yeetmetotahiti - Tumblr blog

yeetmetotahiti · 1 month ago

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“adorably fuckable”

❤︎ synopsis — a little bit of naughtiness can go a long way, in more ways than one too

pairing: nameless ghouls x gn!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: i wanted to try a different writing style this time. this is all just pure smutty headcanons with the nameless ghouls because i’m shameless as hell. i’ll make a ghoulettes version soon

cw: nsfw content. it’s all pure smut guys. the ghouls have heat cycles. bdsm. cnc (?). orgasm denial. pet play. primal play (?). blood kink. dacryphilia. shower sex. spanking. semi-public sex. somnophilia. mirror sex. size kink. usage of toys. voyeurism. corruption kink, choking and biting. degradation. they’re ghouls, so they’re very feral.

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➻ sodomizer ghoul

this man is FERAL as hell

he wants to keep you all to himself

and you bet your ass he’s going to show everyone who you belong to

sodo is big on biting. he loves sinking his fangs into your flesh and marking you up with reddish-purple bruised hickeys

if he makes you bleed by biting you he’s only going to get more turned on

he likes seeing you covered in blood

those hands of his are sexy as hell, and he’s using those hands to grip onto any bare flesh his claws can grasp

especially on your ass. sodo likes to squeeze those bare cheeks and spank them until they’re red

being the lead guitarist = good with his fingers

sodo can and will force you on his lap while he fingers your tight heat into oblivion/jerks you off until you’re seeing stars

also pull on his tail if you want to make him go absolutely feral

even the slightest touch on his tail will literally have him rock hard in his pants. his sex drive is that high

this man is cocky as hell

sodo’s really into fucking you against the mirror. he likes to see how good he is at making you feel good

he MAKES you watch him fuck you. will literally grab your chin and force you to look straight into the mirror, just so you can see how his cock disappears into your hole.

“see that? see how good i’m fucking you? mmmh~ no other ghoul can make you feel like this.”

sodo is a lot easier to set off when he’s in heat. but he’s also really unpredictable.

he can be a rough and aggressive mess that wants nothing more than to force you into doggy position and just rail you from behind

or he’ll be a bratty and whimpering mess, begging for you to touch him

he hates to admit that he likes subbing while he’s in heat because it hurts his ego, but sometimes he wants to be pampered and treated like a prince when in bed

even though he’s a huge brat when that’s the case. sodo can’t listen to anything for shit

sodo also likes to fight with you during sex

not in a sense where it’s like actual fighting, but he likes to challenge you on who can dominate the other better

always playing with the power dynamic, teasing each other with dirty remarks, it gets his rocks off

and it usually tends to be a 50/50 on both ends. he likes the equal power dynamic because it turns him on

“mmmh~… look at you.. such a mess underneath me. not putting up much of a fight now, eh?” sodo chuckles lustfully, before shoving your head down to the pillow again as he pounded his cock into you from behind.

“you’re such a slut for my dick.. aren’t ya? such a pretty thing you are… taking me so well.”

you could only whimper softly from the feeling of his hard length pushing deep within your hole. you turned your head slightly, and was met with his hungry, promiscuous gaze.

“hah… i’d argue that you’re more of a slut than me… considering how hard you are.” you retorted back with a teasing grin. though, that grin was quickly wiped off your face when sodo slammed the head of his cock into your sweet spot again.

“shit!”

“awww.. would you look at that? not much of a talker now… are ya?”

sodo then grabbed a fistful of your hair, and craned your head up, forcing you to look in the mirror in front of his bed. you could see in full view how he was slamming his hips into you, and the feeling just made you more worked up.

and sodo could feel it too.

“good fucking plaything.”

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➻ rain ghoul

rain is a little more vanilla than most of his fellow ghouls

key word: a little

that doesn’t mean he can’t be absolutely feral and wild at times

as a water ghoul, rain absolutely adores shower sex

sometimes he’ll just gently knock on your bathroom door, asking politely to let him fuck you

but you can hear his heavy ass, horny breathing from the other side and it also gets you worked up.

one time, it was raining outside, and rain couldn’t resist dragging you outside and rail you like crazy while the raindrops were hitting your guys’ bodies.

he couldn’t help himself— he was feeling extra needy for your body and he just let his ghoulish instinct take over

it turned him on so much, but you later got sick and he felt bad. definitely spent the rest of that day pampering you

would totally do it again though

favorite position is watching you ride him

he loves to claw his fingers into your hips and guide you as you’re bouncing off of his cock

also pants and breaths heavily every time you’re riding him, then his groans quickly turn into quick and sharp moans as he gets closer

“shit… fuck— fuck fuck fuck! ahhh~ you’re so good love—! so good… riding me like that..”

rain’s moans are literally music to your ears

the water ghoul moans differently depending on his mood

he either shamelessly moans loudly, slowly moving to a higher pitch, or lets out deep and heavy breaths of sheer euphoria— with each pant getting deeper than the last

PRAISE KINK.

rain can’t help it. he just loves to worship you and your body while he’s fucking the ever living shit out of you

will definitely hold your hand during sex while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. he likes to be a bit romantic during sex

rain likes being both on the giving end and receiving end when it comes to praise

call him a good boy and he’ll cum immediately

he likes being praised a lot

also his horns are hella sensitive

If you tug on rain’s horns long enough and tease him, he’s practically melting and panting like a bitch in heat (which he probably is tbh)

so touch rain’s horns.

