#finally getting to feel that euphoria

[inkydinks]

almost 6 weeks out, wound tape peeling off, and catching the first glimpses of my healed incisions. 🧡

[tawnysoup]

Found my fav Slay the Princess route recently. Dragon my beloved. Your horrifying beak mouth was an impossible-to-refuse lip syncing challenge 💖

Shoutouts to @blacktabbygames for making such a cool game!

[antisocialxconstruct]

.

[turtle-loving-enby]

The "girl " who has never taken a selfie bc "she" always hates how she looks to nonbinary goblin person who has so many selfies bc they're finally starting to feel happy as themselves pipeline is so damn real ngl

[teathattast]

lay me bare in the open

somewhere i can't be found

somewhere close to the ocean

hear the waves crashing down

euphoria

[boxchewr]

okay i'm gonna continue my thoughts from the girl shampoo tags because. i remembered how viscerally miserable i was when i thought all i could do was Girl things bc i was raised as a Girl. my mother wasn't even that strict but she would automatically assume i couldn't like hot wheels bc thats for Boys and i was Girl. so i never had any hot wheels and she even made me leave a monster truck toy i got from a del taco bc "well you wouldn't want that anyway" (even though i was playing with it the whole time to the point of annoying her abt it) when i realized there are no hard struck boundaries on what Girls can do and what Boys can do it felt like a whole other world opened up to me. it kills me to see that a lot of people never get that realization that they CAN just do WHATEVER they want and stuff marketed for different genders like toys or fucking toilet paper is a waste of time and pointless and just companies trying to gouge more money out of you. plus stuff marketed 'for girls' is usually of lower quality anyway (coughs CLOTHES coughs)

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

fun fact i was SO scared i'd lose interest in botbots quickly bc of my ADHD making it hard to stick to ONE thing for long periods of time (dopamine and whatnot), but flash forward to now and im making fanfiction about it and posting it and making redesigns of the characters and writing literary analyses for it (WHICH I HAVENT DONE SINCE I WAS LIKE 11-13 ON DEVIANTART/AMINO) and i 4got how good it feels to latch onto something and have it be Your Brand until the heat death of the universe

[anaceshornyblog]

Look I think we can just mix the whole stuck in a dream coma for six months hovering between two states of being and add a horribly painful transformation into it, for enrichment.

Or maybe after the Statement, or during, reading it and feeling his body twisting, fighting to keep the words in as bones snap and reform, mouth suddenly too small for the teeth inside, slicing into his own skin but still unable to stop reading, even as his tongue no longer feels like one that should be able to make the sounds necessary for speech. Each second that he fights feels like a lifetime, until those final words and everything slides into place.

It’s euphoria, suddenly his body is exactly how it’s supposed to be, and for once it doesn’t hurt. Everything always hurts, every step down this road, but here at the end the pain is just gone.

[shreksflamingknob69]

if i dont get admitted to the psych ward soon (waiting for them to have a free bed) i’ll continue the family tradition and cowardly drown my sorrows in alcohol

[la-principessa-nuova]

I wrote something in the tags of a response to a poll and wanted to share it as its own post.

First, here’s the poll this is in response to:

To summarize in case that link breaks, it asks you to spin a wheel and get assigned a fantasy RPG role, and asks how well you could fit in the role.

my result was: “demon king who was sealed away and somehow returned”

I didn’t want to just be like “ew, gender dysphoria, no!” so I tried to think of a premise that could make it work, and here’s what I wrote:

After a long and deadly war, the demon king is sealed away, and the legend of his reign of destruction and terror is passed down for generations with one clear instruction: keep the seal secure or destruction will follow.

Then one day, the greedy queen of a neighboring kingdom invades. She is warned not to open the seal because it contains an unthinkable evil, and she’s like, "Pfft! Unthinkable evil??? What do they take me for? Surely it must be the greatest treasure of the kingdom!,” so she breaks the seal.

A great and evil laughter sounds throughout the room and a shadow emerges, moving like a sludge along the floor the guards take defensive stances around the queen and she steps back, true fear spreading across her face for the first time in her privileged life.

Suddenly it lurches at her, and the guards suddenly turn towards her‚ hesitantly readying to strike as they watch the shadow stream into her through her eyes, ears, mouth, and nose until finally she’s knocked back a step as it possesses her, and her arms and head hang forward as if she is suspended by the back on a puppet’s string.

They all stare at her in horror as she slowly smiles and looks up, her eyes now glowing faintly purple as she lets out a maniacal laugh. The old king of the fallen kingdom lunches in his shackles to no avail.

She opens her mouth and says in a growly contralto, "finally, i have ret-". and suddenly she pauses and moves her hand to feel her throat. "OH..." she says, looking down and noticing her new body. she waves her wrist and conjures a portal in front of her that leads to the same spot in the opposite direction, essentially a mirror.

She looks in the mirror, feeling her face, turning to notice the shape of her body as her astonished look turns to into a faint smile. "I'm... beautiful.." she mumbles.

In her astonishment over her new face, her focus drops, dismissing the portal and revealing the crowd of confused soldiers staring back at her as she just stands there awkwardly.

