angrelysimpping
angrelysimpping
Hopeless Romantic and Devastatingly Horny, I make no Promises
9K posts
Requests: closed || Inbox: open forchatting :3c|| I go by quiet || mostly OCs and DoL || late 20s || any pronouns
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angrelysimpping · 17 days ago
Text
Chapter 1 Full Release!
Dear god, we're finally here. We did it. Chapter 1 in it's entirety is now available! I hope you all enjoy!!!
You can play here!!
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angrelysimpping · 22 days ago
Note
*Clears throat*
What about a yandere drider playing on their predator/prey kink with their darling?
Bites, chews, and swipes at anyone who tries to take away my treat. Driders my Beloved. (I know they don't have genitals but in my delusional world they do, they are just sterile)
Also me: this is going to be a short request so i can get back into tumblr writing- almost 3k words later
TW: contains gross content such as: (feeding reader pre-chewed food, drider licking reader's sweat), kidnapping, delusional love, blood, death, non-con, edging, pred/prey, mentions of impregnation via eggs.
Yandere Drider with GN-Reader Pred/Prey Kink NSFW
Oh, they relish feeling your weight on their web. How perfectly you bounce, the most satisfying of jiggling. He could feel it under his legs for days and never grow tired of it. The constant reminder of your presence was an intoxicating comfort. Like an alcoholic's first sip in the morning.
He smiled when he felt how much you were squirming today. his hands cupped your cheeks as he squished them and cooed. "You seem so excited this morning, my beloved moth." He loved how soft your cheeks were. How they smushed your face and made you somehow a million times cuter. "Are you excited about your bath? Is it because I found that nice floral soap? I know, what a lucky find. Flies usually never hold such treasures... not that I mind your natural scent." His teeth nipped along your neck, never grabbing flesh but excited chittering along it.
You freeze. You never take your chances, flinching or fighting against him when he's this close. You've learned over your time trapped here, so long as you don't fight against him too much, he's unwilling to hurt you. He even goes as far as to pamper you as much as an abomination of a Drow can. Though, you hate those humiliating feeding sessions of force-feeding. You dare not think about the horrid things that he spat down into your mouth and now churn in your stomach.
He washes you every other day. His webs puppet you like a marionette each time. Keeping your arms up and having you move at his measure with the simple movement of his legs. You shutter as you remember the ice-cold water drips down your body and his face is pressed against your inner thigh and looking up at you with such reverence. His many eyes watching the water cascade down your body. How his warm tongue would lap some up and his mouth would chitter and softly whine.
Lately he's been wrapping you up less. The last... bathing session... you noticed you could have slipped out. Yet you didn't. No. You had to buy your time. Wait for a perfect moment. Maybe then you could see your friends and family again.
Your captor had finished his appreciation and fully plucked you from his web, hiking you over his shoulder and rubbing the back of your thighs. You got front row seats to watch his spider lower half crawl gracefully out of his nest and through the lightly illuminated cave.
There, in the gemstone lit cave, was a softly glowing lake. It is pure blue, even more so than the sky at noon. He sets you down gently as he gently kisses your wrists and braids a web around them both before hanging you up.
"Oh, my beloved moth. You look ethereal. Your beauty simply soils me so." He says that with a hushed voice as the silk robes he forced me in opens in the front. The web falls open. Framing my vulnerable body in the knit strands that now glow in the cyan light of the water and crystals. "I'm so happy I can hold you in my arms. That I'm the only one who sees you like this." his hands go from your hips and up and sliding so they are just under your chest before rubbing circles just under your nipples.
You shutter as his freezing fingers graze over your flesh. His teeth clack as he lets go and slowly starts cupping water with his hands to pour the ice cold liquid down your front. You jolt at the feeling, curling up as much as you could.
The drider presses his face to your stomach. Rubbing it against your twitching flesh. "I'm sorry it's so freezing, my beloved Moth. The colder months have arrived." Had you really been here that long? It was early summer when you were swept away by this beast. "I'll figure out something to make sure you're more comfortable. I wish to spoil you, just as much as you spoil me." He was grinning ear to ear as he said that. Pointed jagged teeth on display, making it feel more like a threat than he probably meant, but it terrified you regardless.
"Let us lather you up, I can't wait to scent you. To have your natural smell mix with lavender? It will simply be Divine." He turns to that makeshift cabinet of a web to fish out the goods he's pulled off of corpses. Now is your chance.
You, with all your saved up energy, yank yourself free from the few strands and start running before you even hit the ground. Your feet catch jagged stones and pain shoots all the way up your spine to the back of your head. Yet you keep running. You hear his shrill voice fading, "Beloved?!"
He's faster than you. But with a head start, you hope you can get to the outside where you can shake him off in the sunlight. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Tears are clouding your vision as those odd crystals provide just enough for you to know when to turn or leap.
"Oh darling moth, I didn't know you wanted to have some fun!" your heart all but stopped. Pupils shrink as they dart over to the drider who is keeping pace right next to you with a delighted expression. "You really want to take this to the next step, do you? Okay!" his face was flushing and both sets pedipalps rubbing together.
His oral Pedipalps jittered and spread just as wide, making his maw look more like an open wound with maggots instead of teeth. His eight eyes wide open. He was drooling. "I'll find you just like you want." His voice too husky and wanting for your liking.
Then he stops. You know not to look over your shoulder. It is a death sentence... but you can't help yourself. As you round the corner, he's still, simply waving at you with that too big a grin.
You don't stop. You press on harder, feet bleeding and sweat dripping down your spine. Throwing off that damn silk robe, you stumble a little just to right yourself and keep sprinting. You don't care if you are nude. Anything with a scent is too dangerous.
You clench your eyes and run as fast as your legs can carry you. Your legs burn, your feet throb. But then you are no longer stepping on stones, they are blades of soft grass. You open your eyes but don't find the beauty of the day. Instead, you look to find billowing clouds roaring with thunder and flashing purple lighting. It begins to split and spill rain down. There is no time to pause. You run into the dreary forest as fast as you can praying to any of the gods to heed your plea and save you.
Bloody feet slide as a newly formed puddle catches you. Arms flail as you slip down the hill and collide with a mess of roots, bushes, and thorns. You grunt and try to crawl out but realize you can use it to your advantage. Instead of going back up the hill, you crawl through the brush and find the deepest pit of thicket and nestled into the side of an old oak.
"Darling! I can smell your sweet sweat. Are you as excited as I am? To think you'd be ready for a mating hunt already! Oh my love! My darling Moth! I'll savor this as long as I live!" His tone was wavering. Overly excited to the point even his voice cracked at parts. You keep your breath low and even. He continued to ramble. You hear his voice closer now. "Oh my Moth, my Wisp. I could smell you across the Continent. I will track you down to the ends of the earth. I cannot wait to finally snatch you. Mate with you." Now you can hear his heavy breath. He's too close now.
A pointed spider leg pierces the dirt in front of you. Snapping bramble. Your gaze darts up as you see his huge thorax bypassing you.
"Darling!" you jolt as you feel the thicket snap more and the sound of a tree limb breaking. A Kobold who dropped out of a tree, clutching their bow and looking terrified, right where you slipped in. This thing... was hunting you as well, but you were too busy dealing with that obsessed drider that you didn't even seem them.
"You aren't my Beloved..." It was the first time you heard such a dismissive tone from the creature. But, you could use this to your advantage. He was too close, if he moved the wrong way, he was bound to step right on you. You get back on your belly and crawl. You ignore the nasty feeling of dirt and barbs as you pulled yourself along as slowly as possible.
The kobold babbled in fear. You didn't stop to look, but you felt the mess of weeds move. "You are ruining our first hunt. Stupid little thing!" you wince at a scuffle that most likely ended up with the kobold being grabbed, since you could hear their tiny screech suddenly being silenced
the rain was too heavy for you to hear what was happening to them, but you were far too busy saving your own skin. You weren't sure what dripped down your face, if it was sweat, the rain, or blood from a cut, but your eye fluttered shut and stayed shut.
You could see a foxhole. The entrance big enough to squeeze in. Your heart beats louder in excitement as you narrow in on it. Fingers sink deeper in the wet muck as you pull yourself closer. Pulling yourself under a tree root to the wide open foxhole, you push yourself inside only to feel hot droplets on your back and a heavy presence above you. "Very close my sly fox. I've found you."
You try to dart inside, but he already has you by the hips as he pulled you up against his chest. "My beautiful Moth. I have you in my arms once again. Every time feels just as blissful as the first!" he rubs his cheek against your muddy one. Not caring if the mud and ichor rubbed off on him.
His pedipalps held your hips as his left held your chest. He was groping as his right snaked over your stomach. "You did so well. I almost didn't catch you." His complex manibles brush over your ear and allowed him to nibble the shell of your ear. "But you wanted me to find you. Making all that noise. Sweating so much. You even left a blood trail... I understand why you did it, but i did not want you to hurt yourself for me... I would have found you no matter the weather."
