, giving Steve a wink when his eyes locked with yours.

That made Steve blush. Javier covered his face to hide the proud smirk at the fact that you accomplished that. But, his own gaze wandered back to your tied, naked figure spread out of Carrillo’s desk. He clenched his fist as he thought about everything he would easily do to you while you were like that. He couldn’t help the thoughts that popped into his head.

Feeling his gaze on you, you looked up to meet his eyes and your breath caught in your chest for a moment. It wasn’t until you saw Carrillo move from around him and saunter over to you that you remembered to breathe again.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Carrillo’s commanding voice broke the tension in the room, “She is here for us to use. Get whatever shit you’re holding onto out. And tomorrow, we start fresh.”

Carrillo looked you over, admiring his handiwork. He reached out and gently caressed your body with the back of his hand, causing you to gasp. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the light, teasing touch of him, and goosebumps erupted on your skin wherever his hand grazed. Knowing exactly what spots drove you wild, Carrillo gave you light pinches and squeezes, murmuring your name with praise.

“You know your signal if you need to stop,” he spoke softly in your ear as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“I do,” you whispered back as you opened your eyes and were met with his handsome face just inches from yours.

“Good,” Carrillo leaned in and kissed you deeply as he yanked the bandana in his hand taut. Vaguely, you both heard groaning from the other end of the room, and you knew the others were enjoying the little display. He broke away from the kiss, placing one last light one between your eyes before he tied the bandana securely around them, blocking your vision and leaving you even more helpless.

You couldn’t stop the moan as a rush of excitement ran through your veins. It had been a secret fantasy for this to happen, and when the opportunity presented itself, you jumped on it. You arched your back as you felt a hand, Carrillo’s, ran across your chest and stomach, tracing a random pattern until it grabbed your breast firmly. You cried out as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his calloused fingers.

Javier and Steve watched with sharp eyes as Carrillo caressed your body. They felt the heat all the way on the other side of the office, and they felt just as captivated as you were. Javier had no qualms about what Carrillo proposed from the start, and he unbuttoned his shirt and belt without another word. Even Steve, who was hesitant at first, felt drawn to you, and he too loosened his shirt.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” Carrillo smirked with pride as he squeezed your breasts again, making you moan.

The way Carrillo had you tied left you on full display for the men in the room. Your legs were tied to each corner of the desk, spreading them wide and leaving your dripping pussy fully exposed. Your arms were tied together above your head at the other end of the desk, pushing your breasts up. The binds were so tight that you could barely even wriggle from side to side, but you assured Carrillo before he went to get the other two that you were comfortable like this.

You were going to be here for a while after all.

“She is,” Javier murmured as his eyes landed on your cunt. His cock involuntarily twitched in his pants, but all he could think about was devouring your pussy.

Faintly, Steve hummed in agreement as he unzipped his pants.

Javier dropped down to his knees, careful not to touch you so that it would come as a surprise when he finally did. It took a great deal of restraint, but once he was settled between your bound parted legs, he reeled forward and covered your pussy with his mouth, immediately sucking at you hard. You let out a loud scream and arched your back at the sensation.

“That’s it,” Carrillo cooed as he watched Javier lick at your folds.

Without your sight, every move was a surprise, and it only turned you on more. Feeling the tongue against your clit drove you wild, and your moans quickly grew louder and louder. Suddenly, you felt another pair of hands on your breasts, and you cried out when your mind caught up to you and you realized all three men were touching you now.

Not knowing who was where added to the thrill for you. Yet, you had a feeling that it was Javier who was currently between your legs, licking and sucking at you with abandon. The two pairs of hands that caressed your breasts kneaded you harder, and one hand trailed up your body to push two fingers into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the digits, running your tongue up and down and sucking at the tip without hesitation. The groan the hand’s owner let out went right to your core.

Javier groaned into you, feeling the pulse of need. He grabbed your thighs and picked up his pace with his tongue, rolling it up and down your folds before pushing it into your entrance a few times. His cock ached with need as he tasted you, but he wanted to make you fall apart first. And soon, once his tongue hit your clit again, Javier got what he wanted.

You came without warning, your legs shaking on either side of Javier’s face as you screamed loudly around the finger in your mouth. In the darkness of your blindfold, you saw stars as Javier didn’t relent, working you through your orgasm until a second one hit before you even came down from the first.

Javier broke away with a loud breath, taking in fresh air for the first time. He sat back and admired his handiwork as your pussy glistened before him. He murmured your name as his hand caressed your cunt, running his fingers up and down a few times before he pushed two inside of you.

“That’s it,” he purred as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, making you moan again.

But, just as he was about to pick up his pace, Carrillo grabbed his wrist and forced him out of you, causing both you and Javier to let out sounds of protest. Carrillo looked at Javier with a sharp expression as he shook his head. The message was loud and clear without the words needed: don’t hog her.

Carrillo chose not to speak on purpose, he wanted to keep you guessing who was where, and he wanted every action to surprise you. Without your sight or ability to move, he accomplished just that.

You whimpered when you felt one pair of hands break off of your breast, but immediately screamed when you felt a hand slap your pussy. You jolted in your restraints as the hand slapped your pussy again and you cried out in pleasure.

Steve watched as Carrillo slapped your pussy again, and he couldn’t ignore his down needs. So, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed his pants down to his ankles, freeing his cock. He stroked it a few times before he gently slapped your cheek with it in a silent order for you to open your mouth. You complied, parting your lips for whoever was next to you, and Steve couldn’t help but praise you.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he slipped his cock past your lips and into your mouth. He let out a low growl as your warmth engulfed him, and you played with his cock with your tongue. Fuck, you were good at this, he thought.

While your mouth was busy with Steve, Carrillo and Javier turned their attention to between your legs. Both men ran their fingers along your already spent cunt, causing you to gasp around Steve’s cock. But, their next action took you even more off guard.

You felt two fingers enter your pussy, easily since you were already so turned on and wet from cumming twice. You moaned around Steve’s cock as you felt the thick fingers fill you up, and your mouth dropped open when they crooked and hit that sweet spot inside you. As those fingers continued to massage the inside of you, you felt another finger poke at your other hole, making you gasp.

Slowly, carefully, the finger entered you, and you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. You felt a hand on your breast, squeezing and caressing your sensitive skin while the other fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. Tears filled your eyes as you felt a second finger enter your backside, stretching you out even more.

All three men watched with awe as you took two fingers in each hole while Steve’s cock stayed in your mouth. You looked so beautiful like this, completely helpless for whatever the men wanted, and it only made them want you more. Steve couldn’t stop himself, and he grabbed your head and thrust his cock deeper down your throat as his emotions overwhelmed him.

Javier and Carrillo watched with burning gazes as Steve fucked your face, and in that moment neither of them could wait any longer. They glanced at each other and nodded, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Slowly, they each pulled their fingers out of you, and they knew you let out a whine around Steve’s cock.

The two men quickly stripped themselves, holding their cocks in their hands and reading themselves for you. It took a little maneuvering, but Jaiver and Carrillo found a way to enter you at the same time. Both of them lifted your hips slightly to expose your body more to them and in doing so gave them the perfect angle to fuck you.

One entered you right after the other, filling you to the brim. You gasped around Steve’s cock as you felt both your holes being filled simultaneously. Tears soaked the bandana as the other two cocks filled you, and you had no idea who took you where. Steve froze for a moment, lost in awe as he watched the other two fill you, and he pulled out of you for a moment to let the screams flow freely.

You gasped for a moment, and it took a second for you to realize that your mouth was free. But when the two cocks pushed deeper inside of you, you let out a loud scream that echoed in Carrillo’s office. Pain mixed with pleasure as you had never felt more filed, and you knew you were safe when you felt hands caressed and roamed all over your body, and you heard soft words of encouragement from all three of them, though you weren't sure which direction each voice came from.

“You’re doing so well, querida.”

“That’s it, just a little bit more.”

“Such a good girl. So fuckin’ pretty.”

Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any more full, Steve thrust his cock back into your mouth, pushing it deeper down your throat and almost making you gag. You felt like a ragdoll as the three of them all started to rock their cocks in and out of you, all at different rhythms and speeds. Never in your life had you felt so helpless, and never if your life had you been more turned on.

Moans and groans filled the room as Steve, Javier and Carrillo all fucked you at the same time. It almost turned into a competition on who could cum first, and who could fill you up the most. They all let out growls as they eyed each other before turning their attention back to you. Losing themselves in the moment, all three men fucked you harder and faster, all chasing their own climaxes.

And the way all three growled went a pulse of need through your entire body, making you clench around all of them.

Steve came first, letting out a loud groan that gave him away to you as he filled your mouth. “Fuck!” he grunted as he watched as you swallowed as much as you could. His hips stuttered as he grabbed your head and yanked you against his hips. You made an obscene noise around his cock as you gasped, but you couldn’t do anything to stop him. Not that you wanted to.

When he was spent, Steve pulled out of you, leaving a trail of spit and seed as the only thing to still connect you both. He watched as your mouth dropped open, taking in a deep breath of air, and his cum splattered all across your lips. You looked a mess, but fuck you looked gorgeous. Steve gently cradled your head, “Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Carrillo watched with a grin, but when you clenched around him, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He picked up his pace and he growled a mix of curses and praises. His hips slapped against your body as he lost control and after just a few more thrusts, he came hard deep inside you. You gasped as you felt him fill you up, and you moaned as a shiver ran up your spine.

Javier rocked into you even harder, determined to make you cum along with him. He felt your inner muscles clench around him, gripping his cock hard. He reached for your clit, rubbing it with just the right amount of pressure when he felt like he wasn’t going to last any longer.

It didn’t take long for Javier to get what he wanted, and you screamed as your third orgasm crashed into you. Javier kept up his pace as his own followed right behind, his groans drowned out by your cries of pleasure. He kept his pace up and long as he could until he buried his cock fully inside you with one final grunt.

All three men stayed still for a moment, catching their breaths. Carrillo and Javier stayed buried inside you, neither wanting to leave you just yet. But, Carrillo could tell you were getting sore at this angle, and he tapped Javier, indicating what you needed. Slowly, reluctantly, they both pulled out of you, causing you to gasp and whimper.

“It’s alright, querida,” Carrillo’s soothing voice comforted you.

“Are you alright?” Javier asked.

“Never fucking better,” you replied with a soft smirk once you caught your breath. You let out another sharp exhale when you felt hands all over your body once more.

“Ok, I’ll admit,” Steve interjected, “That was fucking hot… And just what I needed.”

Javier nodded in agreement as he eyes trailed up and down your figure, “You were amazing, cariño,” he purred.

“Good,” Carrillo’s tone dropped, “Because we aren’t finished here yet…”

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astudyincontrasts · 1 year

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Incubus Viktor ~ Part 2

Incubus Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW

Art by @arcanescribbles my beloved angel

Well. It only took me an entire month of work BUT here you go, my sweetly patient darlings. A continuation of this fun little drabble. Thank you all for bearing with my slow progress and for all your lovely support🖤 Enormous thank you to @insult-2-injury for helping to battle my brain goblins. ilu bb

TW: no y/n, anxiety, new relationship dynamics, how to train your incubus, sex, smut, cockwarming, edging, overstim, body worship, multiple orgasms, anal/rimming, possessiveness, breeding kink(?), attempted assault, off screen implied death

The heavy iron skeleton keys rattled against the lock as you opened the door. You’d become used to their weight, in your hand, in your pocket, clanking about in your bag. And used to the home they belonged to… that you belonged to now, as surely as those rough edged, intricately cast metal monstrosities that let you into your front door.

The landlord had seemed surprised to find you still there when he returned, unexpectedly and unannounced, to check on the place two days after you’d moved in. As shocked to see you standing there, dripping mop held like a weapon and eyes wide as your pulse hammered in your ears as you were to see him letting himself uninvited into your new home. Convinced he’d been someone picking the elderly locks to break in and claim squatter’s rights or else rob you.

He’d stayed shocked while you’d dissolved into irritation and held out your hand for the spare skeleton key he’d so conveniently chosen to keep for himself. He surrendered it without a fight, to his small credit, and as you assured him that you were perfectly happy with your lease of the house and shut the door upon him, you weren’t sure which of you were more suspicious of the other. You, wondering just how much the greasy oaf of an old man knew about the home he couldn’t seem to keep tenants in, or him, left to ponder over why or how you had made it through a single night there.

It had been several months now, and you still weren’t sure you could have honestly answered the question of why you had stayed, even to yourself.

“Moje sladká broskvička…”

The voice purred in your ear, no sooner than you had the door shut and the key turned in the lock on the inside. Broskvička, broskvička, broskvička… That reverberating, gradual manifestation of a voice that licked straight through the shell of your ear to course along the wet ripples of brain matter in its forward and back soft echo that still made your eyes struggle with the urge to flutter shut and thighs clench.

