#tw: romance
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How does one write about cerebral attraction/chemistry? Sexual attraction isn't my thing to write (yeah, I don't add any sexual based feelings for 89% romantic relationships I write. IK, it's an unconventional approach. Yet hey, it ensures the characters love each other for personality and for who they are, so. . .), so uh. . . IDK, does anyone have ideas or tips on chemistry based on a cerebral level?
The only thing I got down is banter. Other than that. . . not sure.
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Kinktober Day 13 (Kazuha x GN!Reader)
"Your neck is craned to look back at him with so much optimism, so much hope for your future together, that he feels himself surfacing from the dark."
Thank you all for waiting <3
NSFW
[Warnings: ANGST, gender neutral reader, directly mentioned TomoKazu, fl*ff, I'm sorry this was literally just sadness and sickening romance, helplessly indulgent]
Art credit: カムイ on Pixiv
As his fingers weave red silken rope in intricate patterns across your skin, he tries to recall if his previous lover had trembled as he does now. Binding another means taking their faith in your hands like thin blown glass, and in doing so pledging to guard it with your life. It's a task that he regards as sacred.
Through these ties my energy flows to you, and yours to me. He repeats the promises that once floated on Tomo's breath. Your own hitches as the ropes shift and tighten, as Kazuha effortlessly manipulates your body through the delicate tying of knots. The material traces the natural curves in your body and pulls taught against your edges. It feels so natural, like the rope was pre-molded to your flesh.
The sound of Kazuha's soft breathing melds with your own heartbeat as he works. I accept your power, and you accept my undying protection. Through the weight of his duty and the undercurrent of titillating excitement that carries the smallest of actions, pangs of grief pull at his heart. Undying protection... Even as he pauses, presses his lips to your heated skin to ground his wandering mind, ghosts of the past waver in his periphery. The Shogun. Tomo's lifeless body. A vision without an owner. For a moment Kazuha stills, forehead pressed to the back of your neck.
Everything that had been promised to him was snuffed out in an instant. All of the passionate words exchanged in their own ritual had died on his tongue. It feels both a millennia ago and so very close. Kazuha can see it as bright as day, old lovers intertwined as he surrendered himself to Tomo the same way you do to him now. Sometimes he dreams about it, screams out to him as the ropes fall away and disintegrate into ash. It always leads him to the same damning question- what good are the threads of fate if they are doomed to be severed?
A swell of doubt threatens to derail the delicate ceremony. If he stops now, no harm will be done. He can accept that he isn't strong enough to shoulder the both of you, that Tomo's presence still lingers in all moments big and small. The past is as fresh a wound as the present. Someday the pair of you can try again, when he's laid his demons to rest. After all, nothing in his miserable little life has lent itself to anything other than crushing solitude up to this point. It isn't time. It was foolish to think he was ready. End it, Kazuha, stop this farce-
"Kazhua?" Your innocent query pierces the chorus of doubts. It pulls him from his turmoil and for the first time since he began allows him to see you as you are- laid bare in a carnal presentation of your willingness to trust him completely. Beautiful beyond words. Your neck is craned to look back at him with so much optimism, so much hope for your future together, that he feels himself surfacing from the dark.
Kazuha places a kiss to your shoulder in response, a gentle reassurance. He reminds himself that this is as much for the two of you as it is for Tomo. In a way, it's finishing what the two of them started so many years ago. A bit of him lives on in every knot he fastens, and in the end he would want to see the love of his life happy.
You settle back into position, shifting slightly to allow your lover to interweave your fastened wrists between soft ropes that bind your calves to your thighs. Goosebumps spread across your skin in waves as he resumes his diligent work. Though you can sense your lover's nervous aura, you feel nothing but excitement that he has opened himself up enough to take part in such an intimate ritual with you.