Delusinal! This was absolute maddness! You didn't want any of this! He was making up some mad love story in his head and you voice your displeasure with a yell and violent squirming. But he held just as tight.
"Still playing? Naughty Bee, I have already caught you." He was oozing confidence as he felt up your entire body. "How sweet you want to keep this to carry on. But I cannot keep waiting. You have excited me too much."
Boney and spindly fingers found your genitals and began to play you like a lute. You gasp loudly in both horror and pleasure. "My Moth." He whispered it over and over with such affection you were getting dizzy from it all. Half his eyes were closed as the same half of his face nuzzled against yours. his tongue slowly licking straay droplets of sweat as he stroked and almosted abused your sex with tender unrelenting friction.
Your inner thighs tremble as you try to get away but he's far to perisistant. Then a the finer legs on his body moved, one staying to support you while the other tenderly brushed against your hole as he shifted his body. despite the overwhleming feelings you look down at your lower half his archind half was bent foward so what would be a spinnertte was underneath... but that wasn't the case. A spine was over a slit and that slit was pushing out a large oddly shaped organ it was the same dimentions as a damned horse leg. It was throbbing, purplish fluid flowed freely out of its tip.
it moved like a tail, pressing its head against your opening and fortting against it. that fluid dripped down your thigh as his body continued to torment you. "Worry not. I'll work you open nice and wide for me. I will make this the most pleasurable coupling you will ever have." that pedipalp rubbing against your entrance then began pushing inside, slow and shallow. It was maddening! you swear there was sprites flashing around and watching as your vision started blurring.
Torture. Perverse and excruciating brutatity in the most addicting way. You watched as the limb fucked you and his hand teased you so you could not cum but edged you. He was moaning in your ear as he contined his assult. "You are so warm my Moth!" He was drooling over your shoulder, shuttering as the limb pushed in and out. "So perfect in everyway. My eggs would be so safe inside your guts. Would you keep them as warm as I am right now my sweet?"
you didn't have the willpower or engery to answer. You no longer thought of escaping. No. You needed to cum. your toes curl as he pushes the limb in as deep as it would go. that fluid from his horselike cock left penitration easy and the stretch burned so wonderfuly good. you are moan just as loud as he is, but you do not even hear it.
A long whine wheezes from your lungs as it pulls out of you hole. They left behind sticky strings that plucked away like wilting flowers and drip on the ground. He manourvers you so you can both get a look at your gaping hole. He's leaving over you while holding you close to his chest and that spind on his rounded abdomen throbs. "Look how inviting it is. Like a honey trap... Not that long ago you were crawling on your belly like a slinking cat... Now look. Look at what my love has done for you."
Someway, somhow, that pulsating monster of a cock looked so tantlizing. You were shaking so much even your asscheeks Yere jiggling. This of course was caught by the cursed drow. "I know. I am excited too. Relax Cricket. My cock will be home soon."
He straightened up and his abdomen curled just a bit more as that organ pressed against your most vunrable area. With sudden agression you felt it instantly filling your insides. Full!! far too full!! he was so deep it felt like you were going to vomit. Perhaps even vomit up his cock is it were possible! it felt like it was in your throat as he settled and purred.
Looking up? you didn't even realize your head flew back. You slowly glance down to find your stomach bulging to a concerning degree. You could almost see its shape pushing against your stomach that even your belly button looked ready to pop out. That spine was clamping on your pelvis, right on your pubes. It refused to let you move even an inch. The drider behind you was a mess of sweat, deep erubescence, and drool. All his eyes were closed and his jaw hanging open in ectasy.
He rocked. Deeper that cock went, impossibly deep. His grinding was desprate, his moans were needy and pornographic as a set of legs lifted up and his cock throbbed inside you. "I'm home. Right where I belong." He could hardly get his voice out. "You are so tight! I could live inside you my Moth! I need to lay, right this second. I cannot live in a world that does not have my eggs inside you."
The rocking was intense enough that your head felt ready to fly off but one hand grabbed your chin as he peppered kisses all down your face. He finally brings your orgasam crashing down when he cums as well. All the blood rushes to your head and all you see is white. You felt like your having a sezuire but are grounded by the fact somthing warm is filling your gut. Warm and liquid. You felt like a stretched out waterskin.
He was muttering declarations of worship, but you were too lightheaded to think as you start at the rain dripping down on your hot skin from the deep dark gray sky
Oh, they relished feeling your weight on their web. How perfectly you bounced, the most satisfying of jiggling. He could feel it under his legs for days and never tire of it. The constant reminder of your presence was an intoxicating comfort. Like an alcoholic's first sip in the morning.
He smiled when he felt how much you were squirming today. His hands cupped your cheeks as he squished them and cooed. "You seem so excited this morning, my beloved moth." He loved how soft your cheeks were. How they smushed your face and made you somehow a million times cuter. "Are you excited about your bath? Is it because I found that nice floral soap? I know, what a lucky find. Flies usually never hold such treasures... Not that I mind your natural scent." His teeth nipped along your neck, never grabbing flesh but excited chittering along it.
You freeze. You never take your chances, flinching or fighting against him when he was that close. You have learned over your time trapped here, so long as you did not fight against him too much, He was unwilling to hurt you. He even went as far as to pamper you as much as an abomination of a Drow could. Though, you hated those humiliating feeding sessions of force-feeding. You dare not think about the horrid things that he spat down into your mouth and now churn in your stomach.
He washed you every other day. His webs puppet you like a marionette each time. Keeping your arms up and having you move at his measure with the simple movement of his legs. You shutter as you remember the ice-cold water drips down your body and his face is pressed against your inner thigh and looking up at you with such reverence. His many eyes watching the water cascade down your body. How his warm tongue would lap some up and his mouth would chitter and softly whine.
Lately he had been wrapping you up less. The last... bathing session... You noticed you could have slipped out. Yet you held off. You had to buy your time. Wait for a perfect moment. Maybe then you could see your friends and family again.
Your captor had finished his appreciation and fully plucked you from his web, hiking you over his shoulder and rubbing the back of your thighs. You got front row seats to watch his spider lower half crawl gracefully out of his nest and through the lightly illuminated cave.
There, in the gemstone lit cave, was a softly glowing lake. It is pure blue, even more so than the sky at noon. He sets you down gently as he gently kisses your wrists and braids a web around them both before hanging me up.
"Oh, my beloved Moth. You look ethereal. Your beauty simply soils me so." He said that with a hushed voice as the silk robes he forced you in, opened in the front. The web fell garment fell. Framing your vulnerable body, the knit strands then glowed in the cyan light of water and crystals. "I am so happy I can hold you in my arms. That I am the only one who sees you like this." his hands go from your hips and up and sliding so they are just under your chest before rubbing circles just under your nipples.
You shutter as his freezing fingers graze over your flesh. His teeth clack as he lets go and slowly starts cupping water with his hands to pour the ice cold liquid down your front. You jolt at the feeling, curling up as much as you could.
The Drider presses his face to your stomach. Rubbing it against your twitching flesh. "I am sorry it is so freezing, my beloved Moth. The colder months have arrived." Had you really been here that long? It was early summer when you were swept away by this beast. "I will figure out something to make sure you are comfortable. I wish to spoil you, just as much as you spoil me." He was grinning ear to ear as he said that. Pointed jagged teeth on display, making it feel more like a threat than he probably meant, but it terrified you regardless.
"Let us lather you up, I cannot wait to scent you. To have your natural smell mix with lavender? It will simply be Divine." He turns to that makeshift cabinet of a web to fish out the goods he had pulled off of corpses. Now is your chance.
You, with all your saved up energy, yank yourself free from the few strands and start running before you even hit the ground. Your feet catch jagged stones and pain shoots all the way up your spine to the back of your head. Yet you keep running. You hear his shrill voice fading, "Beloved?!"
He is faster than you. But with a head start, you hope you can get to the outside where you can shake him off in the sunlight. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Tears are clouding your vision as those odd crystals provide just enough for you to know when to turn or leap.
"Oh darling moth, I did not know you wanted to have some fun!" your heart all but stopped. Pupils shrink as they dart over to the Drider who is keeping pace right next to you with a delighted expression. "You really want to take this to the next step, do you? Okay!" his face was flushing and both sets pedipalps rubbing together.
His oral Pedipalps jittered and spread just as wide, making his maw look more like an open wound with maggots instead of teeth. His eight eyes wide open. He was drooling. "I will find you just like you want." His voice too husky and wanting for your liking.
Then he stops. You know not to look over your shoulder. It is a death sentence... but you could not help yourself. As you rounded the corner, he was still, simply waving at you with that too big a grin.