As he’d grown stronger, as you’d fed him, Viktor had gained more control over himself. No longer relegated to only appearing in the dead of night as he had been in the beginning, though he was certainly stronger, more whole after the sun had set. Not fond of brilliant, bright sunshine, and somehow less during daylight hours; that insatiable, insensible pull of him not nearly as intoxicating as it was after dusk.

Still, he seemed to like to be where you were, with you, daylight or no, and even when he wasn’t there beside you the house felt like an embrace, saturated with him and infatuated with you.

“You’re back.” He breathed over your shoulder, and you felt his face press into the soft give of your hair as the climbing, curling grasp of long clawed hands materialized around you and slid up under the front of your shirt to gently rake fine pointed nails over the small swell of your stomach as the black mist shroud that always heralded him coiled and spilled around you like tendrils of living, liquid smoke whilst he himself took shape from them.

The bags in your hands dropped as the weight of him pinned you to the door, his head laid in the crook of your shoulder, the sticky smoke soft strands of his dark hair tickling your cheek and throat.

These desperate, eager greetings had become common. Dogs were less eager to see their masters after a long day. Even though every evening you returned home from work, even though you’d never made a move to pack up your things, even though you spent most spare time fixing up and cleaning the old place, he still seemed to harbor a deep seated fear that perhaps each time you left the house that he was apparently bound to that you would not return. He never voiced this concern, but you could feel it in these greetings, in the subtle way the strange amorphously solid conundrum of his body shivered ever so slightly as he pressed to you, in the tenderness of clawed hands as they slid over your own skin, reassuring himself you had returned to him.

It was intoxicating, if you were honest, to be this desired and missed so badly, to be yearned for.

Turning in your pinion between him and the door arms lifted, hands sliding over the ephemeral texture of his skin as he gathered you to himself with a deep, quiet purring noise of immaculate pleasure that trailed out at the end of each breath in eerie, soft clicks. His kisses traced a map across your throat and jaw, to lick tenderly along the shape of your collarbone. Soft little lines of tingling fire rose from your shoulder blades and down your ribs as clawed fingertips raked gently down the span of your back to press palms hard into the small of your back, arch you toward him.

At times you thought perhaps you’d learned some resistance to that thick, honeyed drug of his seduction, that you’d somehow managed to keep your bearings and sense better as the time had passed, only to be disabused of that notion time and time again when he truly dialed up that unspeakable, heady pull of his that turned bones and willpower both to warm jelly.

No, it was Viktor who’d become better at his control, not you. As if sensitive to the quiet terror that ran like a low current under your eager submission to his power, as if he could see swimming in the back of your lust-drunk eyes the fear of that lack of self control, and so tried to keep that thrumming, beguiling narcotic effect of his in check.

He slipped at times though, too excited, too enthralled and eager and hungry for you.

Not that your appetite for him ran any different.

Whatever he was, however dark and terrifying and arcane, you wanted him. Craved him even without the influence of his seduction. Beautiful and dangerous and achingly gentle in the quiet moments, he was a creature that had infested your desire as surely as he had infested the decrepit old Victorian house.

He crooned wordlessly as your hands cradled up the angles of his face, pressing his forehead to your own with a sigh like it was the first time he’d been able to breathe since you’d left that morning. It made your heart ache a little.

“Viktor…” Voice gently chiding, ready to chase away his concern.

The knock at the door to your back cut you off, and quick as he had materialized, Viktor vanished, dark smoke dissipating into thin air, leaving behind a scent of petrichor and extinguished candles.

Spinning in surprise to gaze through the ancient leaded decorative glass panes of the door’s large window at the figure distorted behind them, you turned the key you hadn’t yet had a chance to take from the lock, and pulled the door open an inch. A toothily smiling masculine face greeted you, a good foot and half taller than yourself, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise to stand on end as thick fingers curled around the edge of your open door a few inches from your own face.

“Hullo, lovie. Name’s Barrett.”

“Hi.” Reply dry, cold and verging on impatience. The kind of tone you reserved specifically for overconfident door-to-door salesmen. Barrett seemed to take no notice.

“I been lookin for work in the neighborhood and heard a rumor this old place had been let again. I’m a bit o’ a handyman ya see. Specialty is roofing.” Dark eyes cast upward toward the inside of your obviously sagging porch roof before searching around the slice of room he could see through the barely cracked open door above your head. “I figured as I’d come introduce myself quick as I could, offer my services.”

You did not like how those dark eyes ticked up and down and over you with the same greedy calculation as they had the room behind you. Nor the way his smile spread like an oil slick across the uncomfortably unkempt looking five o'clock shadow of his face. Unable to tell if the dark smudges staining skin beneath the stubble were dirt or faded old scars under his olive complexion.

“Old place like this… sure it could use a lil tender care, hm?”

Did he just fucking wink at you?

“As you said, this place is leased. Any major repairs are the owner’s responsibility. Do go see him if it's employment you want.” Polite but firm, the only hint of rudeness in your inability to unclench your jaw.

He tutted and pushed at the door without exerting much effort at all and you were alarmed to find he easily slid you back a few inches across your carefully polished and restored glossy wooden floorboards.

“Sure you’re right. Silly of me, hm? I jus’ heard this place was occupied again an’ got excited. You don’t mind if I come in, take a look around an’ take stock of what might need doin’ so I can work up an estimate for the landlord, do ya sweetheart?”

Heels dug in as you shoved your shoulder against the door and tried to force the inexorable slow opening of it back closed against his strength.

“Yes I do mind! S-stop!”

He was laughing softly at your frantic effort, like your sudden jolt of hot fear was the silliest, funniest thing in the world, and weren’t your struggles precious?

Neither of you expected the way the door suddenly jerked and slammed shut on his fingers like it had a mind of its own.

Barrett was howling, scrambling on the other side of the door to yank his mashed fingers free, and there was a horrifying moment when all you could do was stand there and stare at those digits turning a sickly hot purple and angry red and think for sure you were about to see them fall severed onto your doormat.

No idea who was more relieved, you or him, when the door eased a fraction and he was able to wrench fingers free before it slammed shut in earnest and the key turned in the lock all on its own.

Only, you knew it was not on its own. Barrett stood on the porch, cursing and grunting and hissing breath through his gapped teeth as you stared at the distorted blob of him through the textured glass, stared at the smudge of blood where his fingers had grasped the door, and mustered your voice once more.

“No thank you! …And no soliciting!”

The sound of him spitting some kind of hateful slur like ‘bitch’ at the door was the only response, paired a short second later with the heavy sound of his footfalls thundering across the porch and down the front steps. Another moment of staring at the door before you bent to grab your groceries off the floor and headed for the kitchen, shaken but alright.

Viktor found you there once more, hands trembling as you tried to simply focus on putting the groceries away. You felt him coalesce, felt him lingering close without touching, felt his confusion at the emotion rolling off you in unhappy waves. Cheeks hot, your face burning and you couldn’t say why, why you should feel so embarrassed or upset.

“You’re angry?”

Viktor’s question came softly behind your left ear, had you grit teeth as you struggled to even out your breathing.

“No, Viktor.” Your answer took the form of a tired sigh as you closed a cabinet door a little too hard and leaned heavily upon the countertop on the heels of your palms. At least that stopped them shaking.

One hook nailed fingertip drew a lock of hair back behind your ear, the sharp of it tracing lightly along the curving, delicate shell of its shape.

“He scared you.” His rejoinder was defensive, sulky, “He meant to hurt you.”

Hurt you hurt you hurt you. You shook off the subtle draw of his voice with a small shiver, eyes closing and brows knitting tightly as you fought the urge to forget your anxiety and seek out his mouth instead.

“Mmnnh. You…you don’t know that.” You pressed back, quietly petulant, turning your face away as you clung to the anger of the entire interaction. Of the stranger who felt comfortable enough to try to let himself into your home and the spectre who felt beholden to enact a violence on your behalf that had left your stomach turning.

The vision of those purpling fingertips and the shrieking of the man behind the door would not stop haunting you.

“Yes, I do.”

Goosebumps lifted along your skin in tandem to that chilling, insistent confession of his and the soft dragging stroke of the pads of his fingers along the shape of your jaw.

“Please just, stop. I don’t… I don’t need protecting.” Railing against the pull of him, you slammed a hand down hard on the countertop, letting the sting of the slap center you, “I can take care of myself!”

There was a soft little hissing, incomprehensible sound that might have been a muffled word in that language of his you did not understand, and his touch dissipated.

Viktor was gone by the time you managed to force eyes back open and turn around sharply. Left you wondering not for the first time exactly how that mind of his worked, how he worked. Left you both regretful to have chased him off with your angry chill and grateful to be left to sort through your thoughts rationally without the clouding influence of his presence.

By later that night however, when he had not reappeared, you had begun to feel worse about your little tantrum. Viktor was not at fault for how the stranger had made you feel both vulnerable and angry all at once. He’d only done what he could to try to help.

Finishing your glass of wine, you rose and dressed, and went downstairs.

Only after getting a crackling fire going in the ornate, large fireplace and settling back against the old tufted jacquard couch did you draw a deep breath and lift your chin and watch the shifting, flickering shadows play about the room. Long and sad, stretching thin along the walls in ever changing shapes that did not exactly correspond to the furniture or items that might have cast them. Watched them lick over the floor, darken the corners and cling to the ceiling.

“Viktor?”

The shadows shifted, drew back. The air in the room stirring, brushing back against your skin like the house itself had drawn a breath into unseen lungs.

“Viktor… please?”

The shadows seemed to suck back behind you, gathering together, portent to the dark spill of slow unwinding coils of heavy smoke that pooled and poured over the back of the couch before those impossibly long, necrosed dark claws came tack tack tacking over the wooden spine of the old couch and creeping slowly over your shoulder, up to curl over the column of your throat as the tip of his nose brushed the soft of your cheek opposite.

“Forgive…?”

Forgive forgive forgive. It suckled at the back of your brain, made you arch hard against the stiff back of the couch and let your neck roll over the cold decorative wooden spine of its upper edge as his mouth pressed to your temple, your hairline. As that thick cloying, molasses sweet darkness made your mouth feel full and heavy, turned a simple exhalation into a low, lingering moan.

“Forgive me, little peach… forgive me please…?”

“Vik…hhmmn… Viktor.”

Hands sought his, tugging carefully as you forced yourself back from the edge of submission, straightened your spine as you sat up, reeling back from that delicious abyss of want as you stood unsteadily and turned to face him.

“I want you,” It came out panting, struggling to finish that thought, “To sit.”

No way to describe how he moved from stooping over behind the couch to sitting upon it, as if he passed directly through it or just… shifted, mind-bending in how he moved without moving, leaving those tendrils of dissolving darkness behind to be seated upon the couch where you had just been, the gleaming irises of hotly golden illuminated eyes cast dejectedly into his own lap under those heavy dark brows, the cupids bow of his mouth parted but downturnt as he sat, arms open along the high armrest and back of the couch, long legs sprawled indolently even in his unhappiness.

Your handsome devil could make the world spin with his sly smirk but oh, the way his pout could turn you inside out. It was unfair, that such a creature should look so vulnerable, so beholden and chastised and dispirited and yet so enticing. Unfair that you should have made him feel this way.

Hands fumbled in their tug at the hem of your modest nightgown and those shining eyes of his lifted from their downcast to watch you tug that long gown up and over your head, his dark brows rising as you tossed it aside to stand before him in nothing save the deeply plunging lace bodysuit you’d hidden beneath.

It was a dark merlot colored confection that bared your entire back and nearly as much of your front, barely a set of sheer, high cut panties with twin slashes of matching lace attached in the center of the front that rose in a vee to cover each breast and only met again where they looped behind your neck. Hands smoothed over your own hips as you stood watching his eyes widen.

Your turn to be the one smiling slyly as you closed the space between you to climb into the spread of his lap and straddle one lean thigh, watching his mouth open soundlessly as he ricocheted from his dejection to delighted surprise, as the radiance of golden eyes raked up the shape of you in undiluted desire, his dark clawed hands hovering, as if afraid to touch and be chastised once more, but unable to deny the bitter, fighting longing to have the warmth of your skin under his palms once more.

You let him suffer his uncertainty as you shaped hands to the beautiful angles of his face, stroking the sharp of cheekbones, the sculptor’s perfection of a jawline.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Skin that soft strange play of cold and heat as you pressed a kiss to the very center of his dark brows where they’d pinched together over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, I was just scared and upset.”

Another brush of a kiss to the pretty little beauty mark under an amber eye before you straightened and let your weight settle more fully upon his thigh. Releasing a soft sigh as the delicious pressure of his leg became friction with a roll of your hips.

Hands slid to rest upon his shoulders as you rocked yourself in your seat upon his leg, watching him eye you with that insatiable hunger building steadily upon those beautiful, angular features as he lifted his thigh, pressed into the roll of your hips encouragingly.