In each knot lies our strength. In the crossing of thread, our intertwined fate. Kazuha holds a gentle kind of strength that you greatly admire. Never brutish, never excessively bold, simply a pillar of conviction that you can rest your soul with. Even so, he is more tender this night than any other you can remember. His hands feel like a whisper as they caress your bare skin, silently admiring his work and the beauty that lies beneath it. When he kisses you in earnest it's so desperately soft.
As he takes you, it feels like the outside world fades away. Each twist and tug, each push and pull of the ropes that cling to your body serve to remind you that in this moment you are truly surrendered to him. You feel tied to Kazuha beyond the physical, bound irrevocably to a man that has in turn entrusted you with his own heart. In the ecstasy underlies something so painfully tender. Emotion rubbed raw simply in the act of letting go.
Kazuha doesn't realize his cheeks are wet until he stills inside of you, hitting the apex as he squeezes your body against him. Somewhere in the chaos it hit him that he will never, ever love anyone like he loved Tomo. Not if he lived for a million more years.
No, he will never have that specific kind of love again. But as he holds you to his chest, smoothing your hair as you fall into the rhythm of his heartbeat, he realizes that he can love you just as much.
*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload. please consider reblogging as mature content is often buried by Tumblr!
[KINKTOBER MASTERLIST]
#kinktober#kinktober 2022#kazuha#kazuha x reader#kazuha kaedehara#kazuha genshin#genshin impact#x reader#angst#fluff#fluff? on my blog?#romance#tw: romance#tw: angst#tw: mentioned death#tomo#tomokazu#sad hours#werner herzogs sad fics for sad children#drabbles#sad lmao#shibari#gender neutral reader#gn!reader
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[ID: a banner showing line art of three potion bottles, in white, blue, and yellow, against a dark brown background. The white text on the right reads “A Rival Most Vial: Potioneering for Love and Profit.” End ID]
The Suit
Synopsis: Ambrose has to wear a suit to a ball. Eli attends the final fitting- and he’ll be very glad he did.
Word Count: 1,023
TW/CW: romance, kiss on cheek
The tailor lived only two levels above Rosemond Street. It was a quick trip, only a few minutes if one used the right ramps.
And Ambrose spent every second of it begging Eli to turn around.
“I promise, it’s not very exciting,” he said, his long legs carrying him up the walkway in three strides. Eli grinned and kept pace with him. Ambrose could beg all he wanted—nothing was going to keep him from this.
“It’s exciting to me.”
“Please, it’s just a suit—“
“That’s not how Dawn described it.”
Ambrose gave an exasperated sigh—one of Eli’s favorite sounds—and ran a hand through his hair. “You know Dawn. She exaggerates things.”
Eli gasped and set a hand to his chest. “She would never.”
“Whatever she said about the suit, I promise it’s not true.” Ambrose stopped at the top of the last ramp, his shoulders in a weary slope. “Please, I—I don’t look that good in it. It’s not worth coming in to see it.”
“All the more reason for me to come in, then.” Eli took his hands and squeezed them, trying to press some reassurance into his fingers. “You know I’ll compliment you in anything you wear, right?”
Though Ambrose didn’t meet his gaze, the corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get rather creative with your compliments in this case.”
Eli kissed his cheek. “Challenge accepted.”
#
The tailor—a round, gnomish man, decked in tape, pins, and a cheery smile—lit up when Ambrose walked through the door.
“Mr. Beake!” he waved them both in and hopped around the counter. “Getting excited for the Lady’s ball?”
Ambrose controlled his sigh this time, expending it through a long, thin exhale. “Indeed, Mr. Swift.”
“Then you’ll be delighted with how this suit turned out.” The gnome gestured for him to follow into a side room. “Come along, come along!”
Ambrose grimaced and followed Mr. Swift into the room, leaving Eli to wander.