There was no stopping. Not now. You pressed on harder, feet bleeding and sweat dripping down your spine. Throwing off that damn silk robe, you stumble a little just to right yourself and keep sprinting. You did not care if you were nude. Anything with a scent is too dangerous.
You clenched your eyes and run as fast as your legs can carry you. Your legs burned, your feet throb. But then you are no longer stepping on stones, they are blades of soft grass. There was no beauty of the day waiting. Overhead, clouds billowed and churned roaring with thunder and flashing purple veins of lighting. It began to split and spill. Rain hammered down. There is no time to pause. You ran into the dreary forest as fast as you could, praying to any of the gods to heed your plea and save you.
Bloody feet slid as a newly formed puddle caught you. Arms flailed as you slipped down the hill and collided with a mess of roots, bushes, and thorns. You grunted and tried to crawl out but realized you could use it to your advantage. Instead of going back up the hill, you crawled through the brush and find the deepest pit of thicket and nestled into the side of an old oak.
"Darling! I can smell your sweet sweat. Are you as excited as I am? To think you would be ready for a mating hunt already! Oh my love! My darling Moth! I will savor this as long as I live!" His tone was wavering. Overly excited to the point even his voice cracked at parts. You keep your breath low and even. He continued to ramble. You heard his voice closer now. "Oh my Moth, my Wisp. I could smell you across the Continent. I will track you down to the ends of the earth. I cannot wait to finally snatch you. Mate with you." Now you can hear his heavy breath. He was too close now.
A pointed spider leg pierced the dirt in front of you. Snapping bramble. Your gaze darted up as you saw his huge thorax and abdomen bypassing you.
"Darling!" you jolted as the thicket snapped again, followed by the sharp crack of a breaking tree limb. A Kobold had dropped out of a tree, clutching their bow and looking terrified, right where you had slipped in. This thing had been hunting you as well, but you were too busy dealing with that obsessed Drider to even notice. Your heart sank.
"You aren't my Beloved..." It was the first time you heard such a dismissive tone from the creature. But, you could use this to your advantage. He was too close, if he moved the wrong way, he was bound to step right on you. You get back on your belly and crawl. You ignore the nasty feeling of dirt and barbs as you pulled yourself along as slowly as possible.
The kobold babbled in fear. You did not stop to look, but you felt the mess of weeds move. "You are ruining our first hunt. Stupid little thing!" you wince at a scuffle that most likely ended up with the kobold being grabbed, since you could hear their tiny screech suddenly being silenced
The rain hammered down, too heavy for you to hear what was happening to them. You were far too busy saving your own skin. Something trickled down your face. You were unsure if it was sweat, the rain, or blood from a cut, but your eye fluttered shut and stayed shut.
You could see a foxhole. The entrance big enough to squeeze in. Your heart beat louder in excitement as you narrowed in on it. Fingers sunk deeper in the wet muck as you pulled yourself closer. Lugging yourself under a tree root to the wide open foxhole, you pushed yourself inside only to feel hot droplets on your back and a heavy presence above you. "Very close my sly fox. I have found you."
You tried to dart inside, but he already had you by the hips as he pulled you up against his chest. "My beautiful Moth. I have you in my arms once again. Every time feels just as blissful as the first!" he rubbed his cheek against your muddy one. Not caring if the mud and ichor rubbed off on him.
His pedipalps held your hips as his left held your chest. He was groping as his right one snaked over your stomach. "You did so well. I almost did not catch you." His complex mandibles brushed over your ear and allowed him to nibble the shell of your ear. "But you wanted me to find you. Making all that noise. Sweating so much. You even left a blood trail... I understand why you did it, but I did not want you to hurt yourself for me... I would have found you no matter the weather."
Delusional! Absolute madness! You did not want any of this! He was spinning some mad love story in his head. You yelled out your displeasure with violent squirming, yet he held just as tight.
"Still playing? Naughty Bee, I have already caught you." He was oozing confidence as he felt up your entire body. "How sweet you want to keep this to carry on. But I cannot keep waiting. You have excited me too much."
Boney and spindly fingers found your genitals and began to play you like a lute. You gasped loudly in both horror and pleasure. "My Moth." He whispered it over and over with such affection you were getting dizzy from it all. Half his eyes were closed as the same half of his face nuzzled against yours. His tongue slowly licking stray droplets of sweat as he stroked and abused your sex with tender unrelenting friction.
Your inner thighs trembled as you try to get away. He was far too persistent. Then the finer legs on his body moved, one staying to support you while the other tenderly brushed against your hole as he shifted his body. Despite the overwhelming feelings you look down at your lower half, his arachnid half was bent forward so what would be a spinnerette was underneath... but that was not the case. A spine was over a slit and that slit was pushing out a large oddly shaped organ. The same dimensions as a damned horse leg. It was throbbing, purplish fluid flowed freely out of its tip.
It moved like a tail, pressing its head against your opening and frotting against it. That fluid dripped down your thigh as his body continued to torment you. "Worry not. I will work you open nice and wide for me. I will make this the most pleasurable coupling you will ever have." that pedipalp rubbing against your entrance, then began pushing inside. Slow and shallow and at first. It was maddening! You swore those sparks were sprites flashing around and watching as your vision started blurring.
Torture. Perverse and excruciating brutality in the most addicting way. You watched as the limb fucked you and his hand teased you so you could not cum but edged you. He was moaning in your ear as he continued his assault. "You are so warm my Moth!" He was drooling over your shoulder, shuttering as the limb pushed in and out. "So perfect in everyway. My eggs would be so safe inside your guts. Would you keep them as warm as I am right now my sweet?"
You did not have the willpower or energy to answer. You no longer thought of escaping. No. You needed to cum. Your toes curled as he pushed the limb in as deep as it would go. That fluid from his horselike cock left penetration easy and the stretch burned so wonderfully good. Moaning? Was that you? It was just as loud as he was.
A long whine wheezed from your lungs as it pulls his pedipalp of your hole. They left behind sticky strings that plucked away like wilting flowers and drip on the ground. He maneuvers you so you can both get a look at your gaping hole. He was leaving over you while holding you close to his chest and that spine on his rounded abdomen twitches. "Look how inviting it is. Like a honey trap... Not that long ago you were crawling on your belly like a slinking cat... Now look. Look at what my love has done for you."
Someway, somehow, that pulsating monster of a cock looked so tantalizing. You were shaking so much, even your asscheeks were jiggling. This of course was caught by the cursed Drow. "I know. I am excited too. Relax Cricket. My cock will be home soon."
He straightened up and his abdomen curled just a bit more as that organ pressed against your most vulnerable area. With sudden aggression you felt it instantly filling your insides. Full!! Far too full!! He was so deep it felt like you were going to vomit. Perhaps even vomit up his cock is it were possible! It felt like it was in your throat as he settled and purred.
Looking up? You had not even realized your head had flown back. It was only when your eyes drifted down that your horror set in. Your stomach bulged unnaturally, skin stretched tight over his cock inside. So much so that even your belly button looked ready to pop out. That spine at the very end of his arachnid body was clamping on your pelvis, right on your pubes. It refused to let you move even an inch. The Drider behind you was a mess of sweat, deep erubescence, and drool. All his eyes were closed and his jaw hanging open in ecstasy.
He rocked. Deeper that cock pushed, impossibly deep. His grinding was desperate, his moans were needy and pornographic as a set of legs lifted up. His cock throbbed inside you. "I am home. Right where I belong." He could hardly get his voice out. "You are so tight! I could live inside you my Moth! I need to lay, right this second. I cannot live in a world that does not have my eggs inside you."
The rocking was intense enough that your head felt ready to fly off, yet one hand grabbed your chin as he peppered kisses all down your face. He finally brought your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami when he cums as well. All the blood rushes to your head. You see white. It felt like you were having a seizure but grounded by the fact something warm is filling your gut. Warm and liquid. You felt like a stretched out waterskin, pushing its limits.
He was muttering declarations of worship, but you were far too lightheaded to think as you watched the rain dripping down on your hot skin.
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angrelysimpping · 29 days ago
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Early Access: Our Last Liaisons
THEY DAY IS FINALLY HERE! THE ROYAL ROUTE FOR THE DEMO IS FINALLY FINISHED, AT A FUCKING 36K WORDS! Fun fact, that was the amount of words for the prologue and the prison origin of Rotwood. Jesus.
But yes! Finally here! Going to be in early access for a few days before going public! You can play it normal-mode through this link! Or you can play it early access here!
Itch Password: PashaMention!
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angrelysimpping · 1 month ago
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➳ The Rot of Witchwood
As a wayward Witch, you have enough to worry about. Your powers, gifted to you by a curious demon, the past you run from, even trying to get by enough without raising the ire of the neighbouring town. But when you find yourself implicated in a nefarious deed, it's time to step out of your own isolation, and clear your name. 
