#“he's a monster...beautiful monster...but i don't mind...and i need him”

[s3rrrpentine]

soap will be hearing dad jokes but like 3 times

[oreo-creampies]

𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/mama/brat etc…., overstimulation, breeding/creampie, riding, wall sex, full Nelson, mirror sex, praise/degradation, some mind break/dumbification, mention of a belly bulge (from satoru’s cum and cock), begging, possessive, size kink, squirting, knife play (no blood or cutting)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 my pussy ✨

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Lining Kento up with your sensitive wet little hole. Losing your mind over how thick he is. Too big for your fingers to touch. “My hungry little cock sleeve missed me this much? Barely letting me take my clothes off before your licking the sweat off my cock and trying to take me in your soaking wet cunt.” Messaging your cheeks with his large rough warm hand. Holding your hip, slowly swiping his thumb in small circles.

You can’t get enough of how it feels to be touched by Kento Nanami. His touch is firm, gentle, warm, comforting and exhilarating. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you non stop daddy!” The pinch in his brow smoothes, a lazy smirk tugging on his slips.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, his thick fingers sinking in your hip’s squishy crease. Kento roughly sliding you down on his fat, veiny cock. “Who am I?” Roughly smacking your ass, once, twice, your cunt clenching on the third.

Firmly grabbing your hips, guiding your tight hot cunt on his cock. Sliding your hand down his rock hard, cheilsted chest. Sinking your nails into his abs when he flexes, the lines deepening. “Tell me or I'm stopping, who’s fucking your tight cunt into a sloppy mess?”

You whine, “Daaaadddy isss! Daddy’s fat cock is stretching my cunt out, reaching so deep. I can feel your veins pulse, the shape of your head, nnnn you’re so deep! Right there daddy please keep bouncing me on your cock! You’re so strong!” Wrapping your arms around Kento when he stands.

Softly tugging on his soft blond hair, scratching his freckled backside. “You’ve been such a beautiful house wife, it due time I make you a mama.” Your cunt throbs, fluttering around him at the thought.

Needing one arm to hold you up, he wraps grabs a handful of your hair. Pulling your head back, looking up into his beautiful face, relaxed in pussy drunken bliss. He croon, “Am I your big strong daddy? Does my beautiful mama love it when I fuck her like a slut?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You’re helpless in his firm grasp, your legs pinned by your sides by his muscular arms. Toji’s large hands are clasped behind your head forcing you to look into the vanity mirror. “Look at ya sloppy little cunt, it was so small now it's taking my monster cock like it’s made for it.”

His cock always looks too big to fit, yet your soft squishy cunt takes him perfectly every time. You’re split open in a perfect circle, your puffy lips dragging along his cock when he pulls out. His heavy balls bouncing with each thrusts memorizing.

He gruffily demands, “Who’s slut are are you?” Your cunt flutters around his cock, spasming, gushing thick cum. Squirting all over his bed, some of your slick trickling down soaking his cum filled balls.

His cock head hitting your already aching bruised cervix threatening to do deeper. Could he? Loudly moaning, “Daddy’s! I'm daddy’s slut! Please! Please cum!” He groans, his fat cock’s veins throbbing.

He glides his cock out, “Fuck! Ya daddy’s little slut huh? Keep talkin’ like that and ya gonna make me cum too quickly. N’ after I made sure to jerk off with your panties so I can last longer in your lil super soaker.” Effortlessly sitting up, easing you out of the full Nelson. Holding you up, lining his cock up, gliding himself into your soft, squishy cunt.

Curling your toes, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping. “Too much! Please don't stop wanna be a good girl for Daddy! Please! Cum! Daddy! Please! Cum daaaaadddy!” Attempting to wiggle off Toji’s thick cock, your attempts are a pathetic shifting of your hips.

Toji stands up, fucking his thick, veiny cock into you harder. “Damanding little brat, after I cum I’m taping a vibator to your clit so I can smoke n’ have a drink watchin’ you whine and cum till your lil cunt breaks.” Tightening his grasp on your thigh, grabbing your hair holding your head still.

“Watch daddy fuck his cunt into a gapping cum filled mess.” He groans, looking handsome balls deep in your cunt. His thick arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs, Toji is a massive beautiful man having his way with your cunt.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Tightening his grasp on your neck, pinning your thigh to the wall. Your other leg hooked around Satoru’s waist. “Dont even need to listen to you beg, your cunt is doing it for you. Hear how wet she is? Your little cunt keeps on cumming, soaking n’ gripping my cock.” Your cunt loudly squelches when he glides his long veiny cock in.

“Seems like no matter how much I cum my cock is keeping getting hard again. It’s all your fault. Sending me those sexy pictures and videos of you playing with yourself making my cock and balls ache.” Some of his thick cum is dripping out, your stomach’s bulge grows when he stuffs you with his cock.

Loosening his firm grasp on your neck, grabbing your other thigh. Pinning it and leaning back looking down watching slowly his thrusts down. He croons, “Aw I filled my your little cunt is too full of my cum, it's all dripping out no matter much I fucked it deeper!” He groans, it’s breathy ending in a needy whine.

Barely catching your breath, whimpering “Daddy please! I can't cum anymore!” Rapidly picking up speed with each hard thrust, till he’s moving faster than than the machine he’s gotten to watch you get fucked with.

Leaning in close, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back. His messy white hair falling into his beautiful sky blue eyes you swear have clouds in them. “Oh you can't? That’s too bad my poor little princess will have to keep taking Daddy’s cock in her broken little cunt anyway.” Roughly kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting of sweets and your cunt.

Biting your lip, stopping when you cry, your cunt clenching his sensitive cock. You can feel his veins throbbings, he’s close but that doesn't mean he’s done. Tilting his head back, his beautiful neck covered in lipstick and red hickies he won’t cover.

His jaw drops, he drops his head, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! You’re getting so tight! Mmmm you’re daddy’s little slut, my beautiful whore. Tell me who I am when I’m fucking your cunt into a sloppy mess.” Leaning back, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You’re my-my! Nnnn!” You’re too cock drunk to get the words out. Whining, your cunt spamsing the intensity of your sore, sensitive cunt cumming for an unknownth time too much for you.

Satoru croons, “My my what? You said it? Whined it so beautifully it almost made me cum. You’re so fucking adorable, sexy, beautiful and needy, who else better to make me a daddy?”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Holding a knife to your neck, fucking your your sloppy cunt like he hates you. Suguru’s harsh, quick thrust too intense for your poor sensitive cunt to take. Closing your eyes, “Daaaady nnnn you feelsooogood! You’re cock! Nnnnn you’re!! Ahh!! Daddy!!” He fucks you harder with every word you utter till you’re a whimpering mess.

Dragging the sharp knife’s tip down your neck, between your breasts. Slowly sliding it closer towards your nipple, grabbing your jaw. “I need you to look your daddy in the eyes beautiful, it gets me off seeing the sexy look on your pretty face when you cum, let me see you cum for the tenth time.” You’re so close.

His pierced tongue, his thick fingers and his beautiful fat cock have spoiled you. Swiping the cool knife over your sensitive nipple. “Ahhhnnn dadddy.” You can feel the strong vibrations of your butt plug in your cunt.

His thick, being cock stroking all the right spots. “Squirt on Daddy’s cock.” Gushing on Suguru’s thick cock, soaking his balls hitting your ass. Slick trickling down to the toy pulsing in your other hole. He relentlessly, fucking you through your intense high.

Your mind shattering, eyes rolling back. Suguru groans, “That’s it! Good lil’ cock slut!” His smirking, groaning he knows how beautiful he is.

Holding his long, luscious hair back, thick longs framing his beautiful, angular face. A hungry, cocky smirk on his parted lips, the pink flush of his cheeks. And the loving passion in his warm honey brown eyes.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, stopping your pitiful attempt to run away from Suguru’s cock. “Where you going? Daddy isn't done with you yet, you got me hard for another round now ya gotta be a good girl n’ take it.” Setting the knife aside, grabbing your hair leaning down.

He’s too tall forcing you to look up. Using his weight and his firm grasp on your hip to keep you pinned beneath him. Legs spread for him to beat up your sloppy cunt with his hard cock. You can't believe he is all your’s.

“Nnn I can take it, wanna take daddy’s fat cock, wanna be filled with your warm cum. Please daddy, you didn't fill me up last time. N’ I've been good! Wanna! Wanna feel you cum, please!” Letting his hair go, swiping it to one side to make a thick curtain.

“That’s why you’re daddy’s good girl huh? Nnnnfuckmamafuck tell me who’s gonna make a beautiful mama.” His thick veins pulsing he’s so close.

[sinsofnivan]

INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything. 

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.  

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock." 

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .  

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face," 

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf. 

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face. 

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much," 

"i love you too, mi amor." 

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you. 

mind? 

what mind? 

"c , chris!" 

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . .  love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away. 

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix. 

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit. 

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment. 

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby," 

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you. 

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . . 

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama," 

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . " 

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ" 

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full. 

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him. 

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist," 

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy. 

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine. 

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here," 

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?" 

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw. 

wesker is strict. firm. 

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack! 

"f , four!" 

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ). 

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment. 

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK! 

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull. 

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours. 

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions." 

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up.  "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange. 

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!" 

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look. 

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks. 

too bad he's still gotta discipline you. 

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers." 

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm. 

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away. 

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you. 

only for you. 

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function. 

"who owns you?" 

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet." 

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!" 

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers. 

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt. 

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back. 

"sleep, my love. i'll be here." 

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out. 

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different. 

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!" 

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . .  you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom. 

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned. 

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom. 

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry.  "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed. 

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts. 

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point.  “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you. 

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it. 

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal. 

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting. 

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now. 

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn," 

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm. 

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind. 

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . .  fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter.  "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!" 

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time. 

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet. 

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . " 

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . . 

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?" 

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged. 

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now. 

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . .  but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour. 

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—," 

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it. 

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.  

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios .  . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours. 

[ god . .  oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out. 

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily.  "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy. 

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself. 

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

[donvampiro]

Hi Don! I would like to know how the Monster Trio’ll react to their S/O calling them “My husband” instead of “My boyfriend?” ☺️ (Sanji is so gonna die from happiness hearing that)

hiii! hope you're doing good ^^ yeahh i'm pretty sure Sanji's heart would do backflips hearing that! xP thanks for your request sweetie, hope these HCs will live up to your expectations! Love <3

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Slip of the tongue (or not)'

Monster trio x gn!reader

Monkey D. Luffy

he’s so chill about it lmao

“boyfriend”? “husband”? “brochacho”? as long as you’re with him, loving & cuddling him and that he can do the same, he’s good.

Sanji has already tried a few times to explain to his captain the nuances of these terms, but he doesn’t really care. Luffy’s not very attached to labels, what matters to him is enjoying each other’s presence, and the gentleness as well as the intensity of your bond. you’re you. and for that, he adores you.

he’s not dumb though. he gets that “husband” is kind of… the next level. or something like that. he sometimes thinks about it, but it’s not really one of his plans. still, if it can make you happy, then he’ll follow you. he’ll always follow you.

‘yeah give me some more please. my husband eats… a lot.’, you’d suggest to a merchant on a random island where the crew would stop.

— ‘ya mean, King of husbands.’, he’d reply nonchalantly, his mouth full of food taken from the display.

— ‘Luffy what-’

Roronoa Zoro

here’s another one who isn’t attached to labels.

Zoro knows he loves you and would do anything for you. he knows your presence is priceless, and that your relationship brings some kind of peace in his warrior’s life. you’re like a lucky star, radiant and source of hope. Zoro is not a man of great speeches, but if he knows one thing, it is that he and you share a very strong bond that he’d fight to preserve — that’s probably what we call love.

he’d be quite confused, though, when he heard you refer to him as your “husband” — confused and a little panicked, though he wouldn’t show it. still... “husband”? wait, since when? why doesn’t he remember? what happened? his mind spirals, but yet, without hesitation, he would come to you and ask about it.

‘are we married?’, he’d question in astonishment, as if you were revealing to him a truth kept secret for millennia; and you’d chuckle. this guy fr.

— ‘do you want us to be?’, you’d tease, making him roll his eyes in a grunt.

— ‘nevermind. m’gonna take a nap.’ 

the slight blush on the shell of his ears doesn’t escape your gaze as he leaves. you’re always so good at flustering him. but oh, you want to play it like that? don't underestimate him. maybe you two should actually get married…

Vinsmoke Sanji

FINALLY he can use the ring he always has ready for you in his pocket /j

do i really need to remind y’all of this? Sanji is a man with loooots of love to spare, and his relationship with you is so dear to him. he’s attentive to what you do, what you say, he does everything in his power to be there for you, and hopes that your sweet lil couple will last. forever, please.

i mean yeah, bro’s your boyfriend, but what if — what if — one day, he becomes your husband?? unlike the other two rascals, for Sanji, it does make the difference. this mere thought makes him all giddy. and that’s why hearing this word roll off your tongue, in such a sweet voice, to refer to him… oh, the things you do to this man.

nosebleed and heart eyes? probably. but above all, his desire to preserve, to treasure your relationship and make you happy is all the more reinforced. you already see him as your husband — this would mean that you too love him and trust him so much that you are planning for the long term, even into marriage, right? and Sanji would never dare to break your dream.

‘anything for my beautiful partner.’, he’d grin. yes, he’d play along. let him have this moment.