“oh yeaahh~ oh my love you’re squeezing me so tight— mmf~ you’re going to make me loose it..”

rain’s webbed fingers had a tight grip on your hips as he guided you up and down on his throbbing cock, watching your sweet hole consume his hard-on in a way that had both of you moaning so loudly.

your hands were on his shoulders, gripping them tightly that it left a slight bruising mark on his shoulders.

“rain… rain please..” you whispered out softly, before redirecting your fingers to grip onto the base of rain’s horns tightly.

the water ghoul only let out a higher pitched moan from the feeling and rocked his hips forward, hitting deeper spots inside of you that had your hips spasming.

“nngh! rain!”

“fuck baby! oh yes… that’s it, just like that.”

you only continued to ride rain with more desperation and neediness, gripping onto his horns more tightly. he kept his grip tight on your hips, and jerked his hips forward to match with the rhythm of yours.

“yes… yes that’s it… hnnngh~ keep riding me like that.”

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➻ mountain ghoul

big boy mountain

i said what i said

this man has size and he uses it well

like— he’d do anything just to see you taking his massive dick. he likes knowing that his size makes you feel so good

his favorite thing to do is have you cockwarm him

mountain could be doing the most mundane task like reading a book or something, and he’d just have you sit on his cock

he gets off to watching you squirm on him, seeing you trying not to moan too loud while he sits there, not effected at all.

also, he gets turned on seeing his cock inside of you

like that tummy bulge is there, and he loves staring at it.

mountain will push his palm down on your tummy, feeling himself move inside of you while he fucks you into oblivion

“ahhh~.. you feel that? that’s me making you feel good. i know you love it.”

mountain is fully aware of how big he is, and therefore he’s gentle with you

he’ll start off slow, but then he’ll gradually increase the pace until your legs are shaking like crazy

he will lift you up in his arms while he’s pounding into you. he likes the feeling of you being close to him

like— this man can be standing up and he’ll still have you in his arms while he’s fucking you

mountain also likes to watch you ride him

but his favorite positions is bending you over a counter or the bed while he’s going to town on you

will grip your hips so hard that it leaves marks which is incredibly hot too btw

mountain is insanely good at giving head

he’s addicted to your taste. he wouldn’t mind sitting between your legs for hours while lapping at your cunt/sucking your dick

also wraps his arms tightly around your thighs while he’s between your legs, just to make sure you’re not squirming too much

when he’s in heat he’s more needy, but also a little more rough

like this one time— you were teasing him a bit too much and it ended with you on his bed, tangled in the sheets while you were gasping for air

he’s sure to give you plenty of aftercare afterwards

one time while you both were sleeping together, you were awakened by the sounds of him moaning in his sleep.

mountain was definitely having a wet dream because he was moaning your name and grunting

so you woke him up in a pleasant way by jerking him off while he chased his climax in his sleep

it’s safe to say, you found yourself sitting on him afterwards

mountain was definitely in the zone at the moment.

“i can’t concentrate if you’re moving like that.”

it’s clear he was having no problem with what he was doing right now, but your situation was a little different.

sitting on his cock, but not being able to move, you were stuck on his lap— one of his strong hands grasping your hips to prevent you from moving while you let out soft whimpers of desperation.

“m-mountain please… i can’t take it..”

you had decided to wake up mountain from a nice dream by … pleasing him down there. in return, he decided to force you on his lap and make you take his hard on, not letting you move.

“sit still, pretty thing. you did this to yourself.” mountain whispered into your ear, his eyes still directed to the book he’s reading.

the earth ghoul jerked his hips upwards slightly to tease you, causing you to gasp and tighten around him.

“nnngh! mountain… please…”

“mhhh~ good… you’re doing great.. if you keep taking it well like that, i might reward you.”

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➻ swiss army ghoul

the king of kinks

this man has a whole list of all the shit he’s into, swiss is down to do anything, he’s called swiss army ghoul for a reason

literally everything turns him on, so he loves to experiment with you

position? he’s flexible enough to do anything you want

like he’ll either have you bending your legs backwards until your feet are against the bed frame, or he’ll bend down like holy mary, begging for you to just take him

his favorite position is your legs over his shoulders, simply because he likes hitting all of those sweet spots inside of you with his cock

swiss is the biggest switch to ever exist. he likes having control, but sometimes he wants to be controlled

one moment he’ll be railing you like there’s no tomorrow while whispering the kinkiest shit in your ear, the next he’s a blubbering and whimpering mess under you, just waiting for you to stop edging him

yeah he’s into orgasm denial. he likes being teased no matter how much he whines about it

choking kink, especially if he’s the one getting choked

swiss loves it when you choke him with a belt. will literally demand for you to strangle him harder. and when you deliver he just moans so loudly

his moans sound so hot too so that’s a bonus

makes out with you until you’re lips are numb, does this while he’s pounding into you

swiss has the most creative things to say in bed. he’s big on dirty talk

he’s just so entranced by the moment he can’t help but express how he’s feeling through words— and he’ll definitely degrade you too