This is a text based game about being a witch that is trying to hide from a past that hangs heavy over your head, while being plagued by memories of your family. What is meant to be a quick stay in the region of South Hollow, until you're caught up in the murder of a local boy, Luke Buckley.
It's up to you to totally erase any doubt that it was you, before the people from your past come back into the picture.
This game is 18+ and deals with topics such as murder, abuse, thoughts of suicide. There are also going to be adult scenes in general, but also between the player and the love interests, which are optional. A list of the origins found here!
Playlist here!
Prologue- Origins being Finished Up, Midway through Chapter 1
Itch.io page here!
Check out the WIP Mini NSFW E Rawlins game on Itch.io!
Beta Testers for typos and bugs are always welcome, please DM me if interested!
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➳ Our Last Liaisons
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Taking place nearly a century before the current events of the Witchwood, is a tale that takes place just a few days before the entire country of Varan goes dark.
Slipping into either the role of one of the lesser royal children or of a servant of no importance, witness the start of over a century of war and total silence from the entire east of the continent. The Basilica had never been able to touch Varan, the constant three rulers having always been united on the subject to never let them to spread their doctrine into their snowy, icy lands. For centuries each Tsar, Tsarina and Czar have not only fought back against the persecution of Witches, but due to their own familial history, have elevated each and every one into a noble house.
While remarkable, many things plague the imperial houses. Such as petty squabbles, consistently splitting courts, the business of marriage, vying for affections, and at long last... The perfection of the art of Tagging. An easy way for one of the Royal Witches to show a favorite among the courtiers.
Face these, as either one of the few people born above it all, the seventh child of the Tsarina Tatsiana of House Aureus or a lowly servant, barely even worth changing the sheets on the royal beds. See the two very different versions of living this life before the Century of Silence befalls your country.
This game is 18+ and deals with topics such as incest, abusive situations, dubious consent, human experiments and more.
Playlist here!
Progress: Shorter Demo is Out
Itch.io Page is HERE and the Password is "PashaMention"
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➳ The Mad Heir
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The worsening health of the King has caused not only a little bit of disarray in South Hollow, but also complete chaos in the government and the house of Royals. After the birth of the king's first grandchild, he had changed the law of succession. Crown goes to the first born... Or, a blood relative of the current Crown's choosing. And while they lay in their cradle, the King had announced that they were the one to inherit the crown.
Sadly, they've been missing ever since they came of age. So, while the entire stretch of the Isles have been turned upside down to find them, it turns out you've been minding your own business in a run down manor, kept secret by your father, the regent, for... Your very apparent imperfections.
Royals either waste away from sickness... Or become enraptured with a madness not seen in any others.
You sleepwalk through your days, unable to sleep at night, knowing there is something whispering from beyond your curtains, your blood singing back to whatever it is. Things plague you beyond the whispers, something lurks under your skin, angry and dark. It's what takes up most of your day, to the point you hardly realize your father has moved back into the manor, with his new spouse and stepchild he's aiming to install as the heir without anyone noticing. Oh well.
This game is 18+ and deals with step-cest, ableism towards mental health and physical health, subterfuge and negelct.
Playlist here!
Progress: Short demo released.
Itchio page here! The password is: "fuckyoudad"
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References for RO's- Book 1, Book 2, Book 3, Our Last Liaisons, OLL Royal Siblings, The Mad Heir.
Patreon for behind the scenes, exclusive and nsfw content here!
Taking your opinions on future side games here and romances here (form still WIP)!
The Guide To The World
The Romances of Witchwood
Suggestions for Customization!
Masterlist of Asks:
Rot of Witchwood | The Mad Heir | Our Last Liaisons
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Our Last Liaisons and The Mad Heir Info
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➳♥ about me
Call me Inky. They/them nonbinary, nasty words peddler, amateur coder and an even worse graphic designer. I am also a student and working, so progress is slow, but thank you so much for sticking by me.
The blog banner was made by a wonderful friend, @willowaltz on Twitter.
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angrelysimpping · 1 month ago
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so embarrassing to get obsessed with your own oc but it doesn't fuel you creatively or motivate you at all you just sort of sit there. like yeah I've been thinking a lot about blorbo from my mind. no images of them exist in the world and they have maybe 3 personality traits so far. I would rather die than attempt to write about them. I've spent the last 48 hours rotating them in my brain though
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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My oc wants to know if your oc can come over and play
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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VTM is such a serious game and never leaves you with the vivid image of the lady of the lake raising up from the waters holding a dildo
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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feels so embarrassing to b hyperfixated on your own oc like the smallest thing that reminds you of them has you giggling and kicking your legs and smiling goofy in public but it’s like sorry everyone i was thinking about shmoopsie from my brain again. yeah the one like max 10 ppl know about
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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Kofi Goal!
So, I'm wanting to get a FAR better laptop that I have now. I can do this with about £300 but the stretch goal would be £650
10%- Redo the look of the Witchwood: Add music and better UI
20%- Re-integrate the cut content: Extra choices in the origins, (Hopefully) choosing your own pronouns.
30%- Adding the Aide route for OLL properly.
40%- Previews added at the end of each chapter to share what's going to happen in the next one, same for the demos
50%- Polls for which sorts of side games the players want to have, aside from the mini nsfw ones
60%- Demo release of the Mad Heir sooner
70%- Polls open about which side characters players want as side romances
80%- Slow integration for Riley Lynch to be a side romance
90%- Pasha Volcheck added as a proper RO for OLL
100%- Poll for one more character to become a full RO or an added Poly Romance
KOFI HERE!
Thank you guys for the feedback!!! I am so thankful for everything!
UPDATE: 10% reached. Time to make rotwood look prettier.
Update #2: @angrelysimpping This stinker shot us up SEVERAL points. ANYWAY. UI overhaul is nearly done which means I can focus on: Putting cut content back in the game, adding The Aide into OLL as a romance aaaand slapping in previews!
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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no waying @rotting-ink
bonus starling doodle
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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Reparations - Riley Whitburne/Raphael (Vampire the Masquerade)
18+
Summary: Considerate. Polite. Eager to help, but quiet. All qualities that have been pushed onto Riley from a young age - all qualities Raphael would like to see broken.
Pairing: My Malkavian VtM PC, Riley (they/them, AFAB) and their boss Raphael (he/him)(?), Brujah(?). We're still learning about Raph but he has my heart. Raph is UndeadMerman's NPC!
Warnings: Minor blood drinking (they're vampires); Raph is a condescending bastard; Raph does not ask for consent to do these things but Riley's into it; Raph pins Riley down; Minor themes of religious/childhood trauma but it's small; One or two mentions of being exhibitionist stuff but it's not used; Unprotected vaginal sex.
Word Count: 3780
The backroom sat empty, bathed in shadows as Riley stepped through the threshold. In the distance only the quiet click-clacks of a certain elderly patron could be heard in the library’s main hall, all other residents resting in silent submission to their weary bones. In that backroom, the only sound was the subtle crinkling of paper in the young Malkavian's hand.
A Post-It note. For their boss.
Raphael’s presence hung over them, as deep a shadow as those in the desolate office even though he was nowhere to be seen. But he was here, he was likely watching this very moment as Riley gently smoothed the paper over the desk’s hardwood surface.
It had become Riley’s favoured way to communicate with their boss - unless he was standing right in front of them, of course. Non-confrontational, non-expectant, just a little update on matters of import that he could respond to at his convenience. This time it read “Strange yellow eyes have been watching me from the other side of the road as I work. Just wanting your opinion on self-defence in the library if I have to fight it. Thanks boss! - Riley.”
The air hadn't shifted when they’d bent down to place their note. They certainly did feel him when they straightened again, cool skin against cool skin, back to front as though Raphael meant to drape himself over the shorter kindred.
“Another theory, little detective?” he grumbled with a teasing lilt, lips brushing like butterfly wings against Riley’s ear.
Balking at the closeness only encouraged the elder kindred in his teasing, this Riley remembered from their very first meeting at the vote that had stayed not only their life, but a friend’s too. Curious, mischievous eyes and a smile just a tad too wide hunting a retreating Riley through the crowd they’d tried desperately to hide in.
“Nope! Asking if I should take the fight outside or drag him back here if that creepy yellow eyed thing decides to do more than watch me through the glass.” Their head tilted up and back slightly as they spoke, brown eyes rising to meet Raphael’s ever-mirthful gaze.
Naturally, he only pressed further, a strong arm encircling the fledgling and fingers tracing over their chin while the man hummed. “Already taken care of. I hear you're not too good in a fight, despite how brazen you were at the bash. Wouldn't want to disappear on me before I get to see this string-board of yours.”
A heavy lump settled in Riley’s throat. Strange, how despite their undead bodies, those feather-light touches were encouraging a shiver down their spine. It was almost warm. Almost. Everything with Raphael felt like a lost explorer dying of hypothermia dragging themself closer to a roaring campfire, yet their numb fingers couldn't find purchase in the snow-laden ground.