[sonolynn]

Blood and Cheese

request: Aemond x ( Rhaenyra x Criston daughter ) niece were married and having a son. instead kill aegon son b&c kill Aemond son. How Rhaenyra daughter try to save her son from b&c and what people react after find out about Aemond son being kill. I need this fic so bad…

summary | Daemon took Rhaenyra's words literally. "A son for a son" he said. Who knew that it would be your son?

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

tags | mentions of BLOOD, extreme grief, talk of child murdering, knifes, MORE BLOOD, infanticide, DEATH, extreme grief. mentions of murder

w.c | 3.8k

TW!!!!!!!!! | I personally have a very gruesome writing style when it comes to things like this, so if anything relating to infanticide or violence will trigger or bother you please don't read!!

____________________________________________

You loved your son. You named your son Baelon, after your mothers lost brother. Aemond knew how much you love Baelon, and he would be a fool if he said he did not love his son as well. 

Aemond tried to pride himself with being stoic and emotionally unavailable. But the minute they put his squirming son's body in his arms he felt his whole world resolve. The boy was the most beautiful thing to him, and he couldn’t believe that half of this being came from him. 

Ever since that night, Aemond became softer. When you weren’t breastfeeding, or when you got tired from taking care of the crying infant, Aemond would immediately offer to take the boy. When Bealon would cry in the middle of the night, Aemond would be up almost immediately, rushing to be at the babe's side. It took you almost forty minutes to convince him that it would be better if he slept with you and not in the nursery. 

And everything was fine until the night he killed Luke. 

Aemond would come back to the Keep late at night, still shaken from what he had involuntarily done. When he got back to his chambers, he saw his wife, his sweet, innocent wife holding his son. 

You had a smile on your face, Baelon coo’ing in your arms as he giggled and reached up to play with your braided, black hair. When you looked up, and noticed Aemond, your smile faltered. 

Aemond stared at you, and for a second his face was his normal and stoic, but the minute his son, his little Baelon, reached for him with a smile he broke down. 

That night he told you everything; He apologized profusely, and for the first time in all of Baelon’s four months of living, he refused to hold him. 

“I’ll only hurt him.” Is what Aemond told you. Your heart broke a little when you heard this, and you tried to reassure him but he wouldn’t have any of it. 

____________________________________________

“Aemond?” Aemond stopped, looking at you with a soft sigh.

“Darling, what have I told you about sleeping on the couch?” His voice was tired, full of weariness from having to deal with Aegon’s antics. You smiled softly as you sat up, holding out your hands out for him. He sighed as he sat down with you. He immediately cuddled against you, letting out a long, heavy breath as his head come into contact with your chest. 

This was how you two spent most of your time now. At night, Aemond would come to you and he would cuddle against you, yearning for that love and affection only you could seemingly give him. You two sat like this for a while, you stroking his head, and him stroking your stomach. 

“...I do regret that business with Luke, you know.” 

“I know.” 

There was more silence. It seemed that between you and Baelon, the only time Aemond’s mind was quiet now was when he was with you, in your embrace, being held by you. Not being treated as a monster, or a ruthless warrior, but rather just a man. Just your husband. 

In the distance, you heard the sound of your son’s wails. You sighed heavily, and you looked down at Aemond. 

“Perhaps he wishes for his father’s arms.” You spoke softly, watching as Aemond slowly sat up. 

“He does not.” He shook his head, leaning against the back of the couch. He avoided your gaze, knowing the somber look you were giving him. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to join me?” Aemond sat still, a look on his face that held some sort of thought before he shook his head softly. 

“I’ll see him first thing in the morning, my love.” You smiled at the thought, and you held his hand as you walked away. He watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. The wails from Baelon stopped moments later, and Aemond sighed heavily. 

Tomorrow, he thought, i’ll see him tomorrow. 

The worst part about this sentiment is that Aemond would see his son tomorrow. However, Baelon would be on a pyre. 

____________________________________________

The night started off peaceful. You sat in your rocking chair, rocking back and forth with Baelon in your arms. You smiled to yourself, holding the-now-sleeping babe in your arms. You hadn’t even registered the two men behind you. 

When one of them accidently knocked something over, you immediately jumped. 

“Aemond?” You whispered, quickly turning around. However, you were met with the face of two, unruly men you didn’t recognize. You saw the bag they held, along with the rat traps. “Who-Who are you?” You tried to stay strong, but you knew your voice gave away your fear. 

One of the men, the taller, bigger one looked you up and down. He turned to the other man and spoke softly. “Who is she?” 

“This…Is the one eyed prince’s wife.” Your breath hitched as the shorter man spoke. They both looked reasonably dirty, like rat catchers, but you knew something was wrong. 

“There are no rats in here.” The two men started to walk towards you, murmuring something about your husband underneath their breath. You had half a mind to turn and run, but they seemed to have the same idea. 

The shorter man came to you, and put a knife to your throat. You gasped, and clutched Baelon closer to you. The boy whined softly at the pressure. 

“Give us the boy, and we won’t hurt you.” The taller man spoke. You looked at him and held Baelon tighter.

“You have no business with my son-”

“Give us the boy!” The taller men yelled. You flinched, and at the sudden noise, Baelon started to cry. You looked between the men, and you felt tears in your eyes as the anxiety started to build up in your chest. 

“I-I have uhm..I have many valuable items. I have gold! I have lots of gold that I have no need for-” 

The taller man kicked the edge of Baelon’s crib and you held back a scream. The taller men started to speak to the shorter man, but the words they spoke didn’t process fully in your brain. All you saw was an open door. 

“AEM-” You started to scream your husband's name, but the man with the knife to your throat pushed the knife further and grabbed your hair roughly. You cried, and Baelon wailed in your arms. The taller man put his hand on Baelon’s head and tried to pry him from you grip. 

“NO!” You cried out, trying to pull him back, but it didn’t work. With a quick snap your boy was pried from you. The shorter man threw you back, causing you to hit your head against the chair you were previously rocking in. 

Your head was fuzzy, and all you heard was the wails of your son, painful wails that slowly died down. When you sat up, you saw the men putting the tiny head of your son in a bag. Your whole world stopped, and just as the men escaped down the hall, you screamed. 

Your chest ached, and your throat burned. You stare down at the body, slowly crawling to it as you shake your head and mutter small, inconsistent prayers to yourself. You reached out a hand, placing it on the body’s belly, rubbing it softly as if that would relieve some of the pain that was given to your innocent baby boy. 

You choked on your own tears, wishing for nothing more than your own death in that moment. Screams erupted from your throat; Horrid, painful screams followed by sobs. This pain, this all consuming immeasurable pain you wished on no one. The feeling of your own blood on your hands as you stared at the decapitated body was sickening, but you couldn’t look away. 

How could something so small hold so much blood? You thought to yourself, watching as the blood spilled from the clumsy cut. 

Alicent was the first to arrive, followed by Aemond soon after. Alicent stared at the scene in front of her, and while she resented you (seeing you as a constant reminder of Rhaenyra’s blatant lie to her), the pain she felt for you was disgusting. She backed out of the room slowly and placed a hand on her stomach to ground herself.

Aemond couldn’t step into the room. He just stared down at you, his son's body. The thought that this headless, infants body was his own son’s, his baby boy’s-

He couldn’t move. The pain for him was nothing short of paralyzing. But what broke him the most was you. 

You sobbed, violently sobbed as you placed your hands in your son's blood and tried to pull it back. As if that would fix everything. Aemond felt nauseous, seeing you so desperately cling to the idea that you could fix this. Once the realization started to settle that this was not helping, your body seemed to shut down. You laid down, holding your hands on your son's body as you sobbed. 

No words were exchanged, not knowing what to say. Aemond leaned against the door frame, mind numb as he slowly slid down the frame. He stared at nothing, his mind replaying all the times he held the boy, watched him smile.

____________________________________________

Aemond stood next to you the following day, watching as your baby boy's body was burned on a pillar. He was numb, his face pale and full of so much grief that it sobered anyone up. You were a mess. Tears and incoherent sobs escaped your throat, and you clung to Aemond. Aemond stayed still, gently holding you as if any small movement would cause the last shred of resolve to leave your body. 

As the fire burned, you buried your face into Aemond’s chest, refusing to watch. Aemond let you, holding your head softly. 

But Aemond stared. He watched as the wrapped body was consumed by the flames. He forced himself to watch as the flames consumed his son, his own retribution for not being there, for not helping you, for not holding his son one last time. 

As he watched the ashes of the pyre falter, Aemond made a promise to himself. 

He would kill Daemon Targaryen with his own hands.

____________________________________________

a/n: guys im sorry.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Happy New Year

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

content: oral, p in v

"W-what are you doing? Our friends are right there...?"

"I don't care," you mumble into his neck, gently biting his skin, pulling his shirt out of his pants. "I want you. I need you now."

You press him against the bathroom's wall with your own body. You're far too small for him and he could easily push you away with his one arm. But you know he won't.

"B-but..." he is panting, breathing heavily, already giving in. You unbutton his pants and see a stain on his underwear. You smirk and look at his flushed face. He's been naughty too, having some indecent thoughts while looking at you in your new tight dress. You noticed it of course. The way he ogled you, your breasts, your legs. He was drinking his cocktail, licking and biting his lips, not even listening to his friends but focusing on you. His stares were obvious and barely hidden - the moment you noticed his attention you would sway your hips harder, shimmy and caress your chest to taunt him more.

At one point he approached you and pulled you closer. He was red, sweaty, almost feverish. "Once we get home, I'll fuck you like there's no tomorrow."

He thought I would wait until we get home?, you think to yourself as you pull out his hard cock and kiss its tip. No chance, dear.

"Oh fuck..." He bites his knuckles looking at you licking the base of his hot cock. "Babe, you... you're crazy... fuck..."

He's always been a prude. But not when you're alone. You moan as you take his phallus into your mouth, not nearly as loud as he does. He tries to quiet himself down, pressing his palm against his large mouth, but he can't help but purr. His monstrous nature gets a hold of him when he's horny and he can't suppress it easily. That's when he collects your hair into his fist and starts fucking your mouth. You almost choke, but there isn't a lot of things that makes you happier than seeing your boyfriend absolutely out of his mind from desire.

You let him bob your head, fucking your throat while your saliva drips down your chin. "Baby, you are amazing," he pants. "Your mouth is so good... So wet..."

His thrusts become irregular, shallower, like he's barely controlling himself. "No... Not just me... Come here..."

He picks you up and you lock your legs around his waist. You are hanging around his neck while he cups your ass with one hand and balances himself against the tiled bathroom wall. "My beautiful mate... I need your cunt... I need to have you now..." He rips your panties and easily finds your pussy, wet and throbbing from impatience to be filled. "Yes, so perfect. Always perfect for me."

"Just for you," you whisper into his ear and he growls. He fucks your cunt, ignoring all the sounds of cheering outside the bathroom door. At midnight, the fireworks overpower the duet of your united orgasms while you enter the new year as happy as you can be.

Happy New Year Monsterfuckers!

🎄

[smokesandsonatas]

Broke mc and the rich night raven college bois! Would they spoil the mc or would they let mc struggle, delighted in doing so 👀

+++ After a long time, I'm finally starting to answer requests. I tend to combine similar asks, I hope people don't mind.

OnlyCams (Twst version of OnlyFans) Reader x All NRC students and Rollo. Reader is implied to be female. Mentions of cleavage, lingerie, and implied sugar daddy stuff. Slightly NSFW. +++

Update: Part II

Your current financial situation, compounded by the need to eat proper meals, pushed you to find a side job. Crowley had cut your budget by more than half, citing Grim's damages—an accusation your companion vehemently denies—as the reason you're struggling to eat properly. It has reached the point where you only eat once a day to quickly pay off Grim's fees to the school. Your pride is too great to ask for help, and besides, you don’t consider them ‘close friends’—acquaintances from another world might be a more accurate term. You’re not particularly close to any of the boys, or rather, your schoolmates. They are just that: schoolmates.

You tried applying at Mostro Lounge but left quickly after your gut told you to. In a foreign world where monsters, beasts, mermen, and magic are the norm, your instincts are your only trusted guide.

The rules of this world shouldn’t and wouldn’t apply to you the same way, right? Whatever society imposes on them is not applicable to you. In your world, this type of job is common, though frowned upon, but it pays well.

You refuse to eat cobwebs from the dusty ceiling of the ramshackle dorm.

In your mind, you plead for privacy as you smile at the ghosts, asking them not to bother you while you rest—just as Grim has been doing for the past two hours. Fortunately, the ghosts heed your request.

You let out a soft hum as you change into a flimsy outfit: a cute two-piece lingerie with bows in the middle, and bat earrings from one of your highest-tier subscribers. While you only show skin rather than specific body parts, your effort in producing high-quality content led to you being featured as one of the emerging models more than two weeks ago. Now, you are close to paying off Grim's full debt, and you have saved enough to afford full meals twice a day with snacks in between. As a result, Grim is much more obedient, promising to be careful as long as you continue to feed him, of course.

You have a keen eye for beauty, after all.

You count silently as you pose for the camera—an alluring sight, sensual in your pose, a work of art in every sense.

3...2...1

Snap!

+++++

He first heard the rumors from the members of the Heartslabyul dorm. As the dorm leader, Riddle is keen to know what currently preoccupies the thoughts of his card soldiers. That’s how Riddle found you—by threatening to cut off the head of one of the freshmen, who nearly pissed himself as Riddle stood seething. That incident occurred a week ago. Riddle is never one to indulge in such perverse photos, despite what his highest-tier subscription might suggest. No, he is a gentleman after all. His favorite photo is the one where you’re wearing a red silk robe that clings to your figure, with a book pressed between your two mounds. He may or may not have specifically requested that photo, and he paid you generously for your work.

