#beast quake

[jennyboom21]

Fast forward to 24 seconds to get an idea of how loud it gets from outside (this was a blip compared to beast quake/Taylor’s crowds).

[notyonatto]

Chrobin on ice-cold cooking: never marrying, but wondering what if, then marrying other people and moving on (what if, tho)

Chrobin on the burning on bunsen burner: Chrom cuts down armies for Robin and Robin burns down hundreds of ships for Chrom before they passionately throw everything away for each other

Reading this almost unleashed something so unholy and feral in me

[maddmuses]

Cowboy Time?

more likely than you think

(source: Mimscosta)

[atlcscp]

i just wanna tell you your artstyle is v cute >:)

THANK U!! this means a lot!! I'm very glad u like it!!!! I'm sure I've seen u around a bit :3 ur the creator of ice spider right !! I love that silly beast when I see them in tags <3 ur designs and art are AWESOME!! it's truly a crime I havent seen more of ur stuff or interacted with it at all </3 HOPE TO SEE U AROUND MORE ! AND MAYBE IF I GET OUT OF ARTBLOCK ONE DAY ILL DRAW ICE SPIDER JUSTTTT FOR U <3

[mountainebony]

PRAY FOR FLORIDA, HAWAII,, TENNESSEE

[giftofshewbread]

FALSE MESSIAH RISING: How Iran Riots May Lead to the 12th IMAM (Mahdi)

This message is a MUST HEAR Folks, we are definitely in the End Times.

The Year of the Messiah or Messiahs?  False Prophet, False Beast, Antichrist?

It’s all Converging now, 2023 certainly is going to be a very revealing year, so much is coming together, the Great Reset/New World Order aka Antichrist System/Rule, Digital Money, More Depopulation, More Food Shortages, Rise in Natural Disasters, Apostacy, WEF & CDC taking control all over the world.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[hoshigray]

𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader - mosterfucking - double penetration (he got two) - biting - spanking - light choking - mention of blood.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: a quick something I wrote for Sukuna to take a break from writing a fic + I have jack shit for him in my masterlist, lmao.

Ryōmen Sukuna is most definitely a biter. There is no need to state this since it is obvious. But imagine him plowing you from behind, watching your ass quake under his erratic thrusts, forcing out choked moans from your writhing body moving to and fro with his. Tears roll down warm cheeks onto the cold cream sheets that cover the futon. Hands grip the material for dear life with every rut to your leaky cunt. And when he smacks the cusp of your ass, a shriek cannot be restrained from your lips. 

Sukuna loves your screams. They please him to no end — a gorgeous tune to his devilish ears. As a sadistic man, nothing gives him more joy during these moments than inflicting pain onto your sweet tiny body forced to accommodate both his girthy cocks. A beast like him is allowed to use you as he sees fit. His little pet. His little toy. Not like you can refuse. Judging by how your body adapts to his dicks inside your holes, it is apparent that you're also enjoying this, too.

Two hands are stationed on your hips to propel you forward to him, and the other two hold your hands behind your back. You're left with nothing to conceal the whimpers and cries that fly out your mouth. He wants to hear it all — the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis, the choked sobs when his black fingertips dent into the depth of your hips, your pants for air as he takes them away. It turns him on so fucking much.

He can’t fight the urge anymore — the sight of your sweaty body quivering under his bow gets him riled up. Your skin, so beautiful and pure, displayed none of his markings from the times before now. Blue eyes narrow to your shoulder, clear of nothing but sweat. Well, he’s just going to have to fix that.

He comes down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your flesh. A sharp cry sneaks its way out of you. 

“Eyyahhhh!!! Su-Sukuna, don’t, please! I can’t have any ma— Ahhaahhnn!!”

“Who told you’re in a position to order me, brat?” He gives the mark on your shoulder a slow lick, tasting the twinge of blood to engage his taste. One of his hands snakes its way to your throat to squeeze. Your mind plunging into a deeper haze than before. “Know your place. Don’t stop screaming for me.”

More chews to your shoulders prompt more tears to escape from your strained-shut eyes. And the pacing of his cock becomes unbearably fast for your brain and senses to keep up. The pain inflicted by his demon mouth, along with the tongue from his stomach licking the sweat of your back, coinciding with the erratic tempo of his hips — it’s all too much to bear. And your release hits you hard, your cunt and ass clamping onto his lengths that continue to rut into your now sensitive parts.

“Mmmph, haahhh…Heh, now you think you can come without my permission, huh?” Sukuna whispers dangerously to your ear, and you whine when his teeth catch your lobe. “Such a pathetic pet, aren’t you.” He pistons his dicks deep inside, churning your tender areas to the point of incoherent babbles. “A damn noisy one, too…Hmmgh! Oh fuck, fuck…”

Before he experiences his climax, Sukuna gives the back of your neck one last bite. Your final shriek signals the ingress of his warm load filling your holes. He keeps you pinned to the futon, making sure you stay still for every bit of his essence to enter within you. Your mind is too far gone to try and fight it — too occupied with the feeling of him corrupting your body internally. Just letting him ride out his own crescendo until he slowly dismembers his huge members off of you. Heavy pants are used to steady his breathing, and he examines his messy work on your body. Bloody bite marks, your ass trembling from the onslaught of ruts and slaps, and silent tears trickle down a dazed face. He snickers to himself. 

“Perfect.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 — dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Seven

Summary - Your feelings for Eris are confronted and you make a choice that is sure to break you.

Warnings - angst, fluff, depression, betrayal, sadness, more angst

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Velaris hadn't been the same since you had left.

The entire population was scrutinizing the Inner Circle and the beast they called their High Lord who was doing his best to convince his people that you weren't well and had chosen to heal in the company of the realms best healers in Dawn.

No one believed it.

Rhys was pacing about the study, walking the length of it before turning on his heels and following the wall back to the other side whilst Cassian and Azriel stood before him, clammy palms and pale faces as the throbbing power of Rhys threatened to consume them.

It had been a back and forth conflict that had lasted for days, the words thrown had become so intense that Feyre had deigned to move herself and Nyx to the House of Wind. The main consensus was that a war with Autumn would be devastating to all involved, but Rhys had lost his mind for long enough to be void of the capability to see any reason.

All he wanted was his sister back in his court, safe and warm and protected, where her power wouldn't threaten anyone into daring to know more.

"She'll come back," Azriel's voice cut through the haze, his voice was sure but quaking, and Rhys halted his movements, approaching the desk and taking a seat.

Their High Lord was a shell of himself, a wild glare had consumed his dark eyes, none of them could remember the last time he had smiled or joked, all he did was speak of you, of how to get you back.

"Did your shadows tell you something?"

Azriel shuffled in his seat, dreading what he had to say, for his brother didn't know the exact details of what occurred with you at the boarder of Winter and Autumn, "No," he cleared his throat, "You threatened Elain, Lucien, and Eris," he gulped, "And Nesta."

Cassian hadn't been doing well without her, he hardly slept or ate, and he flinched with pain more often than not due to the bond being so weak and brittle, close to extinction. Their shared brother snapped his head in their direction, his gaze wide as it moved between Rhys and Azriel, both of which kept some vital information from him.