“Thanks, boss.” It was whispered, ragged, Riley’s muscles unsure if they wanted to bolt out of the door or indulge in this honey-trap of affection. But he was smiling that smile again, the genuine one, full of… affection? Appreciation? It didn't matter. It was positive and not a mockery of Riley’s behaviour but a wax-seal stamp of approval.
Closer still, his chin coming to rest on top of Riley’s head, the other arm trapping their waist to his. “Saving you from trouble, letting you feed in my territory, giving you the job… my haven't I done so much for you.” The wistful, dismissive tone of the statement was a lie. Riley knew that much.
“I’ll always be thankful, boss. And like I said last time, anything you need me to do something, I'll get right on it.” For anyone else this would be a lie. For anyone else it was a false promise, a way to give the young kindred space to plan and worm their way out. Not with Raphael.
If anything, Raphael knew the game being played. Not just between them, but between kindred all over town and probably the swamp, too. He knew it, flaunted it, wrenched the leash of it for shits and giggles when it suited him. And Riley wanted to learn. Their sire had left them stranded, a leaf in the wind with about the same knowledge base that a floating fern would have about their new society. Raphael could teach them. Or at least, push them in the right direction.
The expected direction hadn't been down. Physically, down - Raphael’s hands guiding them to their knees as he rounded to his desk, languidly leaning against it yet keeping one palm against Riley’s cheek, thumb brushing up and down the smooth flesh.
A question was clear in Riley’s large, rounded eyes, a picture of innocence and trust they were sure, as they leaned into the petting. A question of ‘What now?’ If they still had a heartbeat, they were sure they'd hear their blood thundering in their ears along with a burning heat beneath their shroud-pale skin.
Raphael’s long brown hair hid most of his face in the darkness, but he was still smiling. The white of his fangs gleamed, a peak of something obstructing them for but a moment as his head tilted. His tongue, running along, considering. “I have something in mind. Can you guess what it is?”
They were well aware of the implications of their position. A ‘fresh’ faced young employee on their knees in front of their boss, secluded away in a back room, away from prying eyes. Had Riley ever been intimate with anyone before? No. It was too stressful, too many scenarios dancing through their mind with a sharp fear of rejection to allow them to approach another. But they'd read about it on online forums; raunchy fan works that had them squirming in their old University dorm room back home in England with shame keeping their hands out of their pants.
But again, Raphael played games. This could be anything, mean anything. They were naught but a lamb to the slaughter in the hands of the farmer who had bottled them after their mother had left them alone in the pastures.
“Too many ideas to choose from. I can't make a confident guess-” A high pitched whine interrupted them, their own whine, tongue pressed flat mid-speech as Raphael’s thumb invaded their mouth and stroked over the wet muscle.
He scoffed above them, crossing and uncrossing his legs at the ankles, settling in more comfortably. “Come on now, fledgling. I enjoy that little brain of yours, but I want to see it honed. Speak, let me hear.”
Which would be hard to do, considering that he wasn't removing his thumb from their mouth.
A scowl fell over their face, dark eyebrows drawing close as that picture of innocence turned petulant, nothing hidden by their bleached-white and freshly trimmed fringe. As his fingers had, the short length of their wolf-cut tickled the back of their neck. Once again, they almost felt a shiver.
Slurred and stumbling, they try to urge out “Well, the one thing it's looking like constitutes as work-place harassment.” Tried being the operative word. A burst of flavour blanketed their tongue, intimately familiar yet wholly new. Just a drop, just a tiny little bit, but blood it was, smearing from Raphael’s thumb. The rat bastard had cut himself on their fangs. The ever-widening smile says it was purposeful.
The hesitation was brief. A millisecond of a pause before their eyes fluttered shut and their lips pulled into a suction-seal around his digit, drinking to swallow the saccharine nectar down. Somewhere in the back of their mind, Riley recognised a French accent yelling at them. Something about a blood bond, whatever that was. Was it relevant? It didn't feel relevant. They kept drinking.
It wasn't enough, just a dash of euphoria, but it was enough to have the world around them fading into a warm background fog. If they'd paid attention, if they could pay attention, they'd see the rabid look in their boss’ eyes, the downright predatory glee that came with knowing your plans had fallen perfectly around you. But Riley didn't, all they could perceive was the scent of blood and the knowledge that a digit wouldn't satisfy several nights worth of hunger.
Releasing Raphael from their mouth, Riley seeks his hand once more, nose whispering along the skin as their lips leave a wet trail from fingernail to wrist. Another whine, another lick against his still pulse before their fangs attempt to bite.
“Ah, ah, ah. That’s enough for you tonight, I don't trust you not to drain me dry, honestly. As cute as it would be.”
They're yanked back with a fist in that silver-white hair, a flicker of pain in their scalp before the petting resumes to smooth the pinprick nerves. It doesn't stop Riley from growling, snapping their teeth at the man above. Petulant.
He laughs, a hearty sound that rises in volume as he sinks into a squat. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you loud and clear. So that's it, is it? Can't verbalise your wants so you resort to all of this… instinct? Maybe you would have been more at home in the swamp with the Gangrels. What do you think?”
It still isn't a genuine question. Or maybe it is. Riley can't tell, not as the unbitten hand shoots up their thigh to press to their core under their-
Skirt. Riley’s wearing that stupid skirt Roxy had gifted them. Raphael hadn't said anything about it, and would he have? Would he have commented on the (for Riley) drastically new fashion choice like he does about their growing confidence? Or perhaps, had he just been saving his thoughts.
Long, lazy fingers stroked against their boxer-briefs, and there it was. The heat. ‘I didn't even know this was possible for kindred,’ was the briefest slither of a thought in the young fledgling's mind before the press became more insistent, tearing something pathetic and light from their throat.
And he was laughing again. Raphael was laughing, his eyes never leaving their own as they grasped his forearm with both hands and rutted against his open palm. “No cock, then. Convenient, because I didn't bring lube. I couldn’t really tell with you, but that's the point, isn't it?” Every implication of that second sentence flew over Riley's head as they continued humping incessantly.
The once flattened palm clenches, nails digging into fabric and tearing before a finger makes its way between their folds and curls. It's enough to have them keening, tiny juts of their hips drawing the digit in and out in a rough rhythm as the older kindred moves in kind, the hand in their hair encouraging them closer until their face is flush against his chest.
“Good. Good. So eager for me, aren't you? So desperate.”
The praise has Riley’s body singing, something heavy building in their stomach and grasping so tightly that their back hunches, changing the angle and drawing them even closer to their boss' front. Then everything stops. The stroking, the delicious drag of that finger inside of them, it stops as Raphael removes his hand from their core as the other grasps their locks and pulls their head back up.
“I'm asking you questions, little detective. I thought you'd be smart enough to answer them.” The smile is gone. But that gleam in his eyes isn't.
“Dunno, boss. They seemed rhetorical to me,” is their reply, the challenge impulsive and brash.
He moves wip-quick, deathly still one moment before surging forward in the next. Riley feels the floor disappear from beneath them, landing on the desk with a huff and pinned there by a body once again plastered against their back. Clinking metal of a belt, the ruffled rush of fabric, and then hands jerking their skirt up again followed by the tearing of a larger hole in their underwear.
The slip of fabric would be in ruins now, they briefly lamented. Their walk home would be a struggle between keeping the hemmed skirt line down and the giddy bubbles in their chest every time the wind would brush against their cunt, a reminder of tonight's depravity.
Because that's what this was, they knew. Depravity. A shameful thing, to be touched so, out of wedlock no less - fucking hell if their mother could see them now she'd throw a fit and disown them a second time.
A burning pulled them away from their shame. Burning and a stretch, a bullying press of something far longer and thicker than a finger, and the threat of teeth at the back of their throat before Raphael hisses and pulls his fangs away.
“Fuck that's tight. You're so wet, why is it so tight?”
His confusion made Riley grin this time, daring to look back and find his brows drawn, his mouth hanging open before he schools his expression and pins their head to the hardwood with a palm over their eyes.
“Are you that nervous? Does this frighten you that much? Do I?” He huffs, the mirth back in his tone before his hips start rolling, not gentle, not slow, but hungry and untethered. It still burns. The burn feels angelic.
“Not scared,” Riley bites back, trying their best to remove his hand from their eyes, but Raphael is solid despite (or rather, likely because of) their admittedly weak attempts. They want to see.
“No? If you're not scared then why are you so tense? Does it feel that good already?”
Yes it did. No it didn't. Conflicting voices swarmed in their mind, one tugging them closer to Raphael and the other to a past they had been running from for years. The need to rebel and the need to fawn and beg forgiveness.
‘Does he know he's the rebellious path?’ Riley muses, able to find purchase on the ground with their toes to lift their hips up just a bit. It's enough to drive him deeper, an inch more of his length, a little more thickness at the base enough that, as their bodies meet in totality, it brings back the waning burn for a second.