Of course, he knows you have one! Cater is the self-proclaimed king of Magicam and social media, after all. The OnlyCams platform is an emerging phenomenon that has taken Magicam by storm. You just happened to get on it at the right time, and Cater couldn’t help but respect the hustle. You’re now an emerging content creator, and his favorite photos of you are saved on his phone—essentially everything. Oh, what’s that? He can’t do it because it’s prohibited? Of course, Cater can! He has been your faithful subscriber from day one.

Oh sevens, when Trey saw your sweet bakery-themed photos he will not deny that he relieved himself more than once. You keep on releasing new mouth-salivating content every other day but that still stands as his favourite. He especially loved the one where you put whipped cream to cover your nipples. What? Trey is a man and therefore susceptible to temptation.

He will never tell you that he knows, but he has been there since your first post. Ace had been a loyal supporter even from the start, he even took it upon himself to try a few gigs to support you, you know? That's what friends do right? Just don't blame Ace when he uses your pictures to masturbate as he takes his baths.

Deuce cannot believe it, but he cannot take his eyes off it either. Deuce also knows but respects you enough to not bring it up. Why didn't you told him you have perfect thighs? He is pouty but as he works his hands below his pants he cannot help but bite his lower lip. This is the third time he masturbated on your picture. His favorite? A picture of you laying down as you wink cheekily in a 'Japanese' uniform, the short skirt hiked over your thighs. The caption says it reminds you of your place back home, Deuce briefly wonders if you would let him visit to see that uniform personally on you.

....

Leona doesn't give a fuck, his thick cock out as he works his hands up and down his shaft lazily in his bedroom. You've been a very cheeky herbivore. Ha! Leona didn't realize how much of an ass beastman he is not until he raised an eyebrow as he smirked when he realized all his favorites are the ones where it focuses on your ass. He likes it when you squeeze them. Leona wonders if he should send you a message for a special offer, the price won't matter to him. What? Breeding season will come soon for the beastman, he will have no other partner than you.

He admires your skills to hustle, Ruggie could not help but sneakily have his account opened through Leona's bank, it's not like the rich prince will notice it billing him anyway. Once he opens your highest-tier content, Ruggie now understands why. You're a complete pro at this! He is not sure if this is your previous job in your world or if this is your first time doing it at all, but those thoughts have escaped him when he fucks himself into his hand in the picture of you spreading your ass cheeks.

Jack had heard about the site from the other track team members, out of curiosity, he opened an account and was surprised when he got your account in his recommendation. He will support you of course! That's what friends do! He will try to contain himself when he unlocks your content of you wearing skimpy track shorts but it's impossible as he felt himself tightening through his pajamas.

...

Azul had never heard of this website before, but dear sevens! The possibilities are endless. Pleasure work is not unheard of in the Coral Sea, but he now knows they do it differently on land. It's called porn, as far as he remembers when he picked up the word from one of the guidebooks in the Sage Island. When he realizes at first glance that you will be one of its top creators—the money will come pouring right in! Azul chuckles to himself, restraining his excitement as he bites his lower lip while staring at your latest update. The thought of being your manager crosses his mind as he gazes at your picture of spreading your legs open, the flimsy thong left so little to the imagination. Will you let him manage you? Will you allow him to experience what he sees? Perhaps you’ll seek out a partner for a collaboration, and Azul will be eager to present himself. Of course, he will refrain from showing his face—he still has a reputation to uphold—but he cannot deny that you are his guilty pleasure in this realm.

Floyd is addicted to your content! How dare Shrimpy make him so excited every day? For almost two weeks now, Floyd has been happily completing tasks assigned to him at the Mostro Lounge. Sure, he pockets some tips for himself, but fear not! Floyd thinks he deserves it. Besides, they ought to reward him for his extra hard work. Floyd giggles when he sees a notification that you've posted a new update. One of these days, he will come to see you personally—only if Jade isn’t holding him back. After all, if left unchecked, Floyd just might take you deep into the coral sea.

Jade, on the other hand, is constantly watching you—or so you thought. At lunch, in the hallway, even in the library when you’re trying to study with Grim. You can feel his eyes piercing through your soul, but for some reason, you can never quite meet his gaze. Or maybe, you’re trying to catch him staring at you just to justify your suspicions, but when you look, he’s not. Unbeknownst to you, Jade is just as giddy as his twin brother. Don’t blame him! He adores the picture where you’re actually wearing the seashell necklace he sent through your fanmail. Oh, but wait—one moment it dawns on him that others, who pay to see your pictures, will also see that picture. Hmm… that doesn’t sit right with the eel. Jade wonders if he can offer you something more. Of course, he can! The only problem is... will you accept Jade Leech's offer? Hmm…

...

Jamil heard from Kalim that you have a business they need to support, Jamil didn't even complain when all Kalim sent was a link. He was hooked since then. He is a silent supporter but will be one of the first to view and like your posts. You wore red lingerie once, and Jamil can't even stop himself from coming from that. A good stress reliever after a tiring day's work. The veins in his hands practically popping, as he grip his cock, imagining you in front of him instead.

Kalim will support you of course! Although he is quite confused why you won't accept the money he's sending you. It's just a half a million madol. It's not a dowry!... At least not close to the actual amount he will give you anyway. He will support you! He even told Jamil about you! Doesn't he get jealous? A little.. but the feeling of an overwhelming bragging right that other people thirst over you makes Kalim so proud. He chose a good future wife after all!

...

To Vil, your content is vile... but undeniably a work of art. Hmph, no wonder you're one of its top creators. You don't merely post for lust; you post for aesthetics as well. You have a keen eye for taking good photos, that much he will admit. His subscription to you he considers a form of appreciation for beauty. He notes the way you do your makeup, the arch of your back, the way your lipstick complements your complexion... Fine, Vil will hate to admit it, but your content is something he looks forward to seeing as he relaxes after a hectic day—just him alone in a fancy room with a spa-like scent filling the air. Hmmm, he wonders if he should invite you someday to a hotel soirée with him. Vil appreciates the attention to detail in your work, and he finds himself compelled to support you further. Occasionally, he sends additional tips usually a thousand madol—small tokens of his admiration for your craftsmanship. He justifies it as an investment in art, a reward for the way you meticulously craft each image and video. After all, beauty like yours deserves to be recognized, encouraged even.

He will always blush when he's near you! Epel can't help it. He may or may not have teenage fantasies about you with him carrying you bridal style as his muscles bulge from his shirt. Although Epel came from a... Traditional family perse, he does appreciate how... sexy you look! His favorite is when you're wearing silk nightwear that delves low on your cleavage.

Ah, Rook. Forever the hunter of beauty. When he heard of your content, he immediately subscribed to the highest tier! He is now only waiting for you to accept personal requests because Rook definitely has a lot of ideas in his mind. It involves you and him, in a forest, being one with yourselves and with nature! Oui! He chuckles as he palms his crotch through his pants. Rook knows that you will post something new in a few minutes, and he is right! Oh, mi amor, Rook swooned as he saw your bat earrings from the new update and the matching pink bows lingerie. The lingerie he ordered is yet to be sent to you! But they're on their way. Will you be mad at Rook if he sends an arrow with a declaration of admiration through your window right after he pleasures himself? Rook hopes you will know how much the hunter loves and appreciates your beauty!

....

Idia may or may not be one of the software developers behind OnlyCams. He was absolutely stunned when he saw that you joined the site! His hair burned a hot red with pink tips as he scrolled through your draft photos. It gives him a twisted sense of satisfaction to know about posts that others haven’t seen yet. Is it illegal to pry... or, erm, stalk the OnlyCams models? Of course, he knows that. But Idia has convinced himself that he should act as your moderator anyway—even without you knowing. Unfortunately, there are a lot of comments and private messages that are downright disgusting to read, so Idia takes it upon himself to remove them for you! The maid outfit and cat ears he sent through your fanmail should arrive in just a few days. Idia can’t wait to see you in them! He imagines how perfect you’ll look, and his mind races with ideas for what else he could send your way. Maybe a little something extra, just to make sure you know how much he’s been thinking about you.

...

At first, Malleus does not know what to feel. Initially, there is confusion—are you whoring yourself out? But Lilia explains that people can only look at you, not physically touch you. However, when it dawns on Malleus that others can see your intimate, seductive photos, flames flicker along his fangs. He carries the pride of a king, and it does not sit well with him that others can see what he considers his. Still, Malleus can't help but growl. Your pictures should have been for his eyes only. He frowns, deciding that even Lilia should not see them. You don’t know this, but you’re already his. In his mind, you belong to him. Annoyance courses through his veins—this is the second time he’s broken a phone today. As night falls, Malleus finds himself brooding in the solitude of his tower. The thought of you, your image laid bare for others, festers in his mind. He clenches his fist, struggling with a mix of possessiveness and anger. Lilia suggested he could unsubscribe from you, but Malleus ignores him. Instead, he contemplates offering you wealth and power—if you choose to be by his side, of course. As if you have a choice anyway.

Sebek is embarrassed, yet hypocritical, as he can't help but masturbate to your seductive content. Part of him hates it, but the other part loves it. How dare you, human! He huffs as he angrily shuts off his phone, only to turn it back on moments later, unable to resist the allure of your pictures. On one hand, he feels disgusted with himself for succumbing to such base desires—he is a proud servant of Malleus, and he should not be indulging in such... human weakness. It's an insult to his Fae heritage! But on the other hand, he is irresistibly drawn to you, his body betraying his thoughts every time he sees your updates. The internal battle rages on, but he knows deep down that he’s hooked.

Lilia hums to himself, elated as he chuckles upon seeing your new update. Lilia has had his fair share of intimacy throughout the hundreds of years he's been alive. The concept of seduction as a barter is nothing new to him. But! Lilia can’t help but admire the way the new generation goes about it nowadays! Back in his time, Lilia had to travel to a brothel for such experiences. Now, he can just use his phone from anywhere. Yet, a small part of him is disappointed that you’re not physically present. He grins, his fangs poking out as he sees you wearing the bat earrings he sent you. Ah, they suit you so well!

Silver is ever the gentleman, probably the only one in Diasomnia—the whole NRC, who can separate the ordinary You and the OnlyCam's You. You never told him but you appreciate his approach a lot. He is subscribed to your highest tier and he always gives you tips that he got from his allowance and payment as Malleus' guard. Silver’s support goes beyond mere admiration. He views your content with a sense of quiet respect, understanding that there’s more to it than just the seduction part you're selling. For him, it's about the effort, the confidence, and the creativity you put into your work. Despite the nature of your content, Silver’s feelings remain pure. He never asks for anything in return for his support, never expects special treatment. When he leaves a tip, it’s with the hope that it might make your day a little brighter, that it might help you feel appreciated in a world you're alienated to. He is a knight, well suited to protect you should you ask him to.

....

Rollo feels as though he's sinning every time he opens your OnlyCams account—blasphemous content! His heart pounds with guilt and shame as he scrolls through your seductive photos, each one a temptation pulling him deeper into the abyss. He knows this is wrong—so wrong—yet he cannot tear himself away. The purity and righteousness he prides himself on crumble under the weight of his desire for you. He mentally recites prayers, trying to cleanse himself of the impure thoughts that flood his mind, but it’s futile. The more he resists, the stronger the urge becomes. Despite the shame that burns his conscience, Rollo keeps coming back for more, drawn to the very thing he despises. Trapped in a cycle of sin and repentance, he battles with his inner demons, torn between his devotion to his beliefs and his growing obsession with you.

[ckret2]

Chapter 96 of human Bill Cipher kinda just vibing in the Mystery Shack with Mabel at this point: the girls interrogate Bill about his love life; Bill emotionally bonds with... *spins a wheel* ...Grenda; Bill and Ford have a moment that means a lot more to Bill than Ford realizes; and a monster comes to town.

The girls had taken a snack break in between movies; and Bill had left them in the living room singing "I Love 2 Believe U Believe N Our Love" while he went into the kitchen to grab a drink.

He longingly eyed the cider six-pack he was currently working on. This was about the time of night he usually ran out of distractions and energy and resorted to drinking himself past the nighttime racing thoughts, and his body knew it. The mug he'd had at Skull Fracture had barely given him a buzz that had already faded. He was itching for another drink. It didn't help that last night he'd missed his usual dose of medicine, what with dealing with Powers...

With a sigh, he passed it over. He was already sleep deprived; if he wanted to keep up with these kids, he had to have a sharp mind tonight. Instead he picked up the coffee pot, chugged the stale dregs at the bottom, squeezed a packet of soy sauce down his throat as a chaser, and headed back into the living room.

As he came in, Grenda was saying, "Oh, Marius? Yeah, it's going alright! We talked about how clingy he is, it's cool now. He's taking me skiing in August!"

"I am full of envy," Candy sighed, draped tragically off the edge of the sofa. "Does Marius have any cute single prince friends?"

"I don't know! I can ask!"

Candy raised her fists in the air. "Yesss."

"Hey Mabel," Grenda asked. "Do you want a blind date with a hot European prince too?"

Mabel sighed deeply. She was laying flat on the floor, one hand absentmindedly scratching Waddles's head. "I don't know," she said. "I'd like a date. Seeing the people around me find love makes me want that, too. But I spent all last summer trying to get a boyfriend and all I got was disappointment. And you guys know all about that thing with the robot and the Sadie Hawkins dance..."

Candy and Grenda nodded sympathetically.