When Ambrose received the invitation to the Scarrish matron’s ball, Dawn insisted that Ambrose visit Mr. Swift and only Mr. Swift—and now that Eli stood in the gnome’s shop, he understood why. There were no simple hemmed pants or tucked dresses hanging here. Every bit of clothing sparkled and shone. Armored ballgowns poised in the front window, embroidered suits lounged behind the counter. Most of it was in the distinct Scarrish style of bright, slim fits, though Eli did see a peek or two of sheer Kolkean fabrics and classic Elwig layers.
Perhaps that’s what Ambrose hated about the suit, Eli thought as he inspected a vivid purple dress on display. Ambrose wasn’t exactly a colorful man when it came to wardrobe. If it wasn’t blue, gray, or white, he didn’t wear it.
Or maybe Mr. Swift had gone too sleek with it. Some of the suits on display would constrict his movement to a stiff, aesthetic strut—and Ambrose was nothing if not a practical man.
“Just delightful!” Mr. Swift said in the other room, his exclamation punctuated by several claps. Eli laughed to himself. He could only imagine the glare Ambrose was holding back right now.
“Can I see?” he called. Ambrose groaned.
“No—”
“Absolutely!”
As Mr. Swift dragged Ambrose out of the room, Eli leaned against the counter, readying compliments in his head. If the outfit truly looked awful, there was always Ambrose’s eyes to comment on. Or his hair. Or the lovely blush that thinly veiled exasperation lent to his cheeks.
Then Ambrose appeared, and every thought in Eli’s head vanished.
The suit led his gaze in a breath-taking circle. First, to Ambrose’s shoulders, perfectly fitted with gold braid against creamy silk. Then down the asymmetrical line of gold buttons, past his slim waist, to the underlayer of embroidered navy. The layer swept the other way, across his hips, leading Eli to his favorite part: the half-cape, a tiny night sky draped over Ambrose’s shoulder. Eli took his time here, letting the glittering cape slowly guide him back up to his shoulders, then his gold collar, then his face. His delicate, wonderful face, eyebrows raised in a shy question.
“Well?” Ambrose straightened one of the sleeves—unnecessary, the sleeve was perfect, but it was his habit. “What do you think?”
“I…” Eli trailed off, his thoughts still eluding him. Ambrose’s shoulders dropped, and Eli quickly launched forward, taking both of the man’s hands in his. “I’m sorry. I just…”
Now that he was up close, he had to take one more look. The glittering embroidery on the cape, the engraved detail on the buttons…
He smiled, shook his head, and met Ambrose’s gaze. “You look like a prince, Ames.”
The fierce blush that overtook the half-elf’s face only made the gold shine brighter. “You don’t think it’s too much?” He looked down at himself. “I’m a shopkeeper. I don’t—I don’t wear things like this.”
“Well, I wouldn’t recommend brewing a potion in it.” Eli ran a finger over the gold braid—cool and smooth, just as he expected. “But with something like this, you’re going to fit in with all the actual princes in attendance.” His grin widened. “All I ask is that you don’t accidentally seduce one of them while you’re there.”
Ambrose rolled his eyes, his blush creeping to his ears. “Please, I don’t seduce people.”
Eli bit his lip. In that suit, he was doing it effortlessly. It was taking a significant amount of effort not to just throw money at Mr. Swift and drag Ambrose back to his place. “I’m just saying, if they ask you to dance, then take a turn with them in the garden in the moonlight—“
“All right.” Ambrose let go of Eli’s hands with a barely concealed smile. “Mr. Swift, I believe we’re all set.”
“Excellent!” The tailor beamed and pointed him back into the side room. As Ambrose left, Eli watched the half-cape float behind him and all but swooned.
“Thank you,” he mouthed to Mr. Swift. The gnome proudly patted his mustache, gave a bow, and followed Ambrose out.