“hnngh.. you’re such good little fuck doll for me.. ahh~ nothing but a cute little cumslut who’s only good for taking my loads.”

one word: bondage

and he usually prefers having you tied up

will strap you down to the bed with the prettiest red rope he can find, then he’ll go absolutely ham on you with the many toys he has

you bet your ass swiss owns a lot of toys

and he’ll use them to either edge you and have your legs shaking in anticipation, or overstimulate you until you physically can’t cum anymore

he’s very unpredictable in the sheets, but that’s what makes it so damn hot

one time you were sucking swiss off while he was singing for rehearsal

it was just you and him in the room, but you couldn’t resist going down on him, and it took everything in swiss’ power to not slip up and moan into the mic

needless to say, he let out a moan that was a little too loud and attracted a crowd

“you go down just like— nnngh! … holy maryy~”

currently, swiss was standing in front of his mic stand, singing along the backing vocals of mary on a cross. one hand was on the mic, and the other was on your head to keep your head steady.

you were on your knees in front of swiss’ aching and throbbing cock, with one hand on his hips and the other holding onto the base of his length, deepthroating him like your life depended on it.

it took everything in swiss’ willpower to not screw up and have people hear him moan… but it wasn’t exactly easy to do.

“hah… you really are going down like holy mary, aren’t you? you fucking whore.” swiss spat with a lustful chuckle, grabbing onto your hair and forcing you to go deeper, making you gag and whine from the feeling.

“m-mmmh—!”

“such a fucking slut for my dick. you couldn’t wait ‘till practice was over? ahhh~ … well this is what misbehaving brats like you get for not being patient.”

it seemed that the noise had attracted some attention from the other ghouls, who were peeking in the room to see what was happening. with wide eyes, you tried to pull away, but swiss’ hand forced your head down again, making you moan and your throat constrict around his cock tightly.

“no.. no you’re going to finish what you started. let them watch… let them watch me shoot my load down your throat. then, i’m going to fuck you over that table for them to see. got that?”

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➻ phantom ghoul

phantom likes to act like a lil’ cutie

and he is. he’s just freaky as hell in the sheets

this man likes to act all innocent, but in his mind, he runs wild with his kinky fantasies

he’s mostly learned from swiss and sodo. he gets a lot of his kinks from them since they share similar tastes

phantom fucks hard with bdsm

he doesn’t care if it’s you being dominant or if he’s the dominant one, phantom just gets off to the sensation and thrill of bdsm

just the thought of seeing himself/you covered in so many marks, bruises and hickeys from a long, cruel game of sadomasochism is enough to get him hard

he’s also more of a masochist than a sadist, but he still gets off to seeing you in a whimpering state of pleasure and pain

phantom is always sure to make sure you’re comfortable, since he knows how intense this kind of sex play can get

double checks safe words and reassured you that stopping him when it gets too intense is totally fine

corruption kink

but like— he won’t admit that he’s into it unless you bring up the idea to him

phantom likes to experiment a lot, especially when it comes to roleplaying in your sex life

PET PLAY. again, he doesn’t care if he’s the pet, or if you are, but he does like the idea of being leashed on a collar

literally as long as you and him gets to feel good he doesn’t mind whatever. phantom’s willing to be flexible

will literally get on his knees and beg you to let him suck you off/eat you out

phantom definitely whines

especially when he’s being given head, he can’t help but moan and whimper more loudly because he wants to get his rocks off more to your mouth

“n-nnnghh.. fuck you know to use your mouth.. a-ahh~ more please~..”

when phantom is experiencing a heat cycle that’s when he gets more interesting

he’s a lot more hyper and excitable, like an energized dog that needs to fuck out his energy

phantom’s also definitely more dominant in heat, usually going fast and hard because he’s that excited.

primal play, with him as the hunter, it gets especially intense in heat

like sometimes he’ll even play around with you, chasing you down the woods and when he catches you, he fucks you mercilessly against a tree

sometimes phantom won’t even give you room to breathe because he’s that deep into his carnal and lustful desires

he also definitely leaves bruising, reddish-purple hickeys everywhere, especially in places where the other ghouls can see them

will definitely kiss and lick the hickeys to soothe stinging feeling after he’s left them behind.

when phantom’s in a mean mood he loves to edge you.

he’ll keep you begging and moaning, while you’re writhing around in his grasp, begging for a release

and your tears turn him on too. he might even lick them off of you if he’s feeling extra horny

out of all the ghouls, phantom is the most gentle with his aftercare

he’ll literally spend hours pampering you like royalty to make sure you’re feeling comfortable and safe, and this is mainly due to all of the intense stuff you have phantom do during sex.