"I think that was my last straw."

(Bill quietly died inside as he realized he had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn't ask without revealing he didn't know something that big about the timeline Mabel was on. He'd only missed a few months of earth time—no big deal if you were an all-powerful all-seeing eye—but what a difference it made if you were stuck as a human.)

"Aw, c'mon, Mabel," Grenda said. "Don't be like that. You're too young and beautiful to give up on love!"

"I know, I know. I haven't given up, I just... think I might've been chasing love too hard? Maybe I'll try again if the perfect guy just falls out of the sky and crashes into my window! Buuut i'm not wasting my time looking anymore. From now on, the boys have to come to me." She sat up to flop on Waddles's back. "This is the only boy I need!" Waddles snorted in his sleep.

"Smart," Candy said. "You are a catch! Any boy who won't chase you isn't worth your time!"

"Exactly!" Mabel said. "Until then, I'm focused on matchmaking other people." She sat up. "Speaking of which..."

All three girls turned to grin evilly at Bill.

Bill perched uncomfortably on the edge of a sofa cushion and wondered if he should be trying to escape the room before it was too late.

"Soo-oo-oo," Grenda said, eyebrows waggling. 

This was it, the interrogation over Bloody Mary. He prepared to bolt from the room. "What."

"How about that secret agent?"

"Oh!" Not quite as bad as he'd been expecting. When had Mabel told them about that? Bill laughed nervously. "That was just a job! I'm not interested in the agent."

"Yeah, but you got along, riiight?" Candy crossed her legs, propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and leaned into Bill's personal space bubble. "Did you kiiiss?"

He wasn't about to tell them just how far they'd left kissing in the dust. "Uh, yeah, but—"

Mabel shoved straight past the personal space bubble and propped her elbows on Bill's knees. "Would you see him again?!"

"No way!"

"Aw, c'mon!"

Grenda said, "Aren't you on the run for war crimes or something? That'd make dating a secret agent super dangerous."

"Way more romantic though," Candy said.

Grenda nodded, "Way more!"

"Look look look," Bill said. "I can appreciate the noir star-crossed femme fatale narrative you kids are trying to write for me. But it's not gonna happen. He's not my type. We don't even agree on politics!"

"What politics do you disagree on?" Candy asked.

"He thinks President Trembley is a raving lunatic—but in a bad way. I think he's a genius visionary whose policies are centuries ahead of his time." Which was why he'd slipped Trembley a little dream tip to preserve himself until the rest of the world was ready for his brilliance. The peanut brittle, however, had been entirely Trembley's own idea. "That's a total dealbreaker!"

"Aw, whaaat?" Mabel scrunched up her face. "Trembley's awesome, who could hate him!"

"I know!" Bill poked Mabel's nose. "You're breathing my air, kid. Get your own."

Mabel got out of Bill's face and flopped on Waddles again. "So if Agent Powers isn't your type... what is? I bet we could find somebody in town for you! No dodging the question this time!"

Candy said, "You're surrounded and outnumbered!"

"This is a sleepover so you can't leave!" Grenda jumped up and blocked the doorway with her arms outstretched. "You've gotta answer!"

"You can't make me do anything! I plead the fifth! I know my rights!"

Candy narrowed her eyes. "Maybe we can guess what you're into. We know it includes Bloody Mary."

He should've made a run for it while he had a chance.

"Yeah!" Mabel said. "What's with that? What's the story there?"

"Nothing! I shouldn't have called her my ex, she's not my ex. In fact, we barely know each other. We just hang out in the same social circles sometimes. I don't even know her last name."

"Yeah right," Candy said. "Okay, so—are you into long, straight hair?"

"And skinny girls," Mabel added. "Super skinny! Bony! Literally just bones!"

"And he said he likes her dress," Grenda said. "I don't actually remember what her dress looked like! I was busy staring at the blood!"

Loudly, Bill said, "You're all ice cold! Not even close!"

"Is it her personality?" Candy asked. "What's her personality like?"

Mabel said, "We can compare and contrast his exes! He told me what his last girlfriend was like." A thoughtful look crossed her face as she began to put two and two together. "And... wasn't there a president that you—"

"All right fine I'll talk," Bill said quickly. "I surrender. You girls are persistent!"

The girls crowded around him. "Spill," Candy commanded.

"You said you like freaks, right?" Mabel asked.

"No I didn't. When did I say that?"

"I dunno, a while ago."

Huh. Well, it was true, so he must have. "Yeah, that's pretty high up on my criteria. Freaks and weirdos! They've gotta lean into it, though. If they spend all their time trying to be normal, they're more boring than the normies they're imitating."

"What kind of freaks," Mabel asked. "Like, people with antlers?"

"Sure, I'd give 'em a shot!"

Candy asked, "Tattooed ladies?"

"Absolutely! There's nothing better than a self-made freak."

"What do you think about bearded ladies?" Grenda asked carefully.

Bill grimaced and tried to picture it. Seemed pretty normal to him. Sometimes he forgot which humans were supposed to have what facial hair. "I'm gonna be frank, that doesn't even register as freaky to me. But, sure, beards are fine." Humans had such a bizarre fur pattern—a fluffy little puff on top, an optional fluffy little puff on the chin, a few strips over the eyes and under the arms and between the legs, a sparse covering that served little practical purpose spread in patches everywhere else—it was hilarious to look at. Made humans cute, in a sort of pathetic way. Like a poorly-shaved poodle.

Grenda seemed relieved at the answer.

Candy threw in, "What about piano-playing contortionists who can put their feet on top of the piano while they play?"

"Oho! If you know one, get me their number!"

Mabel said, "Okay, so what else besides freaks?"

"Pff..." He rolled his eye up as he thought. "Oh, you know, other kinds of nonconformists. Criminals, psych ward escapees—never date in the ward though, d'you know how wolves in captivity will go full Lord of the Flies on each other and start fighting over who's king?—uhh, psychics, wanna-be prophets, those nuts who put off college to go backpacking across a continent..."

"Poets?" Grenda asked.

"Only if their poetry doesn't suck."

Candy asked, "Anime fans?"

"Never," Bill said. "Oh, and I need someone who's fun enough to keep up with my lifestyle. I'm a hard partier, they've gotta match my energy. And they've got to be ready to spend some serious moolah on me. I'm not a cheap date! Plus they need to worship the ground I walk on, do anything I want, and believe everything I say."

The girls nodded along to his list. "That sounds reasonable," Candy said. Grenda agreed, "Respect and trust is important!"

"Right?! If more of my exes understood that, we wouldn't need to have this conversation! Speaking of—I've got a reputation. I'm something of a bad boy! Whoever I'm with has gotta be 100% okay with eyeballs-to-the-walls crazy..."

####

"...preferably somebody bright enough that talking to them is more intellectually stimulating than talking to myself—which is a high standard! I can be friends with an idiot, and I can be fffphysical buddies with an idiot, but I can't date an idiot. Unless they're a really, really rich idiot." Bill was laying on his back, legs over the sofa armrest, talking toward the ceiling: "And it doesn't hurt if they're the tortured artist type. I'm a complete sucker for a tortured artist! It's my only weakness. If somebody with a Göthhäus band shirt and haunted look in their eye asks to draw me, pffft, that's it, I'm done for. I'll do anything they want!"

"Good to know, good to know..." Mabel was furiously taking notes. She'd filled up six pages and was working on a seventh.

"But most importantly: I need somebody who gets me. That's—that's a lot rarer than you think. Nobody can truly understand me unless they've been through what I've been through." He squinted mysteriously toward the ceiling. "I've lived a complicated life."

The girls absorbed this in thoughtful silence, contemplating the depths of their mysterious friend's unfathomable history.

Then Mabel chucked the seventh page aside, grabbed another, and asked, "So what do you want your dream partner to look like!"

"Oh, well," Bill said, "pretty eyes are the most important thing—the more, the better—but that's easy, every species on this planet has pretty eyes. Love vivid coloration; extra points for iridescence, multiple hues, or color changing. Not a big fan of people with heads. Venoms and poisons are always a sexy little bonus, but not the numbing kind, it's gotta really sting."

Mabel stopped writing, staring at Bill.

Candy said, "That... opens up some options."

Mabel nodded slowly. "Thanks for the info! Don't worry, I'll find you your dream guy. Or girl. Or... monster or whatever. I'm on the case!"

Bill asked, "Kid, why are you so determined to set me up with someone anyway? It's not like I've said I'm looking for love. Are you just trying to keep me away from other prey, or...?"

Mabel looked Bill in the eye and said solemnly, "I think love would fix you."

"Ha! Okay, sure!" It had never "fixed" him before, but who was he to argue with the power of love and Mabel.

####

"You're sleeping through the best part of the movie," Mabel complained. "You're missing the whole dance battle for the fate of the world!"

"I'm not asleep," Bill said, laying on the sofa with his eyes shut, sound asleep. "I'm just appreciating the sound design."

"Yeah, right." Mabel poked his arm. He poked her head.

As the credits rolled, Candy jumped to her feet and ran from the room. "BRB, toilet break! Don't start the next movie without me!"

"Oh, me too!" Mabel ran after her.

Grenda waited until they were gone; then crouched next to the couch and poked Bill herself. "Hey. Gold-o. Are you awake?"

"Yes," Bill lied.

"Can I ask you some stuff?"

Sounded like he needed to be awake for this. He cracked open an eye; the dim views from his other eyes around the shack fizzled out. "What kind of stuff?"

"Like, uh..." Grenda sat back, wrapping her arms around her knees. "You're a guy, right?"

Was that what he'd told them last time? He didn't remember. It sounded likely, though. "More or less, sure."

"But you have boobs," Grenda said.

Astute observation. No no, no getting sarcastic with Mabel's friends, keep that one to yourself. "Sure do!"

"So... um... do you have, like..." Grenda lowered her voice, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of her nightgown, "a hormone problem, or..."

Aha. Grenda was looking for common ground. She was going through those awkward body changes pubescent humans had and grappling with the fact that hers were awkward in a way none of her peers' were. Bill might not have cared about who had what facial hair, but he knew the humans did, and sometimes they could be so uptight about their reproductive binary.

Bill sat up—he probably wouldn't be getting back to sleep for a while. He mentally flipped through the potential realities he could invent, and then—why not?—he settled on the one that had the best odds of winning this kid's loyalty for life. He could always use more devotees who looked at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky. "Nail on the head, Grend-o." It wasn't entirely untrue. He did have a hormone problem. His problem was that he was in a body with hormones.

A relieved smile broke out across Grenda's face. "Cool!" she said. "I mean not cool. It's the worst! But I have one, too!"

"Wow, you don't say," said Bill, who was fully aware of the medical history of Grenda, Grenda's mom, and Grenda's grandmother.

"I hate it," Grenda said. "When the other girls at school started growing boobs, I started growing a mustache! Any time somebody looks at my face, I'm afraid they're gonna notice and start making fun of me!" She clapped her hands over her mouth and cheeks, as though she was afraid somebody might be staring at her right now. "Even when I shave I'm afraid everybody will see my stubble!"

"You've got nothing to worry about," Bill said. "It's unnoticeable." (He noticed, but that was the All-Seeing Eye's job.)

"That's what my mom says." By her tone, she didn't find it very convincing when her mom said it, either. She gave Bill a big-eyed, hopeful look. "Are you worried people will make fun of you for having boobs?"

"Eh," Bill spread his hands apathetically, "I'm fat enough to get away with it. People expect that." He'd actually had a pretty remarkable success rate with getting people in town to view him as male with only a little prompting—though part of that was probably the culture in town.

But Grenda was still looking at him hopefully. She didn't want to hear that everything was great and he was doing just fine. She wanted somebody who could empathize with her.

"Buuut it was harder when I was younger." Bill pulled up a mental list of human puberty side effects in case she needed any made-up symptoms to solidify his credentials as a kindred spirit. "And I don't exactly spend all my time in a hoodie because I like people looking at my body." (That was true.)

"Ugh, yeah! Tight clothes make me feel weird. Puberty! I hate it!" Grenda flopped back on the ground. "My mom and my friends and Marius tell me I'm pretty, but..."

"But it doesn't help, does it."

Grenda shook her head.

"Now, me? I'm gorgeous," Bill said. "9 out of 10. I'm just about as handsome as a human can get."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Sure I do."

"Hmm." Grenda stared at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"And I still hate this body."

And he had Grenda's attention again. She sat up to look at him.

"Who cares if this body looks pretty if it doesn't look like me," Bill said, smiling bitterly. "Everyone on the planet could call me good-looking—and they'd be right!—but it feels like they're complimenting a stranger and I'm getting the credit. Worse, they're complimenting me for something I don't want to be!"

"Yeah!" Grenda blinked heavily. "Yeah, I-I don't want everyone to tell me I'm pretty! I just wanna look different! I wanna be less hairy and I wanna have smaller shoulders and I wanna be skinny and I want my old voice back and—and..." Her voice cracked. She furiously rubbed her eyes against the back of her arm.

Ah, heck, he'd made a kid cry. Hopefully it was one of those catharsis things and he wouldn't get in trouble for this, but he'd just doubled the amount of effort he had to put into this conversation. All right, buckle up Cipher, time to dust off the compassionate mentor act again.

"Hey. Hey, c'mon. It's not that bad." He slid off the sofa, sat by Grenda, and slid an arm around her shoulder. This was always the worst part of dealing with emotionally unstable humans he wasn't personally invested in.

Voice thick, Grenda asked, "How do you deal with it?"