The Shadowsinger continued, "You know that y/n would never put anyone in harms way, she would never risk the lives of the people she loves most," he wasn't sure if he was included in that list anymore, "She just wants to be free. I beg you to think of a different way to establish peace."

Rhys rolled his eyes, bored of the same words, "You saw what she can do now," he leaned forward in the chair and the stars panicked in response, blinking quickly, some even vanished from the sky entirely.

Neither of them could escape the image of those licks of blame flame curling up your fingers and forearm, they couldn't escape the coldness in your glare, and Azriel in particular couldn't escape the flash of pain that shot through your face when he had taken a step back from you.

"Even then, does it mean that we need to go to war? We've barely recovered from Hybern and Koschei as it is, our armies will perish-"

"You can both leave," Rhys drawled, uninterested, bored even, as he picked a threat from his suit jacket and let it float to the floor, "Start preparing our armies, Cass." A stiff nod from Cassian acted as his reply, he rose from his seat, eyes still wide and white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight.

Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing.

Nothing.

The faint scent of cinnamon kissed the air, meaning that Eris was home, and the more intense it grew the more it became clear that he was searching for you as he always did when he returned to the manor. All he had to do was follow the aroma of you, the one scent that he would bottle up if he could just so your scent could drown his clothes and senses.

“Hello Fawn,” he called to you, his voice purred with adoration, and your spine tingled at the sensation of it. As quickly as he spoke the words, Eris frowned, noting the blank stare you held at whatever held your attention beyond the window.

Night had fallen upon Autumn, the sky held the last few flickers of light as dark purple licked the sky and faded to black.

The exhaustion was clear on your face as he fell to your side, his arm brushing against your own as though he was reminding you of where you were. Not Night. Autumn.

Eris had believed that he was making some headway with you, but after Rhys, it felt like you had constructed a dam of steel around your mind. Cold and unimpeachable. It was warranted, but dangerous, and Eris noticed you retreating into yourself more every passing moment.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning to face him, you etched his face to memory, whisky amber eyes full of worry, tight lips, messy red hair that fell past his ears; he had left in a rush that morning, negating to properly style his hair which meant that it was messy but too alluring to pay attention to. He was dressed in ivory briefs and a white shirt, a red waistcoat and jacket both adorned with vines of gold.

A High Lord if you ever did see one.

All you wanted to do was reach out and push a strand behind his ear, to graze his cheekbone with your fingers. But you couldn’t. If there was any chance of Rhys finding out of how much Eris meant to you then he would surely ensure the most brutal punishment possible.

A serene but forced smile consumed your lips, lips that were chapped and broken from the bouts of anxiety that crashed down on you, “Nothing,” you told him, eyes flickering. Shaking your head, you explained, “Nesta was a bit brutal with training today but it’s fine.”

That’s right. Eris had been too busy that day to train with you, you had both been enjoying your sessions grappling with the carranam powers you had discovered, but Eris hadn’t had the time, which meant that Nesta was keeping her eye on you.

The stare didn’t relent but you didn’t shrink under it, you’d never shrink yourself for anyone ever again, so you turned back to peer out of the cloudy glass, “How can I make it better?”

Tension fizzled, Eris took your hands in his, stroking his thumb over the soft surface and resting on your pulse, “Train with me tomorrow.”

Eris smirked, “Done.”

Faint cricket song creaked through the open window, the low beating glow of the fireflies allowed you to see the pond rippling beyond the glass panes that were doing their best to keep the cold from seeping into your bones. Moments had flickered where you seemed unsure, moments where your mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was the next best step not only for you, but your people.

For Eris.

Oddly enough, it had been Elain who would come to your room at night, or Lucien; Nesta knew when to leave you alone and Eris didn't like imposing on your space, but Elain and Lucien, together or separate, seemed to know what you needed more than yourself.

Elain would bring an assortment of baked goods, she'd perch them on the edge of the bed and climb atop the comforter to wedge herself beside you; she wouldn't talk, she would simply listen and occasionally chirp soft advise whilst those pastries loosened your lips. Lucien however was much more straightforward, he would burst into your room no matter the time, he knew you'd be awake regardless, he'd say that he could feel your thoughts pulsing about the manor, uneasy and painful, and he would come to you to make you smile.

Much like how Cassian used to.

The soft patter of rain sounded beyond the threshold, the scent of it made you close your eyes and smile, inhaling the newly damp earth of Autumn, "Talk to me," Eris' fingers reached for you, curling a strand of your hair around them and pushing it behind your pointed ear; his fingers continued to travel, hooking beneath your chin and gently tugging your gaze to his, "You haven't been yourself."

Eris towered over you, his breath crept along your cheeks as thunder cracked in the distance, a flash of lightening snapped across the sky, "How can I be?"

It wasn't supposed to be painful, pushing people away, but it was tearing your soul apart. In some way, you'd much rather be alone for the rest of your long life than risk anything ever happening to anyone you loved. Rhys was determined to take you, Eris was determined to not allow it, and you were determined to save them from ruin.

Sighing, you unwound the blockade around your heart, feeling it strain and groan as you gave it space to breathe, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Eris watched your eyes glaze over, he watched that ring of fire dim, he watched as your bottom lip wobbled as you spoke, "I'm tired, Eris."

The High Lord figured as much, the bags that clung to your undereye grew larger each day, he had asked you multiple times if you wanted to talk, but you had denied it, you had been too focused in removing yourself physically so that if you really did then it wouldn't hurt as much.

I'm tired, Eris.

Those three words told him everything he needed to know. You were tired of life, you were tired of the betrayal and the lies, you were tired of the small voices in your mind telling you that you weren't worthy of anything good because how could any good being be used by the people who was meant to love and protect them?

Cracking walls allowed the storm to seep in, and Eris had been expecting it for awhile, he had monitored your anxious actions and sleuthing, he knew that the walls were due to collapse.

"Oh gods," your hand pressed on your stomach, leaving his own palm suddenly cold, you were trying to alleviate the pain dwelling inside of you like a demon, "How could they do this?"

The mere image of your face crumpling had Eris wrapping you into his arms as the last few weeks tore through the abyss toward you, clawing at the confinements you had locked them in. Sobs bubbled through your lips and Eris felt your tears soak through the cotton of his shirt, and all he could do was allow you to go through the motions. It was better to be held in your darkest hour than battle it alone. If all Eris could offer you was his shoulder and gentle caresses, then he would spend the rest of his life making sure he was there to lend them to you.

You had spent the last couple of days playing the memories of your life in your mind, ignoring the blank spots hidden within them, you were trying to figure out what exactly had been a lie, or what you could have done to deserve a life of chains and steel.

"My entire life is tainted now, I don't know what was real anymore. The bargain with Azriel, the shopping trips with Mor, researching with Amren and training with Cassian, painting with Feyre," you paused, "Even Rhys, when did he decide that I was better off locked away? When did he decide that it was best to spread stories of the monster of Velaris rather than the stories of his sister?"

The fond memories of dancing in Rita's until sunrise with Mor and Cassian had turned to ash alongside the moments you had spent with every member of your false family.