“awww.. look at you… you’re completely out of it.”

you were left panting on the bed, soft hiccups escaped from your throat and you were all curled up on the bed. phantom had just spent the past hour or so railing you into the next century— whipping out all sorts of wild cards that had your legs shaking.

you cringed slightly when you felt some of phantom’s cum drip out of your hole just from moving a bit. he really filled you up to the brim

the quintessence ghoul grinned and just scooped you up into his bare chest, gently whispering in your ear and stroking your hair.

“there you go… i got you now..” phantom whispered softly, while you cradled yourself into his arms, sighing softly from his tight embrace.

you could feel phantom’s tail coil around your leg, and tighten slightly, making you whimper due to the sensitivity from the previous session, and phantom just chuckled at the sound.

“phantom…” you whined out, but he just smirked down at you.

“when you’re feeling better, we can go at it a few more times. there’s still some things i want to try with you, and i won’t stop until you’re completely filled up with my cum.”

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yeetmetotahiti · 1 month ago

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Midnight Hunt - Swiss x f!reader)

Warnings: MDNI 18+, 2,5k words, I'm back with more smut, and yes it's some more ghoul in heat, pnv sex, cnc, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, a little predator/prey play, feral Swiss is a little possessive, public sex, oral sex, fingering, size kink, i think that's it?

You stifle a yawn as you make your way back to your room. It's terribly late and not a soul can be seen in the abbey's corridors, the silence a refreshing change to the usual hustle and bustle going on in the day. Finishing these translations so late was not your objective, but now that you were here, you took this time alone to relax and absorb the calmness emanating from the abbey's walls in the middle of the night. You let your stress from the day's work escape as you mindlessly walk the stone pathways. A sudden noise has you stopping in your tracks however. It was very faint but the silence allowed you to hear it clearly: a shuffle of feet on the stone floors, coming from somewhere behind you.

Who could still be up at this hour? You turn, only to find the space empty. Your head cocks slightly in confusion. Only Copia had the habit of wandering the halls near the library at night -and you obviously- but if it was indeed him, why would he not call out to you, and even disappear on you? Your mind must have played tricks on you, you guess, it was late and you were tired after all. Just as you turn to resume your walk however, you nearly jump out of your skin as a ghoul enters your sight, standing just a few feets away from you. You chuckled and breathed a sigh of relief, the ghouls weren't an unusual sight around here after all. The ghoul in front of you does not react however and as you look more attentively at him, you notice the way his chest is rising and falling heavily, and how his gaze on you does not hold the playful glint they usually did. No, his eyes are dark, fixed upon you, carefully eyeing your every movement. His body is taut, as if ready to jump at any moment.

"Swiss? Is everything ok?" You call out hesitantly to the ghoul.

No answer comes. Instead, his head cocks to the side as he takes a step towards you, and you instinctively take a step back, causing his eyes to narrow slightly. Suddenly the realization strikes you: the ghouls should be locked in their den right now, it was right around the time where they'd be getting into heat… how the hell did he manage to slip through? You silently curse as a spike of fear runs through you, your breath catching. His nostrils flare and his lips spread into a wide sinister smile, fangs glinting in the faint light of the wall sconces. He takes another step forward, and you backwards.

"Swiss, you shouldn't be here." You try to make your voice as firm as possible even though you know it's useless, he can smell the fear emanating from you.

"You should run little rabbit, fucking run while you can."

His voice is so low, nearly a growl, and it sends shivers running through you. You know he's taunting you, running will only feed into his animalistic urge, but a spike of adrenaline has you instantly taking off running despite your brain knowing it was best not to. You curse the fact that you are still so far from your room and the sibling's dormitories. Running through the unending stone corridors towards the living quarters was pretty much your only option now; however, no way you could go through the main doors and lose him in the forest, he'd get to you in seconds. Your chances were already low as is… So you just focus on running towards your room, trying your best not to look back. You can hear him further behind you and you just know he's not going full speed. He's toying with you, that asshole. You take as many turns and secret passages as you can, trying to keep your frantic breath as silent as possible, even if you know he knows the abbey and its secrets just as well as you do, if not more. You feel like you've been running for hours, sweat beading at your temples and running down your cheeks, and for a moment, the silence around you makes you think you've actually managed to lose him somehow. But just as you're about to turn to look back, you feel a hand grab at your shirt's collar, claws tearing into the fabric. Despite your best efforts, it slows you down, throwing you off balance and of course he takes this advantage to jump towards you with a low growl. You somehow manage to dodge him however, both of you landing face first on the floor. You try to scramble back to your feet but a hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you back down with a loud cry. You curse loudly as you try to kick him off, but of course he easily manages to get you immobilized, face down under him. Swiss towers over you at the best of times so there was no way you could even try and fight him off, especially not with your muscles being this tired. He's currently sitting on you, a hand restraining both of yours in your back. You feel him leaning down, brushing your hair away as he presses his nose to the nape of your neck, inhaling deeply. He curses softly.

"You wouldn't believe how long I've been waiting for this rabbit" he growls, his fangs brushing against your skin as he nuzzles your neck. "Now that I finally have you under me, no way I'm letting you go."