Haha. How did he deal with it? Drank away the urge to claw off his own skin. Hid his depressingly alien shape under baggy clothes. Burned off his hair. Regrew his hair. Covered the mirrors. Dreamed he was a triangle.

He was taking too long to answer. He searched for a response that wouldn't get his sleepover privileges revoked if Grenda repeated what he said to an adult. He didn't want to say I don't know, he didn't want to say badly—he wasn't about to admit that to anyone, much less a half-grown human on the cusp of looking up to him. He was tough, he was a champion, he had all the answers. What would somebody who'd already solved this problem say?

"Nobody's gonna tell you this, but loving your body is optional. It's good enough just to get along with it." The words rang false in his mouth. He was picking and choosing advice he'd overheard humans give each other back when he had trillions of eyes to spy on their conversations, but he couldn't imagine getting along with the body he was in. He soldiered on anyway: "Just... don't worry about how it looks. Let it look however it wants to look, who cares! Focus on what it does for you that's useful."

Grenda sniffled and nodded. "What do you focus on?"

Ouch, way to put him on the spot. His honest answer was that this body was a downgrade from his true form in just about every conceivable way; the few genuine positives (he did like binocular vision and the ability to physically interact with Dimension 46'\) would just bring up more questions; and he went blank on lies (believable lies, anyway—no way he'd convince her that he'd gone to the Olympics). He grasped for something else. "Me? I like dancing!"

Grenda nodded; then she flung her arms around Bill, hugging him tight enough to squeeze the breath out of his lungs. "Thanks."

Right answer. He'd won this kid's loyalty for life, and he was guaranteed to get another gold star from Mabel for being so nice to one of her friends. Not bad for a night's work. "And if that doesn't work, there's always plan B: makeup, hormones, and plastic surgery!"

Grenda laughed weakly. "Mom says we're gonna talk about hormones at my next doctor's appointment."

"See? You're just going through an awkward phase. Sure, it's more awkward than most kids', but you'll come out of the other side of it just fine, guaranteed!"

Bill, on the other hand, was uncomfortably aware of his stretchy skin and his awkward bones and all the slippery pulsing meat in between.

He wasn't getting out of his awkward phase until he got out of this body.

####

After anime night, when Soos had parked his truck at the shack and everyone had climbed out, Ford immediately headed inside; but Melody and Soos lingered outside. "So, uh..." Soos pointed toward Melody's car, which she'd parked at the shack that morning for work. "Gonna head back to your aunt's?" The implicit follow-up: or, do you want to stay over?

Leaving had been the plan; since Bill had started haunting the shack and Soos's bedroom had stopped being a safe refuge from Melody's sleep paralysis nightmares, she'd started staying with her aunt the way she had last summer.

But if she was gonna get sleep paralysis no matter what, she'd rather wake up next to her fiancé than alone. She missed Soos. Tonight, she missed Soos more than she feared Bill.

"You know—it really is late," Melody said. "It's probably best if I don't try to drive at this hour."

Soos's face lit up. "You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure." She wrapped her arms around Soos and pecked his lips. "Besides—I like my blanket here better than the one at my aunt's."

"Oh, really? It's just a tiger stripe blanket I got cuz it makes me think of Tiger Fist, I was actually thinking about upgrading... to..." Soos trailed off. "Oh wait. You meant I'm your blanket."

Melody laughed. "I totally meant you." They headed in together, arms wrapped around each other's waists. "What would you upgrade that blanket to?"

"I was thinking about getting an official Tiger Fist blanket."

"Sounds perfect. We could get orange bed sheets too."

"Nice, color coordination!"

She froze in the entryway, making Soos stop with her.

Mabel and her friends were asleep in the living room with the lights still on, splayed over various pieces of furniture.

But Bill wasn't with them. He was sitting on the bottom stair, leaning against the wall, just outside the light cast from the living room.

Soos whispered, "I think he's asleep. He does that on the stairs sometimes?"

Melody nodded. It was fine. He was just a human now. She walked carefully to the stairs, trying to avoid any creaking boards.

She'd barely set her foot on the bottom step when Bill's eyes flew open. "Need me to move—?"

Melody squeaked, reflexively kicked Bill, and bolted halfway up the stairs. Bill parried her kick with one arm, laughing shrilly.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to kick you—" Melody caught her breath. "Hey! Did you do that on purpose?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Bill said unconvincingly. "All I did was ask if you want me to move! I'm trying to be helpful!"

Sure he was. Melody gave him a dark look; but stomped upstairs rather than get into a fight.

Soos stopped next to Bill, gave him his most disapproving and disappointed, "Dude," and then hurried after Melody.

Ruffled two birds' feathers with one stone. Bill smirked up after them; then settled back against the wall to sleep again.

And immediately opened his eye back up when he heard someone approaching. He turned his body to looked up at Ford. "Can I help you?"

"I heard a scream."

Bill pointed up the stairs with his thumb. "Melody didn't notice me on the stairs until she nearly stepped on me."

"Ah." Ford surveyed the scene. Light from the living room, Bill in the shadows—sure, maybe her eyes weren't adjusted to the dark to see Bill. Story checked out as plausible enough not to question. "You really shouldn't sleep on the stairs like that."

"M'keeping my eye on the kids." Bill yawned. "What's that look for?"

"What look?"

"You keep looking me up and down."

Ford flinched. Oh. He supposed he had been. "You, er—I just noticed that you... turned your whole torso toward me to talk."

"Yeah?" Bill said. "So?"

"Most humans would only turn their heads."

"Yeah? So?"

"Ah." Ford self-consciously stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I... suppose you turn your torso because you didn't have a neck to turn for most of your existence. It just—stands out to me. That your body language sometimes still reflects your..." he bobbed his head, trying to think of a fitting word. "Your... triangularity?"

"Oh." Bill's face was blank in the shadows. "Well—sure! I've never been a fan of necks anyway."

"No?" Weird thing to say. (Weird if Bill had been a human, anyway.) "Are they... What, is it something about the anatomy?"

"Just an aesthetic preference! I think they look goofy." Bill spread his hands dismissively. "A torso with a head always looks to me like a cell halfway through lopsided mitosis. It makes me wanna help out and pinch the head off!"

"There, you did it again."

"What?"

"You tend to shrug with your hands and arms instead of your shoulders. You move them like..." He copied Bill's dismissive gesture, felt foolish, and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Why am I telling you how you move. Sorry. I know better than to call attention to someone for, ah—looking weird."

"Weird's just another word for interesting, Sixer!" Bill stretched out, propping an elbow on a higher stair step, his cheek against his hand, and his other hand on his hip. "Feel free to observe me any time you want, o scientist. For a human, you always make such interesting observations."

"Is that just another word for 'weird observations'?"

"All the most interesting observations are!"

Ford huffed, shook his head, and headed back to the guest room.

And Bill leaned against the wall again, thoughtfully. His body language "reflected his triangularity," huh. Maybe the ghost was still in the machine. It was reassuring to think it was.

Reassuring that Ford was still looking for it, rather than seeing Bill as a human.

####

Melody woke in the middle of the night.

She felt trapped beneath Soos's tiger stripe blanket, like it was too heavy to move, smothering her skin. It was too heavy for her to lift her lungs. The bed was too soft; she was sinking into it like quicksand. She couldn't climb out.

Bill Cipher—his shape triangular and sharpened like the knapped edges of an arrowhead, his yellow flesh textured like the mushy skin of an overripe banana—clung with black branch limbs to the ceiling above her like a spider, eye wide and bloodshot.

Melody was getting really tired of the latest form her sleep paralysis nightmares were taking.

It dropped at her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, refusing to look at it until she could move again. She heard its hissing breath in her ear, felt it reaching through the blanket like a ghost to claw at her arms—

Then nothing.

She sat bolt upright with a gasp. The dream was gone, as it always was. Nothing on the ceiling. No scratches on her arms. She sighed.

If she went back to sleep, though, she'd fall right back into the same dream, and she'd spend an unpleasant half hour yo-yoing back and forth between half-asleep and half-awake. She had to keep herself awake long enough for the remaining dream gunk to clear out of her head before she could go back to sleep... by which time she'd be fully awake and it would take her another hour to fall back asleep.

Soos stirred beside her. "Mmwussup?"

"Sorry," Melody sighed. "Sleep paralysis."

"Again?" He rolled over and wrapped his arms around her.

"Yeah. Third time this week." And two of those times while spending the night at the Mystery Shack. "I haven't had sleep paralysis this bad since college."

She'd been majoring in folklore, in her third year, and gearing up for a big research project in her fourth year; she'd chosen to study the evolution of unicorn legends after the Renaissance. But shortly after choosing her topic and going into finals season, the stress of her college workload had caught up to her—she'd started waking up from nightmares multiple times a week and could barely function in class. She'd missed one final paper and flunked one final exam before she realized there was no salvaging this semester and withdrew on mental health grounds.

Her family concluded she must've been burnt out—her mom suffered from sleep paralysis too, the family was old hat at using poor sleep to gauge subconscious stress—so Melody took a semester off. But when she tried to register for the next semester her nightmares came back and her anxiety flared back up; so she'd taken the full year off, gone to visit her aunt in Gravity Falls for a summer to see if getting out of the city and clearing her head helped, and here she was.

The idle sleepless year she'd spent trying to recover from burnout had been the worst of her life, and the year she'd spent in Gravity Falls with Soos had been the best. She didn't want her mental health to backslide because of Bill.

"If this keeps up, I... might have to stop spending the night here," Melody said. "I'm sorry, Soos. I don't want to stop coming, but I can't keep going without sleep."

Sadly, Soos said, "My protective cuddly aura... is failing..."

"Shhh, Soos." Melody chuckled tiredly. "It's not your fault."

"I know. I just wish I could, like..." Soos shadowboxed vaguely into the air. "Punch your bad dreams for you. You know? I hate not being able to help."

"Thanks." Melody kissed him lightly. "You're helping just by being here."

All the same, Melody wished Soos could punch her sleep paralysis nightmares, too. It was too bad they were just figments of her subconscious.

####

Coffee had been a bad idea. Now that the girls had conked out, Bill was the only one still up, dozing but not sleeping. A can of cider couldn't hurt—nobody would get on his case for drinking at a sleepover after the kids were asleep, right?

He was standing in the kitchen and halfway through a can when he heard something wrong.

He peered into the entryway. "Yello?" There was no answer. Just an ominous, hair-raising scraping that cut through the silence. It was coming from above.

Bill crept out of the kitchen, looking up the stairs, keeping close to the wall—putting himself in between the staircase and the living room doorway. "Hellooo?" He peered up into the dark.

There was something slender and misshapen up on the landing. Just around the corner, stiff body tilting out into view at an angle that defied gravity, head cocked unnaturally so only one wide unblinking eye was visible.

Bill met its gaze with a single open eye. He said, with the voice of a burnt-out minimum-wage shelf-stocker who'd just caught a customer in the staff room and who was on his last day at this job and consequently feared no god nor customer: "'Scuse me, can I help you?"

In a flash, the thing stagger-lurched on all fours down the stairs, torso twisted and limbs akimbo in all the wrong directions, and jerked upright in front of Bill, face far too long and head tilted, one wide icy eye staring into Bill's from beneath long limp tangled bangs, letting out a deathly wheeze like a strangled train whistle—

Bill immediately grinned in relief, as though the customer in the staff room had turned around and he'd recognized them as a new hire with a name tag on. "Ohh! Oh, you're a nightmare! Haha, sorry pal, at first glance I thought you were some ghost squatter trying to move in! Either that or this tokoloshe I owe— Well, point is, there are too many people under this roof already and we do not need another roommate." He waved off the nightmare and leaned against the wall. "Didn't realize you were here for work! Don't let me get in your way, buddy."

The nightmare stared silently at him.

"Oh—if you're after one of the Pines, lemme know. I've been in most of their dreams, I know what really haunts 'em." He gestured toward the three girls in the living room. "Not that Pines, though. She's under my protection." He tipped back his cider can to drain it, wheeling around to head back into the kitchen as he did. He held the empty can over the trash, let go; the can hovered in the air, twisted itself up and crushed down into a flat disk, and dropped.

The nightmare stared at this human who moved with strange slightly-inhuman jerks, elbows held out to the side in an unnatural way, moving through total darkness completely unhindered, one eye shut and the other reflecting the dim light—fully awake, yet able to see the nightmare. Voice raspy, it cautiously asked, "What—are you?"

"Someone in a similar line of work." Bill's smile was wide enough to show off his fae tooth.

Not breaking eye contact, the nightmare's features melted off as it backed away from the human, leaving only impenetrable shadow and bright red pinprick eyes; it sank into the house's shadows and slunk out beneath the door. It was creeped out. This human was creepy.

Not a very social guy, was it? Now that Bill thought about it, it was probably just here for Melody. Well—if that was the case, he was sure he'd see it around again.

####

(The mentions of Bloody Mary were added post-TBOB. And I rewrote the paragraph where Bill talks about being attracted to outsiders to specify "criminals and psych ward escapees" since in TBOB he makes a point of how those are the people he helped set free after he took over the Nightmare Realm.

The next plot arc we're moving into is about the sleep paralysis nightmare! Without giving any spoilers, I'm gonna say up front: you're gonna read it and think the lore was inspired by details from TBOB. It was not. I came up with my lore a year ago; and TBOB matched it, so I slid TBOB in as supporting details to what I had already plotted. I'll explain in more depth once y'all get a chance to see what I mean.)

[therainscene]

[ST5 spoilers ahead. This theory is largely grounded in canon evidence from S1-4, but I will be referencing a couple of old S5 leaks below the cut.]