Eris ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips grazing across your scalp, he knew you loved the feeling, and his chest rumbled as he spoke, "Do not fear the storm, y/n," his lips lingered just by your ear and you could faintly feel the parting as he spoke against the shell, "You are learning how to sail your ship. You will get through this, we'll get through it all, together," he pulled away from you but still held you in his arms, the flash of lightening slicing across his face, moulding with the light of the dancing flames dotted about the space in the form of tealights and lanterns hanging from the ceiling, "Just for now. Find a corner of your soul that feels good. And rest there."

Feeling seen and heard felt so foreign to you, but in Autumn, with Eris, you felt alive. Autumn had wrapped her doting arms around you and used her embrace to will you back to life, she willed you to find joy and passion, and perhaps even love.

Perhaps the Mother had sent Autumn to you to lead you to a life that would be worth all of the pain and loneliness. Peering up at Eris, you admired his beauty, the sharp but rugged look, the amber whisky eyes that reminded you of molten bronze, his stupidly perfect hair that Nesta told you constantly was something from novels, "Thank you, for making me feel alive."

Eris sucked in a breath and the candles burned brighter, their light covering the ceiling, "Thank you for making me believe that I'm worthy of being happy."

Extending your fingers over his chest, right above his heart, you frowned and asked, "You aren't happy?"

"I wasn't, but then you came, and now I am."

The smile on your face was radiant, soft and gentle, full of understanding, "We only have one life in this world, Eris. That's reason enough to stop holding back," silent permission sang to him and he rested his hands on the curve of your hips.

The demon within you didn't scare him, what Nesta had told him didn't scare him, nothing about you brought him any form of discomfort or doubt.

"I didn't stop thinking about you after I saw you Under The Mountain, you were humming a song that felt so familiar, your voice was so weak but so enchanting," he recounted, "I remember the light finding you like it always has, I remember the vacant look in your eye and the scuffle of your bare and bloody feet on the ground," Eris cupped your face in his hands, and your fingers drifted around his wrists, "That image haunts me, but that song, that beautifully awful thing has been the only thing to bring me any sort of peace since that place." Since Amarantha and Under The Mountain, "I saw you like I do now, wounded and hurting in so many ways, and I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance, that I would make sure it never happened again."

"The war against Hybern was won because of you, I saw you on that battlefield wielding that sword like it was an extension of yourself, you had rose from the ashes of Amarantha herself and tilted the scales in our favour," a gentle amused huff passed through your lips, "Then you aided me, you risked everything for my vision because you believed in it, because you believe in a better world for everyone, not just your own people. And then you came to me for help, because somewhere deep inside of you, you knew you'd be safe here, with me. And that night, on that balcony of the Day Court, for the first time, I saw you and I didn't just want to have you, but I wanted to deserve you. I asked the Mother for you, despite feeling undeserving, feeling disrespectful for ever thinking of it. Instead, I prayed to her to make me worthy of you."

Eris' molten bronze gaze was trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite figure it out, not when he was looking at your lips like that, not when every fibre of your being was needing to mould itself inside of him.

"Do you know what the song is?"

Shaking his head, Eris muttered a small 'no', so you told him, "It's the song of your ancestors, the Symphony of Ash. I knew that it must have been awful to see me like that and you always used to say that you liked my voice, and I just thought that you could use a lullaby."

All air rushed from his lungs. You knew that he was watching you that night, and that song, that beautifully horrid thing, was for him. So that even if his nightmares kept him awake, you voice would lull him back to slumber, a song from his court that you had learned.

Even in the moments when you were worlds apart, strangers almost, you had still cared enough to spare him a thought of comfort in the days that weren't so bright for him either despite your own torture.

"That was for me?"

A delicate hum sounded from your throat, "Take it as a gift from one former betrothed to another."

"Former betrothed?"

Frowning, you pulled back slightly, but that frown soon turned to wonder, "You don't remember?" The blank look in his eye confirmed it, "We were supposed to get married before, well, I was locked away and you were directed to Mor. It was meant to be me and you."

"I remember our parents talking of it when we were children, but I didn't realise that it was ever real."

"It was very real."

Eris felt his soul burn, he felt your fingers curl around it, he felt your darkness kiss his fire, and he shuddered at the singing of his essence, "Me and you?"

"Us."

"Can I kiss you?"

You shouldn't. You couldn't. It would make what you had to do even harder. But it was Eris, it was his eyes and lips, his softness and adoration, it was the small boy you had grown up looking out for always without him even knowing it.

Swallowing hard, you moved closer to him, feeling electric as his fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, "Yes."

Eris lowered his lips to yours an he hovered there for a moment, preparing himself for the moment he had always desired, with the woman he couldn't get out of his mind. His lips were soft against yours, it was like kissing the sun, it was soul-consuming and scorching; his lips moved with yours as his hands ran down your spine to rest on the small of your back, pressing you further into him and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you broke for a moment to breathe.

It was a feeling you wanted to bask in forever, you felt light curl around you, you felt his warmth wrap you up in its embrace, you felt his lips on yours and his nose brushing against the tip of your own.

Fisting your fingers through his hair, you used his shoulders for leverage as he placed you on the countertop, your hands delved into his jacket and ran down his chest, and his gripped the skin of your thighs. Reluctantly, Eris paused before it went any further, exhaling deeply whilst resting his forehead against your own, "As much as I want to make you mine," his eyes delved into your own, "Our first time together deserves to be magical, and alone."

"Too right."

Freezing in position, you turned your head to find Lucien stood in the doorway, shirtless with his hand covering his eyes, peeking at you through his fingers. Eris threw his head back and groaned, cradling your head to his chest to hide your clear embarrassment from Lucien finding you both in a compromising position.

"I'm not judging," Lucien teased, "I just didn't expect to come in here to see you two with your tongues down each other's throats."

"Stop talking," you squeaked, cringing at his booming laugh, you blocked out the words from Eris, and instead waited until he scooped you into his arms, continuing to hide you from Lucien as he carried you upstairs and nestled into the bed with you.

Eris was bare bar his undergarments, his scarred chest shone in the firelight and you found yourself tracing the swirls idly whilst he pressed kisses into your hairline, allowing his thumb to stroke against your cheek.

"Tomorrow we'll figure out how to put a stop to this," he sounded so sure, but you knew he was scared, he held you a touch tighter as he spoke, "And then we'll live the life that we want to live."

His optimism was wounding.

Rhys was never going to stop, you knew him well enough to know that once he wanted something he would never halt his efforts to claim it.

After hours of serene chatter, you kissed Eris and told him to rest. As the firelight flickered to lifeless ash, when you knew that Eris was sound asleep and dreaming of you, you slipped from the bed.

Elain stood before the oven with a faint smile on her lips, excited to prod you with questions after what Lucien had so luckily found the night before.

Simmering sun poured through the windows, the storm had broke and the sun shone overhead, cascading her heavenly glow across the grass, caressing her animals as her light spread over Autumn. Birdsong chirped through the slightly ajar window, but Elain's smile had drifted, and her eyes had turned a milky white.

Night. Stars. Snow-capped mountains. A grey dress fit for a princess floating along the Sidra.

Gasping, Elain inhaled, she engulfed the air in her lungs, trying to locate you within it. But there was nothing there.