“Such things I would do for you, milovaná,” That echoing, softly pitched voice of his sounded so longing as he watched you lean closer, for once the one slightly taller than him in your seat, forcing him to tilt the sharp of his chin up, “Precious to me.”

As if still trying to explain himself and his violence. Tongue made a little tutting sound against the roof of your mouth as you shushed him, leaned forward to lip a grazing little kiss to his upper lip. Precious to him. Protective of you. It fizzed beneath your heart, warmed in your veins and joined that delicious, growing weight of the ache for him in the pit of you. Who in your life had ever treasured you so? And you’d been so callous as to scold him for it.

Determined now to make it up to him, to show him that dark place he’d made a home in your heart, to let him taste how deep your devotions ran. Sample your affection and make a feast of apology.

Slow, so slow, the sharp and careful drag of nails and fingertips came at last, down either side of your spine, ghosting over the curve of hips only to play back up the edges of the lace that barely covered the shape of your bottom, catching and toying, threatening to snag. Coy tease, lighting little ticklish licks of electric fire under skin, prickling into the softness of your flesh, urging the roll of hips forward as you rode his thigh unhurriedly.

“You… you are precious to me too.” You managed to sigh out, the marvelous friction of dampening lace against your sex making cohesive thought as slippery as his thigh was quickly becoming. It had him croon delight; both the words and the way you shuddered as the first hint of a lazy flutter teased behind your navel.

Half lidded eyes watched that curious expression of his soften into the slicking spread of a sharp toothed fox-sly smile as deviously delighted in your admission as a devil could be. Was he devil? Demonic? A terribly gentle harbinger if that was the case.

The gleaming brilliance of eyes slanted closed as your fingertips stroked his throat, as you bent close to kiss the tiny dark mole just above the edge of his mouth, and then to lick at one of the strange, small markings carved darkly into his skin. Claws closed upon the spread of your thighs straddling his own as that warm rumbling, eerie clicking purr of his kicked up once more while your mouth strayed along his throat, down across his collarbone.

For as much as he delighted in unraveling you, it was those small moments when you could return his affections, show him softness and offer caress that seemed to undo him the greatest. Made you feel heady with power any time his head rocked back, or his grip upon his mischievous composure slipped. He was scrabbling, clawing for it now, struggling as you sucked soft, deep purple marks across his skin while your hand slipped down between his lean thighs and the ghosting, dark fog he often ‘clothed’ himself with dissipated at your touch.

Always hard for you, always eager and ready waiting.

Viktor’s chest was stuttering, heaving shallow quick breaths as you slid forward, thumbed aside the gusset of lingerie and straddled him in earnest, hooking ankles back over the tops of his thighs with the bend of your legs. All the better leverage as you pressed the thick, dark length of his cock to the part of your pussy. Let him savor that heat he so desired as you bobbed, slicking your wet along him in slow grinding lifts.

“...Beloved,” His voice, the words seemed to coalesce out of the air itself, drawn from somewhere far more distant than the lean column of his throat. The fire at your back guttered then roared, flames fed on more than the coals beneath them. Instead of more reassurances or sweet pleading, the terrible dark beauty of his mouth was left hanging open while the gleam of eyes shuttered behind taut closed lids.

About time he was the one struggling with his words instead of you. The power of it was delicious, had you lifting to settle over top of him, to let him press to your entrance invitingly. Let him feel how you dripped for him, savor that heat, so close…

Hands clenched upon your hips, their long fingered grasp nearly enough to span and touch at the small of your back, thumbs pressing a slow, circular caress, urging, trying to ease you down upon him. Ah but you were determined, wanted him ravenous, wanted to push that envelope as far as possible and see what it bought you. It was in your nature, you were coming to realize; that insatiable dance toward dangers you could not fathom. The girl who wanted the haunted house, the girl who stayed. The girl madly infatuated with the monster in the shadows under her bed.

“Mmn, impatient…” You panted, breath sticky in your throat, filling lungs like water as instead you lifted from over him and sat back once more, hands smoothing along the lean ripple of his stomach, catching a grip at narrow hips and then sliding inward. “Don’t I get to…mmnh… don’t I get to please you?”

“Moje malá broskvička, you always please m… ahhn!”

That seductive tenor of his voice dropped off sharply as your hands curled grip around the thick girth of his cock. Stiff and heavy in your hands, the same otherworldly deep ashen blue and bruised purple as the rest of him, deepening to that inky black at its smooth head. Fingers licked over it, tightening grip as he twitched in your hands and you stroked slow, let one thumb trace the throbbing ridged rise of thick vein that ran from base nearly to tip, watched him slyly as bright eyes slanted open and his dark head lifted.

Toying at the sensitive give of frenulum, you watched his hips rock, rise under you. Watched that dark smooth, thick bell curve head positively drool pearlescent, sticky drips of precum.

That desiccated third arm of his unfolded from behind him to rise up, grasp at the back of the couch hard enough you could hear the wood of it groan and the jacquard puncture under sharp claws. As he had grown stronger the spectre of that strange additional limb had weakened, faded away, until now it only made itself known in the heights of his hunger or depths of his depravity.

It was nearly violent, how suddenly Viktor canted forward, and you so eager to meet his mouth with yours it became more collision than kiss. He was hot against your mouth, eager in your hands. So easy to lose yourself in him, in how the taste of him filled your mouth, made it water for more, made your tongue burn with a soft fire and the back of your throat thicken.

It was a struggle to draw out the tease, to take your time as you toyed with him, drunk on the air around him, lost in that heavy, cloying lust that thickened blood in your veins and made each motion a slow struggle. You smiled sleepily down at him as you rose to take a straddle of him for the second time that night.

This time, however, you let him in.

Painfully sweet, that delicious slow stretch. Your moans soft things under the echoing deep of his long groan as you worked yourself unhurriedly down upon the straining heat of the curve of his cock, the slow gripping, slick clench of inner walls easing inch by inch to give the thick of him quarter. Oh, so full, so deep when at last you were seated completely, hips just barely rolling a fraction every so often as you railed against the clenching, burning, insistent need to feel him move within, to ride him until your legs gave out and mind broke. Free of every little care save the hot spill of him inside you, wiping away the world and leaving just his embrace. Not yet, not yet.

Under you lean hips lifted, fought the obvious urge to fuck up into you with the straining impatience that you move, already. But still you sat, smiling near drunkenly as you squeezed around him, gasping at the hard little twitch you could feel within that inner grasp, gazing into the narrowed fire of golden eyes before you, reveling in how you could feel his ache, his need singing in the silence strung between you, ready to snap as easily as a strand of saliva caught between mouths after a kiss.

The entrancing shape of Viktor’s mouth curled at one edge as the dawning realization of what you were doing seemed to break over him and he channeled all that hot desire to hammer up into you instead into pitching forward once more to press his face to the bare slash of your sternum.

Arms folded around his head and shoulders in a loose embrace, cheek coming to rest upon the strange soft of his dark hair as you held him, felt him mumble sweetly against your flesh as his own arms finally enfolded you fully, clawed hands shaped dark wings to the planes of your bare shoulder blades. So delicious, to just sit there, full of him, surrounded by him, warm want seeping through veins and skin, soft fire burning flush under cheeks and hot up throat and scalp as you luxuriated in the lapping, licking waves of the building tide of lust rising with every second you refused to stir to motion. Just holding him within and relishing that intense, unspeakable feeling of completion he always offered so eagerly.

It was a sensation that had haunted your waking hours and sleep alike, had you eager to race home at the end of each day, frequently distracted you from your work. How wanting him infiltrated every innocent thought any more, every quiet moment. Had you squirming in your chair at work, pressing thighs together and struggling to keep the small of your back from arching at the sweet, intrusive fantasy of him under you, in you, of just sitting upon him, struggling to focus on what you needed to do as he whispered adoring filth in your ear.

No way to tell him, to find the courage to give voice to those dirty little thoughts… but you could show him.

Viktor’s head tilted and you loosened arms to allow him to gaze up along you, the sharp of his chin still pressed to your sternum and eyes shyly half-lidded as if seeking approval, agreement. It had you smile once more, that so terrifying a creature could be so deeply infatuated with you as to seem wound around your little finger. It was a heady rush, a sweet spice to the illicit thrill of allowing this unearthly monster between your thighs; to let him into your very heart.

And how could you not, with how softly his mouth closed over your own as you tugged him up to catch a lingering kiss from him? With that electric tingling deliciousness of his tongue and its seductive late summer taste of tart crisp apple and bloody, earthy sage, of dripping honeycomb and the briny bite of salt tears.

You kissed him slow and deep, savoring, taking all the time in the world, fingers ghosting along the sharp, long line of his jaw until his arms began to loosen and long fingered hands strayed down along ribs toward the nearly bare curve of your bottom while his tongue painted a wandering, lingering wet lick down the offering of your throat.

You meant to make him stop, but devoid of the distraction of your mouth under his own he went licking at the dark, wine colored lace of that lingerie, tonguing slowly over the pressing peak of one nipple through the thin fabric before nosing the teasing slash of lace aside to close lips over the sensitive sweet bud.

Slow, slow suckle and release, over and over until you were shivering, aching, dragging your own nails down the nape of his elegant neck as the tip of that impossible tongue of his wrapped and spiraled round the singing burn of your flushed nipple, tickling and teasing its stiffness as you moaned long and shudderingly low for him, warmth blossoming, spilling within in slow rivulets.

“W-wait…wait…”

“Wait? Why wait, delicious one?” He murmured, releasing you from his mouth with an obscenely wet little pop that had the depths of your belly clench, had the hot throbbing at your core tighten around him invitingly. He was already headed to uncover the neglected hard nubbed and eager little twin to your hotly colored and glistening wet nipple.

One dark hand slid down between you both, thumb seeking the spread of your sex, unerringly brushing featherlight tease along the swollen ache of your clit, a ghosting caress that had your entire body convulse hard in a gasping little mewl. Calling your bluff, raising the stakes.

“You make me wait. Wait years for you, and now wait all day. Make me worried, so cruel. Little tease.”

Delightful to hear him growl softly at being so denied, no heat in the lovely reverberating, eerie echoing noise of it, only determined frustration and seeping want.

“Wait,” You still insisted breathlessly, writhing over him as his hips dipped only to grind the hard hot length of him up into you, threatening to undo you, threatening to loose that slipping hold he had on his own straining yearning.

Hands pressed to his chest as you struggled to stay still, struggled against the way hips disobeyed you with each new, barely there pass of his thumb grazing your clit. Met resistance as he struggled against that base urge, that all consuming drive, until at last you could feel the shift of him once more mastering that ravenous hunger, feel him give and let you push him back, push him down to sink indolently back in his seat upon the couch.

Gleaming amber eyes gazed up at you tormentingly as that thumb of his began a taut little circle that had you sinking teeth into the plush of your own lower lip, stifling and strangling the breathless whines building up in the back of your throat as you shivered in his lap. His laughter a hissed sibilance, dark and rich as chocolate, soft as satin, licking into your ears as you fought and lost the battle against that first delectable orgasm, head thrown back as the tether snapped and you came undone over him, clenching rush wringing tight at your belly, deep in your core and coursing outward in one pummeling tidal crush of wonderful heat.

“Ahh…there, little peach…” He soothed as he rocked hips beneath the burning complaint of your tensed thighs and bent knees, offering you just a little taste of what you might have if only you’d move for him, give in to the growing urge to ride him to your own destruction. “Isn’t that better? Ah, moje milovaná how you drip for me. Give up, delicious one. I always win your games…”

One hard little buck of his hips drove him up into you as if to make his point for him, leaving you gasping, air whistling soundlessly out of the open oh of your mouth as you clung both to him and the shredding, unraveling rope of your willpower.

Games, yes. You liked playing little games with him, didn’t you? His teasing rocked you backward into a memory of months ago, when you’d been struggling with much needed work to the house and he’d been insistently nipping at your heels, tormenting you with little touches and whispers, pulling you distractingly from the task at hand until you’d given up in an amused huff.

“You want to play, hm?” You’d asked to the empty air, not nearly so bold as you managed to sound, fighting how badly you’d wanted to just strip off paint stained and dust covered work clothes and let him settle between your thighs right there on the dropcloth covered floor.

A stirring in shadows of one dark corner caught your attention as it spilled and spread, gathered and rose to a crouched inky shape undefined save for the features of his face illuminated by the twin lanterns of those brilliant eyes.

Your devil looked stunned, momentarily shocked before those sharp teeth all bared in a gleaming, lopsided curl of a smirk as he came shifting forward, lean shoulders and sharp shoulder blades hunched like a large cat as claws dug into the floor, audibly prickling the fabric of messy dropcloths strewn about. Coiled to spring.

Your own smile spread, grew sprawling until you let out a shriek and turned to sprint off into the house.

There was no sound of footfalls behind you, no huffing breath to match your own as you had skidded through the halls. No quarter to hide here, no place he could not find you, there was only flight and the silent chase from the shadows you could feel stretching out toward you, reaching ephemeral fingers, grasping in your wake.