You absolutely hate the shivers that run through you at the low rumble of his voice, your own body betraying you. He chuckles darkly.

"Unleash me Swiss" you try to sound calm, nearly bored, anything to hide the fear. "You can't be doing this, you could be sent back to the pits."

He hums as he inhales your scent once more.

"If it means I get to taste you, I'm ready to take the risk, love."

You whimper loudly when he tears your shirt open the rest of the way, your bra along with it. He pushes the offending fabric aside and the tip of his nose trails along the expanse of your shoulders, his lips brushing so lightly, it sends shivers down your spine. Swiss purrs as his tongue suddenly licks a fiery trail up the column of your neck. His free hand then goes to grip your hair and he bucks into you harshly with a loud whine. The way his bulge presses against your ass makes your stomach clench with a sudden need that scares you. His lips make their way to your cheek, just at the corner of your lips.

"Fuck, I need you (y/n), I'm going to take you, make you mine." He mumbles against your skin as he bucks once more.

"Please Swiss", you plead and you're not even sure what for anymore.

"Yes rabbit I'm here, I'll take real good care of you."

Before you can even comprehend his words, he flips you on your back, a surprised squeak leaving your lips. A wide feral grin is spread across his lips as he spreads your legs around him, his hands going to his pants, unzipping and pulling them down with his underwear in record time. You can't help but stare at his now freed length, Swiss was nearly dwarfing you in size but for some reason you did not expect him to be this big. A spike of fear courses through you at the sight, he can't possibly fit can he? You finally look up to see his dark eyes and the way they are glued to your face, drinking in every single one of your reactions. He goes to grab the hem of your skirt, lifting, but you then try to squirm out of his grasp, your hands grabbing his wrists in a vain attempt to push him away.

"Swiss we can't do this here, we'll get caught-"

"Let them see, rabbit. You're mine now, let 'em see who exactly you belong to."

He then quickly leans down, sucking a nipple between his lips, fangs grazing just barely at the skin and you gasp loudly. You can't stop your hands from gripping at the back of his head harshly and he whines against your skin, taking this moment to lift your skirt the whole way up. His mouth latches to the other nipple and you yelp when he tears your panties away from you, his fingers quickly finding your folds. You barely notice the way his eyes roll at the back of his skull and he releases your abused nipple with a pop.

"Ah fuck, rabbit, you're dripping."

You know you shouldn't be enjoying this, and part of you was still a little worried about the whole situation, but a bigger part was now calling out to him, like your body had been actually yearning for him this whole time. His mouth begins slowly traveling down your body, until it finally levels with your core. His gaze lands on yours as he licks a long, slow stripe along your folds. You can't stop the loud moan that escapes your throat as you throw your head back. He repeats the motion, purring at the way your body arches off the floor, and up into his mouth. He is languid and slow at first, but his own desperation quickly wins over as he eats you out like a starved man, his moans growing nearly as loud as yours. You feel the coil within your stomach winding tighter and tighter and when he suddenly shoves two fingers in you, it snaps harshly, a loud wail leaving your lips as you come harder than you've ever came before. You feel him growl against you as he laps hungrily at your juices. It takes a few moments for you to come down from your high, and all the while, he keeps pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation.

"Such a good rabbit for me" he purrs.

You know you're a complete mess by now, but as you look back up at him, you notice he doesn't seem to be doing much better, panting harshly and palming at himself over you. His lips crash onto yours, his kiss desperate and terribly needy, barely leaving room for you to breathe in between. You're so focused on his tongue lapping against yours that you don't even notice how he has lined himself up with your entrance until he shoved himself inside you to the hilt, in one swift motion. He swallows the scream that leaves your lips as he tries his best to remain still at first. He's so big, it feels as though you're stretched beyond what you thought was possible. The way he presses up all the way to your cervix is slightly painful at first, but it thankfully subsides quickly, leaving you squirming under him. His jaw clenches as he tries to keep some amount of control over himself, but you see the way he is nearly shaking.

"S-Swiss, fuck-" you stutter and gasp, your mind unable to conjure more words.

"You're doing so good baby, you're taking me so well, 'm gonna stuff you so full, stuff you 'till you grow round with my kits" he's rambling half coherently.

You struggle to breathe correctly as your hands find his back, nails leaving harsh red trails behind and he starts moving. You feel absolutely overwhelmed but in the most blissful way, it felt as though nothing would ever measure up to how he feels inside you right at this moment. You can't contain the loud cries that leave you even if you tried and he leans down to kiss you again, all teeth and tongue. His lips trail down your neck and his pace quickens, now pounding so hard into you, your mind goes totally blank. His hands are digging in your hips and you know will leave bruises but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's fucking up into you like this, like he needs it more than he needs air to breathe. He keeps rambling and mumbling incoherently against your skin, nipping and kissing in between.

"Fuck that's it rabbit, cum around me please, I know you can give me another one."