The shatter of the glass bowl in her hands was enough to cause both Nesta and Lucien to rush into the room, poised to attack, but faltering when they saw the wild look in Elain's eye, "Have you seen y/n? I had a vision."

"What vision, Elain?" Nesta approached Elain tentatively, her palms outstretched to connect with her sisters arms.

Elain gripped onto Nesta, "Of snow-capped mountains and a sky full of stars, of the dress she wore to Helion's party the day she denounced the Night Court drifting along the Sidra. I heard her crying."

Nesta snapped her gaze to Lucien, gasping when she saw Eris stood behind him, his gaze low and pulsating with fire as his chest rose and fell so fast that Nesta thought his heart would stop beating entirely. The room became hot, too hot, swelteringly so, and Eris brushed against Lucien as he approached the two Archeron sisters.

Placing his palms on the countertop, the same one where only hours before he was holding you and meeting your confessions with his own, Eris growled, low, and possessive, "Where is my mate?"

Author's Note

I am burning rn.

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker

[gojipink]

killing the cockroach for you

ஐ ft. kaeya, diluc

ஐ summary. inspired by real events T^T

ஐ warnings. none, SFW

Kaeya 

you’re frozen in fear the second your eyes lay on the biggest cockroach ever known to man that's just hanging out on the wall, 3 feet away from kaeya’s office doors. You shuffle towards his door using the tips of your fingers to quietly knock on his door, fearful that any loud sound or movement would result in the bug scurrying away. “kaeya…? kaeya help, please…” inside his office, kaeya hears the fear saturated in your hushed voice and is immediately on high alert. Dropping everything and rushing to open his office doors, “y/n? whats going o-,” you shushed him and held out your arm to stop him from making any more sudden movements. His face is twisted with concern and reaches out to grab your arm trying to get you to come inside his office, “angel, talk to me you’re worrying me here.” 

“there's a stupid big cockroach right next to your door, please come kill it,” you practically beg. 

kaeya’s shoulders sag as a sigh of relief rushes out of his body, a small laugh bubbling out of him, “what, my princess can’t handle a little bug? needs her strong knight to get rid of the scary monster?” 

in any other scenario, you might just say forget it and opt to deal with the situation yourself to save yourself from kaeya’s never-ending teasing, but this? this is different. 

you roll your eyes, “yes, yes, i need my very strong and handsome knight to come save me from this vile creature, now will you please get your butt out here and kill this thing?” 

kaeya snickers to himself slipping out of the doors as you quickly duck behind him and into the sanctuary of his office, “what would people say if they saw such a highly esteemed adventurer quaking in fear over a- oh gross. oh y/n, that’s actually disgusting. look at the size of that thing!” 

“why are you inspecting it? kill it!” 

“i don't want to get cockroach guts on my boots!” 

“kaeya, if you don't kill it right now i'm never visiting you at your office ever again.”

he sighs in defeat as he finally lifts his leg up, “the things i do for you…”   

Diluc 

diluc sprints out of his home office the second your shriek rings through the mansion. “y/n?? y/n, are you okay?”  he calls out while taking the stairs two steps at a time. he finally reaches your shared bedroom where he finds you standing, hugging yourself goosebumps littering your arms. you look up at him eyes wide and glossy, “i was just wanting to grab something from the bathroom but i looked down and saw a really big cockroach in the sink and i couldn’t-” a shudder rips its way through your body as you recount the events. diluc rubs a soothing hand along your back and presses a warm kiss to your cheek.

“it’s alright, my love, i’ll get it just wait out here for me.”

You quietly nod as diluc enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. 

a second later diluc pops his head out, “you said it was in the sink?” 

your heart stops and you stare at him wide-eyed, “is it not there? diluc, please don't tell me it's not there anymore.”

“no, no, it's here i'm sure. it’s just not in the sink at the moment.” 

“what?!” 

“however! however, i will find it and get rid of it i promise, love.” 

quick to ease your nerves he disappears back inside the bathroom while you nervously chew on your bottom lip.

a couple of minutes later you hear a loud smack and then the toilet flushes. diluc opens the door and gives you a reassuring smile, “it’s gone now” 

you peek at the sink behind him to make sure there is nothing else in there, “you promise?” he chuckles wrapping an arm around your shoulders gently leading you out of the bedroom, “darling, i wouldn’t dare lie to you. though i will say, i’ve seen you take on horrendous beasts and come home drenched in mysterious fluids. i’m a little surprised that-” 

you whip around to face him a deep blush of embarrassment covering your cheeks, “don’t you dare make fun of me, diluc” you huff out. 

diluc raises his arms in mock surrender as he smiles at you, “all i was saying was that i think it's nice i can be the one to save you from time to time. you’re so fiercely independent, im glad you allow me to shoulder the things you're too afraid to face. like bugs, for example.” you narrow your eyes at him, “you are making fun of me, you're just making it sound good!”

[jennyboom21]

“Darren Sharper! Hold my DIIIIIIIIICK!”

[bloodycassian]

Striking a Deal - Reader x Azriel

Reader is a demon, capable of granting information in exchange for things she wants. When Azriel summons her, she may be more than he can handle. 

Warnings - ‘forced’ sex due to circumstance, bondage, unbreakable ties, choking, teasing, orgasm denial, HFO/hands free orgasm, cock milking, squirting, cum paly, g-spot and clitoral stim, fingering, mention of knot (no knotting), hand job, wing play, mention of blood ingestion (not super sexual, not in scene),

As always, skip to ++++++++++ for just the nasty stuff. <3

NSFW 18+ MDNI

Azriel was desperate. Fully, truly desperate for stooping this low. 

Still, he chanted on, plowing through verse after verse of the summoner’s spell.

He had little regret over what he’d done. Scaring away fifteen priestesses hadn’t been hard, but finding the right tome had been. He should have asked for the book first. 

“Of blood, and by this flame I summon you.” He finished, slicing a cut into his wrist deep enough to coat the pile of bones and herbs he’d gathered for this ritual. 

And there was silence. He glanced around, taking in the painted walls of the temple and carved archways. The moon was little more than a sliver, the thing he’d summoned could be anywhere. He scented his own fear and clamped down on it, forcing his mind to ease. 

To fear would be fatal, now. 

“I expected someone more powerful than a shadowsinger.” Her voice was like honey dripping into his ears. His neck went stiff, as if a puppeteer was controlling him. His shadows lashed out into the darkness, quickly finding the owner of the voice and wrapping them - no.. her - in bindings. 

Very much her. Gorgeous proportions and the hair, his mind went foggy with lust. He saw her now that his shadows had pinpointed her, and was wholly overwhelmed with the perfection of her. Something deep inside him rumbled with warning, though. 

This was no witch or sorcerer, not even a Queen. This was something far more powerful and deadly, and he struggled to remember that.

“I may be more powerful than you know.” He said, attempting to put on the saam air of seduction the female radiated. 

She walked through his shadows as if they weren’t even there, and again his mind quaked with unfamiliar fear. 

“What is it such a powerful shadowsinger needs then?” She hummed, bending beside him and plucking a bone from the floor. She stuck out her tongue and lapped at the length of it, staring at Azriel the whole time. His cock surged, and he cleared his throat. 