And basically the story goes on to follow her slowly realizing that maybe she isn't evil after all, and it was only because she saw herself as being fundamentally unlovable and bad that she thought she needed to take that path.

And she realizes that living in a society that held her to the expectation that as a man, she should fight and conquer lead her to overcompensate when she found that life meaningless.

And now she slowly realizes the harm she's caused and comes to terms with it while slowly learning who she is, what it means to be good, and what she really wants in life.

And she does this while defending her empire from the threats of the power hungry servants who turn against her in her new ways and outsiders seeking either power or revenge.

And also while dealing with the common people who believe that she is just the same greedy queen playing some long con, or the same evil demon king hatching some master plan for world domination.

[zomgcaleb]

NSFW — caleb would loatheeee you trying to be quiet. he’s waited so long to have you this way after all the daydreams and fantasies that would distract him. the ones that would make him reread his source articles in academy because the image of your collarbones in that v neck from your hangout blurred the lines, the ones that would make him improvise in conversation with friends because he was too busy thinking about kissin up your spine to hear what they said. and after all that you want to hide away from him. uh uh.

he’d finally have you sprawled out on his huge comfy California king, pressed under the weight of his body in a nasty prone bone. his shoulders and sculpted biceps would be caging you in and his forehead would rest gently in the crook of your neck, suffocating in the smell of your sweat mixing with the perfume you always wear that drives him insane. you were completely trapped and it was delicious.

but here you were, shoving your face into the pillow and squeezing your eyes shut in hopes to find the strength to stop being so loud. your were embarrassed at how primal he could make you sound like your noises were being ripped from your chest at the feeling of him.

he’d hear the hitch of struggle in your voice once and his eyes shoot open and his brows pinch together. he lifts his head to look at you through droopy eyes. ‘w’ya doin’?‘ he slurs firmly. ‘stop it.’ he shifts to lean on his forearm and uses his other hand to grip your jaw and tilt your head up.

you let out a gasp into the thick sticky atmosphere but you still don’t seem to ease up and he whines in something close to agony at your muffled noises. ‘nooo please baby sing for me gimme ‘ur pretty voice.’

he’d get so impatient that he hooks his thumb into your mouth and pries it open, moaning at the drool that trickles down his wrist. he starts to fuck you as if he’s trying to thrust through you and you can’t help but cry out in bliss, right into his ear, as he rams right into that sweet spot that’s just for him.

it was like a mountain was just lifted off of his shoulders and the relief coursed through him like euphoria. ‘my pretty girl. nothin’ t’be scared of stop hidin fr’me. let caleb hear you, let him hear baby’ he’d coo absentmindedly. he has to try like never before not to cum in you right then.

[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear

NSFW WARNING

Sylus

Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).

“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave. 

“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious. 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”

“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.” 

You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”

“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.

“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.

“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?” 

Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused. 

“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”

“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly. 

“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.

You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”

He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”

Caleb

You’ve been teasing Caleb all day. 

Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.

So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.

He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him. 

But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.

After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.

He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.

“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.

He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?” 

You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”

“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out. 

“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.

His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips. 

He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties. 

“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.” 

Rafayel

You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.

You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.

“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”

“Raf-”

“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”

“That’s besides the point-“

“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”

“No, but I-”

“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”

“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“

“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”

When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.

“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.

You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.

He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.

Xavier

You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.

“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.” 

He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”

“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.

You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway. 

What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him. 

You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.” 

In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”

You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”

“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.

You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place. 

Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum. 

Zayne

“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”

When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.

But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him. 

You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place. 

When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.

In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along. 

He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi

[s0dium]

Warning: Pussy drunk Toji

Toji is worried that he cant stop fucking his client's daughter.

He isn't guilty about it; in fact, he couldn't care less if he were caught, as he has other clients practically lining up for his services.

No, Toji Fushiguro is worried that he might be getting addicted, addicted to you, addicted to fucking you.

Before meeting you Toji didn't even know it was even possible for pussy to feel this good. Even from just slipping his tip in, the wind is knocked straight out of his lungs. You feel good? Try god-like, Toji's mind is in euphoria the way your pussy always clenches around him, pathetically trying to accommodate for his length. Jesus, all those other girls, his fist, even a flesh light could never compare to the way your warm walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

“S-shit you gotta loosen up baby~" Toji swears he is not a whining man but here his, voice cracking just from slipping in you. When he finally gathers the willpower to move, he has to bite his lip from spilling inside you right there and then.

"So good, so good for me." He swears under his breath, he can no longer hold in his moans as he fucks you in brutal mating press, your legs thrown over his shoulder so his tip can abuse your cervix.

Fuck. He can barely look at you, can barely open his eyes and ignore the colors he was seeing behind his eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. His skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing he could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over his body.

This is bad, really bad, Toji doesn't think he can stop even if someone where to walk in on you two right now.

"S-slow down," You whine but your cries fall upon deaf ears. You are both a moaning mess, it was truly a show of primal affection; skin sticking and unsticking to each other as you clawed his muscular back from the delicious friction of his dick thrusting in and out of you.