His panting and whining are nearly enough to make you come right then, but then his fingers are making their way to your clit, rubbing tight and precise circles which has you coming undone nearly immediately. You come with a loud sob as you clench like a vice around him, a litany of curses the only thing your brain manages to get out. He doesn't stop moving however, even when tears run down your cheek, he keeps pounding violently, his pace growing erratic. His name leaves your lips on repeat as you cling to him for dear life, your whole body shaking and spasming uncontrollably.

"I'm gonna fill you up rabbit! Take it, take all of me, ah, fuck-"

You feel his length twitch inside and just as he comes, his teeth sink in the soft flesh between your shoulder and neck. The sharp pain pulls another intense orgasm from you, a scream tearing itself from your throat, both from pain and pleasure. It takes a few moments for him to finally slow down before coming to a stop, his tongue now running soothingly across the wound he had created. You've never felt so full in your whole life, and at this point you wouldn't be surprised to find his cum leaking out of you for days following this. You both lay on the ground for a while, catching your breaths in silence, his hands running softly up and down your sides.

"Could you help me get back to my room please?" You ask after a while, your voice hoarse from all the screaming.

When he looks up at you, you notice his warm brown eyes have mostly gone back to normal, the darkness within them only faint now. He nods as he pulls out of you, making you wince.

"Let's go rabbit, let's put you to rest a bit before we go again"

You freeze as you look up at him, your wide eyes nearly horrified. What did he mean?

"What? You think we were done? I told you rabbit, you're mine now and I'm not stopping 'till every single person in this abbey knows it."

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yeetmetotahiti · 1 month ago

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incorrect quotes with the band ghost and reader

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Sodo: Do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you.

Sodo: Please ask me to kill for you.

Y/n: First of all, calm down.

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Sodo: I trust Aether

Y/N: You think he knows what he’s doing?

Sodo: I wouldn't go that far.

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Cirrus: Why are Y/n and Rain sitting with their backs to each other?

Mountain: They had a fight.

Cirrus: Then why are they holding hands?

Mountain: They get sad when they fight.

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Y/n: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Aether, turning to Sodo: How tall are you?

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Y/n: We need to get through this locked door. Copia, give me your credit card.

Copia, handing his credit to you: Here.

Y/n, pocketing it: Thanks. Aether, kick down the door.

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

Rain: What does 'take out' mean?

Aether: Food.

Y/n: Dating.

Sodo: Murder.

Swiss: It can mean all three if you’re not a coward.

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

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yeetmetotahiti · 4 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟, 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞.

┊ count orlok x fem!reader.

✠⠀༷ ゜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: after uncovering an heirloom thought to be long-buried and forgotten to time, your flesh is joined as one with the enigmatic count.

read part one here.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, willing consent, vampire antics (bloodplay, blood drinking, scent kink), extreme possessive & obsessive behavior, biting, scratching, making out, tearing clothing, unprotected p in v sex, loss of virginity, sex with a rotting vampire, cunnilingus, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, title kink (use of my lord), dracula references, a relationship based on lust/obsession/possession and not love.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: writing this has given me joy about writing again & it’s a fantastic feeling! loved working on this fic! thank you to everyone who has shown such love and support for my work, this is why I write and it means a lot to me! I hope you guys enjoy!

𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Each night since he had first fed from you followed a similar pattern, lulled into a sensual subservience by his shadow, soothed by the allure of his voice. There was an innate lack of physicality that perplexed you, as if he were waiting for something else.

This enforced isolation by daylight allowed you to traverse the castle grounds, to explore the hallowed halls of this macabre mausoleum — you never felt truly alone. His presence stayed with you, a shadow haunting your steps.

Beneath the crunch of frozen undergrowth, you wandered. Within the shroud of the Carpathian Mountains, the fortress had seemed monumental, but in the flesh, it was smaller, a labyrinth of stone. It gave you ample time to admire the architecture and study his home.

The village became a mere afterthought, abandoned to the recesses of your mind, buried away, never to be uncovered. Your Lord was not physically present, more often than not, and you began to burn for his touch.

Phantom caresses and arduous visions could only sustain your craving for him for so long. He was not unkind, simply aloof and enigmatic, a being that seemed to give you everything you wanted, and nothing at all.

He had swathed you in clothing finer than you could ever imagine, fit for a noblewoman, lavished you in fine trappings and allowed you your own chambers. Even then, you wanted more — you wanted to be with him, beseech him to stay.

Wisps of warmth emerged from your lips as you stepped beneath an archway, the stone older than your predecessors. The grounds, still and eerie, retained a wealth of history, his ancestors still buried somewhere within the catacombs.

Orlok, you’d learned, was his ancestral surname, passed down through a noble lineage of a royal bloodline that far exceeded that of your own. He spoke nothing of his own beginnings, preferring to keep it all concealed within the dark.

For most of your life, you’d been taught to fear strigoi, tales of bloodsucking predators looming in the night, coming to snatch the innocent from their beds. You still felt some unusual uneasiness with your Lord, but it was humans you feared more than anything, those that tried to kill you.

Timeworn rags of your old life were left behind, scattered to the wind like a shattered memory. Whatever void was left within you, he filled — like a goblet overflowing with wine, leaving you satiated.