Stranger Things is a show that delights in escapist fantasy; it's packed with nostalgic references and celebrates the protagonists' love of gaming in order to remind us that we don't need to abandon our childhood interests just because we grew up.

But escapism is a double-edged sword that all too easily turns into an unhealthy coping mechanism, and boy is this show also one that delights in the horror of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I reckon they'd be missing a trick if these opposing themes didn't crash into one another for the final season.

Vecna seems to be motivated by a desire to help the kids he targets -- he wipes away their tears, he reassures them that their suffering will be over soon -- but he also barely seems to notice or care that he's just making the suffering worse. Which is exactly the attitude you'd expect from a villain who personifies the urge to turn to shitty coping mechanisms.

Since S5 is going to focus on Will's coming-of-age, then whatever Vecna is up to must resonate with Will's worst coping mechanisms.

What better fit for Will "wants to sit in the basement playing games for the rest of his life" Byers than a fantasy world in which everyone is forced to be a carefree kid forever while their bodies rot in the Upside Down?

Think about it: Henry wants to transform the world into something beautiful, but the world he currently seems to be ruling over is nothing of the sort -- is a cold and barren facsimile of Hawkins populated with monsters really Henry's idea of beauty?

Doesn't it make more sense for the Upside Down/Mind Flayer to simply be the hardware that helps him run his simulation of something more relatable -- an idyllic vision of the childhood he wishes he had, populated with all the kids he oh-so benevolently rescued from the fate worse than death that is wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and wait for it all to be over?

-------------------

We know for a fact that one of S5's episodes is titled Escape from Camazotz -- a reference to the misleadingly idyllic world from A Wrinkle in Time -- and leaked BTS photos from last year show Henry hanging out with a Hawkins child at a mysteriously pristine Creel house.

It's promising, but I'm not a huge fan of using leaks as evidence. They always come devoid of context, and even difficult-to-fake things like BTS photos could be staged by production to throw fans off the scent -- so what does the canon suggest?

One possible hint is that the Upside Down has consistently borrowed imagery from The Matrix throughout the seasons:

But more importantly, this theory is thematically consistent with what we currently know about Will in S1: while trapped in the Upside Down, he retreated to Castle Byers (his escapist safe space), and that's where he was caught, dragged to the library (another escapist space), and plugged into the vines that connect him directly to Vecna.

It's also subtly implied by Will's behaviour in S3 that part of him wants Vecna to succeed: he sticks with El after realizing Vecna is back, despite knowing full well that being able to spy on Vecna means Vecna can also spy on him; and he makes a suspiciously helpful-to-Vecna suggestion about how the party should go about investigating the monster of the week:

Could Will be under Vecna's control here? Perhaps. But I think this is a choice he's making of his own volition.

Consider: At one point Will destroys Castle Byers in a fit of grief that his childhood is over, and this just so happens to be the same scene in which he becomes certain that Vecna has returned.

He has to grow up and face the horrible truth that he's gay and broken and in love with a boy who can't possibly love him back and he does not want to deal with this -- wouldn't he do anything in that moment to find a way to escape back into childhood? Is this not the perfect moment for a seductive voice in his head to start whispering offers?

Bargaining is one of the five stages of grief, after all.

But then, so is acceptance. Will isn't walking the path of villainy here; he's at the temptation stage of his hero's journey.

S4 took him far away from Hawkins and allowed him to work through some of his feelings without Vecna breathing down his neck, and he comes to a very final-sounding decision about it:

He's realized that longing to sit in the basement playing silly games with his crush all day is immature and turning him (in his opinion) into a jealous asshole--

--and now that he's ripped off the band-aid with Mike he's gonna kill that underlying desire once and for all. Right?

Wrong. I mean, that's certainly what he believes at the end of S4 -- but he's still got a whole season of main character coming-of-age shit left to do in this show that delights in escapist fantasy and reminds us we don't need to abandon our childhood interests just because we grew up.

The visual similarities between the Upside Down and the Matrix aren't the only parallels between these two stories -- a theme present in both is the realization that the rules of the world you were raised in are an oppressive lie that you have the freedom to reject so long as you're brave enough to accept the truth.

Much like Neo, Will has a deeper connection to the horrors than any of its other victims (beyond Henry himself), and that connection grants him the gift of True Sight:

Stuck between the View-Master slides is how he describes it. Will can't bring himself to conform to 1980s expectations of normalcy, but he also can't bring himself to retreat into Vecna's time-frozen fantasy and hurt all of his friends.

The solution is to understand that Will's unique position doesn't mean he'll be forced to pick a side and either become a villain or sacrifice himself for the greater good: it means that like Neo he has the power to transcend the rules of false realities.

Will can defeat Vecna without castrating himself in the process, and he can play D&D in Mike's basement for the rest of his life if he wants to...

...just so long as both he and Mike are brave enough to accept the truth first.

[yaekiss]

(￣^￣)ゞ yes, qi! assorted characters from degrees of lewdity, genshin, and honkai: star rail　+　bonus!

clingy yandere zombies.

death will not be enough to pull them away from you. cold lips pout when you focus on thinking of other survivors, and what vocal chords remain are to talk your ear off and remind you just how much they love you　<3

kaveh:　he doesn't have to worry about deadlines anymore, at last. there is some peace in this new 'life' of his, wrapped around your finger forevermore and following behind you like a puppy. he stays by your side, watching over your sleeping form or staying alert while talking your ear off as he watches for other threats to this oddly domestic life. he can relax without thinking of small budgets or alhaitham's bickering: any empty notebooks are his new sketchbooks for diagrams as he dreams and draws up this building and that, your future home, what he imagines you would have decorated the home like.

jordan:　it's a miracle from the heavens! they declare. it's such a wonderful thing that they can stay with you even after they should be dead. are they dead? are they alive? does it matter? you've always been the only mortal light in their world, and that does not change now as they pray for your safety before any step out of the makeshift home you made of the temple. they're as beautiful as ever, still so pristine even in death as they walk at your side and try to help who they can.

sunday:　considering how he looks at welt the same way a teen at the doctor's looks at their parent, he's clinging by your side every step of the way after death. it's born of fear, at first, the cold indifference of death claimed his mind in a way that only terrified him, but your side is a respite he wants to stay in forever. he will never leave you unless it's to protect you, will never betray nor harm you. his wings flutter when he realizes he can still stay with you, and don't you dare see him as a monster, not with how he crawls at your feet and worships you like one would a god (you may as well be his)

"normal" yandere zombies.

childe:　hey girlie, you didn't think he wouldn't find a way to challenge death, too? you're sure that, had he died before the whole zombie apocalypse bit, he would have crawled out of the grave and to your doorstep on his own now that he had an excuse. all that changes is how he now proudly proclaims that he has died for you; no one else could be this loyal to you! he's still scaring off (read: eliminating) any potential suitors (read: anyone with a pulse and any other of the sentient undead), so you're always safe with him, he promises

dan heng:　he probably predicted this happening. considering his whole rebirth/lives/identities bit, i don't think he's entirely surprised to wake up with you above him to explain that, incredibly, he's now a zombie. he files away any new sensations he has as an undead, but otherwise, he's quite alright and just the same as before. he loves you the same, maybe more, now that he can continue in this new version of life with you, makes any notes needed and already had hypotheticals and maps planned out in the event of a similar apocalypse, so neither of you find much want for anything aside from new shows.

kaeya:　though this isn't what he meant when he declared, time and time again, that he'd die for you in his pillow talk promises and drunken makeouts, but he's glad he can make sure no one can take you from him. he's twirling his hair around his finger as he purrs out another way he loves you when he watches you reload a weapon to protect him. he's still your princess, and while he could dirty his blade with the gore of the mindless zombies, he just adores watching you protect him.

ritz:　oh, oh no, he doesn't want to be in a crowd! being a zombie doesn't panic him as much as being in crowds still does. it's not the meetcute he always dreamed of, but your calming touch as you help calm down the sentient and undead ball of nerdy anxiety has him fall for you instantly. granted, he is no real help apart from bug knowledge, trivia, and what flora and fauna related to bugs, but he's too cute to leave alone. a kiss is always a quick and sweet way to shut him up, though... and another, and another...

protective yandere zombies.

your sword and shield in life and death. nothing will stop them from fighting other zombies, and even survivors, if it means your safety. your life is above what remains of theirs. after all, you are their world; they will protect that at all costs.

mydei:　becoming a zombie doesn't change him one bit, not really. he's always been resilient in the face of death, and at your side, that fact remains true. when those arms aren't wrapped around you in hugs, he's keeping those muscles working with exercise or fighting off the hordes that dare intrude upon his territory and your shared home. he's never a danger to you, never has been and never will be.

sydney the fallen:　what do you expect? he's your bitch, it doesn't matter that he's a zombie now. and what's hotter than knowing he literally died for you and nothing can keep him from you? he does not hesitate to bash in someone's head on your command or to protect you. he loves everything about you and this situation, and with everything going on, church vows aren't thought of or even in the question he fucks himself on your cock in public. mindless zombies don't have a concept of taboo and can't judge. he'll still skewer them all if they approach you.

whitney:　when not beating you up, he's beating up others. toxic little fuck is not letting you go, even in death. you're sure he only died and came back out of sheer spite. his love is more twisted than the fact you're fucking what's practically a corpse. he's lucky he's too fuckable and it's too rewarding to have him shut up with your cock down his throat.

stalker yandere zombies.

blade:　he's always watched you from the sidelines. through your window at night, from the back of the class he only signed up for so he may be with you... well, death knew better than to take him from you for long. he takes advantage of any kind he now has, following you to any ends of this doomed earth so he may watch and be with you once more. he is merciless to his own kind, sword indiscriminately cutting down the living and the undead to make his way to you.

kylar:　duh.

FIRE EMOJI!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I thought I lost this post forever and I never ran to check my Tumblr on mobile so fast in my life.

Do you think rigor mortis sets in for zombies? Do you think they'd be oh so glad to leech off of your body warmth? That they'd do anything to feel your pulse continue to beat as long as they're standing by your side?

[llamagoddessofficial]

Swamp God Skull! I missed him a lot. Do you have any headcanons for when he likes the mc? Sorry if you have done them before. I can't find them, tumblr's search is very bad.

Oh, Anon, I missed him too. Our boggy boy. I'm riding high on inspiration from @desktopdinosaur's art.

For those who came to the party late, the Forest God boys are ancient and scary nature deities, who are in desperate need of someone to give them little kissy-wissies

He's shy. So, so shy. If he likes you and your path regularly takes you through his swamp, he will linger out of sight and watch you, hiding where the fog shrouds him almost entirely and moving between trees so his massive misshapen body is disguised in the maze of twisting trunks.

... Unfortunately, with that hulking body, single glowing eye and thousand-yard-stare, his 'shyness' can come across as unsettling at best and absolutely terrifying at worst. If you don't know he means no harm it's hard not to think he's a monster, and you're being stalked for dinner. Especially with the way he stares, once he knows you know he's there.

You'd think a God would have a little more confidence. But it's just been so long since he engaged with anyone - and especially with anyone he likes. Last time he spoke to a human he didn't hate people still rode around in horse-drawn wagons. What if he botches it? How many more years will he have to wait until he meets someone like you? Hundreds, probably

If you'd like to show him you don't mind his presence, just talk to him. You might not be able to see him, but trust me - if you're talking aloud in his swamp, he's listening.

The first sure sign Skull likes you (aside from the trailing) is that the bog very clearly likes you just as much as he does. You'll hear birds and frogs, you'll see newts and lizards, butterflies and dragonflies. Everything will smell mossy and soft rather than dank and rotten... water flowers will bloom in and around the path you take, sometimes literally filling your footprints from the day before. The whole place will feel so alive, so welcoming. Like your presence is bringing it back to life.

It'll also never be truly dark when you're there. In the day the sun is allowed to peek through the veil of fog, and at night, ghostly blue will-o-wisps light your way home. It probably makes you the only person who can follow the wisps in his swamp and live to tell the tale.

If you keep returning to the bog regardless of him following you, he'll start drumming up the courage to 'flirt'.

... It's mostly in very strange, ancient ways - incomprehensible carvings on trees you walk past, strange trinkets appearing in your pockets, hearing unearthly humming at dusk, your home never suffering from damp/mould, cats following you around. But some of his methods are more recognisably romantic. Like the big, beautiful white water lilies he leaves for you.

He also flirts with fireflies. They're versatile! He can make them hang around you, lighting up your face and eyes, distracting you while he admires how pretty you are. He also finds that humans tend to find him less scary when he has ambling fireflies drifting around him.

He's not got much to woo you with, really. He's a Swamp God, he hasn't got jewels and castles and silks. But he has got some pretty plants. Maybe, once he's sure enough that you won't run away in terror, he'll get the confidence to give you some flowers in person.

A massive ancient fae beast, bending down to offer you a slightly squashed water hyacinth... how could you not reciprocate?

[vaginalvr]

Static, nsfw

unsub!spencer reid x reader

cw: Psychological horror, obsession, dub-con, captivity, edging, smut, dark romance

wc: 4k

a/n Request are open!! (god please someone pay attention to me) I thought to myself why don't I write something disgustingly erotic and here's the result. Enjoy!

The floor creaked behind her.

Not in the ordinary way that floors protest age, but with intent—measured, almost deliberate. That single sound splintered the silence like glass underfoot.

She didn’t turn around. She’d learned that turning around was what he liked.