There's a loud noise filling the dark office. A wetness, squelching accompanied by the smack of skin against skin that half makes Riley hope that the library’s late occupants have hearing issues and half draws the debauched need to have it all be heard.
“Feels good,” they finally pant, still unable to see that predatory smile or the long hair that brushes the small of their back, shirt ridden up enough to expose the skin. Curiosity tugs at them, pushes words out of their mouth before they can think about ruining moods or causing awkwardness. “How come I feel hot and out of breath? I don't even feel this way when I'm fighting.”
And he's giggling. Giggling as the hand finally leaves their face, only for his own visage to hide in the crook of their neck as he wraps an arm beneath them to pull them up higher, to burrow deeper and batter their cervix with each thrust.
So Riley growls. Growls and huffs because yet again, they want to see and this menace can't let Riley play the game when he can't hide his expressions behind crafted gleeful smiles.
“Blush of life, little one. Never done it before?”
They can feel his jaw moving against their throat as he speaks. They can feel his embrace tightening, almost bone-breaking with how they're trapped between the desk and his snapping thrusts. They could just answer the question. They could. Or they could dangle something in front of Raphael and see how he bites.
“No, but I've never been fucked before either, so tonight is a night of firsts.” It was meant to sound confident. It came out in broken, pathetic high-pitched keens.
Those harsh thrusts stutter, a minuscule thing Riley may have missed if they hadn't been looking for it. He disguises it by picking up speed, thoroughly removing their ability to speak further, toes curling against the floor they barely reached anymore and fingernails leaving indents in their own palms.
Breathless. Half-way between a gasp and a chuckle. That's how this last laugh comes out, air puffing against Riley’s collarbone, the young fledgling humming with satisfaction. ‘Oh look at that, he can shut up.’
“No wonder you're always so nervous. No ones bothered to fuck all that tension out of you, but I've got you. Another thing you’ll owe me, then.”
‘Nevermind.’ Somehow, with his hoarse groans right in Riley’s ear, his borderline desperate thrusts and this starting on his initiative, Raphael found a way to keep Riley beneath his heel.
With gritted teeth and that building tension ready to snap, Riley risks one final retort before giving up all confidence that they could form sentences. “I thought this was the payment?”
“Oh it is,” he admits, and the younger kindred can hear the smugness in his voice. They could hear it from all of the way across Galewater. “It's a thank you for keeping my library clean and letting me know what you’ve been up to instead of just taking things.”
Grating anger is a strange thing to walk hand in hand with an orgasm. But they're there, skipping merrily down the isle together as Riley comes undone, slick, sticky spend dripping down their thighs as their whole body collapses against the desk. Everything… tingles. That's it. everything feels tingly and fuzzy, unreal in a comforting way rather than the cold discomfort such unreality usually wrought for them.
Raphael follows them down, a heavy wall of muscle keeping them trapped as they slowly realise that his spend is dripping alongside their own. His grip remains tight, his jaw twitching again as the drag of a fang plays against Riley's viens. He doesn't clamp down. He shuts his mouth with a stuttering lip and a heavy swallow, hiding his teeth from where they should be finding purchase.
Silence creeps back into the office, but tension stays in the periphery.
They could bask in it. They could stay lax, enjoy the way Raphael tries to hide that he's nuzzling against their still pulse by rubbing it as though there's an itch on his nose. But the tacky wetness is uncomfortable as it drips and dries on their thighs, rushing out from where his length still plugged them up.
Curious, they found it, that the texture of drying fluids was where discomfort found them. No shame. No screeching voice in their head telling them that they're a disgusting waste of space for indulging in sin. Just… peace and the odd realisation that they'd never been held like this before. It's nice. It's frightening.
So they kick Raphael's ankle. Just a little one, a nudge more than anything. “Towel.”
“Don't have one,” he says, a hint of amusement in tired words.
“Give me your boxers then. You're wearing pants, I'm wearing a skirt. I need them more for the walk home.”
Silence again. Then he's laughing, a full belly roll that makes his slowly softening cock jump inside of them and their body jostles on the desk. The aftershock racks over them, eye closing until he's done and the sensitivity isn't going haywire between their legs.
“You just can't help owing me things, can you? What's next, you need to borrow my car for the weekend?”
“Can't drive. Also, you're an ass.” Riley’s pouting. They know they're pouting. But there's a small smile tugging on their lips all the same. Talking back here doesn't mean punishment. It's encouragement, if anything.
“See? You catch onto things so quickly when you put your mind to it. So smart.” The condescending two pats to the top of their head rips the smile away again.
This kick is meant to hurt. It doesn't. Raphael still isn't moving to get off. And he's still laughing. Eventually, though, he does release them, standing with a satisfied sigh as he tucks himself away. His band shirt is drenched at the bottom, and so is the front of his jeans.
Riley is left to get themself up with a smack on their ass and a non-committal “See you tomorrow,” before their boss disappears again, ever elusive when he wants to be. He'll see them long before they even know he's around.
They don't make eye contact with anyone as they rush out the front door, forgetting to beeline for the bathroom when the ever present gambling granny looks up from her solitaire with a cocked eyebrow. The cold wind outside only exacerbates the discomfort of the drying fluids. The walk back home could only be described as a slow waddle.
Mrs Dreyer isn't there when Riley shuffles through the front door an half an hour later, a fact that almost has them praying with gratefulness. If she saw the stains on Riley's thighs they might have had to beg Raphael to let them live in the office instead of having to answer her questions. Yet another thing for him to hold over their head.
A ghost of the taste of blood still resides in their mouth, a fact they note as they cross a mirror on the way down to their basement room. They're still smiling. Small, self-satisfied.
‘Blood bonds,’ that French accented warning reminds them again. Yeah, Dread had said some things about kindred feeding from each other, hadn't he? Or was it rather that Dread had inferred and Lachlan had explained? Riley made a note to send the Nosferatu a text as they cranked the shower on.
It didn't seem all that important.
The water was scalding by the time they stepped beneath the crashing pour, another pleasant reminder of the evening. Riley had always liked the cold. Preferred it. Something had shifted tonight, that campfire closer than it had ever been. More tantalising than it ever had been.
As they slathered soap over their small palms, leaning back to clean their thighs, something red caught their eye. Blood? Had Raphael torn something? Quickly stepping out of the shower before the mirror fogged up, they turned to get a better view in their reflection.
Where their thigh met their ass sat a stamp. A date stamp, tonight's date specifically. Riley had pressed the stamp onto many books being borrowed from the library, a record in each one of how many times someone had brought it home to cherish, if only for a brief time.
When the actual fuck had Raphael snuck up and put it on Riley?
The scowl was back. They'd need a new stamp, then, because the ink was clearly smudged from the seed that had been there before it. They'd never disrespect a book by using a soiled stamp.
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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Contents: M!OC x M!OC, vampires, oral sex, cockwarming,
Lachlan Riddick belongs to @inkyquince
Dread was an expert at being on his knees. 200+ years of attending church along with just as many years seducing who knew how many kine so he could gobble them up had taught him the skill well. If he were a lesser man with only one mortals worth of experience, he may have given up on his task by now, but Dread was disciplined and patient and-
Losing his absolute mind!
His mouth was full of his favorite cock – the biggest, fastest, juiciest one he'd ever seen in his 200 years – and he was stuck nursing the beautiful thing rather than worshipping it because his precious Lala wouldn't give in and just fuck his mouth already. It was a cruel joke that he could be nearly choking on the thing – or, he would be if he could choke – and still not be able to enjoy it fully. But he supposed this was retribution for his own stupid idea.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” Dread said as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear and undid Lachlan’s torn jeans enough to free his massive, heavy cock. He smiled mischievously as he kissed the bulbous head of Lachlan’s cock. Once, twice, then a quick lick along the veins that ran through the length of his shaft. “It’s not fair.”
Ignoring the small Lasombra for any amount of time was unfair by his standards. Lala could spoil him every moment of the day and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the part of him that demanded to be adored.
Lachlan looked down at him with a toothy grin and eyes like fog that Dread could get lost in over and over again. “Do what you gotta do.”
Dread returned Lala’s look with a cocky smirk and a wink. “Bet you won’t be able to ignore me anymore after this~”
Then, he parted his black tinted lips wide and wrapped them around Lala's thick cock head, swallowing him down deep into the back of his throat and waiting for Lala to admit defeat to his well-trained mouth.
That was a long time ago though. If Dread could tell time, he would probably even be able to say just how obnoxiously long he had been on his knees while mindlessly drooling around the cock. Goodness knows he was painfully hard just imagining when Lala would finally snap and fuck his throat raw.
His pale icy eyes looked up at Lala, trying to see how close he was to cracking. Based on the knowing, arrogant grin staring down at him through strings of flesh, the answer was not at all.