He got you first in the dining room, massive old unused space bare save for the ancestral table that stretched the length of it. He caught you from behind the door, surging forward in a dark rush of smoke and shade, had you pitching backward onto the table as that pretty face of his shoved hungrily between your thighs, breath cool over the fabric of the pants you wore, the slow dragging swirl of his tongue luxuriating over the denim hiding velvet softness of an inner thigh from his taste and up, inward to lap at the crux of thighs as if even through pants he could taste sodden cotton barely covering glossed lips. You arched in spite of yourself as he pushed the full force of his face hard between your legs.

Only when he paused to moan quietly at the scent of you did you find your moment, shimmied backward over the table to drop off the other side and forced weak-kneed legs to work, to keep up that chase.

Peels of your laughter echoed through the dark halls as you fled, his own deeper in its wake, that otherworldly back and forth reverberation impossible to source, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Up the taut spiral of stairs you went, through the upstairs rooms only to have him catch you as you tried to escape back downstairs via another winding stairwell, shooting out of the dark to press you face first to the wall as he ground into you, weight pinning you to the wallpaper as he slid a hand between you and the wainscoting to slip fingers down within the waistband of pants, stroking, petting, caressing as you rolled against him, panting. The pinch of his teeth catching at the curve of your shoulder.

“Don’t run, little peach.” He was whispering against your skin, teasing clit through cotton in a way that had you bucking, fruitlessly fighting that delectable pull of how well he’d come to know you, how well he could get you. Teasing tight little circles and metronome rubs against sodden panties and in another minute the coiling, tensing, building weight behind your navel was at the tipping point.

“Ah, ahn, ahhhn…Viktor…”

“Nowhere I can’t find you, milovaná. Say I win, let me feast.” Mouth against your ear, teeth tugging soft at the tender shell. Eyes fought to roll back in your head, but you managed to somehow squeeze out from between him and the wall to nearly tumble down the stairs and spill out into the kitchen.

The door to the basement stood dark and silent against the far wall, and without a second thought you fled for it.

“No!”

Suddenly Viktor was before you in less time than it took to blink, barring the door, back to it and arms spread. Handsome features no longer twisted in delight at your new game, but rather stark in deadly seriousness and… terror?

“Viktor,” It had thrown you, pitched you straight into scolding, as if he were a child, “It’s just a basement.”

You’d been down there before, with the landlord, on the day you agreed to the lease. Nothing bad down there, just dust and piles of old junk from previous owners. Nothing to warrant a reaction like this. Especially from a creature so fearless, so impervious as your sweet devil.

Still, he caught your wrist as you reached insistently for the doorknob, grasp tight around fine bones as he shook his head in mute pleading, the brilliance of eyes widening further.

“No!”

His fear, because that had to be what it was -fear- softened you. And while you tucked that dangerous spike of curiosity away for another time, you could not deny that it was there. One more little mystery about him, one more secret he wouldn’t or couldn’t speak.

“Okay, it’s okay…” The course of your stopped hand in his grip turned, lifted, rose to cup the hollow of one bruise-blue cheek as you lifted on tiptoes to brush the soothing invitation of a kiss to his lips.

“Promise.”

Promise promise promise. It pulled insistently at you, had you rock backward, down onto bare heels as you struggled against the tug of its tide, nodding soundlessly, unaware you were moving, being drawn along by him until you felt the rumbling hum of pleasure emanating from his chest under the splay of your hands. Felt the sweet burn of legs bent too long ease with your rocking.

Viktor’s hand had strayed up, caught a tender grasp of your throat and jaw as your hips had begun to roll, to offer him and you both a bare fraction of sweet movement. One gentle hook clawed fingertip traced tenderly over the give of the edge of your mouth and soft of your cheek with his grasp. His other stayed firm in its grip of your upper thigh, thumb picking up its encouraging little rubs again to your now hypersensitive and slicked little clit.

“Do you give up, little peach?” He was murmuring invitingly, the tone of that slithering, seductive voice insidiously knowing, well aware you’d already teetered across your tipping point. His thumb pressing his point as the tickle of his nail dragged slow across that hot little bundle of nerves, making you tense and struggle not to writhe, struggle to swallow a pleading little whimper of a noise you knew he could feel beneath the palm he had cupped to the column of your throat.

All the answer he required.

Hands fell away, and then the delicious stretched feeling of him within you was gone, as gone as the body beneath your straddle was. Only to have arms enfold you from behind, to be lifted, moved, weightless until you felt the warmth of the fireplace licking at your face, felt the soft itch of the ancient oriental carpet beneath your bare skin. On your stomach and no recollection of how you got there, Viktor caged over you, on his knees, dark head dipping as his face came pushing, shoved into the bare expanse of skin between the space of shoulder blades.

One elegantly long clawed hand caged the nape of your neck, kept you pinned as your own arms folded up alongside your head where Viktor kept you shoved to the floor, fingers digging into the old fibres of the carpet as he lavished you, mouth making a slow map of bare skin, lifting goosebumps as lips grazed, teeth pinched tenderly, as the sweet damp of his tongue tasted and toyed along the hollow trench of your spine.

This was worship, this was holy. Here in the dark, flickering flames lighting orange, dancing behind closed eyelids as you succumbed, welcomed that tender monster to make a meal of you any way he wished. Managing to get knees under you one by one, you pressed hips up, pushed the invitation of backside up against the beast caging you in, and felt the desiccated dry grip of that third arm come grabbing, gripping tightly at the plush curve of your bottom.

Slowly, unhurriedly, your lovely devil made his way down the expanse of your back, the grip of his hand leaving the nape of your neck as both hands instead took a grasp of the backs of your thighs taut enough to dent and dimple the yielding give of tender, generous flesh. That terrifying third hand slid from its own grip, dry scrape of nails raising little lines of hot fire where they scraped across skin. It caught the lace that barely covered the cleft of your bottom, grabbed hold and dragged the scant remaining protection of it aside, leaving you fully bare to the humid wash of Viktor’s breath.

Hips pressed up mindlessly, your train of thought long gone off the rails as you sank into the delicious release of inhibition, worry or shame, enveloped in the intoxicant of your sweet devil and unconscious to all save the cloyingly sweet sensations of his caress.

You could have luxuriated in it forever, floated lost within it… right up until his hands slid upward, shaped to the pretty curve of your ass, thumbs pressed to the crease where thighs and bottom met, and prised cheeks apart. The sudden wash of vulnerability had your stomach flip, had your lungs sucking a sharp breath as you felt the sinking grip of his teeth mark the inner, tender curve of one cheek, heard him murmur delight at the soft squeak it earned him.

Oh but then, then came that endless, dragging tease of his tongue. Warm and soft as it traced down that exposed cleft, rolling and slowly roiling in its wet warmth as it passed and pressed against the puckered give of your asshole. It had you gasp, had every line of you tense and shiver as he licked, toyed against that tautness.

“Would you give me this, little one?” He teased in obvious eagerness, either oblivious to your mortification or else delighting in it, “Let me have every inch of you, every sweet part?”

Heat flooded cheeks to rival that rolling off the licking flames of the fireplace you lay before, and protest died small deaths on your lips, mumbled into nothings as his tongue pressed, licked and pushed at you.

This was not a liberty you’d ever offered anyone, and not one of your former partners had ever even asked. It had your jaw clenching, teeth whining in their crush and grit together as he strayed lower, slicked along and slowly licked across your entrance to gather the dripping wet left behind from the first release he’d so sweetly offered you. Ah but that relief did not last long, not with how he strayed back up, redolent with your own heat and lubrication, to slowly, slowly slide that tongue of his within the gradual, easing give of your ass.

“Don- don’t… ah!!”

Foreign, filthy, incredibly vulnerable and above all intensely arousing, you squirmed on your knees before him. Panting, gasping each time he withdrew only to press in further, you were dying by inches, aching below where his attentions had focused, clenching hungrily around nothing as his tongue pressed more and more deeply into you. Electrifying and confusing, it had you keening quietly with each coiling slow, slippery thrust.

You wanted to demure, wanted to beg him to stop, to not… but oh.

Hot wet curling, licking pressure deep within had you moaning soft encouragement instead, had you digging fingernails into the carpet and pressing back against him. Debased and uncaring, drunk on him, for him. Begging him to do whatever he wished, however he wished, as you felt your tightness open, yield and give to the thick glistening push of his tongue.

Beneath you rough carpet teased ticklishly at the sensitive, achingly proud points of stiff nipples, the scant lace of that bodysuit long since gone awry to leave both breasts mashed bare to the floor as you writhed and rocked face down on your knees, positively oozing down your thighs for him as he ignored the eager enticement of your hungry sex in favor of tormenting you in this mortifying, gloriously debauched new way.

Horror and delight mingled until you could not untangle one from the other, until you were pleading his name, practically shouting it between stuttered, strangled moans. But he would not stop, not until bones had nearly gone to water and you were scrabbling at the carpet beneath you, hovering interminably on the verge of cumming around nothing at all. Until it would have taken just a breath of his blown over the throbbing want of your clit to send you over, or even the merciful press of a single finger within you to give you something, anything else to end this wonderful, mind-melting agony.

Only then did you feel him withdraw, and let your entire body go limp, bottom still ignominiously in the air, huffing breath and groaning softly at denial of your own release.

Not for long.

Arms came gathering, lifting. Easing you onto your side. Head found a pillow against the bend of his arm as Viktor curled himself along the back of you. Warmth at your back as inviting as the heat from the fireplace was at your front, rolling licking flames washing in soft lapping waves as you melted back against Viktor with a begging little hum.

No need.

Gathered close, he nuzzled into the spill of your hair, pressed his mouth to the ticklish little nook behind one ear. Over hip and thigh his free hand came stroking a soothing little caress before gripping, raising your top leg, prickling of claws under the crook of your bent knee.

Just enough to give him space to slot himself home once again.

There had been many times, since that first night, when he’d taken you so hard you felt sure he’d break you in half. When he’d left you so fucked out and wonderfully bruised in his hungry and enthusiastic hedonism that even standing the following day was a sweetly painful reminder of just how thoroughly he’d made you his own. You craved it, if you were being honest, reveled in the times he lost all control and the whole world dialed down to the raw need you each felt. No art or grace in it, nothing but a mindless drive to be as deeply, viciously connected as two desperate creatures could get.

This, however, was not one of those times.

No, this was slow, the way he pressed and slid teasingly between your thighs, cock slicking along wet folds as you could feel your entrance clench with each slow thrusting pass that failed to fill you, that slid right by. That cruelly adoring monster nuzzling kisses to the rising curve of your shoulder not satisfied until your hips were rocking, bucking, trying anything to have him inside you once more.

Only after you’d practically come to tears with denial did that terrible, beautiful creature of yours finally relent, pressing, easing at the throb of your entrance. No words for that delicious, hard ridged way the head of his cock spread you as he sank into you unhurriedly, had eyes rolling back in your head as you tensed outward like a strung bow from crown to the small of your back. Lids shut tight, blotting out all the world save for him, the heat of him spreading, filling, finally.

“Are we done playing, beloved…?”

That silken, beguiling echo came slipping into your ear in all its undoing glory, ruining consciousness, leaving nothing but sodden, heavy want in its wake. His third hand slid over your side, cupped up the softness of a breast as you shuddered at the horrifying sandpaper and twig feel of clawed finger and thumb pinching one tender nipple, prickling at singing skin with a twisting little tease that thrilled through you in peals of painful pleasure.

“Yes…yes!” You choked on it, near drooling, tears leaking from the tight clench of shut eyes to run hotly over the bridge of nose and drip onto the pillow made of his folded arm.

Tender, slow. Utterly unhurried in how he took you, hips rolling with a small snap at each end as you wormed and pressed to him, letting you suffer sweetly for your sins as he fucked you slow as he liked, reveling in your undoing as the stringing bliss of each slow built orgasm came one by one by one. Until you were little more than a shivering mess, core trembling and hands gone to weak shaking as he fucked you lovingly through each little ruination, letting you milk at him with each frantic little release, giving you no rest as he rocked into you, kept you keening softly to accompaniment with the deliciously obscene wet sound of your coupling.

Enthralling, every time, the way he felt both too much and not enough all at once. How he turned you into a base and greedy little thing, like beneath it all you were just that yearning, just your hunger and desire and nothing else. Distilled down to his.

The focus of each lewd, unraveling little thought; the way he dragged against you within, the way he pressed almost painfully at the zenith of every thrust against cervix, how the deafening pulse of your own blood in your ears sang his name, ran hot and thick in a soft choral thrumming just for him.

Yours, your own. Your making and undoing. The dark stain of your soul and shadowed hollows of every chamber of your heart.

Your beautiful, exquisite horror.