Within dust-laden corridors, you managed to find your way from the castle’s exterior grounds to a spacious hall, one that you had not yet seen. A singular door, tall and scaling, sat before you, the doorknob possessing the head of a gargoyle.

It was untoward for you to go prowling around within the Conta’s private dwellings, and yet, curiosity seemed to get the better of you.

Left unlatched, you gently pushed against the wrought-iron surface, chest lurching with a flurry of anxiousness as it groaned in protest. Sluggingly, it began to fall open, revealing a private study, wreathed in still-burning candlelight.

It was dark, lacking any windows or inklings of natural light. Scaling stone walls were lined in archaic paintings, several massive portraits gilded in frames of tarnished gold. Shadows danced along the bannister, uncertainty swelling within your stomach.

Each painting must’ve been familial, finely-crafted imagery of his ancestors. There was only one that seemed torn to shreds, almost nonexistent as you approached. The name was worn by time, difficult to read, Dacian muddied with the rotten gold of the frame.

The study seemed to have little use, chaotic and visually disorganized, with books and parchment strewn about, the fixtures dilapidated and old. An oaken desk remained scattered with various documents, but it was one item that had ensnared your attention.

A locket, the silver having faded to an ugly, distorted brown, all color and liveliness stripped away. It was inappropriate of you to pry like this, but some unforeseen force compelled you to take it, to open it and peer inside.

Trembling digits slipped around the ornate chain, finding the hinge of the trinket as you opened it. To your surprise, there was a small, painted portrait of a young woman — beautiful, in your eyes. Her attire was ripped from that of royalty, with delicate features and a regal, dignified posture.

Upon closer inspection, she resembled you to an uncanny degree, eyes beset by kindness.

A soft exhale of surprise tore past your lips, thumb tracing over the curve of the locket, brows furrowing together. This stranger’s likeness seemed to replicate yours, almost supernatural, and yet, you couldn’t be farther apart, separated by class and the insurmountable reach of time.

It hadn’t been disturbed for many ages, but the peculiarity of it did not seem to leave you, even as you placed it back down. Perhaps, he’d known of your presence all along, but it did not seem to fit the mystique of it all.

Departing from his study, you closed the door, greeted by the vibrant rays of sunset.

It became a tedious game of awaiting dusk’s arrival, watching as the sun began to slip beneath the mountains, orange rays turning to violet. With twilight encroaching, you knew he would soon awake, emerging from the shadows.

A sliver of your being felt compelled to ask about the locket, but you did not want to invoke his ire, if he were anguished over it. He had left it behind for a reason, buried beneath mountains of parchment, and there must’ve been a reason for it.

The forlorn dinner hall remained empty, save for the roaring hearth, brought to life by your Lord. As you entered through the massive set of wrought-iron doors, you caught a glimpse of his form, sitting closer to the fire.

Even from afar, your gaze was ensnared by the bundle of white, gossamer cloth he carried, the fabric reminiscent of your nightgown. Claws pinched at the material, twisting it between his fingertips as he brought it closer to his visage.

A strange spark stirred within your stomach, a familiar heat that seemed to ignite some crackling tension, allowing it to permeate the air. A hitch formed within your throat as you closed the door, the thump of it reverberating throughout the stone ceilings.

A hoarse rasp emerged from Orlok, an unsteady inhale as he absorbed the scent of your garments. In the time between, when he slumbered within his tomb, it was your smell he longed for, akin to that of some mortal addiction.

As you entered the hall, he withdrew your gown from his countenance, able to sense your beating heart, growing erratic in his presence. Black hues craned to peer over his shoulder, masked by the thick fur of his overcoat.

The bane of his being, his obsession, his lifeblood — during his days of arduous slumber, his thoughts crawled with you, of your amorous cries and keening body. There was a newfound ecstasy in the coming of dusk, when he could see you again — no vision placed within his mind’s eye.

He was not an oblivious creature, not impervious to your misadventures within his castle. Your scent lingered, permeating each corridor with a peculiar bouquet of warmth, one that only you possessed.

Your living presence breathed a certain exuberance into the veil of his shadow, where life was little more than a meaningless sentiment. His decay only seemed stilled by your heart, a precious thing, something that he deeply coveted.

It was in his nature to possess, to consume — he welcomed you into his tangled shroud, a dark haze that often invoked such fright. Your terror had subsided into carnality, a frenzied passion that he shared in, but had not yet acted upon.

Peering into your heart, the Count saw your wandering about within his study, mesmerized by paintings of his predecessors — and then, cradling a tarnished locket. A growl of agitation rippled through him, coupled with a rousing anger.

“Thou has traversed to places of grave importance,” The gravelly, thunderous lull of his cadence sent shivers of dread down your spine, born out of a gnawing anxiousness. He knew that you’d gone into his study, a place he considered to be private. “Why?”

A stab of lurching dread lunged for your stomach, sending a shiver throughout your body. It was foolish of you to believe that he wouldn’t suspect your prying, hands idly clutching at the fringe of your dress, an attempt at relieving tension.