“I seek a weapon. Something to end a God.” Azriel began, gauging her unimpressed reaction. 

“And?” She prompted, taking another lick of his blood. Goosebumps broke out along his flesh.

“Would you be able to help with something like that?” He his his irritation behind an easy smile, watching her tongue. At least her beauty made up for such informality. 

“I suppose. It depends how much the asker is willing to pay for such a thing.” 

“I have gold.” He supplied, not convince his lowest bid would be enough. Especially not with a demon this peculiar. 

“I do too.” She smiled, and waved a hand. His vision went blurry for a moment, then all around him appeared as if he were in a vault of gold marks, gold pillars, stretching from the floor going up and up into the blackened sky. A hot breath fell on his neck, and when he whipped around, the golden eye of a massive beast greeted him. 

He jumped backwards, knocking his ritual items over, sending them clattering through the temple. He whirled back around, facing the demon he’d brought here. She shrugged, casting the bone aside and approaching him. 

“Show me what you’re really willing to lose, Shadowsinger.” She walked two fingers up his abdomen, to his chest and rested them under his jaw, forcing him to look up. “A weapon that powerful is going to cost more than anything I sense you carry.” 

“What do you want?” He hissed, hating how much her touch turned him on. Her nails scratched down his neck, and it was like a branding iron on his skin. Chills raced along his arms. 

She sighed, admiring the way his throat bobbed, the way the tendons in his neck stuck out when he was so tense. “I’ve been so… lonely, stuck in the Pit by myself.” She pouted, making his cock ache with the suggestion of what she was proposing. “No one summons us anymore. All you fae and mortals trust so much in your common magics and healers. No one is desperate enough to call upon us anymore.” 

He took a steadying breath, his heart hammering in hsi chest. She leaned in, so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath against it. “I want you… to summon me. To bring me back to this planet and allow me to live. Even for the short while before they pull me back. Cast this same ritual, and bring me back.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast, squeezing his fingers tight around it. A groan fell from him, and before he could even think about the implications of striking such a deal, his mouth was on hers. 

The deal had been struck.

++++++++++++++++++++++

The searing burn of his tongue upon yours was so deliciously delightful, so full of need and challenge that you could hardly feel the brand of the deal writing itself on your neck. 

The kiss had sealed the bond, the rest of this would be just for fun. 

“Your weapon-” You say between moans, pulling his tunic off and freeing his muscled body. “Will be found in the deepest lake on the highest peak-” 

He rips your clothes off, tearing and urgent with need. “I didn’t summon you for a riddle.” He growls, dipping his head to catch a nipple between his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, and you squeeze his cock in your hand. 

“You didn’t summon me as your whore, either.” You correct, yanking him back by the hair. He bares his teeth, and his shadows wrap around your ankles, thick and cool against your skin. 

“You certainly act like that’s what you’re here for.” He grunts, and those shadows snake farther up your exposed legs until they’re massaging into your thighs. A ripple of want shoots through you at their closeness to your waiting cunt. 

You’re too distracted by his hands and shadows on you to really give him a comeback. Truthfully, his filthy mouth could be saying anything at this moment and you wouldn’t care, not as long as he was touching you. It’d been a century since you’d seen anything other than the black pit of your home, and with such a gorgeous male before you, how could one resist? Your blood had been thrumming with need the second you’d crawled out of your home.

He pulls you forward, onto one of the short steps that leads to the recessed center of the room. “Now, what do I have to do to get you to bring me this weapon?” He rasps against your skin, biting your shoulder as he sat you down on the step. He pulls away, only to start lapping down your body until he is between your thighs, joining his shadows there. 

“You want another deal, Shadowsinger?” You pant, leaning back on the step behind you and spreading your legs wide for him. He groans and the shadows ghost over your folds with teasing, almost-touches.

“Tell me.” He demands, and laps at you with a flattened tongue. “Such a pretty pussy.” He praises. 

Your legs snap together, squeezing his head. “I cannot retrieve it for you, but I can take you to where it is.” You promise, and the half - truth of it feels sour on your tongue. You could retrieve it, but it’d take much more time than you had after you were released from the Pit. 

He hums, seemingly content with the answer as he laps at you. His shadows join, dipping into your pussy and writhing there, fucking you softly but with ferocity. Your breaths are coming in shallow, frantic spurts as you focus on not coming on his face. 

You want his cock for that. 

A lick of your power lashes out, breaking his shadows away and freezing him in place with a leash of your own making. Magic bound, he straightens at your command and the sight of his surprise sets you giggling. 

“You’re eager.” You critique. Sitting up, you take his cock in your hands and admire it, loosening your magic on him when you feel him relax and sigh at your touch. “Much too eager.” You observe the thick rivulets of pre-come dripping from his tip. You dip down and take a taste of him, humming at the sense of it. The salty, needy taste of him. 

You wrap your hand around him and give him a long, slow pump and he shudders. His cock is magnificent. You can barely touch your fingers together around him with his thickness, and the knot at the base of him is hardly formed. Was he one of the fae able to change his cock at will? A ripple of excitement rolls though you at the possibility of it. You stroke him again, and another drop of precome wets his tip and you tap the tip of your finger with it, trailing it over his shaft and up his abdomen until you reach his lips. He takes it eagerly still, enjoying the taste of himself it seems. 

You bind his hands to his sides, and ghost your fingers over his cock. Barely touching him, just as his shadows had teased you. He spits venom, cursing you with each delicate touch. You stroke him hard and through occasionally, but watching him be so needy for the touch is such a turn-on.

Your nails trail from his balls and up his shaft, then you circle the tip of him gently with the pad of your finger, swirling his lubrication there. He’s watching you the entire time, his brows pulled together and his lips a deep shade of red that matches the tip of his cock.

“I am glad that you were the one who’s summoned me.” You hum, getting up and going behind him. Even with him on his knees, he still reaches the height of your breast. He’s huge and lithe in his build, even his wings are a powerful kind. You touch them gently, humming when he hisses curses under his breath. 

That gets your attention.

“Sensitive. Illyrian wings are different than the wings of other winged species, aren’t they?” You question, raking your nails over the arches of them. He cries out, lurching forward but your magic catches him, hauling him back up and in place before he can fold onto the step. 

You kneel behind him, and wrap an arm around to take his cock into your hand again. He shudders and thrusts forward, into your grip. He’s needy and desperate and with you touching his wings he’s going to cum embarrassingly quickly. He hates how much he’s loving this, how the control you have over him is making him so fucking desperate. 

He fucks into your hand, his precome wetting him enough that it heightens the experience further. Your hand is wet and hot and not nearly as good as your mouth had been but it’s better than the teasing touches you’d been giving him earlier, and he’s grateful. His need is rising and his muscles are working, his balls going tight with the need of release. 

Then, you pull away. Your hand is gone and he’s left fucking the air like an animal, and he’s shuddering. “You fucking- bitch..” He grinds out, his abdomen flexing with how close he’d been. His balls tighten and relax, his cock twitching and slapping against his stomach. 

You stand and go back to be in front of him, watching him twitch and writhe uncomfortably. His cock is surging and desperately seeking more stimulation, The angry redness of the tip a delicious strawberry color that makes you salivate. 