ARMV Taglist: @nikkywrites, @chayscribbles, @cecilsstorycorner, @theramwrites, @akindofmagictoo, @pheita, @jadeywrites, @wizardfromthesea, @woodhousejay, @writeblrfantasy, @magic-is-something-we-create, @47crayons, @writing-with-l, @talesfromaurea, @a-wild-bloog, @copper-dragon-in-disguise, @lost-writer-on-the-loose, @ettawritesnstudies, @inkovert, @zmwrites, @extra-magichours, @jinglebellss-blog1, @vermontwrites, @aurieeeeeenyx, @pagesofcursive, @spacetimewraithwrites, @peonypearls-muddled-musings, @teriwrites, @diphthongsfordays, @abalonetea, @pepperdee, @afoolandathief, @bettsican, @pe-ersona, @celestepens, @thelaughingstag, @quilloftheclouds, @the-orangeauthor, @lazy-writes, @estelaiswriting, @shydreamyechoes, @chaotic-queer-disaster, @drabbleitout, @mary-is-writing, @ink-fireplace-coffee, @athenswrites, @cynic-and-chief
#a rival most vial#fantasy romance#writeblr#writblr#queer romance#my wip#ambrose beake#eli valenz#tw: romance#tw: kissing
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REVENGE ERA JUMPSCARE
#tw flashing#flash warning#gif#mcr#my chemical romance#revenge era#gerard way#mikey way#ray toro#frank iero#animated gif#animation#my art#my animation
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Bruce: There he is, my sweet baby.
Jason, holding a cigarette and beer: What?
#source: my chemical romance#bruce wayne#batman#jason todd#red hood#batfamily#batfam#batboys#batbros#batkids#batsiblings#batman family#incorrect batfamily quotes#incorrect quotes#incorrect dc quotes#dc comics#tw smoking#tw alcohol mention
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sweet shy monster who didn't think he had a chance with you, a human, but decides to try to court you anyway even as his peers laughed 🥺
sweet shy monster bf in heat, pumping another full load of his thick cum into your tiny body while his peers seethe with jealousy 🥰
#◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic monsterfucker . ⊹#monsterfucker#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster smut#monster headcanons#monster bf#terato#monster lover#monster nsft#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#monster romance#tw monsterfucking
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Going INSANE thinking about this post by @curiousmons :
So here we go!!
Your Centaur Boyfriend being embarrassed when he explains he’s never cum before because he can’t reach “down there”. You’re stunned and ask why he hasn’t told you before. You tell him you’d have at least given him a handjob before now so he could get some release! He sheepishly tells you that he almost didn’t tell you at all because he’s worried he won’t last long and he doesn’t want to disappoint you.
After a soft heart to heart session, you explain that even if he doesn’t last long, at least you’ll be doing it together so it’ll be wonderful. The kissing starts off slow and soft with him stooping down and you on your tiptoes. Then him pulling off your shirt, and you eagerly finishing undressing yourself when he hesitates. He eases you onto your back on the soft (but itchy, not that you’d tell him) hay he made into a bed for you. His front legs are tucked under him as he goes back to kissing you, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly.
Despite never having been with anyone before, he knows that his massive cock would hurt you if you’re not prepped, which is another reason you two had waited for so long. Now you could easily take his fingers, and you were already soaking wet for him. His cock is so hard that he’s already leaking precum and it’s almost painful. He wants to be inside of you so badly.
“Please,” you whisper, breaking the kiss to look up at him.
He bites his lip before nodding slightly. He stands back up and you adjust, pushing yourself into doggy style so it’s easier for him to push into you. You have to help guide him a bit since you have to be so far under him, but as soon as the tip of his cock is pushed inside of you, he starts going crazy.
He jerks his hips towards you, nearly impaling you with his massive cock in one thrust. You yelp, not expecting that sudden and deep of a movement, but you don’t pull away.
“I’m sorry baby. You feel so good. I’m sorry,” he groans as he continues to slam in and out of you, driving you into the floor.