One hand had lifted, reached back to grab a fistfull of his hair, had him laughing softly as he suckled and bit at the red flushed curve of your ear. It felt like hours, like ages, before he finally shoved his face hard into the hollow of throat and shoulder, until he succumbed, growling softly punctuated with quiet clicking, eerie delight as hips lost their gentle rhythm, became almost slovenly frantic in their last few thrusts before he buried himself deep in one final hard drive.

Impossible to ever become used to that sensation; to the unspeakable lush heat of his release spilling out as it overfilled you, at the sweet little swell within and tautly obscene stretch you could literally feel. To the elation, the searing fire of the commingled slurry of yearning and satisfaction that quadrupled as he came within you, the way it kindled every last ounce of you, inundating and overwhelming, wiping away everything save that writhing, wringing, blinding ecstasy that spun out slow deaths in trailing, pinwheeling sparks coursing out the length of limbs, simmering to nothingness at the tips of clenched fingers and curled toes.

He was speaking, but you could not make out the words, drowning as you were, slipping into the dark, warm waters as oblivion folded around you, the incomprehensible tenor of his voice trailing after you into the welcoming maw of unconsciousness.

No idea what time it was when wakefulness found you again.

The confusion of disorientation reached you first. No fire, no rough old carpet or hard floor under your skin. The sensation of warm, soft sheets and the give of mattress, the scent of your own pillow under your cheek flooded in slowly. Your own bed. Freed of the tickle of lace or constriction of lingerie, skin bare and smoothly clean, save for a slight lingering stickiness between the sweet throb of gently swollen, used folds.

The darkness of the bedroom was absolute, the silence heavy. At your back was a soundless rumble, and the lovely circle of long limbs tangled around you had you smile sleepily as you sank back into relaxation, fingertips tracing over the open sprawled palm of one elegant hand, up along forearm in a caress that had Viktor stirring at your back, unfitting himself until you could roll onto your back and he could settle over you, the weight of him pinning you gently to the mattress. Head tilted back into the pillow to allow the lazy trail of kisses down the offering of your throat.

The delicious warmth of blankets left you as Viktor reared up, soft glow of golden eyes opening in the dark as he began to sink back down, between the spread of thighs that opened for him in silent invitation.

Somewhere down below in the dark of the house came the soft tinkling of shattering glass.

Viktor was caged back over you in a heartbeat, before you’d even half registered the noise from the depths of the house below you. The torpor of sleep fled sharply as his clawed grip scooped under you possessively, as the air in the bedroom grew thick, chill and viscerally rife with brittle rage.

“Viktor?” Sleep-thick voice strained a whisper.

“Sssshh.” The hushing noise escaped him, not soothing nor calming, but like the escape of steam between sharp teeth. “Stay here. Hide.”

“What?!” Heart hammered hard against the cage of ribs as your hands tightened their grip upon his shoulders, fear sharpening the edge of confusion to a knifepoint.

“Do not leave this room.” The hateful focus of brilliant eyes upon the closed door of the room shifted, dragged attention back to the bewilderment of your features. Felt the backs of his fingers graze your cheeks before hands took a firm hold.

“Listen to me, sweet one. Stay. Hide… Now.”

And the next instant he was gone.

You could hear heavy footfalls on the stairs, and an unfamiliar familiar voice calling, too muffled to distinguish individual words. Still, it struck you to action, obeying the simple directions Viktor had left you with. No closets, no room in the large bureau either. No time to make it to the bathroom and nowhere in there to really hide either. Up off the bed, dragging the comforter along, you wrapped up in it and dove beneath the bed to tuck up in a huddle, pressed shivering to one corner near the wall, praying to be mistaken for a pile of discarded bedclothes should the owner of that voice make his way into the room.

“Lovie…? Where you at little lovie?” That voice, clearer now in the hallway, coming closer. “Come on out, sweetheart. I just wanna talk. Really did a number on the ol’ hand earlier. Think you could make it up to me? Ya know a man works with his hands…how am I s’posed to…”

Even under the suffocating swaddling of the comforter the sudden, oppressive darkness flooded in, black upon black, blotting out any semblance of light and squeezing air from lungs like the slow wringing twist of a wet cloth.

Out in the hall the footsteps had stopped.

“What… what the fu-”

There was a scrabbling, a scrambling, a sound of frantic, blind fear followed by the deafening rush of wind and wings and a thousand gaping, gasping maws sucking all remnants of air left behind, starving sharp teeth clacking in a cacophony ivory chorus.

And then the screaming began.

Once, when you were little, you’d seen a rabbit chased by a cat. You’d watched the brown streak of it with the orange tabby hot on its tail, and a second later when they were out of sight you’d heard the shrill scream of the rabbit. The terrified pitch of it ear-splitting in its intensity with a primal, gripping panic that verged on the most intrinsic of fear made audible.

Not since that unfortunate rabbit had you witnessed a sound so alarming, so horrified; the noise of a creature come face to face with its death and begging that it were not so.

No matter how tightly you shoved the soft thickness of the comforter to your ears, no matter how hard your hands pressed the cotton batting fabric of it over either side of your head, nothing could blot out that revolting, blood chilling sound.

Time ground to a halt. It was still ringing in your ears, still as shattering and sickening as when it started. Was it coming from you, or around you? Where did you begin and the sound end? And huddled, shivering, horrified in your dark little bundle of blankets, jammed as far up under the bed as you could get, you waited, shoulder and hip bone and elbows aching against the press of the hard floor.

A hand closed on your ankle, grip tight, and pulled.

Only then did the spell break, did you realize the sounds had stopped as your own terrified shriek burst from your throat. Hands scabbling hot panic as you were dragged from beneath the bed.

“Malá broskvička, sshhh… shhh…”

No one there but Viktor, crouched long limbed beside the bed, unwrapping you hurriedly from the bundle of blankets, cradling you up, hands soothing, calming, cupping your face, drawing you in, smoothing tenderly along arms and back, cradling the nape of your neck as you pitched forward into his arms, clinging tightly, trying to quell the shaking of your own limbs with how tight you gripped him. Heart a jackhammer in your chest, like that terrified rabbit of memory had got caught beneath your ribs and was frantically trying to kick itself free.

“Viktor! What…what happened, what was that?!”

He would not answer for a long time, simply gathering you to him, cooing wordlessly or else in that language you did not understand. Smoothing your hair, kissing and thumbing away hot tracks of tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed. Until the pair of you lay upon the floor, in the crumpled mess of comforter and your panic had subsided into a bone-tired exhaustion and the knotted fear in your stomach faded to a vague nausea, until the tension had eased to a dull ache behind your eyes.

“Viktor?” You pressed again, cuddled close, fingertips trembling in little aftershocks as you touched his chin, traced the shape of his mouth. Whatever had happened had pulled the curtains from the windows, left them hanging in tattered shreds so that the silver moonlight streamed in, offering a thin, blue cast illumination to the shape of the beautiful horror cradled up against you.

“He meant to hurt you.” He murmured. “I told you.”

Told you told you told you. Blood drained from your face as you watched a sad little smile turn one edge of Viktor’s mouth under your fingers. Tried to shove aside and silence the thoughts that flooded in of what might have happened, had you been alone, truly alone in that great house.

“I will never let anyone harm you, my sweet one.”

The words were darkly reassuring, dripping horrifying promise as he turned his face from under your touch to press a kiss cool as the first frost to your forehead. One clawed hand slid from its gentle grip of your hip to span the slight swell of your lower stomach and your frantic heart stopped dead in your chest, world pitching violently on its axis at his next words.

“...Either of you.”

#viktor x reader #incubus viktor #monster viktor #viktor arcane #viktor fic #arcane fic #viktor au #arcane au #viktorxreader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor #mdni

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 9 months

Text

A very devilish angel

A/N: A demon and an angel are in love and while that could be embarrassing for the demon, he would definitely not let it stop him from making plans for their future (in secret of course, though keeping it secret from tickling angels could be pretty hard.) Just floofy fluff floof and a pinch of feely schmeelies, pardon me.

It hadn’t been long that they’d been together. Officially together.

And Crowley just couldn’t stop blushing.

Every time Aziraphale did something even remotely romantic, he froze, his eyes widening in disbelief and his voice leaving him hanging as he turned speechless.

The worst part was that Aziraphale seemed to find this incredibly endearing. His lips tended to quirk into that very specific, charming, almost sympathetic smile and his eyes glazed over with a warm playfulness, a soft infatuation with Crowley’s reaction.

Crowley could swear that, had Aziraphale installed any fire alarms in the bookshop, they’d be going off all the time from the hot, embarrassed steam the demon produced at any instance Aziraphale gave him that specific look, often accompanied by a gentle chuckle.

From what Crowley could tell, his behaviour did nothing but inspire Aziraphale to turn increasingly more affectionate. His blushing never seemed to come to a halt anymore as the angel came up with all sorts of gentle gestures and fond phrases to make his insides melt.

He’d feel his lips quiver when two perfectly manicured hands smoothed out the fabric of his shirt, making his chest feel warm in the touched places and his cheeks even warmer. “You look absolutely gorgeous today, my love.” The angel would say as he’d lean in to place a kiss on Crowley’s 100 degree face. Turning boneless, Crowley would make an awkward little step to the side, snarling and hissing – even though Aziraphale argued that he was in fact purring – before pushing himself past his lover to act like nothing was the matter.

Crowley had reacted the same way when Aziraphale had kissed the back of his hand for the first time, or whenever he took off his glasses to look fondly into his snake eyes before kissing him on the lips, or when Aziraphale had had the audacity to put an arm around his middle while he had been busy skimming through the pages of a book, complaining about the general concept of dusty imprinted, tree-skeletons. He’d almost jumped out of his own vessel then, dropping the book in question – that Aziraphale had then caught effortlessly – and zipping it almost instantly.

“You were saying?” Aziraphale had asked smugly, putting his chin on Crowley’s shoulder and beaming up at his deeply flushed face.

Yes, his angel had figured him out quite well. And Crowley was loving it deeply. To not be but a riddle to which Aziraphale knew all the answers was one of the most comforting experiences of Crowley’s existence. Nevertheless, the effortlessness of his angel’s reactions to him never seized to surprise him, to leave him breathless, weak in the knees, all wibbly-wobbly inside. And that could at times be a little frustrating for him.

Currently, Crowley was busy turning a map around in his hands, seated on one of Aziraphale’s larger sofas. With furrowed brows, he was trying to figure out where exactly he’d have to go to reach the coast, something the two of them had been talking about a lot in recent times. His angel had been busy preparing tea and was minutely returning, a silver tray with clinking cups in his hands, his reassuring angel-voice humming sweetly. Crowley’s neck was tingling comfortably at the noise.

“Oooh, a maaap!” Aziraphale exclaimed excitedly as he settled down next to the demon on his couch, placing the tray upon the table in front of them

“Don’t call it a maaap!” Crowley groaned, sending him a reprimanding glance over the brim of his dark glasses.

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale answered with a small lift of his eyebrow, making Crowley’s heart jump a little.

“Yes, you did!” He insisted, before lifting the map in a way that made Aziraphale’s face disappear from view. Aziraphale’s presence made him so tense that he lifted his shoulders to his ears without even noticing it.

Aziraphale was chuckling softly, taking a sip of his tea, before sticking his nose over the top of the map, glancing down at what Crowley was looking at.

“What are you doing?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the angel and sniffed in an unbothered way, as if nothing of interest was currently happening. “Looking. At a map.”

“Yes, but whatever for?” Aziraphale’s eyes were smiling now and Crowley’s shoulders shot up a little higher.

“Nothing you must know about right now.”

Aziraphale, that terribly sweet angel, pushed his head past the crook in Crowley’s arm, his face ending up rather close to the demon’s and rather past the map in question. “Are you planning something?”

Crowley blinked at him, mouth agape, a tender blush creeping over the bridge of his nose. “Y-you will find out s-soon enough!” Quickly, he tried to look away from the angel, gulping. But Aziraphale had other plans. Chuckling gently, he pushed the map down and leaned in even closer to Crowley than before.

“I like it when you make secret plans. I wonder for how long you’ll be able to keep them from me, though.”

Crowley blushed a deep red when Aziraphale went to push him down into the cushions, his warm hand on his collarbone, his familiar, beloved vessel weighing him deeper down into the sofa. He felt his lips quiver as the angel’s nose touched his own, one of Aziraphale’s hands moving away from their propped up position next to his ears to remove his glasses. Bright blue eyes were gently looking into his own.

“Are you trying to bribe me, angel?” He asked, covering up his shyness by raising his eyebrows at the other playfully, an excited turmoil raging in his stomach. Aziraphale had him trapped on the sofa now, his left arm on the demon’s chest, his right one extended to place the glasses on the table next to him.

“You know, I have methods to get you to speak…” A mischievous glance sprang to the angel’s eyes as he started to wiggle the fingers of his now free right hand around.