You go back to tracing over him, and you can feel his power, his every fiber struggling against your magic. He’s close, so on the edge that you’re sure he’ll break with only a few more strokes. Good. You want him to. You want him to remember the only female who’d bested him at his own desires. You want him to fuck you endlessly, if that is the only time you have on this planet.

His balls are tight and heavy, and when you trace a finger along his ridge he shudders, leaning forward again. You allow it this time, catching his lips with yours and letting your tongue flick over his own. He groans into your mouth and snaps his hips forward when you make a loose fist over his cock. 

His needy cries echo across the temple like a song. 

You tighten your hand, allowing him to fuck into it for a few more strokes before pulling away again. But it’s too late. You pull back and watch as he thrusts into the air, his cock pulsing with his orgasm. He’s snarling and cursing as the pleasure takes him in a violent way. You watch in supreme pleasure as he gets what he finally wants. His cum shoots out and lands on your legs, your belly. The stone floor and steps. His spend is hot and dribbles from his tip when you release his bindings. 

He wavers, and his shadows return slowly. His muscles flex as he leans forward, clearly exhausted with the experience. 

His hands shake when he leans over you, catching your chin in his hand. “You are a horrible little thing.” He curses, then forces his tongue into your mouth.

He forces you back, so you’re arched against the steps, and the fingers of his other hand go between your folds, slickening them before plunging in. The most exquisite burn fills you, and is then eased by his curling fingers. He draws out your wetness, coating your clit with it and rubbing firm circles for a moment before pushing deep back inside of you. 

He uses his entire forearm and wrist while he does it, truly fucking you with his hand. His fingers are thick and they do satiate a part of your own need, but it’s nothing compared to what his cock would be. 

But this part of the game is up to him. You’d had your fun, and now it was his turn. 

His tongue is aggressive in your mouth, fighting your own and showing you exactly what he’d been doing against your pussy before. He pulls away, leaving drool on your chin. His shadows go to your wrists, and you allow them to lock you in place, legs spread wide and wrists bound to the floor. 

This is his turn. If you want him to stay true to his bargain not just for bargaining sake, you’ll let him have his turn. You could use him, sure, - force him in place and take him as you wanted - but where was the fun in that? 

“Azriel-” You pant, and he takes your throat in a hand. Not hard, not dangerous, but certainly a silent command. 

He’s working you deep and swiping against your g-spot with every stroke, and if he doesn’t stop you’re not sure if you’ll be able to either. 

“Making me cum without even letting me really touch you first?” He scolds, punctuating it with his thumb stroking over your clit. Your yes clamp shut, your thighs desperately trying to do the same but his shadows - as weak as they are - won’t allow you to. You moan, the pressure of his hand against your throat a devious thing. 

Your body is betraying you, reaching your high peaks so quickly while he rubs your clit. Your walls squeeze him, wanting more. Needing more than just two fingers. But his thumb is relentless and consistent, you try to fight the building orgasm but it only makes your g-spot more sensitive. 

“Azriel please-” You whine, panting and squirming as much as you can under him. His hand leaves your throat and instead goes to the back of your head, knotting in your hair there. He forces you to watch his hands word, how spread you are for him, the way your wetness shines against this dark skin. He’s humming something in your ear but you can barely hear it over the mounting pleasure, the cascade of twitching need that writhes inside you, begging to be released. A dam too overflowed, your control slips, and slips.

 You push against the heat, the pressure of the orgasm but again, he brushes into that spot inside you and your clit again, and you’re shaking - coming apart in his grasp. Wetness coats him, your own juices flowing out of you in an intense way, splattering against the floor and coating his arm. The wet sounds of his fingers still working you echo against the high ceilings and stone walls. 

You’re shaking, shuddering and breathing hard when he gently removes his fingers then laps at them. 

The sight nearly sends you into another orgasm. 

“Safe to say you’ll be summoned often, little demon.” He says, offering you a finger wet with your own juices. 

You take it greedily, sucking on his finger the same way you wanted to suck his cock.

“Next time I expect you to last longer.” You critique, earning a laugh from him. 

“If I make that promise now, does that mean we get to fuck again and seal that bond?”

[maddmuses]

Some background hcs that will be true to my boy in future interacts

(source: khakki)

-Autism. It’s real. He is that. No allistic person thinks to punch their own face to win a fight

-In the grander scheme the Dragon of Earth, aside from his regular duties as a Xiaolin Dragon, is tasked with the protection of the Temple, but more specifically the catacombs beneath. This becomes more and more the case as he grows older

-Accordingly, of the four monks (five if you count PingPong), Clay has the most broad proficiency with the Shen Gong Wu, although his favorites continute to be the Third-Arm Sash, Iron Bear Fist, and his Big Bang Meteorang

-Clay, regardless of his actual position in the temple, will take occasional month-long breaks to check on the ranch. Though he is the actual owner, his siblings run it on a day-to-day basis for him, and they benefit from a majority of the profits

-Clay loves Young Sheldon, but any media that takes place in Texas is good in his books. He definitely has watched King of The Hill in the Japanese and English dubs with Kimiko

-Overall Clay’s patience with Raimundo gets longer and longer with each passing year, but it still doesn’t take much to draw his ire, particularly if they are buttons related to his autism, such as messing with his clothes or food

-As a Dragon of Earth, Clay can’t actually create more earth, but his telekinetic control of that element is significant compared to others, with broad control of pretty much any mineral, mundane or magical, beyond what he is able to do with his superhuman punching and kicking power

[brittle-doughie]

Imagine steadily sneaking out of Dark Cacao's Palace, a flourbag load of pure unadulterated determination keeping your legs sturdy. Painstakingly heading for Beast-Yeast yourself to personally confront Mystic Flour Cookie, finally face-to-face.

First, your dreams. These crestfallen memories; these should not be yours, but yet they use your crust, copied down to how it crackles and crumbles. They walk with your legs and use your voice, and not meekly. Your little colorful buttons and creme filling. Through the eternal eyes of another wearing your broken face, a heavy shade of grief insisting a strong quake through your hands and feet, reflected in a broken mirror of indestructible forks and magic. None of this has ever happened to you, all your friends were alive and running free at the center of Gingerbrave's Kingdom.

Yet the firm echo at the crack of your mind reclaims; it indeed, had.

Second, that encounter and furiously attempted Soul Jam corruption with Shadow Milk Cookie, the dark jester of silken half-truths and rusty riddles; who's immortal darkness swallowed your common sense, that shadow with countless steep blue moon slits never dulled once under the unmoving gaze of the Sun.

But now, this sudden interest-an unpardoned heart from the literal pristine white embodiment of weightless apathy and sincerity?

These situations were too specific, familiar, and suffocatingly personal for mere coincidence.

The Beasts regurd you with an infectious stench of deep nostalgia, their eyes flash an infernal fire of thought, the kind one feels upon shaking hands with an old friend. The one that crawls like a bug, wiggles like a maggot. Growing the sprout of an itch, at an open chip of dry frosting the back of your head. A push, a pull, an annoying yet strong temptation of confrontation; of an acceptance, remembrances. Like they've known you since the very first crumb fell off the Witches' baking pan.