"You gonna give up, sugar tits?"
Dread's brows knitted together.
"Hey, I'm loving you slobbering all over my dick. I ain't gonna stop you from sucking on it."
That sounded really good right now; sucking on Lala's dick like it was an ice pop in summer (not that Dread knew what it was like to actually eat an ice pop, but the vivid image in his head of licking and sucking and deepthroating such a task treat was a familiar one all the same). The thought left him squirming where he kneeled, hips rolling against the air in a futile attempt to get any kind of friction. 
The humiliation and frustration of their stand-off was made worse when he imagined how many kine must have been watching both of them with lust in their eyes; the same that were hollering for him to start the real show already. He didn't mind an audience, but a part of him was twitching to tell them to fuck off and stop staring at his Lala – his Lala who was handsome enough to make any whore (read: Dread) drop their panties with just a look and absolutely vile enough to leave those same whores little better than the fleshlights he went through so easily.
His head began to spin, filled with thoughts of how brutally Lachlan would tear up his throat the moment he snapped. He'd shove that monster so violently down his throat that it would choke him. Lala would pump his stomach full of hot, thick cum then pick him up and use his tight hole whatever way he wanted after all his teasing and that… that was a hot thought.
Dread was the one who finally gave in.
He didn't bother to hide or disguise the disgustingly wet, sloppy sounds that filled the air as he began to bob his head over Lala's length. His tongue hungrily slumped at the stream of veins that ran across Lala's cock, moaning deep in his throat at the taste he loved so dearly and hoping that Lala could feel how deep his perverse desire to be fucked stupid ran.
As Dread began to pull back, he felt two fists ball in his hair.
His gaze trailed upward – past the hem of Lachlan's old tank top, over the shiny golden piercings that littered his collar bone, ignoring the mouth and melting lips he wanted to so badly devour with his own – until his cool blue eyes were locked on the cloudy ones staring back down at him, hungry and eager.
Lala's fangs glistened through his flaps of skin and something twisted around inside of Dread and made him melt.
“Ya done fuckin’ around, sugar tits?”
Dread was back to humping the air, silently begging for what he knew came next.
Lachlan’s fists tightened in the smaller kindred’s long black hair and pushed him forward until his nose was pressed against the curly hairs that grew across his pelvis. He was gonna fucking enjoy ruining his throat after putting up with that bullshit teasing for so long.
Lachlan loved a whore that knew how to use their mouth – or any hole, really – but tolerating Dread’s tantrum was a way to test him. Cockwarming was fun as shit, especially when the hole holding onto his dick was nice and warm, but he didn't want to hold back; he wanted to fuck that face that looked up at him so adoringly and twist it round until is was a mess for him.
He pulled back on Dread's hair, slowly pulling the man off his cock before violently shoving him forward again while thrusting his hips into the wet mouth that was now sucking at him so eagerly.
The whines and whimpers that vibrated around his cock begged for more, for something rougher and less caring and aggressive. Dread wanted Lala right now, however he would have him.
"Get it sloppy, pretty boy.” Because as soon as Dread was done, Lachlan was going to yank him off and fuck his ass so hard it would jumpstart his heart back to life.
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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I can't figure out which blog to post it to, so the horny writing one it is
Contents: Friend's M!OC x Friend's M!OC; implied public sex; just an old lil thought that I love
Words: 139
Dread belongs to 💗@letstalktea💗
Lachlan belongs to 💜@inkyquince💜
Just, Lachlan carrying Dread on his broad shoulders while Dread's wearing a skirt, large hands occasionally squeezing Dread's soft thighs. Dread paying back the favor by threading thin fingers through red locks and pulling. Lachlan letting out a lil breathless laugh as he feels Dread growing hard. Dread can't stop Lachlan from manhandling him, not that he wants to. Not when Lachlan pulls him around so his crotch is pressed to the nosferatu's mouth instead of the back of his head, flipping the skirt up to reveal his boyfriend's pretty cock. Definitely not when that long, priced tongue snakes out and Dread now has a whole new reason to pull on Lachlan's hair. Especially when one of those lovely hands slides under the back of Dread's skirt and a pair of familiar, thick fingers press into his hole
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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Patreon Post: You and Me and The Nos (Lachlan Reddick and Islan McLean- VtM OCs)
content warning: Slight Angst, Threesome, Implied Toxicity
You knew Isla like the back of your hand. Isla was your friend for fuck’s sake. So when she started getting mopey and shut off, you knew what it was. She was crushing on someone. But as per, she never tried to shoot her shot. Her own nosferatu disfiguration had taken a blow to her self esteem and it did get her down but it had gotten far worse recently. She’d lay in bed, flicking through her old, well preserved books and desperately reread some passages, her lip wobbling. You knew those books by heart as well by now too, as she loved to read outloud to you on quiet evenings.
You knew she was hanging onto those words of men begging for a lady’s hand in marriage, pining, barely skimming hands and long lingering looks. She was imagining herself, waiting in a field as a man closed the distance, yearning in his eyes. Marriage proposals and chaste yet heavy kisses. You felt sorry for her, truely. She was born just after the time of old school romance and now was left behind in the new age.
Except… That didn’t turn out to be the case. Not of late.
She wasn’t reading for the longing of the good old times of courting and chaperoned dates. She was reading, and imagining one certain man to be the one begging to be with her on bended knee. You knew she never thought she could ever be with someone, unless they were a nosferatu, until the day she burst in through your door and just flung herself onto your bed. Her face in your stomach as she laughed, breathless. He asked her out. You adored Isla, but even you were surprised. Many still took her at face value and it was awful but you think Isla would fare far worse in a relationship if they only dated her out of pity. So you smiled and hugged her and asked who was the lucky guy. The lucky guy…
Fucking Lachlan Reddick.
It’s not something you expected from him, but shit, everything was surprising you these days.
Lachlan taking Isla out for dates, staying around to sleep over, genuinely holding Isla’s warped face between his large hands and pressing his perfect lips against her with passion, like he meant it. Even… Now. You couldn’t believe that Isla and Lachlan and you…
Were fucking.
All it took was a few drinks, Isla whispering that she trusts you the most, Lachlan’s broad, muscular arm resting on the back of the sofa, large fingers idly brushing against the nape of your neck. But fuck it, you guys were friends and it was almost dizzying being squished inbetween them right now. Dizzying and fucking intense.
The faux-redhead’s cock was ruining you for anyone else. You legitimately doubted that having sex with anyone else would ever feel as good. No one else could possible fuck as deep into you or stretch you out like he did.
“F-Fuck!” You hissed, taking a break from sucking on Isla’s clit, dizzy as Lachlan huffed above you, his muscular body running hot against your back, large hands either side of you.
“Like that?” You could feel Lachlan’s shit eating grin spread over his face without seeing it.
Worst of all, you really fucking liked it. It wasn’t just the drinks you guys shared, it wasn’t just the fact that your best friend found love, it was because you liked Lachlan. More than just because he was the best fucking boyfriend to her, more than because he refused to let you carry the cheap drinks he paid for back to the flat. It was because you liked him. You liked that it was him, fucking into you like a goddamn monster. Your best friend’s boyfriend was a rough charmer and you swear he could smell your fucking arousal as you sipped your drink and chatted back and forth. You almost felt guilty. Almost.
“F-Fuck.” You just whispered again, using your thumb to pull back on the hood of Isla’s cute pink clit and sucked the bundle of nerves into  your mouth, tongue dragging in tandem to her whines and moans, her fingers digging into your hair.
She arched her back as you ate her out, focusing on her clit. Her moans were desperate, loud, as if she only recently started having a lot of mindblowing sex again which seemed about right. You could just about spot out of the corner of your eye as Lachlan growled and leaned forward, gripping her throat to pull her into a rough kiss. She hungrily hisses at the taste of his lips and roughly bites down on his bottom lip.
Even as Lachlan ruts into you like a man possessed, as Isla practically rides your face, they are absorbed in each other. Biting and scratching, and it’s almost like they were using you like a a piece of rope in a tug of war. As if trying to prove something to each other.
It should insult you but god no. You wanted to be used. Used and fucked and fingered and suffocated between some very lovely thighs.
“Cmon, pretty face.” Lachlan murmurs, low and intimate to Isla. “Fuck your best friend’s face like you you always wanted. Like how you told me.”
You felt Isla shiver, as her secret was revealed, but nonetheless, her hand shot down to grip your neck, adjusting herself against your face. Practically gripping your hair to shove against her cunt over and over again, hissing between her teeth.
Lachlan was obviously getting off at the sight, fucking into your hole even harder, cock throbbing as it bullied your guts. You weren’t going to be fucking able to sit after this, but who fucking cares.
Being used like this was fucking paradise, even if they were both using you for their own pleasure.