The room she was kept in wasn’t a dungeon, not technically. There were no chains, no cages, no screaming. It was worse than that. There was soft lighting, stacks of books, a kettle for tea, clean sheets that smelled like cedar and rain. Every comfort carefully curated. Every freedom an illusion.

And Spencer—Spencer was never loud. His madness was quiet, erudite. He spoke like a man reciting poetry in a library. That made everything more terrifying.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said calmly. “The way your thighs clench when you think I’m not looking. The little tremble in your fingers when you hold the mug. You’ve been fantasizing again.”

Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in her chest, but she said nothing.

Spencer’s footsteps approached slowly. Measured. He wore bare feet like a ghost. The cold of his presence pressed into her back before his hands ever did.

“You’re trying so hard to be good,” he murmured near her ear, his breath warm and steady. “I admire that. But I think it’s time we stopped pretending you don’t want what’s coming.”

A delicate hand brushed her hair aside. Fingers like spider legs slid over the pulse at her neck. He hummed as he felt the panic under her skin.

“You know I can read you better than anyone ever could. Every twitch. Every breath. Every betrayal of your body.” His lips barely grazed her jaw. “And I know what your body wants. Even if your mouth says no.”

His words made her stomach twist. She tried to pull away, but he laughed softly.

“Oh, no. No more running.”

She had once tried to fight. It hadn’t gone well.

Spencer wasn’t physically imposing, but he didn’t need to be. He had tranquilizers, locks that only opened by biometric scan, a mind that outpaced hers in every way. She was the puzzle he delighted in solving again and again.

“Lie down,” he said now, voice as casual as asking someone to pass the salt.

When she didn’t move, he sighed, and something in the air shifted. “Do I need to restrain you?”

The silence was thick.

“I want you to make the choice,” he whispered. “Because that’s what makes this beautiful. The moment you give in.”

With shaking hands, she stepped backward and eased onto the bed. It was warm—always warm—and the sheets smelled like him.

He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her with a mix of reverence and hunger, like she was both a sacred object and something he wanted to ruin.

His fingers moved to his shirt buttons, slow and methodical. The anticipation in the room crackled like static. She hated how her body responded—how her thighs pressed together instinctively, how heat pooled low in her stomach even as her brain screamed wrong.

“You want to be punished,” he said, tilting his head. “Don’t you? For all the lies you tell yourself. That you don’t like this. That I’m a monster. That you’re just a victim.”

He leaned down, eyes locked with hers.

“Let me show you the truth.”

Spencer's hands were unnaturally gentle. He never rushed. That was part of the torture.

He kissed her neck like he was tasting something rare, fingertips ghosting over her collarbone, down her ribs. His touch was maddening—delicate, teasing, never giving enough. He slid her top off slowly, savoring every inch of revealed skin like it was a page in one of his ancient books.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispered, lips brushing her breastbone. “But not from fear.”

He kissed lower. Took his time. Tongue hot and slow against her navel. One hand pressed her thigh open, the other smoothed up the inside until his thumb grazed the soaked fabric between her legs.

She turned her head away in shame, but he chuckled darkly.

“There it is,” he murmured. “Proof.”

He pulled her underwear aside and dipped his fingers through her folds, deliberately avoiding the spot she needed him most. She arched involuntarily, but he withdrew.

“No,” he said. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

She whimpered before she could stop herself.

“Oh, you think you want it,” he said, crawling back up her body, dragging his fingertips over her skin. “But you don’t get to come until I say so. You’ll beg. And I’ll deny you. Again. And again. Until your mind is as pliable as your thighs.”

And he did.

His mouth returned with precision. He teased her with lips and tongue, circling but never pressing. She cried out, hips bucking, but he held her down with maddening calm.

Every time she got close—so close—he stopped. Pulled away. Made her wait.

“You’re dripping,” he said softly. “Do you understand how beautiful that is? How much control I have over you, even when you hate me?”

Time bent in that room.

She didn’t know how long he spent between her thighs, pulling her toward the edge again and again, only to drag her back with maddening cruelty. Her skin was slick with sweat, her body trembling, mind fragmented from the overstimulation and denial.

Spencer’s voice was always the same—low, reverent, composed.

“You’re fighting so hard,” he murmured against her inner thigh. “But your body gave up hours ago. It knows what it needs. What I give it.”

He licked a long, slow line between her folds, savoring her. Then he stopped again—completely.

She let out a strangled cry of frustration.

His mouth curled in something between a smirk and worship. “Good girl.”

Those two words shattered something inside her.

Her back arched involuntarily. A sob broke from her throat. She didn’t even know what she was pleading for anymore—release, escape, maybe both.

“I can see it now,” he whispered, crawling up over her. “The surrender. You’re cracking open for me.”

His hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face toward his.

“I don’t want the mask,” he hissed. “I want what’s underneath. The part that aches. The part that wants me.”

His mouth crashed into hers.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was savage—like he was devouring her.

His hips pressed into hers and she felt the hard weight of him, thick and flushed against her thigh. He rubbed against her slit without entering, letting the heat and pressure send shockwaves through her.

“Beg.”

She didn’t.

He slid forward just enough for her to feel the blunt tip push at her entrance—then stopped.

“Beg,” he repeated, slower.

Silence.

He slid just the tip inside her, stretching her agonizingly slow.

Her breath hitched.

“Just say it. Say you want me to fuck you. That you need it.”

Her body burned. She hated him. She hated herself more for how close she was, for how her hips rolled on instinct, trying to pull him deeper.

“Please,” she whispered finally, voice hoarse and cracked.

His whole body stilled. A shudder passed through him, like he’d been waiting years to hear that word in her voice.

Then he pushed in—all of him.

She cried out, half in pain, half in something else. He was thick and deep, filling her to the point of breaking. His hips didn’t move yet—he just stayed there, buried inside her, panting against her throat.

“You feel that?” he murmured, almost tender. “How perfectly you fit me?”

He began to move. Slow at first. Deep, precise thrusts that forced her to feel every inch of him.

Her nails dug into his back, legs tightening around his hips. Every drag of his cock hit something devastating. She wasn’t thinking anymore. She wasn’t anything except sensation.

“You’re close again,” he said, reading her like a map. “But you don’t come until I do.”

He pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in. She cried out again.

“Do you understand?” he said, rhythm brutal now. “You. Come. When. I. Say.”

She was gone. Mind wiped clean. Body writhing, every nerve on fire.

Then—finally—he pressed his mouth to her ear and growled, “Now.”

She shattered.

Her orgasm tore through her like an earthquake, body convulsing under his as a scream ripped from her lungs. It went on and on, wave after wave of unbearable release.

He came with a groan, hips grinding into hers as he spilled deep, teeth buried in her shoulder.

They collapsed together, breath tangled, skin slick.

Silence returned slowly. The kind that made ears ring.

Spencer didn’t move. He stayed inside her, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

His hand brushed through her hair with terrifying tenderness.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” he whispered. “I knew the moment I saw you.”

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. There was no room left for tears.

“I’m never letting you go,” he added, as if he were saying something simple. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

His lips pressed to her temple, warm and claiming.

“Good girl.”

[oreo-creampies]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Light gun play, begging, edging, squirting, Daddy/mama (toji’s) thumb in the ass, degradation/praise, gangbang, double penetration/triple penetration, satoru has three clones and you have three holes, suguru and satoru jerk each other off watching you, edging, hentai monster cock double dick logic you shouldn’t question, size kink, huge true form sukuna, very lightly bratty!reader (Sukuna’s), queen of succubus!reader (Sukuna’s), light pain kink, threesome, accidentally cumming, overstimulation, creative use of Satoru’s clones

Oreo: couldn’t get this thought outta my head 🫠 / @zoyakuna is holding me hostage till I post it 💀

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Toji’s fat head tugging on your tight, sloppy wet cunt. “Flithy whores like you gotta earn the right to cum. Beg let me hear how badly you need my cock.” The gun clicks when he cocks it. Clenching his fat cock head when the cool steel touches the side of your head.

He slaps your ass, slamming his cock in when you cry, twisting the sound into a loud moan. “Fuck fuck fuck that feels so good! Please split me open with your fat cock I need to cum on your cock!” You’re getting off on the puffiness of his veins, the softness of his skin constrasting how hard he is.

He grabs a handful of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart, spitting. Smearing it with his finger on your tight hole with his thick thumb. “Please daddy! Please please! I wanna cum! Wanna cum! Only you can make me cum so hard I forget my name. Please.” Toji slowly pushes his thick thumb into your tight ass.

You look so beautiful taking his fat cock with your sweet little cunt. Clenching him painfully tight. “You feel so fuckinm good! Nnn mama that’s it take Daddy’s cock in your throbbing little cunt. Squeeze me like that.” Your cunt is squeching, toes curling, thighs trembling, gripping the sheets tighter.

Pushing your hips back he stops moving. “Wanna use my cock like a toy? Fuck me mama fuck your tight little cunt into a gapping mess on Daddy’s fat cock.” Backing your ass up, taking Toji’s cock in quick, long strokes.

Having a cock inside you never felt so good before. The weight of his heavy cock, his head nudging your cervix is perfectly too much. “Nn fuck me Toji. How can you reach that deep! Nnn you have such a big cock don't wanna stop! Want you to break my cunt, fill me full of cum.” Looking back at him, he’s beautiful with flushed cheeks, dark hair hanging into passionate forest green eyes. “Please lemme cum! Please daddy!”

Clenching Toji’s thick cock, bounce your hips faster. He squeezing your hips, his jaw dropping, “Nnn daddy got a big cock huh? I'm stretching your soft little wet cunt out?” Taking his fat cock into your squechling cunt faster.

Getting off on how you’re riding Toji’s cock, backing your ass up on him moaning like a whore. “Ya feel too good! Nnn wanna feel you cum! Lemme feel your beautiful slutty tight cunt gush on my cock.” The gun trembles in his hand, pulling it away from your head.

Trailing the tip of the barrel along your spine. Squeezing your cheek, his thumb still buried in ass, Toji pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts. You’re gushing thick warm cum on his fat, being cock, soaking his balls.

Your mind blank, jaw slacked, body trembling, pussy clenching, spasming. Toji doesn't stop, smacking your ass with the side of the gun, then dropping it on the bed. Propping his foot up in the edge, grabbing your hair yanking your head back fucking his big cock into your faster.

“Wanna fuck! Wanna! Please! Daddy! Wanna keep taking your fat cock nnn ahh nnn fuck I can feel your veins pulsing! You’re cum is gonna be so warm in my cunt. Wanna feel your hot cum! Please cum in me!” His large balls are slapping your cunt.

“Think cummin’ is gonna stop me? Nah lil mama ya begged to cum, I'm not stopping till I'm sure she’s broken and won’t cum for me anymore.” Letting go of your hair, gliding his thumb out of your ass, spitting on your tight hole. You can take it can't ya?” He glides a thick finger into your ass.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 & 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Satoru and Suguru jerk each other off watching Satoru’s clones fuck every one of your sloppy wet holes. Thick cum is covering your beautiful tits, smeared along your soft thighs.

The clone beneath you spreading your thighs apart for the one above. Your wrist pinned to the bed by the clone fucking your mouth. Unable to move, you’re a needy slut getting fucked for their entertainment.

Satoru moans, enjoying watching his clones make a wreck of his friend. “This is so much better than watching porn. Fuck look at our new pathetic little slut.” Satoru swirls his hand along Suguru’s thicker cock. Jerking his hips when Suguru speeds his hand up, forcing on pumping right below Satoru’s head, getting him so close to cumming he’s about to bust on Suguru’s fist.

“I think we broke her already and she hasn't even cummed.” Satoru glides his cock out with a pop, giving his cock a couple of quick pumps cumming on your face. Smearing it by setting his large balls on your face, pinch your nipple, tugging on it.

Whining, trying to catch your breath. The clone vanishes, the cum remaining on your face, with your hands free from the clone kneeling on them. “Gonna take more than that, I wanna cum. Please!” Satoru bottoms out of your needy cunt, the clone beneath him steadily fucking your ass.

His long being cock is the perfect thickness for your ass. You’re so needy, too worked up, despite the lack of attention to your cunt in couple more strokes you might cum from getting your ass fucked. Then Satoru stops, leaving your wanting with your ass stuffed full of cock.

He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. Standing up, holding your legs apart. You’re watching them jerk each other off, they’re two beautiful muscular men sitting beside each other, stroking each other's veiny hard cocks. Suguru’s is heavy enough he droops when Satoru’s hand reaches the bottom of Suguru’s thick cock.

“Rub your cocks together inside me. Please I soak your cocks with my cum.” Suguru glances down at Satoru’s messy cock. His head getting redder the longer he keeps from cumming. Suguru stops cupping Satoru’s pale balls, watching his cock twitch, lightly bouncing up. The veins pulsing, he was closer than you when Satoru’s clone bottomed out of your cunt.

The clone sits down and vanishes, you hit the bed. Suguru looks at you with a cocky, hungry smirk, letting go of Satoru’s balls. Satoru rubs his thumb over Suguru’s cock head, swiping off his pre cum. Leaning over and kissing Suguru’s cheek.

Satoru sets his attention back onto you. You spread your legs, showing your sloppy wet cunt, sinking a finger into your hot cunt. It’s not enough, after being stuffed full and covered in cum. “Please lemme cum, I don't think I take it anymore. My clit ‘s throbbing please!” Suguru crooks his finger, standing up, your knees buckle, and before you can hit the floor Satoru grabs your neck.

Bending down, holding you in place by your neck, he grabs your thigh, lifting your up. Stepping away from the bed to give Suguru space to get behind you. He grabs Satoru’s cock lining him up, Satoru slams you down on his cock.