His cock slams deep inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way. He bullies your cervix in a way you never thought possible, his hot and slick precum already coating your womb. You whimper, trying to find something to hold onto. When you start to squirm, he uses his front hooves to keep you in place, setting them lightly on you, of course not his full weight, just so he can continue to cram himself into you.
Once he’s close, his thrusting becomes more sporadic. He thrusts roughly and sloppily, almost pulling out in his haste to push back inside of you. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, every thick inch of that cock stretching you out even more as he already was.
“You’re so good baby. So tight. So wet,” he whines, picking up the pace even more.
“Keep going,” is all you can manage to get out between the rough assaults on your body.
He complies until he crams himself as deeply as he can inside of you, pumping you full of hot, thick ropes of cum. You can feel it filling you, extending your stomach and spilling out onto your thighs and the floor under you even as he’s still deep inside of you.
His front legs tremble before he buckles them, pulling them off of you so he can support himself on them. You can hear his deep breathing and panting as he recovers, his cock still throbbing inside of you.
“That was amazing baby,” you sigh, almost dreamily, before you try to wiggle out from under him.
However, he’s already rutting into you, grinding his hips against yours with his cock still buried inside of you. “Just one more baby. Please please let me do it just one more time.”
#writers on tumblr#writing#fantasy romance#author#monster lover#monster romance#monster fucker#monster fuqqer#smut#fantasy smut#monster husband#monster kink#monster smut#monster boyfriend#monster fudger#monsterfucking nsft#monsterfucking cw#tw monsterfucking#monster fluff#monster k!nk#centaur smut#centaur boyfriend#centaur husband#k!nk blog#k!nky thoughts#my writing#my work#monster nsft#k!nk concept
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ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.
꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱
𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.
Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.
The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.
Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.
The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."
You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.
Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.
Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"
The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."
The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.
With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."
Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"
"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."
The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."
As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"
"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace. The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.
The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller.
Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.
After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.
—
Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.
"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.
Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.
Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.
Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.
Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.
Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.
"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."
You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."
The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."
You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard, he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.
He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty."
You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.
The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."
You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared, causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.
After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."
You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating, and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.
Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm. Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.
As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience.
You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.
With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly.
"Might I inquire about your name?" Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."
Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes.
A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.
His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.
You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.
"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "
You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.
The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.
Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.
In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.
After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.
Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips.
Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.
Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.
With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )
His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.
With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.
A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies. Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.
Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.
He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.
Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "
Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.
With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.
A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )
Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!”
With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby )
"Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?"
Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face. Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix.
Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.
" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans.
He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs.
"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"
With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls. A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."
With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”
The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.
You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"
Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.
You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.
He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)
Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.
He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick.
Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.
He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.
The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.
Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole
" Dismissed. "
The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.
"Loran, please."
The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.
A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue.
Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.
Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.
Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...
connected with this post!
#monsterfucker#monster fucker#monster smut#monster headcanons#monster lover#monster nsft#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#monster romance#tw monsterfucking#fantasy#female writers#possessive#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#female reader#mates#monster imagine#orc x reader#orc romance#orc x human#orc smut#size difference#male monster#monster bf#size k!nk#submisive and breedable#deunmiu dessie
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I wanted to do a quick valentines doodle and I lost the plot, this is part one of at least 2.
One, I think I got possessed cause this is not my usual colour palette. Two, I’m very aro, romance repulsed, my only exception for some reason being Narilamb???? And three, I need to be heard out on one sided pining from Narinder.
Next time I do a limited pallet I gotta start with black and white and use a gradient map cause I wanted to change the colours at one point and it was a nightmare. Added like 3 hours onto colouring this.
Part 2 here
#my art#my post#no devotion au#cult of the lamb#cotl#cotl narinder#cult of the lamb narinder#cotl lamb#narilamb#true devotion#digital art#photoshop#comic art#fan comic#Tw blood#did I do romance right????#is this it????