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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Patreon Post: Uptown Girl (Lachlan- VtM OC)
content warning. Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Public Sex
Someone nice like you shouldn’t be caught down here by the caravans. Hell, someone nice like you shouldn’t be in Galewater altogether. Shitty town with shitty people, but there’s a special eyebrow that’s lifted when people are spotted taking the winding tracks down to the caravan park.
Not like you were going down there for fun. No, this was strictly business.
Business called Lachlan Reddick.
The caravan park loomed ahead, and you thank god that the kindred wasn’t one to care about the state of someone when meeting them, more often than not looking like some deadbeat dad or some sort of grimy redneck himself. Just before you ducked into the camp, you glanced over your shoulder, back towards the sluggish glow of Galewater, beckoning you back towards the safety of your bed, the one so kindly given to you by the extended family that was letting you stay.
It was as if you were a teenager again, but even as a teenager, you never snuck out to meet a boyfriend. Not like Lachlan was your boyfriend. He’d be called the town mattress if he was a woman. However, you were still here. Boots dirtied, sweating a bit in the humid evening, a few bug bites littering your arms, thanks to the swampy air.
Good God, you used to squint at the drive time to your old boyfriend’s house and would weigh in your head if the sex was worth the twenty minutes in an air conditioned car. With the ability to get a drink… And a radio.
But now you’re trekking through hell for some dick, something you could effectively get at any of the bars in town, with somewhat better looking men.
Shaking the thought from your head, you headed into the camp finally, walking past half drunk mortals who lazily waved or threw more kindling onto the trash can fires littered around, instead of creating one big bonfire. You bet they used to. Until their protector came along. No big fires around the big guy. Instead, the closer you get to where he likes to spend his early evenings, the more jars with fireflies there are. Hanging off trees and on stumps, even perching on top of the caravans and tables. Music echoed through the camp from people with guitar and tambourines and the odd harmonica here and there. It took you a moment, peering around the gaggle of people around one smaller fire, passing drinks around, but when you spotted a small brown, deaf dog scuttling out from the tree line, heading deeper into a camp, you knew. You walked closer, away from the others, peering around.
And there he was.
Leaning back in a decrepit beach chair, no doubt stolen from the local store. Ripped jeans, scuffed boots, an old, faded tank top. Box dyed red hair with the black roots peeking through. And his face. That face.
Half melted off. Clouded, corpse eyes. Strings of flesh connecting his lips together. Glinting, sharp teeth that peek through in his smug grin as his eyes flick to your figure, coming closer and closer to the Nosferatu. His long legs spread more, and one clawed hand patted his thigh, strong thigh. Thank god this fucker didn’t stand up to greet you like a gentlemen. If this fucking nasty asshole towered above you with his 6’5 stature… You’d have broken instantly and dropped to your knees.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His deep voice vibrated in his chest, golden piercings littering his collarbone, his torn lip, his eyebrows glowing in the faint illumination. You could even see the studs dotting all the way down his long, monstrous tongue glinting as he talked.
He didn’t even ask what you were doing here. He knew. It’s not like he’s popular for his personality.
So, instead, you took the invitation. Immediately straddling his thigh, ignoring the jeers as people saw you two, on the outside of the party. His large hands easily gripped your waist, covering most of the sides of your torso. For an undead, monstrous beast, his grip was gentle, but firm. You could only squirm against him, feeling heated underneath that hungry gaze.
“So, Doll. How ya wanna play today?”
Fuck him. Fuck him for pretending you can make a decision like that, as if you don’t open your legs the moment you see him. As if he hadn’t fucked you in the abandoned hotel, against the shelves of the general store, as if if he told you to open wide as he pissed down your throat, you wouldn’t obediently swallow every drop. The chokehold this man had on you was going to ruin you, and you knew that the moment you saw him for the first time.
Happy with just your impatient look, he sunk his hand into your trousers, giving your crotch a greedy squeeze. He took a moment before leering at you, running his studded tongue over his shark teeth.
“No underwear, huh? A lil surprise for anyone or just for me?” He purred, leaning up to murmur against your lips.
“Shut up.” You whispered, his rough fingers slowly ran his middle finger along your skin before finding your hole.
“And all prepared? Were you thinking about me earlier?” His eyes glimmer with clouded excitement, sinking his finger into your slick hole, down to his thick, cold ring.
You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to shut up again, not when his long thick finger was hungrily curling inside of you. It was just one finger but it was already filling you up so much. A week ago you couldn’t even take his finger to the knuckle, so the feeling of his chunky ring made you feel a perverse sense of pride. This was probably his plan, ruining people on his fingers and cock and tongue so they would always have to crawl back and beg for him to fuck them again and again.
You just rocked on it uselessly, eyes shutting and even as you felt hungry gazes on you, you didn’t fucking care. You knew you were probably one of many people who crawled to him, but right now it was just you and him, and his teeth grazing your lips hungrily. His tented erection dug against your stomach, eagerly throbbing through his ratty jeans.
“Lachlan…” You whispered, just as he bullied his ring finger into you, stretching your poor addicted hole more. “Fuck…”
“So good for me.” He murmured, before pressing his melted lips against yours, his broad tongue hungrily pressing into your mouth, splitting the strings of flesh apart.
His tongue piercings clicking against your teeth, he tasted of nicotine and blood, his own teeth nicking the organ. Yet it tasted so good. You knew the effect it had on mortals but it wouldn’t stop you from hungrily tasting him. Nothing mattered, not the way he was eagerly showing you off as his fingers stuffed you full, letting you whine and moan against his lips.
“There we go. Such a cute little thing.” He murmured, voice so low and husky that it sounded more like a growl. “Want my cock? Want me to fuck you full again?”
You could just nod, brain foggy, and Lachlan wrenched your trousers down, letting them lie in the mud by his side, tipping over the strange bottle he had been drinking from and spilling dark liquid all over the floor. People hooted and wolf whistled as you wrenched his dirty, ripped jeans down, letting his fat cock spring out. What made your stomach flip every time was that even when he was totally hard, his cock was so fat and thick that it struggled to stand straight up, barely brushing above his thighs.
“I’ve been thinking about this, dollface.” He licked up your throat, cold studs dragging against the skin. “You squeal so nicely on my dick. They way you hump it? More like a fuckin’ wet dream that real life.” His free hand slipped up to squeeze your chest, tucking his thumb into the neck of your shirt to pull it down enough to reveal your nipples. “Been waiting too long for you to trot that perfect ass down here. Broke two fleshlights while you kept me waiting.”
With a low whine, you pressed your sweating hand over his mouth.
“Stop… Stop talking.” You begged and Lachlan, always happy to comply, just licked at your salty skin with his curling tongue.
Instead you focused on grabbing the base of his dick, your fingers struggling to wrap all the way around it, and pressed the head against your leaking hole. The two of his fingers fingering you was more than enough to spread you open and the head immediately slipped in, snug as can be.
You heard a man whoop from his seat, yelling for Lachlan to rip that whore hole, at which he just chuckled, his chest rumbling against your naked one. The cold studs of his nipple piercings could be felt through his thin shirt, as your own rubbed against them.
While the head was easy, the shaft was the real struggle. Thick and veiny and throbbing, you struggled to concentrate, and get it all the way in. A part of you was whining to give up and just hump at what was already inside, but you remained firm. He had this fucking gorgeous toothy grin he’d shoot you for getting it all the way inside and would spout off lies that you were the only one to get it all the way inside, that you’re specially molded to his cock now. Still, you hung onto every word as he said it.
It took another keening whimper and a snarky round of applause when he finally bottomed out inside of you with a wet squish. You weakly moved just your fingers away from his mouth, and there it was. That hellishly addictive grin. Teeth glinting. As he began to open his mouth, you quickly covered it again, knowing that if you came too soon, he’d tease you. No doubt the drunken caravanners would join in. Lachlan laughed richly and began to bounce you on his cock, making you grip his shoulders for support.
Everything about him made your brain buzz. That he was muscular and strong enough to fuck you on his cock with just his hips was one of them. The broad stretch of his tattooed shoulders was another. The way his guttural voice could make you swoon, just like the first night you two met when he asked if you had a light he could leech real quick. Most of all, his fat, hung cock pressing deeper and deeper into your guts, the darkness hiding the bulge it made against your stomach. But you both knew.
“Fuck yeah.” He breathed, already abusing the freedom of his uncovered mouth. “My perfect little slut, aren’t you?”
You could only weakly nod in agreement as his cock bullied your insides, pressing deeper and deeper into you, the knot of heat tightening in your stomach. He relaxed back in his chair, taking in the sight of you humping his erection over and over again, even as the jeers and shouts from the other caravanners died down, settling into the fact it was going to be a long night ahead of both of you.
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angrelysimpping · 2 months ago
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I love you Riley. I'll never stop loving you Riley
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angrelysimpping · 3 months ago
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Like to pull her hair reblog to put a cigarette out on her
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