“Now, wait a minute!” Crowley gasped, sobering up a little, seeing what he had done with his mindlessly uttered remark. “You cannot do this, I- I am the demon! Y-you are an angel, you’re supposed t-to spare people, for whoever’s sake!”

For Crowley’s taste, the angel was enjoying his insignificant attempts at wiggling out from underneath his stylishly dressed ‘boyfriend’ far too much. Blue eyes were sparkling with joy as demonic hands came up to protect a rather defenceless upper body.

“Do you hear me, angel?? People. Angels. Sparing!” Crowley repeated a little more hysterical when Aziraphale’s hand started to get closer to his body. It was embarrassing really how his voice went up the second Aziraphale’s threatening hand moved slightly faster towards him.

The angel was having a great time, evidently, laughing at Crowley’s demise. It didn’t really help with Crowley’s general embarrassment and fidgeting and melting and not-actually-trying-to-get-away. Apparently, he was too soft to spoil Aziraphale’s fun. (And maybe he also did enjoy it a little, when Aziraphale teased him like this.)

Sympathetically the angel tilted his head to the side, before saying: “Oh, Crowley, you’re not people.”

After that, Crowley was nothing at all anymore really – nothing but a bubbling, squeaking, laughing pile of demonic goo on a dusty bookshop sofa, as Aziraphale’s hand travelled straight to the ticklish spots on his left side, squeezing the sensitive area repeatedly and deepening Crowley’s blush immediately. “NO! Angel, wait!! WAIT!!”

“Wait for what, my dear?” Aziraphale asked as if nothing was the matter, his lips curled up in the most self-congratulating smile, while his fingertips were expertly seeking out the bits and pieces of Crowley that made him arch his back and toss his head around. Red curls were getting dishevelled on the red sofa cushions. Bright, pointy teeth glinted in the sombre bookshop lighting, yellow eyes filled with mirth, disappearing from sight whenever Crowley had to squeeze them shut against the ticklish sensations.

“PLEASE STOP!!” He squealed, his laughter bright enough to open the gates of Heaven, impossibly sweet for a snarling, moody demon. “PLEASE, ANGEL!!”

“But you haven’t told me anything, yet!”

Crowley doubled over with laughter, when Aziraphale’s fingers started scribbling at his stomach. He couldn’t kick himself out from underneath the angel and his flailing and pushing hands had the same effect on him as Beelzebub’s flies if they were to plop against him.

“Oh, the demon’s weak spot,” Aziraphale teased, chuckling when Crowley gasped for air dramatically, as if it were necessary. “Are you trying to make me pity you?”

Crowley started shaking his head violently when Aziraphale’s fingers began wiggling into his ribs, his lungs burning from all the laughter. “JUST STOP! STOP AND I’LL TELL YOU!!”

Aziraphale wasn’t cruel – not that cruel, at least – and granted Crowley his wish. Smug and pleased with himself, he put both his elbows up on Crowley’s chest and smirked down at his flushed face. A demonic chest that was currently moving up and down rather fast, indulging unnecessarily in the drama of the moment – a poor, unjustly tickled demon, trying to regain his breathing after a vicious, vicious attack from a very ruthless angel…

“You’re being really dramatic right now,” Aziraphale commented, chuckling when Crowley stopped the act and started pouting instead, yellow snake eyes glaring at his face. The dishevelled demonic mess seemed to have a rather softening effect on the angel, who moved one hand up to push a strand of hair out of his forehead. “It suits you very well.”

“Shut up!” Crowley exclaimed, a small smile clinging to his features as he tried to sound convincingly exasperated. One gentle caress to his hair sufficed and Crowley was purring- err snarling again. “You are a very devilish angel.”

“How dare you!” Aziraphale huffed with a grin, his hand wandering to Crowley’s side again to tweak it one last time in retaliation, relishing in the way the demon squawked.

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh afterwards, amused by his own noise, joined quickly by Aziraphale. “Stop it, seriously!”

“Of course,” Aziraphale put his hand back on Crowley’s chest and made an expectant face, “but you better start talking real fast.”

“Secret plans are in fact very secretive, you know.” Crowley answered, his hands gently moving up the angel’s back, who made a rather pleased little noise.

“Does this mean you do not plan to tell me about them?”

Crowley smiled and pulled Aziraphale closer towards him. “For now.”

The demon pulled the angel in for a tender kiss, reversing their positions progressively until he was the one on top, his hands cradling the angel’s chuckling face.

“What?” He slurred, drunk on angel.

“You tend to do this.” Aziraphale answered, his fingers caressing the skin under Crowley’s chin.

“What?” The demon asked again, snarling against Aziraphale’s ear now.

“Be … ‘more straightforward’. After I’ve tickled you.”

“Reaaally? Is that soooo?”

“… Yes?”

“Hmmmm, surprising, I wonder what opportunities my newly gained position might offer me…”

“… Ehm.”

“Whatever might inspire a demon like me to get ‘more straightforward’ after an angel like you goes so far as to tickle me??”

“Now, Crowley, let’s not do anything we might regret here…”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to chuckle. “Oh, we are far past that point by now, angel.”

And maybe the muffled giggling noises that could be heard from inside the bookshop were the sounds of an angel who hadn’t seen a hellish revenge coming his way. But who was happy to endure it nonetheless. Because secret plans were being made for him. Which meant that his love was going to last.

Maybe even an eternity.

#good omens #ticklish!crowley #good omens tickling #good omens fluff #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #domestic ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens tickle fanfiction #tickle fanfiction

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ant1quarian · 3 months

Text

Horror Sans x Reader

A Kitten for your troubles?

Contains:

Fluff

Kittens

You loved your job. Ever since you were little, there was barely anything else you loved more than helping and caring for animals. That’s what landed you a solid job here, in the shelter.

Even though saying goodbye to some of the animals when others came to adopt them was difficult, you were still happy to see them go to a hopefully-good family.

You’d been tending to one of the rather touch-starved kittens when he’d walked in. A skeleton monster, tall and broad, with a gaping hole in his skull.

… Monsters had come up from the underground a little under four years ago, and it took 80% of that time to actually get them accepted into society– considering what they’d had to do.

You didn’t feel disgusted by them or anything– it was just unusual for them to be outside of Upper Ebott.

You watched curiously as other employees showed him around. It wasn’t hard to tell he was feeling awkward– perhaps a tad anxious– as he looked at everything he could.

The kitten on your lap began to make you into her personal pincushion as she lovingly dug her claws into you.

You smiled at her, gently patting her head. Her tabby fur was sleek underneath your hand as she looked up to you with her one good eye. This was by far your favourite kitten– having picked her off the streets and been put in charge of nursing her back to health. The skittish thing she used to be was gone, replaced by a loving, adventurous little gremlin.

“It’s alright, sir.” You glanced up when you heard one of your colleagues attempting to comfort the skeleton from before, “ol’ Barkley here is naturally really wary.”

… The skeleton had a downcast look on his face, but reluctantly nodded. You were immediately reminded of a kicked puppy.

You assumed that’s what prompted your body to move before you had thought about it, scooping the kitten up in your hands.

She purred, simply blinking at you.

Your colleague left, which was when you approached the skeleton.

“Heya, sir.” You smiled, stepping into his line of sight. His large, red eyelight landed on you and the black dot in the centre contracted in surprise.

“Kitten for your troubles?” You asked, unintimidated by the way he just seemed to stare at your face. As if he was taking in everything you were and trying to make sense of it before he looked down at the kitten.

“... you… sure…?”

Oh boy that’s a fuckin’ attractive voice rightthere–

You internally slapped yourself, deciding to ignore just how nice his voice sounded. Deep– like bass deep– with a slight gravelly-ness to it that sounded as if it had been gained rather than natural.

“Mhm!” You nodded, tilting your head at him as you gently held out the kitten. She looked up at him before meowing, shifting her head so that she could see him better.

He seemed to hesitate, one of his hands locked in the fur lining of his hood, before he carefully scooped the kitten out of your hands.

… You almost laughed at the comical difference– how she managed to look so much smaller in his hands. Hell, they were probably big enough to cover up the entirety of the front of your face.

“You can pat her, y’know,” You commented softly, watching his face carefully. You searched for any kind of hints that he didn’t like this or he was uncomfortable, which you found none of.

He slowly shifted his thumb to rub under her chin. Almost immediately, her engine-like purr started up and she nuzzled against him.

You had a front row seat to the look of pure awe that came over his face. His grin, once almost in a frown, picked back up again. His sockets squinted as he let out the cutest, “eheheh.”

It took a long while of just comfy silence where he slowly got bolder with patting the kitten before he slowly looked up to you again.

“what’s your… name…?” He asked slowly, as if he was struggling to put his thoughts into words, “‘m… sans.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sans.” Your smile became a few degrees warmer as you held eye-contact with him before giving him your name.

He quietly repeated it back to you and you nodded.

��... ‘s a nice name.”

“Thank you.” A pause, then, “are you planning to adopt the kitten? She’s been needing a good home for a while now.”

Sans nodded slowly but eagerly, cupping the kitten in his hand. He kept his very sharp distals away from her, though. Heh, he was almost handling her like she was a very delicate china tea cup.

“Awesome. Now, if you could follow me over here…”

You didn’t even notice the small amount of dusky blue that had formed on his cheekbones as you took him through the process of adopting the kitten.

It was safe to say that wasn’t your last interaction.

#Sans x Reader #Horror Sans x reader #random drabble #He's adorable #Fluff #So much fluff #We love fluff here

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elryuse · 12 days

Note

Yandere debt-collector Ahin and Son of in debt parents smut?

The Debt-Collector

YANDERE DEBT-COLLECTOR AHIN X MALE READER

The grimy apartment walls seemed to close in on Y/n as Ahin, the iron-fisted debt collector, sat across from him. Her crimson lipstick, a stark contrast to her pale face, stretched into a humorless smile. "So," she drawled, her voice like nails scraping concrete, "the Lee family couldn't cough up the measly sum they borrowed, huh?"

Y/n, a scrawny boy of 18, could only nod, shame burning in his throat. His parents, faces etched with despair, stood behind him, a silent testament to their desperation. They had signed the contract, their only son the collateral.

The first few weeks were a nightmare. Ahin reveled in her power, barking orders, doling out threats, and making Y/n clean her filthy apartment until his hands bled. Yet, a strange shift began. As Y/n diligently scrubbed floors and washed dishes, a flicker of something akin to…kindness sparked in Ahin's eyes. Maybe it was the way he never complained, or the quiet respect that shone in his terrified gaze.

One evening, amidst the drudgery, Ahin surprised him with a takeout meal. "Eat," she grunted, shoving a greasy box towards him. "You look like a walking skeleton." As Y/n hesitantly took a bite, a flicker of something warm bloomed in his chest – a desperate hope for normalcy amidst the terror.

Days turned into weeks, and the kindness became more pronounced. Ahin started treating Y/n with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. She’d buy him small gifts, linger over him while he worked, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He was a prisoner, yet a prisoner she seemed oddly…fond of.

Then, one night, Y/n woke to a bloodcurdling scream. He stumbled out of his room to find his parents, lifeless on the living room floor, their vacant eyes staring accusingly. Ahin stood over them, a bloody knife dangling from her hand, a chilling smile playing on her lips.

"They didn't deserve you," she rasped, her voice laced with a horrifying tenderness. "Now, it's just us, sweetheart. No one to take you away."

Y/n's world shattered. The woman who’d shown him a sliver of hope had become his monster. He sank to his knees, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.

Ahin knelt beside him, her touch sending a fresh wave of terror down his spine. "Don't worry," she cooed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with a bloodstained finger, "we'll be happy now. Just you and me. Forever."

Her words, dripping with a possessive love that curdled Y/n's stomach, sent a fresh wave of horror crashing over him. He was trapped, not just by debt, but by a twisted love that stained their cramped apartment with the stench of death and a chilling promise of a forever he never asked for.

Y/n choked back a sob as he slipped the diamond-encrusted wedding band onto Ahin's crimson-painted finger. The air in the warehouse hung heavy with a sickening mix of anticipation and dread. This wasn't a wedding – it was a branding ceremony, marking him as Ahin's forever.

As the forced applause died down, Ahin, a vision in blood-red silk, turned to him. Her smile, once laced with a twisted affection, was now a manic predator's grin. "Together now, darling," she purred, her grip tightening painfully on his arm.

The following weeks were a descent into a nightmare. Y/n, fueled by a suffocating despair, became a horrifyingly effective tool. He excelled at sniffing out vulnerabilities, his whispers turning icy and cruel as he mirrored Ahin's ruthlessness. He hated himself, but the alternative – facing her wrath – was unimaginable.

One night, a flicker of his former self threatened to rise. Debt collection led them to a young artist, his apartment overflowing with unfinished paintings. The raw desperation in the man's eyes mirrored Y/n's own. A choked plea formed on his lips, a desperate urge to offer solace, but before a word could escape, Ahin was upon them.