You spent this baked life depending on the protection and care of your beloved friends, but if that interferes with the truth you seek, you will risk falling apart into flour for finally having the chance to confront one of these gods about who you used to be.

Shadow Milk was serious when he countered you into an edge of existential dread. He was a frantic for the dramatics. Even for the most serious of cataclysmic events, he danced around the subject of your connection, hoping to unveil the mystery into stellar applause. That was the plan it seemed at leaat until Pure Vanilla threw a stake into his encore.

Cut through the answers.

With a mountain of luck and enough certainty, perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie will spare you doubts.

After all, even a being like her will neigh overlook such an opportunity; the chance of finally re-welcoming you, where she and the rest of her comrades know you rightfully belong.

She actually feels compelled to thank the merger weak Cookie's influence upon your new body, their mortal stupidity and curious self-preservation was an endless plague all within its very self, almost enough for her to forgive them for slowly erasing the dear memory of your once-divine mark upon these waning lands and lesser soils.

Almost.

(Sorry I have thoughts and lots of then, I hope I ain't bothering you.)

Nah, it’s all good. This was a pretty interesting read!

From what my brain of mush can put together, Y/N was a former Primordial Cookie before being reincarnated into a regular Cookie at some point, you were having dreams of this past life at first to the lead up to the search for White Lily Cookie.

The Shadow Milk fight would be the first time you started questioning on who you really were, but Pure Vanilla/White Lily Cookie pushed him back before you could get answers.

Your reputation seemed to be revered amongst the Beasts, as such with Mystic Flour Cookie. As stated, she could almost forgive the transgressions of having your memory altered, making you forget how you left your mark in these lands. You needed to remember who your allegiances should really go to, to remember who your real comrades were.

You were getting answers from Mystic Flour, in one way or another.

[jennamoran]

And Domhnall, famed even in the west, has passed; his grey, war-weary son rules now

Governs a land of teeming beasts and rich black soil Where his vegetables grow;

Ei-eye ei-eye oh

And wandering that place, a thick-tusked boar With thunder-bearing feet,

Gimlet eye, and ancient tread; A monstrous rooting sound

Precedes it; echoes, through that shaded realm; And follows, where that great beast goes;

Ei-eye ei-eye oh

Ah! Domhnall, famed even in the west, has passed! His grey, war-weary son rules now

O’er fields of grain and forests wild Where twisted ranks of brambles grow;

Ei-eye ei-eye oh

And writhing in some jewel-like pond a drake Lifts up its head, and snaps its jaws,

And shakes the earth; and rumbling quake Precedes and follows as it goes;

Ei-eye ei-eye oh.

And monstrous rooting sounds still ring Out here, and there, and everywhere;

Past Domhnall’s grave, across rich land Where yet his willow-bent and stiff-limbed son endures

To reap; to rule; to, of the fates of beasts and men, dispose;

Ei-eye ei-eye oh

The sun has set. Domhnall has passed. His grey, war-weary son rules now

A land of sprawling hills; great-walled paddocks Wherein his silvered cattle low

And groan, to fill the moon-touched air. —there is no end to them

But where night’s grieving edge bears down And silent, eerie deepness grows:

Ei-eye ei-eye oh.

In the dusty wind, the sound of boar fades out.

The drake’s last call rings out, and falls Away; and so it goes:

Ei-eye ei-eye oh.

The light is lost. Domhnall has passed His grey, war-weary son rules now O’er field and drake and boar and cow (with bludgeon, boar-spear, gun, and plough)

And brambled chair to be his throne:

Ah! Ei-eye ei-eye oh.

[lady-exophiliac-musings]

Mr. X

The hardest part of being a monsterfucker, as it turns out, is when you're in a situation in which you want to fuck the monster, but the monster was sent to kill you.

The large, tyrannical, immensely powerful being chasing you at a constant power-walk was drool-worthy, but he'd also taken multiple swings at you, given his orders and all. You've been forced to run at the merest glimpse of him for over an hour, when all you really want to do is shove him down on his back, climb on his dick, and ride him until sunrise.

It put you in the rather annoying position of being wet as hell even as you ran from him.

Lucky for you, it was easy to lose him, and from certain vantage points you got to see exactly how his mind ticked when he didn't have a target to follow.

His intelligence left a lot to be desired, to put it mildly. Without a target, he was reduced to checking in doors and windows, sometimes walking in circles until he could make a decision. And his object permanence was non-existent too, from how he stopped dead whenever he lost sight of whatever it was he was chasing. You can almost see him rebooting whenever it happened.

Which meant, after an hour of this, you were confident you could find a place to hide for a few minutes to rub one out and release this pressure that had built up inside you.

There was no way he'd find you before you were done, and you found him so god-damned attractive it'd left you blue-balled. You needed release.

Damn that sexy trenchcoat-wearing wall of mutant muscle.

By a stroke of luck, you find yourself in a hotel full of rooms in which you can relax on an actual bed to get this done. So you pick one, divest yourself of your bottoms, and lay out on your back to finish yourself off.

You close your eyes, envisioning that sexy beast, and bite your lip as you begin stroking yourself the way you like. Your walls quiver, wanting to be filled, as you work yourself, the pleasure you feel as you finally begin assuaging this pressure a thing of wonder.

It has you shivering and quaking in no time, a clear testament to just how badly that monster of a man had aroused you just by existing where you can't touch him.

What you were unaware of, as you touch yourself, is the fact that you hadn't fully closed the door to this room, and you didn't notice you'd attracted a voyeur.

The object of your masturbatory fantasies was right outside the room, able to see you legs-splayed on the bed as you play with yourself. He nudges the door slightly more open for a better look, his brain jamming with conflicting information.

He'd been ordered to eliminate all "threats", but right then you don't look threatening. You look... something, and it evokes a certain, unfamiliar kind of heat in him as he watches you. It even stirs a particular rhythmic, pulsing movement in his groin, trapped as it is in his trousers.

He struggles to comprehend what's happening as he looks between your rapidly-moving fingers and his own growing erection, attempting to process the surprising desire sparking in him. Eventually he gets the bright idea to tug open his pants to relieve the pressure on his dick, and he cants his head at how thick and hard it'd become.

It doesn't take him long to establish a direct connection between his erection and your open legs. Every time he looks at you, at your parted thighs and beckoning juncture, his cock surges with more blood, more need.

There's not a lot going on in his head, to put it gently, so when he gets even a vague indication of a direction, he follows it. And, after a few minutes of watching you, it clicks in his mind that his cock wants to be inside that wet, glistening opening between your legs.

He strides over to you, then, phallus exposed and so hard it's at an upwards angle. You still don't notice until you suddenly recognize his footfalls approaching you.

You jolt at the sound, terror piercing you at your vulnerable position (alongside a pulse of arousal you could never smother), and you start to scramble up to run -- only for him to catch your knee, tugging you towards the foot of the bed where he now stands.

It takes you a whole second to recognize that he's standing there with a raging hard-on and then another few seconds to make the connection.

Holy shit, had he really come here to fuck you -- fulfilling your raunchiest dreams in the process?

Evidently so, because he starts examining your entrance with his fingers, gently pulling on your skin to open it up to his viewing pleasure.