Smiling, moaning “Please please wanna cum, nnn feeling your head so deep. I can’y believe I got your cock inside me, nnn I feel like a whore.” Wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders slipping your fingers into Satoru’s soft fluffy hair.

Suguru grabs your hair, lining his cock up with your stuffed cunt, nudging his thicker head in. Your eyes widen, your cunt struggling to take him. “Nnn fuck you’re makin’ her sloppy wet cunt tighter.” Satoru slowly glides his cock, moaning, spitting on your cum covered face. Grabbing your jaw, smearing his along your cheek.

“You’re nothing but a cum covered needy little whore whose greatest weakness is getting how badly she needs to get her little cunt stuffed. That’s why you almost got hurt isn't it? You were too busy checking Suguru and I out thinking about our cock while you were supposed to be working.” His head rubbing your sweet spot causing the sweet burning ache from getting stretched to wide to quickly fade away.

“Yes!!! You sat on their face it wasn't fair! Suguru’s shirt got ripped and my cunt was dripping. I couldn't think straight.” They time their pace, stroking each other cocks inside of your. Pounding your tight, sloppy wet cunt into a mess.

Satoru nudges your lips with his thumb, you can taste Suguru’s pre cum. “I don't think she deserve to cum after how worried she got us. Ya could have told us what a whore you are for us. We could have taken care of this needy cunt of your’s before work.” Suguru lets go of your hair, leaning to kiss Satoru, pressing your face into Satoru’s hard pecs.

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Digging your nails into Sukuna’s thick pecs, clenching nothing when he glides his cock out. Your clit twitches from the lack of intense stimulation. You’re too empty needing his thick cocks splitting you open.

Crying in frustration, “Nnn stop teasin’ make me cum with your fat cocks!” Sukuna grabs your neck cutting off your needy whines. Gliding off his fat, veiny cocks sliding out with a soft wet pop.

Narrowing his hungry, beautiful crimson eyes. “What was that?” Tilting his head to the side, his cocky smirk making your cunt throb. Fuck Sukuna’s so beautiful looking down at you. The dark ink  accentuates his angular jawline.

“You think you’re in a position to demand shit from me?” He slaps your cunt, jerking your legs shut from the sharp sting. He yanks your legs back open. “Should’ve been a good cock sleeve moan and take my cock like a good whore.” Another harsh slap, his hands bites your thighs.

Failing to squirm, Sukuna’s grasp getting tighter, teeth sinking in deeper. The sweet pain pooling in your needy cunt, clenching around nothing wishing you were stuffed full again. “You slutty little cunt would’ve cummed eventually. My cocks are too good for you not too.” You would cry if not for his large hand crushing your neck.

Lowering you onto his monstrously thick cock. You can’t get over how his head fat enough to cover your whole sloppy cunt. Sukuna rubs your soft lips and sensitive clit with gentle swipes.

You love how enormous Sukuna is in his true form. He’s a ten feet tall, well sculpted beautiful muscular monster with two cocks he’s obsessed with stuffing in your cunt. With a lust that tastes sweet n’ spicy. Y

The mouths on his hands suck their aching bites. Gliding his hands to your hips, biting down, sinking his fingers into the soft squishy crease of your hips.

Holding both cocks together, nudging your soft, sloppy wet cunt. “Nn fuck you got the tightest sloppiest cunt, ‘sooo fuckin’ good too bad you can’t cum tonight.” Licking your clit with the thick tongue from his stomach.

Loosening his grasp on your neck, grabbing your hair, yanking your head back. Bouncing you faster faster, his fat head rubs your sweet spot with every quick, rough strokes. Flicking your clit faster, you’re getting so close too quickly, it build up alone is becoming too much.

Spasming around him, your eyes watering. “I really wanna cum! I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to sound like I was demanding. You’re cocks always feel good n’ you always make me cum the hardest! Please! Please! I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’ll be good!” He glides you off his cocks, pulling his tongue away from your clit.

Crying, “I’m sorry my king, I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit. Nnn!” Turning you around, holding you to his chest by a firm grasp on your neck. Barely letting you breath, your body becoming heavy and tingly from the restriction of air.

It didn’t matter if you could move, Sukuna could fuck you on his cock like a flesh light.

Looking into the mirror, your small in the grasp of a insatiable King of hell. Reaching up, he leans down letting you grab his thick black horn twisting out of his dark hair. “That it, just for that if make it till sunrise I’ll let you squirt on my face. If your subjects saw their great Queen now. A pathetic whore who begs for my cocks.” Your eyes widen as your small hole takes Sukuna’s veiny, fat cocks.

You’re face painted with a beautiful expression of ecstasy. You’re so worked up, too sensitive. Holding a hand over your clit, stroking it with a warm tongue. Tightening your grasp on his horn Sukuna moans, his hips shuttering.

Whining, “Gonnnnnaaaa!” You’re squirting before either of you can realize how close you are. “Couldn’t handle! You’re cocks! Too! Too! Too! Good! Sorry! I’m sorry!” He doesn’t bother stopping, fucking you roughly through your intense high as punishment.

Your body trembling, eyes rolling back, toes curling and cunt squelching. “Stupid fuckin’ whore, I didn’t tell you to cum.” Pinching your sensitive clit, ruining the intense high from cumming so hard. “Look like I’ll have to take my time breaking you.”

Oreo’s m.list

[0luv9]

forlorn || mattheo riddle

Summary: based on this request.

Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.

Words: 7.8k (not beta read)

Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music

Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.

There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."

Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?

'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'

Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.

Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.

Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.

He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.

"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.

"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.

He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."

Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.

Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.

There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.

You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.

He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.

But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?

He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?

Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.

Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.

He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.

Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.

Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.

"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.

"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."

"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.

"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.

It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.

"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.

And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."

You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.

"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.

You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.

Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.

He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.

...

He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.

Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.

He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.

Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.

...

Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.

The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.

Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.

But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.

...

Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.

It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-

No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.

But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.

It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."

Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.

Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.

You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.

It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.

"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.

You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.

"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."

"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."

You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.

"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.

You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud. 

You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that? 

Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand. 

Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in. 

He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless. 

He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile- 

...

The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone. 

Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone. 

He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special- 

...

Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think- 

Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling. 

The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed. 

It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.

But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. 

Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath. 

Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it. 

...

Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.

He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less. 

Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself. 

Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good."  He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming. 

Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you. 

He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to do this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?" 

"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.

...

<<prev work: this love || mattheo riddle

[irisintheafterglow]

uno wild card: stop writing for coparenting!megumi with satoru or draw 25

me, with 95 cards already in my hand:

also cw this is angst/comfort 'cause apparently i'm in the mood for pain

"shh, shh, baby. you're okay. i'm right here. you're okay." his breath is still rapidly uneven, chest heaving while you hold him in your lap on his mattress. "megs, you need to breathe. you're okay. i've got you." it wasn't often that megumi had nightmares; but, every few months, something triggered in his mind and had him seeing monsters that weren't real. as if by instinct, you felt that something was off tonight. there wasn't any time for explanation as you peeled satoru's arms from your torso, just a hyperfocus on the panicked child in the next room over.

"i don't-i don't-" his voice breaks into strangled cries and his little fingers grip tighter on your clothes, one of satoru's old pajama shirts. fat drops run down his cheeks, eyes irritated and red. you continue to hush the boy, gently running your fingers through his hair as his tears soak through the fabric of your top.

"they won't get you, megs. i promise," you whisper into his temple, pressing your lips tenderly to his forehead. "you're okay." his chokes for air have decreased slightly, but he's still trembling like you'd just pulled him from a frozen-over lake.

"where's satoru?" you sigh, chest aching at the implications of those two words. it wasn't that megumi didn't want you there. whatever woke him up must have distressed him so much that he was actually acknowledging your boyfriend. it broke your heart into a few more pieces.

"next door, fast asleep. do you want me to go get him?" he immediately tenses against you, wrapping his arms around your neck so you couldn't get up. "megs?"

"please don't leave me," he pleads. his voice is small and riddled with fear. you nod, slipping one arm under his tiny legs so that he's hanging on you like a monkey.

"can i bring you to our bed? is that okay?"

"mhmm," he hums exhaustedly into your shoulder. his breaths have evened out to a relatively calm rhythm, but he still holds on to you like you'd launch into the stratosphere if he let go. pulling back the covers with one hand, you gently set the boy down next to satoru, who sleepily blinks open a curious blue eye.

"and where might you be going?" he quietly asks in the darkness of the room, propped on an elbow as you make to go back to megumi's bed. megumi was already fast asleep, curled into himself with satoru's hand protectively on his head.

"i'll be right back; i'm gonna go grab his wolf."

"come back quickly. i miss you," he yawns and you can tell it's taking a lot out of him to not fall back asleep. still, his constant need for your presence has you chuckling under your breath.

"i've been awake for five minutes, love."

"five minutes too long, so hurry up." it's barely twenty seconds that you're gone, picking up megumi's favorite stuffie and crawling back under the blankets with your boys. his arms unconsciously wrap around the wolf and he sighs deeply in contentment. despite the calm, your chest still felt like it was aching for the boy and it was almost too much. it almost is, until satoru's hand reaches out to brush your cheek with his knuckles. "hey, beautiful."

"hi, handsome. you okay?"

"i'm great, albeit a little sleepy," he drawls, glancing down at the snoring kid between your bodies. "nightmare?" you hum in assent, pulling megumi closer when he flips over to hug you. satoru takes his chance and tugs both of you into him until his arms stretched over both you and megumi. "he say what it was about?"

"he didn't, though it must have been pretty bad since he was asking for you," you reply. you expect a lightheartedly indignant protest, but all you're met with is a deep, deep frown. "why the face?"

"poor kid shouldn't be having nightmares so bad that he forgets he hates me." you scoff, careful not to wake the kid. your kid.

"he doesn't hate you, satoru."

"okay," he concedes, "'mildly dislikes' for the sake of comedy."

"there you go," you smile at him and he gazes lovingly back at you.

"you know, i really didn't plan for you to be part of this mentorship equation," he confesses and your eyebrow raises in question of his point. "but," he continues, pressing a kiss to your nose. "i'm so glad you're in it."

"i love you, satoru."

"you promise?"

"on the moon and the stars."

[hellsenthero]

A Creature of the Night

Vampire!Azriel X Reader

Warnings: Smut (and a touch of blood.)

MASTERLIST

Azriel was quick to adjust to life as a vampire. For centuries, he lived his life, not happy, but content. Content in his knowledge that he was a creature of the night and nothing and no one could change that.

But then he met you.

And suddenly, Azriel hated what he was. He hated the danger he posed to you. He hated that he couldn't give you the things he wanted to in life. He hated that he was a monster, something so ugly and horrific compared to your gentle beauty. But what he hated the most was that you loved him through all of it. He hated it, and yet, he was an inherently selfish creature. Unless you said so, he wouldn't let go of you.

“I love you,” Azriel groaned as he thrust into you. You lay splayed out on the bed beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips and head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck, Az,” you cried. He groaned as your walls squeezed him even tighter. “Love you, fuck. Love you so much.”

“Fucking perfect,” Azriel admitted. His pace picked up. One hand grasped yours while the other propped himself up.

“Bite me,” you ordered.

Azriel slowed his thrusting. “No,” he groaned. “I can't. I'll hurt you.”

“No,” you answered. Your right hand came to grasp his cheek, urging him to look at you in the eyes. “You won't hurt me, Az.”

“You can't promise me that.” Azriel answered. He went to pull out but your legs held firm.

“I can.” You answer. A soft, beautiful smile bloomed across your face, and Azriel almost believed you. "You've done it before,"

"Once," Azriel cut in. "And I'm still not happy about it."

"And it didn't hurt," you finished. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he couldn't help but melt further into you. "You're pale, you need to feed." You thrust down on his cock, pulling a groan out from his clenched mouth. "Now's the perfect time. Don't you wanna taste me?"

"All the time," Azriel admitted.

"Then do it. Fuck me and bite me and fill me up as you drink from me." Your hips continued to move, bringing pleasure to the both of you. Slowly, Azriel begun to pick up his own pace once more.

"Do you realize what you're asking?" He asked.

"Yes, and I trust you."

"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He lowered his head to press a kiss to your lips, and then your cheek, and everywhere he could reach. "You're too perfect, too good for me." Azriel admitted between kisses.

"No," you argue back. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving Azriel as much access to your neck as possible. "We're both good for each other, we're perfect for each other."

"I love you." You didn't have time to answer Azriel before he was biting into your neck. You cried out as you reached your climax. Your limbs fell lax from a mixture of pleasure and venom.

"Az," you moan. You moaned and cried and you didn't know if it was from the sensation of his cum coating your walls as he reached his own end, the sweet haze of a venom filled mind, or just the feeling of Azriel’s mouth on you, drinking you in. All you knew was that you were calm and happy and really fucking satisfied.

Azriel detached from you after one final taste of your blood. His lips were bloody, but you didn't care as you pulled him in for a kiss.

"How are you?" He asked after he finally pulled away from you.

"S' good," you slurred.

Azriel chuckled. "Yeah? I didn't hurt you?"

"No, didn' hurt. S' good, Az."

Azriel smiled. Leaning down, he licked up a stray drop of blood off of your neck, at the same time he pulled his cock out of you, pulling a groan from both of your chests.

"Happy now, needy thing?"

You laughed. "Yeah, you?"

Azriel's smile grew even wider. "Yeah, I'm happy," he pressed another kiss to your lips. "Really fucking happy."