She ripped through the artist's meager belongings, her face contorted with rage. But when she reached for a worn canvas, the sole source of color in the dingy room, Y/n instinctively stepped forward.

"Leave it," he rasped, a sliver of defiance cutting through his usual subservience.

Ahin whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Disobeying me now, sweetheart?" she hissed, her voice a low growl. In a flash, the manic glint returned, hotter and more terrifying than ever.

Y/n's heart plummeted. He had seen that look before, the harbinger of violence. He flinched back as her hand lashed out, a stinging slap across his face. The artist, seizing the opportunity, bolted for the fire escape, disappearing into the night.

Ahin's fury turned inward. She grabbed Y/n by the hair, dragging him back to their apartment. The familiar grimy walls now seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his imprisonment.

"You think you can defy me?" she snarled, shoving him against the wall. Her crimson lips were stretched into a terrifying smile. "No one leaves me, sweetheart. You're mine now, forever."

Y/n slumped against the wall, defeated. He had seen the spark of fear flicker in Ahin's eyes earlier, but it was gone. In its place was a chilling possessiveness, a twisted love that had morphed into a suffocating obsession.

He was trapped, a prisoner not just of debt, but of a deranged affection. The world outside faded away, replaced by the four grimy walls that now held his entire universe, a universe ruled by a woman whose love was as cruel and inescapable as death itself.

#momoland ahin #ahin #ahin momoland #momoland #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #psychopath #horror #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader

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rpreaperperson · 2 months

Text

Chapter 13 : Taking back what's yours

Masterlist

The moment she entered the Lab all eyes were on her tattered form both her hair and tail unruly, she wore a white Lab coat clutching it tightly

Blood dripping from her claws, she hissed when one of the scientists tried to approach her

Confused, Anger, ...sorrow filled her heart..as she remind the conversation earlier with some...traitor

“You're just a tool to be used until you’re useless”

Some traitor..that she used to be friends with...

Somewhere inside Vaquero's safe house, while the others focussing on Price's banter with Shepherd, Claw sat on a chair and mindlessly brushed her fluffy tails with a brush that Alenjadro gave her.

As Price word ringing in her head

“Shepherd’s intentions were good, but the shipments were illegal and off the books.”

‘good? huh...I don't think delivering a dangerous kind of weapon is good, plus illegal ones are they making peace or making another disaster? ughh..I truly can't follow this kind of thing ’ She frowned glancing at the laptop, then she smiled satisfied with her brushing after fluffed up her tails she approached Alejandro and gave him the brush

“here Master thank you for the brushes”

“Ah no problem Gatita “ he rubbed her head as she purred, suddenly Price stood from his chair and mumbled a curse to Shepherd he was annoyed, the hybrid stopped purring and stared at Price with her wide eyes

“Give the Hybrid to me, then I will call off the Shadow” claim Shepherd

“Nya? Me?” claimed Claw pointing at herself, Gaz quietly shushed Claw and slung his arms around her shoulder afraid that she might be snatched up right in front of his eyes

“No.Fucking.Way...she’s officially under our care, no one except her Handler herself just transfer her into another company like that” Price growled, he glared and pointed at the screen fisting his hand hard, the others narrowing their eyebrows

“Try me Cap, many people want that girl ..do you know how much her worth is?” he leans forward to the camera

“she even more worth than the missile Itself...I'm sure..you already know that..” Shepherd smirked as Price slammed the laptop shut pursing his lips and glancing at Claw who anxiously placed her hand on her thumping chest

He knows the reason why she has more value than the missile after all, he does watch and read the file inside that flash disk Professor gave him

The Vaqueros and 141 circled the table declaring to take back Los Vaqueros' base from Grave clutches, Claw swirled her tails listening to each word then Gaz picked up a bag and threw a bunch of skeleton balaclava on the table, each of them put on the balaclava

She was still a little bit flabbergasted when Ghost chuck up his mask, staring at Ghost with her wide eyes he cocked his eyebrows

“got something on my face Claw?” ask Ghost still on bare face

“Master Ghost..” an awe look plastered against her face

“hm?”

“you’re so handsome..”

Some of them coughed and some of them snickered, while Ghost staring at her wide eyes did not expect her to compliment him ( Soap stared at him with jealousy)

“S-shouldn’t you put on your mask Claw?” averting his gaze from Claw, Ghost tried to hide his redded face by putting on his mask

“O-oh! Yes!..but where –“The hybrid snapped her gaze as she searched for her mask

“Here Claw got this one just for you” claims Price as he approaches Claw putting on her balaclava

The cat's ear pops out from the hole in the top of the balaclava

“there..comfortable?” Price fondly gazes at her

“Mhm! Hehe thank you Ma-Captain!~” She nodded giggling as her ears twitched excitedly, huff amused Price scratching her neck she immediately melted into his palm, Alejandro swooned and stealthily took a picture of her in a balaclava while Rudy and the Vaqueros who happened to see his act just stood there deadpanning used to his behavior.

“ck look how happy she is” Ghost clicked his tongue shaking his head

“Now now L.T..you don't want her mad at you again no?” warned Soap nudging Ghost with his elbow, Gaz tilted his head at them confused but he decided not to ask

“Let us take over back Vaqueros base yea?” asks Price

“Yes, Master! Anything for you!” Claw answered firmly, a moment Price's face frowned at her claim...

Her devotion and loyalty to the team someday may be the reason for her death

taglist: @lilpothoscuttings @unicorngirly1 @kaoyamamegami

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #task 141 #task force 141 x reader #john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john mctavish x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro x reader #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #neko reader #Claw

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derangedanomaly · 3 months

Note

Hiii! Still taking requests? If so, can i have a bad sanses x female sweet werewolf reader?

Her physical form is human like but definitely have wolf and a tail

Masterlist

THE BAD SANSES X FEMALE SWEET WEREWOLF READER

(Nightmare, Dust, Killer, Horror, Error)

Nightmare:

Nightmare couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw you to be honest.

He's seen a lot of things. But a humanoid cat-like girl? That he didn't see coming.

He wasn't really sure if you weren't only wearing the accessories at first. (Was shocked when he found out that the tail and cat ears are actually real 💀)

Don't blame him (or do), but he just has this.. ick towards these creatures. (Bro's getting flashbacks)

He only sees you as his personal weapon. That's until he falls in love with you~ ;)

I would say that your dynamic is kinda like one-sided rivalry. He sees you as a rival, but you see him as a friend. 💀

You're oh so sweet to him, even though he threatened to kill you multiple times. (Bro's shocked)

Couldn't get over the fact that you managed to somehow make your way through his cold soul.

He's warming up to you, but slowly.

Still doesn't understand how it's possible to have two sets of ears. One being animals and the other being humans.

He would never admit it, but he likes when you're purring from his touch.

Dust:

Dust doesn't see the problem with you having cat-like features.

He's used to seeing (and killing) all kinds of monsters. So this isn't the weirdest shit to him.

He's the one that likes to pet you the most. His hand is almost always resting on your back, rubbing soft circles on it.

He's giving you lots of treats too, which you appreciate.

He also doesn't really understand how having two different kinds of ears work, but wants to find out.

He goes on full mission, observing you, writing down everything about you. It's getting kinda ridiculous now.

He thinks that your excessive kindness is a weakness for you.. wants you to toughen up a little, even encouraging you! (He just wants to make sure that you'll be ok when the time comes)

Killer:

Bro's squealing and everything. He loves cats, so he almost combusted when he first saw you.

I swear, his first words were literally just him saying that you belong to him now. As a pet cat, of course. Nothing else. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Everybody thinks that his obsession with you is really fucking weird.. he just like to follow you around most of the time. 😭

Likes to touch your fluffy ears and tail. (Heavy on the ears)

Bro can't keep his hands to himself. Always touching you and shit. (Of course not without your permission!)

Lives for your purring.

Also carries around treats for you, but his are less healthy for you than Dust's.

Please let him groom you! He would've loved to brush your ears/hair!!

Horror:

He thinks that you're fragile, and doesn't want to touch you for awhile.

Look, his hands are...rough. (As rough as a skeleton's hands can be) so he wants to avoid any sort of intimacy with you, until he knows you'll be ok.

After he does though... He also can't keep his hands off of you.

Loves your overall fluffiness! Can't get enough of it!

He likes to carry you on his shoulders. Gives him the reassurance that you're still intact.

He likes to fall asleep on the couch with you on top of him. Loves your purring, and even more so loves to fall asleep by the sound of it!

If you get together, and you get a bit risky with him.. he loves to pull your tail. 🤭

He likes your kindness, just thinks that sometimes, it's a bit too much.

He doesn't wanna change who you are, so all he does is just step up for you whenever you're too sweet to someone who doesn't deserve it.

Error:

He also likes cats, so he's dying to pet you, but again-- his Haphephobia. 😭

He's just silently watching as your tail moves back and forth, while slowly dying on the inside. (Just cause he can't touch it)

I feel like.. after you get closer to him, that his Haphephobia would slowly go away with you, and he would actually ASK you if he can touch you.

Look, he has the most respect towards privacy and intimacy, so he's probably the only one that actually ASKS YOU before touching you. (Horror also asks you beforehand, so he's an exception for this comment) He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable :(

He loves to wrap his strings around your tail and just tighten its hold on it a bit. (Only if you're ok with that, of course.)

Also falls asleep to your purring, it just has this melody..

Carries around treats for you ;)

Laughs whenever you're too kind to someone, even him! He doesn't think he deserves your kindness, and also thinks that you're a little too naive... But he isn't gonna stop you 🤷‍♀️

#undertale fandom #sans undertale #undertale #sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #error sans x reader #horror sans x reader

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 26 days

Note

S/O boops main 10 Skeletons

Undertale Sans - No reaction whatsoever. He doesn't even stop what he's doing to look at you. You're disappointed by the reaction. But eh, what did you even expect? You realize later Sans is still in the couch, weirdly positioned, but that it's actually a fake Sans. You gasp and turn around, only to get boop viciously by Sans who waited for you to realize all this time. You can't boop the boop master.

Undertale Papyrus - He goes full googly eyes in shock. How dare you? You think he raised his boop level on Tumblr so high to be beaten this day by a human? Like hell! He's going to boop you a million times! Come back here! He starts to chase you and throws plush paw cats in your back.

Underswap Sans - He jumps in surprise as he didn't expect this. He turns to you dramatically. Oh the game is on. You are filled with dread as Blue starts to chuckle evilly before chasing you at full speed. You run outside, screaming for your life as he's slowly gaining on you. Give up, you have no chance of winning this. You know this deep inside.

Underswap Papyrus - You're staring at him intensely. He's slowly panicking, trying to understand what you want, then you just. Boop. Him. He stares in shock for a solid minute, before blushing to death. It's not funny! Don't scare him like that!

Underfell Sans - He smacks you in the face instinctively before gasping at what he just did and running to you to make sure you're fine. He didn't mean to do that!

Underfell Papyrus - ???????? He stares at you in complete confusion. What was that even for? What's the purpose of this? He doesn't understand??? Stop laughing and explain to him already, you're weird!

Horrortale Sans - He cutely tilts his head in confusion, staring intensely, then he just starts purring again and bury his whole face in your neck. Stop teasing him, he just wants affection.

Horrortale Papyrus - He gasps loudly. How dare! At his most vulnerable moment, right when he's sitting at your height! This is a call for war. He suddenly jumps on you and you both start a boop war. Willow refuses to lose this.

Swapfell Sans - He hisses at you as you took him by surprise, then blushes furiously, embarrassed he just did that. It's not what it looks like! Shut up! Oh, you're so going to tease him for all etenity.

Swapfell Papyrus - He dramatically falls on the floor. He's dead. You killed him. How could you do that to him? When you get close to check on him, he suddenly licks you whole face with a disgusting slurp noise that makes you scream in horror and run. Rus can't stop laughing at your misery.

Fellswap Gold Sans - CHOMP. He bites your finger and he has no regret doing so. He just smiles at you like a shark, your finger stuck between his very sharp teeth that hurt a lot actually. You're lucky he likes you. Not a lot of people booped the general of the royal guard and actually come out alive from it. You're not sure if he's joking or not.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Basically...

Then there's a chance out of two he grabs you to force you to cuddle with him.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 3 months

Note

I might be wrong, but it's implied that dragons are an extinct species in the SDV universe. So like, what if the Farmer found a petrified dragon egg, or even a whole clutch, and somehow managed to hatch it/them Game of Thrones style? They've done some insane stuff both in canon, and in SVE and RSV so it's not hard to imagine they'd do the truly impossible like reviving not only an extinct species, but a magic species at that. Rambling aside, onto the question: how would the SVE mages (including Morgan) and adventurer's, and Mr. Aguar from RSV react to the farmer's feat of bringing dragons back to life?