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“Oh, you’re a monsterfucker? Do you consider yourself to be undesirable by human standards and want to find someone who is the same way so you can both choose to love each other anyways? 🤓”
I told you that I want a really really big werewolf to rearrange my guts what are you yapping about
#monster lover#monster fucking#huge monster#monster romance#monsterlover#monster fluff#monster fucker#monster fudger#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster x human#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft#tw monsterfucking#terat0philliac#terato x reader#teratophillia#terato tag#terato
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HADES 2 + Characters
MELINOË || HECATE || NEMESIS || ODYSSEUS
SCHELEMEUS || HYPNOS || ARACHNE || MOROS
#hades spoilers#hadesedit#gamingedit#indiegameedit#hades series#hades game#hades 2#*gif#mine#video games#spiders tw#flashing gifs tw#if there's a dating mechanic in this one as well#i hope we can romance nemesis#~premium
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so, i have a very silly idea for some potential scenes. dare i ask. . . is it possible for someone to pass out from kissing? as in, one of the people merely forgot to take a break and their oxygen level runs out?? it's from how they forgot to nearly catch their breath bc they've been too focused on the kiss??
sorry, if this sounds morbid. 🤭😬
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[ID: a banner showing line art of three potion bottles, in white, blue, and yellow, against a dark brown background. The white text on the right reads “A Rival Most Vial: Potioneering for Love and Profit.” End ID]
The Beard
Synopsis: Ambrose has stubble. Eli loves it.
Word Count: 298
TW/CW: romance, seduction (no kissing or anything) ( @pheita this is my tiny contribution to today’s tumblr horny jail)
Eli leaned closer to Ambrose, inspecting his jaw. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Ambrose’s brows knit together in confusion—then he touched his own cheek, and his face smoothed out again. “Ah. Apologies, I haven’t shaved recently.”
“Apologies?” Eli reached up and ran a gentle finger down Ambrose’s cheek, delighted at the rare glimpse of stubble. Though still a shadow, it was defined, not patchy—a charming addition to the jawline Eli already loved so much. “No apologies. I think you should grow it out.”
Ambrose laughed and leaned into Eli’s hand. “I’d look terrible.”
“You’d look handsome.”
“But it grows so much darker than my normal hair—”
“Does it?” Eli grinned, his thumb tracing Ambrose’s chin as he imagined a well-trimmed turquoise beard there. The thought made him step even closer, until Ambrose’s breath brushed across his nose. “Well, now you have to grow it out for me.”
Ambrose was trying very hard to stay focused—but his gaze kept flicking down to Eli’s lips. “Do I?” he half-whispered, the retort weak. Eli saw his moment. He dragged his fingers down Ambrose’s neck, and felt the man’s breath catch in his throat.
“I can help,” Eli murmured, keeping his voice low, his lips an inch away from Ambrose’s. “What if I distracted you every time you went to shave?”
“What sort of distraction do you suggest?”
While one hand slid along Ambrose’s collarbone, Eli’s other hand found his hip, making slow circles just above his thigh. Ambrose closed his eyes, and his mouth fell open with a tiny gasp. Eli’s grin widened. “I think you can guess.”
Ambrose caught Eli’s upper hand, intertwining their fingers against his heartbeat. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was dark, and his voice as rough as his stubble. “Show me.”
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saw someone on here the other day say that we don’t need aromantic and asexual representation in media because that’s a “sanitized” identity like BITCH WHAT????? IF YOU CAN ONLY SEE ASPEC PEOPLE AS CHILDREN THAT IS A YOU PROBLEM.
#also. these people should know that sex isn’t the ONLY THING being queer is about. same for romance.#it IS something but it’s not for everyone nor does everyone have the same feelings on it#just. ugh#tw aphobia#aromantic#asexual#arospec#ace spec#aspec representation#aspec rep#aggie posts
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I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…
Yandere! Devil x Reader
You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.
Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster
Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.
What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.
You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.
The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?
Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.
You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.
You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?
You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.
Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.
The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.
"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.
An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.
Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.
Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.
You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.
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