Your heart skips a beat. But, wet as you are, you really don't think it's a good idea to take a cock his size (not monstrously big for his size, but he himself is monstrously big, so it's still the heftiest thing you've ever had this close to your cunt) without some prep first.

You gesture and ask for patience, scooching closer to sit at the edge of the bed instead. He cants his head at you in total confusion, even as you bring your hands and mouth to his cock and begin wetting it for yourself.

His face remains impassive the entire time you're sucking him off, all the while analyzing his flavor and struggling with your own disbelief at the situation.

This dangerous bastard who'd obviously been trying to kill you earlier now wants to fuck you, is that it? Well, far be it from you to look a gift horse in the cock, and you're fairly certain that you can maybe get away from him after fucking him silly if he suddenly turns homicidal afterwards.

He's hard as actual stone as you work him, and his cock pulses with pleasure the entire time. It's almost funny; the pulses are so strong it physically moves your head each time--

Suddenly he makes a gruff noise and hot cum floods into your mouth, forcing you to release him. You're a little too stunned by the quick orgasm to even move aside as he keeps pumping lance after lance of cum on you, your hands working him as you gaze up at him in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

Was that it?!

You'd barely been sucking him for a minute, and now he was painting everything from your hair to your tits in lances of his thick, hot cum. You felt like a glazed donut.

But, to your surprise and delight, he wasn't done. He came, but he was still hard, and you think maybe the hard lines of his face had softened slightly from it.

Before you can say or do anything else, he pushes you back and tugs your legs open for him again. You bluster and stutter as he starts trying to line his cock up to your twat, urging him to go slow for you and taking over the task of getting the head in place.

You'd be lying if you tried to say you weren't already seconds from your own orgasm just anticipating this, your walls quivering with desire for this beast.

It was such a quick transition from him cumming to him trying to enter you that you can feel the heat of his semen on your skin as the head prods your lower lips (not to mention the flood of it on your head and chest), and it makes you shiver.

You almost climax as the head catches on your opening and slips inside, forcing your walls open for the rest of him. Then he begins thrusting, aiming for depth, and there's little you can do to dissuade him; you can't reach his hips with your hands to slow him and he has your legs by the knees, keeping you wide open for him.

But he listens and obeys well, you discover as you breathlessly direct him to be slower and gentler. He's so big and your walls so untrained for something his size that it's a struggle to accept him, and you find yourself airily gasping commands.

He strains you, and yet the pleasure you feel as he gains depth is out of this world. It feels like your walls are threatening to tear with every thrust he gives you, yet the combined pleasure of him slipping in and out of your gushing walls and the sheer knowledge of what's fucking you has your head spinning with ecstasy.

You cum before he's even halfway buried inside you, quivering and moaning on the bed. Your walls spasm and squeeze him inside you as your entire body is flooded with pleasure, basking in how damned good it feels.

Your body rocks with his thrusts for a moment as he keeps going through your orgasm -- then pauses with his own low groan, his cock giving its own pulses inside you. Your own pleasure only spikes higher every time that cock shifts inside you, heat pouring into you, and you realize with another beat of disbelief that he's cumming again.

Inside you.

Holy Hell, your orgasm triggered a second one for him!

That pulls a louder, lewder moan out of you and you wriggle your hips, suddenly wanting him even deeper. He's almost at your cervix already with half his shaft still outside of you, but you want all of him in you, as deep as he can reach.

A glimmer of hope reaches you as you come down from your high, recalling how he came all over your face and remained hard; surely him cumming inside you will have the same results? You don't want this to end yet.

You don't want this to end ever.

To your delight, he seems to have the same idea. It only takes him a moment of his own basking before he begins thrusting again, going at the same speed as before.

Now, though... now you want more. Your walls are more relaxed and wetter than ever thanks to your combined orgasms, so you spur him on with demands of deeper and harder and faster.

You were ready for the beast, now.

He obeys, again, his head canting as he watches you from above. He releases your knees to lean over you on his hands, his hips pumping you in accordance with your demands.

It doesn't take him but a few thrusts to hit your cervix.

And then he keeps going.

Your cunt stretches for him above and beyond what you'd ever thought it could, accepting every thrust of hard-as-iron member. It's so thick -- and, soon, so deep -- that it steals your breath, making you fall totally slack underneath him.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth salivates. You can hear nothing except the creak of the bed, the rustle of his leathers, and your own wheezing moans. You can feel nothing except the rocking of your body, the stretch of your belly, and the raw, overwhelming pleasure that spikes from your cunt to every inch of you with each thrust into you.

Mr. X isn't a romantic lover. He doesn't know what he's doing. He can only obey orders, and right now, you're the only source of them. But he's obviously enjoying himself, his hot cum inside you squelching with his movements and easing his way to full depth inside you.

You keep giving breathless commands as he goes, and soon your desires result in him jackhammering you to a degree you've never had before. You can't even be sure, as he's going at it, that you can survive it, but you're loving how fast and hard he's taking you.

You climax again in short order, once he's up to speed -- which is unfortunate, because the flood of overwhelming pleasure in you renders you unable to move or breathe, let alone speak, and his relentless fucking is entirely too much for you mid-orgasm.

You seize up from your orgasm, spasming, all your muscles clenching and contracting intermittently. Your walls attempt to strangle his pistoning cock, simultaneously trying to force it out of you for a reprieve and pull it wholly inside you and keep it there while you cum on it.

You shatter for him, all of your senses whiting out for a beat. Your ears start ringing, your heart thundering away in your ribs, heat flooding every inch of you from the onslaught of pleasure -- and still he keeps pumping you, keeps fucking you.

You need it to stop, one way or the other, but you can't articulate your need in the midst of your climax.

When your breath finally escapes your burning lungs, it's at a deep, heavy moan the likes of which you've never heard come out of your own throat. Your body is quaking everywhere from the force of your climax and the hard pounding you're receiving, and your walls haven't stopped trying to clamp down on the cock ruining it.

Your first attempts at begging him to stop and give you a moment are fumbling mocks of words, your tongue unable to work right just yet. Your hands clumsily swat at his arms, instinctively trying to find something to grip onto so you can physically stop him.

He does -- finally. He stops, and as your spinning mind slowly begins to settle, you realize why.

You have no idea when this started, but his cock is pulsing inside you again, his heat surging into you in quick, hard jets. You find yourself gasping in time with each one, your mind frantically analyzing his orgasm to ultimately conclude that this started at some point during your orgasm.

It just lasted all the way through it until now, and you recognize the pulses are steadily slowing to nothing.

In a daze, you look down at yourself -- and your jaw would've dropped open, were it not already slack from your intense climax.

You're a mess. Your belly is stretched around him and has obviously been further rounded by the amount of cum he's pumped into you, but your thighs and pelvis are also splattered with it. His clothes also bear lashes of it from your hard fucking, glossy webs of thick cum branching out from around where his cock parted them.

You wheeze a curse, flopping back on the bed, and find yourself staring up at him. Suddenly a shot of panic hits you, recalling that this monster had very much intended to kill you earlier -- but the panic fades as you start to recognize the look on his face.

It's faint, but he looks more curious than anything.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat and murmur, "Truce?"