(P.s, maybe add Mr. Qi as well bc I imagine he'd be VERY interested in this event)

You're 100% right

And it's interesting: I've long wondered why there was no mention of dragons anywhere in the notes or in the library, when there are skeletons and teeth of these very same dragons lying around in the Calico Desert and Ginger Island? And can serpents be considered descendants of these dragons?

Lance's mention of his teacher with the title "Dragon Master" also gives us the right to believe for the existence of dragons in the SDV world (although I used to think it was just such a cool title for his teacher. Or a reference to Lance's Pokémon trainer in general).

But enough rambling! Thanks for your ask and enjoy some short stories ☺️🫰

Warning: this post is long...

_________________________________________

Marlon & Gil:

Marlon sipped his tea quietly in his Guildhall on a cold winter morning, to the crackle of a blazing fireplace and the soft snores of his friend, Gil. The one-eyed adventurer was enjoying a rare moment in his life - a quiet morning, with no worries about stocking up on provisions and elixirs, no worry about monsters...

But apparently the Yoba itself decided that Marlon had had enough of the peaceful time and presented him with a Farmer riding a dragon. The flying reptile with purple scales, beautiful as amethysts, along with its rider managed to smash through the old Adventurer's Guild roof, but thankfully no one was hurt.

If Marlon had only known Farmer for a few months, he would have been in mute shock at what he had seen. Now that the youth was a full member of the Guild for the second year, Marlon only sighed tiredly and went to the undestroyed room to get his tools. Dragons? Yes, he was interested in that. But questions later, first they need to fix the hole in the roof because it's cold winter outside, you know.

The Farmer will help, of course, as they are the direct cause of the collapsed ceiling. And the Gil will join in when he stops hiding his chuckle behind his snoring. He's been awake for a while now, and he can hardly contain his laughter (and his pride in Farmer) while pretending to be asleep.

_________________________________________

Isaac:

If the quote "I don't get paid enough for this shit" were a person, Isaac would be the complete personification of that phrase.

Anyone would be shocked, amazed and delighted by the most beautiful and noble creatures that had extinct so long ago that many people no longer believed they existed and had come to regard them as a fairy tale and a legend. Anyone, but not Isaac. Because the moment the master of the dangerous reptiles appeared before Isaac's eyes - he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

Let no one dare tell him that 'Farmer is special' or 'Farmer knows what to do'. No, they don't know what they're doing! A bloody immature upstart who coddles a dangerous dragons like a puppies! That even now the curious reptiles are slowly moving towards Isaac to sniff and study him, a man they don't know. And how does HE know what the hell is going on in their heads?! Maybe they see him as just another snack, for Yoba's sake!

He won't be tempted to trade his own safety and the safety of other people for prickly curiosity. He will not, like the others, reach for the huge toothy maw, nor is he going to scratch the head of the purring (dragons can purr?) creature. Isaac goes to report the Farmer and the dragons to the Order of Pythagoras, and he doesn't care that he'll be disliked by many for such an act. It will take a long time before Isaac finally trusts the Farmer and their pets, but that will be a while yet. For now, the scarred adventurer will do what he thinks is right.

_________________________________________

Lance:

After a long training in swordsmanship and magic spells, young Lance always waited with joy for his teacher to call him for a short break. After all, it was during the break that they would both go to the tavern, eating dinner, where his teacher would praise him for his success in the last training session, and most importantly, tell him another fascinating legend about monsters and creature. Even though his mentor was a "Dragon Master", they haven't met any dragons themself. Their great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, however, had seen the beautiful flying reptile once with his own eyes.

Oh, how Lance wanted to be the man who would see a dragon, how he wanted to believe they still existed!

It was just a childhood dream that Lance had long since grown out of. But life had given him an unexpected surprise.....

He slowly touched the dragon's snout, gently running his fingers over the warm scarlet scales. Taking his time, careful not to bring his fingers too close to the razor-sharp fangs. Lance almost couldn't tear his gaze away from the big amber eyes that watched him intently. Slowly turning his head towards the Farmer, the pink-haired adventurer saw a sign of approval that he could continue. Giving his friend a grateful nod, Lance turned his gaze back to the dragon. Who would have thought that gallant adventurer would have the opportunity not only to see this marvellous creature, but also to learn from Farmer how miraculously they were able to do the impossible.

It'll go down in Lance's memoirs for sure.

_________________________________________

Jadu:

Due to insomnia, hard work with manuscripts and scrolls, and an unhealthy obsession with coffee, Jadu looked like the walking dead these days. Add to that the fact that the young wizard was as stubborn as an ass: no matter how much Lance tried to gently help his friend, no matter how much Isaac tried to force him into bed, and no matter how hard the others tried - to no avail. Jadu's goal was to finish the job - and he'd done it, and sleep was of secondary importance to him.

Naturally, this disregard for his sleep regime was not without consequences, and so Jadu, about to teleport back from the Stardew Valley to the Castle Village, didn't even realise how the world swam before his eyes and his body went limp. But before poor wizard lost consciousness, he felt that someone had grabbed him and would not let him fall. Half an hour later, Jadu realised that he was not lying on the cold ground, but in the warm embrace of someone... with scales? And wings? And claws on its paws?

Is he still asleep?

But as it turned out, he emerged from the realm of reverie and listened half-asleep to Farmer's restless speech. The sensation of inhuman skin and the word "dragon" made Jadu jump up as if scalded by boiling water and quickly get to his feet.

A dragon?! A real one?! Where from and how? Farmer, please explain! You raised it? Where? And what kind of dragon?! He'd studied the legends, but he'd never thought he'd meet a large reptile himself. And what do they eat, and how do they conjure? He need to know? Sleep? What sleep, he doesn't need that right now!

It took a lot of effort for the farmer to at least get Jadu back to a sitting position. It is not clear whether the noble reptile understood their words, but the creature's gaze was shrewd and full of wisdom. And amusement from this funny scene.

_________________________________________

Morgan:

Morgan follows the familiar hidden path again, behind a flowering tree with a swing, where there is a hole in the farm's fence. Trying not to make any loud noise, Magnus' young apprentice walks through the tall grass, holding back a playful chuckle.

Even though the Farmer had long ago told them that they would always be welcome at the farm and would be treated to ripe fruit from the greenhouse, Morgan still chose to visit in this way, adding intrigue and fun to their dull routine of studying the history of the Republic and the bestiary.

The young talent once again wanted to go into the chicken coop, where there was a void chicken that the Farmer had allowed them to feed and even give her name (Morgan had named her Coal). But when Morgan looked into the coop, instead of the usual joyful clucking, they felt a smoky breath coming from a toothy mouth that definitely did not belong to a hen. In the dark wooden room, Morgan couldn't see who it was, so all they could do was run out of the coop screaming in terror and crying.

Luckily, the Farmer, who had arrived quickly, had time to calm the child and explain that a dragon lived here for the time being.

Morgan at the mention of the mythical creature completely forgot about everything in the world. A moment later, the Farmer was bombarded with questions and requests to see dragon again. The farmer allowed (taking Morgan's word that they would keep it a secret). Wow, dragons are even cooler that void chicken! Sorry, Coal...

_________________________________________

Alesia:

Crazy... This was just a crazy idea. Maybe Alesia still had the option to refuse and get off the green dragon's back? Before she could say anything, however, Farmer gave the takeoff command to his winged friend, and they and Alesia, riding the dragon, began to separate from the ground higher and higher. The sniper was out of breath, and her mind was unable to comprehend what was happening. A farmer, a dragon - a living dragon! - and flying on top of a large reptile. How had all this happened for literally half an hour?

Alesia never thought she would agree to ride a dragon without a second thought. She felt a little ashamed, for she had been so quick to give in to temptation and curiosity, forgetting all about safety. But that view... Definitely worth it.

Finally when they landed and Alesia felt the solid ground beneath her feet, she had to temper her excitement and have a serious talk with Farmer. About the dragon, mages and adventurers should know. No, no arguments. It is better to let the senior adventures be warned, for it could happen that seeing Farmer on a dragon could mistake them for an enemy or potential threat. This is for the safety of both the humans and the Farmer with the reptile. The girl sees that this beautiful creature is significantly intelligent and wishes no harm to anyone. Therefore, she will feel safer if Farmer, as a responsible adult, makes the right decision.

But until they notified the Order and the others, Alesia would be interested to hear how the Farmer was able to not only raise the dragon themself, but also hide their existence from the others for so long. And, if the Farmer and the dragon itself are okay with it, to repeat another flight. Because that's was fun.

_________________________________________

Magnus Rasmodius:

The Farmer couldn't have been happier when, after months of caring for the dragon eggs, they saw the first crack of the shell and a cute little scaly face emerge. One little flying lizard was followed by two more, and now the trio are chirping and flying merrily around their parent, already begging for attention and food.

What Farmer didn't know was that as the dragonlings hatched, a strong magical flow would come out of the eggs, which Magnus Rasmodius definitely felt.

Shocked at the unknown strong source of magic, the purple-haired wizard dropped everything he was doing and teleported to the Farmer's house. The magic that had broken through his barrier? But the barrier was still intact! Then what? An anomaly? A strong corrupting spirit? Ancient magic? And his apprentice is right at the epicentre! But while Magnus was filling his head with horrific scenes and preparing to recite the spell, teleporting straight into the living room of the Farmer's house, all his battle fervour deflated. And before Magnus's gaze was an unharmed Farmer, with three little dragons sitting on top of them, eating peach slices with gusto.

On the one hand, Magnus has an irresistible urge to smack himself on the forehead for having conjured up such scary scenes, when as an experienced magician he should always keep his composure. On the other hand, he really wants to scold the Farmer for another wild thing. His gut tells him that he has a very long report to write to the Ministry of Magic. He also needs a bottle of strong wine to get drunk and pass out after all this madness. Poor wizard is too tired to marvel at the very fact that dragons have been reborn. Maybe later...

_________________________________________

Camilla:

My oh my... And how come the Farmer didn't tell her, Camilla, about this wonderful pet that breathes fire and can fly in the sky? She's their best friend, isn't she? And friends always share secrets with each other.... How did the Farmer manage to raise such a marvellous beauty? Really? Hmm, interesting.

Some might rightly resent that the head witch of Castle Village treats a dangerous mythical creature like a cute poodle. Even the dragon owner themself might be surprised that she doesn't show the reaction that people usually have at the sight of a big and scary dragon.

But even it look like Camilla in her favourite way is not serious about everything, it is not true at all. Quite the opposite, she will always put her duty to protect the people of the Village above all else. But she is confident in her abilities, so just in case the Farmer's scaly friend wants to make a little mischief in her domain, she will make sure that the creature never wants to appear on the Continent of Galdora ever again. But enough of that!

Camilla will become a more frequent visitor to the Stardew Valley, because the witch certainly won't miss the opportunity to study such an interesting specimen. Camilla also has some of the rarest pets, and the witch would like to get a dragon as well. Ah, what a cutie!

_________________________________________

Dr. Aguar:

For a fortnight now, Aguar couldn't figure out why his body was tingling with magic like an annoying itch. For a fortnight he had been walking around irritated, unable to understand the source of this itch that was driving him crazy and preventing him from working in peace. It was only at the bus stop that Aguar realised that the closer he got to the farm, the stronger the tingling became. There's clearly something the strange Farmer is doing here.... Magnus had already mentioned that the youth had a magical gift, just like Aguar himself. But the former mage knows nothing much about the Farmer: not their motives, nothing. So Aguar wanted to find out what the Farmer does, and whether it has anything to do with this unbearable itch.

Before Dr. Aguar could even reach the porch of the Farmer's house, something blue flew out of the door at full speed, but he couldn't see it because of its speed. The Farmer ran out after it, calling to someone and waving their arms.

The thing stopped abruptly in mid-air and returned to the Farmer, wrapping their body around Farmer's right hand and growling merrily. The Farmer, barely out of breath, held their breath as they realised they had guests and that they could see the dragon. Aguar, on the other hand, crossed his arms and waited patiently for the Farmer to start the conversation themself.

So that's what it was...

A dragon, yes? And a dragon of the water element, Aguar's own element. Indeed, this little reptile was too young to control magic on its own. And the incessant flow of the same element's magic influenced the flow of the scientist's magic. Very interesting. That's what really caught Aguar's attention. He's really going to want to study the dragon. Oh, spirits, Farmer, there's no need to look at him as a bloodthirsty monster! He won't harm this little one.

_________________________________________

Mr. Qi:

"Congratulations to you, Farmer. Once again you managed to exceed my expectations when your tending to the eggs I left behind succeeded. I didn't doubt the success one bit, of course not. I hope you enjoy your new pets, they are truly wonderful. Also, I'll put it on a note, they are fruit-eaters, so treat your dragons to fresh fruit often. Especially melon, these dragons love it. I already know that, hehe. Good luck to you, child. I'll keep watching your progress. And always remember, the key to success is within you."

The Farmer would probably have been surprised by a letter from Mr. Qi..... But alas, the little flying reptiles accidentally burned the paper before the Farmer could open anything.

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