Suddenly, he grabs the back of your head and brings your lips to his, his hips not so much as stuttering as he entangles his tongue with yours. Even your lips are like cocaine to him, he kisses you every chance he gets; while he's fucking you, while he's fingering you, peppering light ones on your neck and jaw and deep ones while he's got you riding his dick in front of a mirror.

Yes, Toji Fushiguro cant seem to get enough of you.

[skyrigel]

“Does that feel good…huh ?”

Simon pulled you back by your neck, his breath piping down your spine in blazing hot rings. “I bet it does.” He growled maniacally, chuckling as you whimpered against his chokehold.

He pulled out his cock just until it breached against your used wasted hole before slamming back in all over, arching your back further as your orgasm came in waves — there was no point holding back as your thighs shaked, still the constant pouncing didn't stop, the back of your thigh met his hips in every jiff, while hot cum leaked down and coaxed his big cock and he groaned at the heat of your pussy, me, only letting him rattle your insides while your toes curled from overstimulation.

“Did Daddy say you could cum, huh ?” Simon didn't wait for an answer, and as came his hand pinching hard on your bud, and after were two consecutive hard spanks that stirred another heated arousal, “ya’ being bratty today, is that what'll do ?”

Your vision blurred, tears brimmed and fell down and you shaked your head, it felt good to be pounded down after moaning and writhing over dildos that were nothing compared to your man's veiny cock, but even so you lost count how many times you came and how many times Simon punished you by going harder once again.

“C’mon you promised to be daddy's good girl, no ?” He leaned down over you, enveloping your bare back with his hot body, his heat pulsing like a drum through you and not to mention the bulge that twitched as you moaned like a whore against his arm.

All your thoughts were mussy except how good his big dick felt inside you, how obsence it must look — on your fours getting pounded from behind like cock slut, being forced to take it after third or maybe fourth orgasm.

“Daddy didn't say you could cum whore ?”

Simon kneaded your tits that jangled with every thrust, and you couldn't take it anymore, feeling your nerves numb in your body as you thought to utter your safeword with no success, finally remembering to shake your head as Simon always told you.

Simon couldn't understand until thrusting three more times then he pulled himself out, his hold of your throat came undone as you trembled all over against the emptiness of your pussy when he pulled out with wet pop, swollen and hard.

“Lovie.” He cooed, all the hardness left somewhere as his soft voice hummed — you fell face down on the pillow, tears soaking against it. “Hey, hey…love ?”

Simon's deft finger pushed away your hair that sticked up through sweat and tears, his eyes were sweet and loving.

“Did I hurt you ? Tell—”

“No.” You croaked, feeling your thigh numb all over, his weight shifted beside you until you scrambled over and laid your head on his chest, his heart beating melodiously enough to lull you in some heavenly sleep.

“I was too hard on my princess, wasn't I ?”

You looked up, knowing how heavy your eyes were and no doubt your lips were swollen from the intense make out session earlier, and cum drying over like frost on dew.

He loved you like this, all fucked up, all marked up — just for him, only by him.

Simon smiled shyly, then leaned to kiss your forehead — “I should get us a bath—”

You didn't want him to go anywhere, “Stay ere’ with me.”

“Mmm.” Simon pulled you closer to his chest, wrapping his safe arms around you while you relished in the sillage of sex and euphoria of it all, finally breathing Simon's sharp cologne.

“Would you like water baby, huh ?” But you didn't, you only wanted Simon to cradle you in his arms and sway you gently.

“Alright lovie, sleep.” He whispered, carding through your hair and soothing your scalp, knowing he'd pulled too hard, just how his nasty girl liked, “I love you.”

“Love ya too.” You inhaled, feeling so good.

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[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[fear-is-truth]

𝝑𝝔 rafe cameron x ovulating!reader ✿ smut, 18+

as soon as your boyfriend steps into your room, you don’t give him a second to set his bag down. you scramble onto your knees on the bed, reaching out to grab his hand. he raises an eyebrow, though he holds his ground just enough to keep you working for it. “rafe, c’mere,” you whine, pouting when he doesn’t immediately fold.

“needy, aren’t we?” he deadpans, though his gaze softens slightly. rafe lets you pull him closer, and as you wrap your legs around his waist, he leans in, almost giving in, before planting his feet firmly to keep himself upright, you tug again, but to your frustration, he resists yet again.

“princess, are you ovulating?” at this, your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into the stuffed animal he bought you, mumbling, “rafe!” with a shy glance up at him. he finally grins, giving in as he climbs onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “hey, i’m not judging,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “just sayin’—explains why my girl’s practically begging for me.”

in no time, he has both your legs slung over his broad shoulders, a pillow propped under your lower back. the first thrust is always the best; the glorious stretch of his cock bullying its way past your walls as he fucks you nice and deep has never failed to make your toes curl and back arch—only rafe knows how to turn discomfort into pure pleasure for you.

“mhm—yes right there, right- oh!” all the air seems to get punched out of your gut when you feel his tip kiss against your cervix. drunk on euphoria, you reach out blindly until his fingers find yours, lacing them together. he brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back.