Slick perspiration licked along the back of your neck as you faced his sharp accusation with a shrewd countenance. “I am sorry, my Lord, I did not intend to disturb your study.” It was a feeble attempt at mending the friction between the both of you.

“But you did,” A living reminder of terror — of his true nature, that of undeath and obliteration. Despite his innate obsession with you, he was still capable of wielding an icy wrath that made you tremble with trepidation. “I command thee to speak.”

A guttural growl erupts from his rotten diaphragm, a snarl that causes you to straighten, gooseflesh raking along your spine. He beseeches you to tell the truth of what you saw, something that your eyes were never intended to see.

“The locket,” A wisp of a murmur slips between your lips, tone softening in a valiant attempt to uncover the mystery of your ancient doppelgänger. “Who was she?” It was an innocuous inquiry, born from a naive heart.

Centuries without a thought of the past, only centered around you — you had brought an onslaught of lamenting with you. The Count did not answer, neglecting to shed any clarity on the woman who bore your own visage.

It was his own hubris that brought about his use of necromancy, thinking he could resurrect one that had long been dormant to the world. For such an action, his flesh was cursed in undeath, roaming the nocturnal world as a harbinger of pestilence, of one’s darkest desires.

“Of little importance.”

There was a fracture within you, a war that waged as you stood with bated breath, pondering his statement with perplexity. You did not believe him when he said this, digits curling into the rough embroidery of your gown.

“I do not believe you.” Lacking an ounce of defiance, your tone screamed of someone who yearned to know more of this shadow that haunted your every step. The Count’s displeasure was visible, countenance twisted into something of sheer anguish.

Within the space of a singular breath, he manifested before you, firelight draining from your surroundings until all that was left was pitch and silver. He was intimidating like this, leering over you like a dark statue, black hues swirling with an unbridled fury.

He was often indiscernible, a presence without any sentiment, and only you could taste them upon your tongue. Now, he seemed to bristle with an unsteady rage, cold breath fanning across your face, his scent one of the yawning grave and frostbitten flesh.

“You do not know what you speak,” His voice was like a poisonous thorn, a clap of thunder that rattled the castle’s foundations. The Count still cradled your nightgown in one hand, twisted in a fist between his claws. “It is a lament, nothing more.”

Clinging to a misbegotten past — within your marrow, you knew that it was a shadow of someone he once coveted, just as he possessed you now. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, your gaze flickered to the bundle of pale fabric bunched within his grasp.

A flutter stirred within your heart, a skipped beat that elicited a soft gasp from your lips. His shadow blanketed you in his carnality, his obsession, his veneration — it sparked a fire within your belly, one that nearly seared your bones into ash.

Words died upon your tongue, stuck within the depths of your throat as you searched for a proper retort, and nothing emerged. A void of silence seemed to stop you in your tracks, allowing for a tumultuous tension to brew instead.

The Count lingered, hovering in above you, the tip of his nose brushing across your scalp. A gust of your scent invaded his senses, euphoric and overwhelming, a most wicked affliction.

“This lament shares my face,” Threads of a darker temptation began to pull at you, his allure unmistakable, like that of the great unknown. Your utterance gave him pause, body sharing in your space. “Why?”

He would have you in every lifetime, in every century — he would devour time if it meant that he could possess you. It was an ugly obsession, a vexation that you did not fully understand, this hunger that only you could satisfy.

A singular claw languidly danced across the exposed flesh of your neck, pulse pounding away beneath your jaw. It was a sensual touch, one reserved for lovers, a caress that seemed to make your knees tremble.

“𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”

There was a weight to his confession that stole every shred of air from your lungs until you were left with nothing but a burning. An audible hitch formed within your chest, nerves set ablaze. A fire smoldered within your belly, one that demanded to be extinguished.

Crimson strings of fate, tethering you to him — perhaps, you were intended to be here all along.

Through black forests and silver blades, through snow-laden woodlands and the maddening cries of your once-kin, you had found him. His salvation was not in the form of some fantasy or fairytale, but through him alone, this carnivorous darkness — you were made for him.

With an unsteady exhale, you happened to feel your back lean against that of the hall’s grand door, the steely bite of icy iron sinking through your dress. It wasn’t the uncertain gait of fear, but of bewilderment — exhilaration.

To be coveted in a way that transcended the bonds of humanity, to anchor yourself to this being of carnage and lust — it was a sensation unlike any other. Your tongue felt like lead, heavy within your mouth as you attempted to conjure the right words, anything to convey your devotion.

It was unspoken, your need for him — he could smell it, oozing from your pores like sap from a tree, wafting from your being, the sweetest of scents. He cornered you, his impenetrable darkness corralling you against the door, and yet, you felt not an ounce of dread.

“This flesh is bound to thee, the object of all that I desire,” He rumbled, the lull of his cadence nearly bringing you to your knees, and the flame only grew tenfold. You had not known such reverence in your lifetime — and you knew that you never would again. “You are mine.”

Through bated breath, your heart heaved with ardor, body crawling with the lap of a lascivious heat that refused to cease. “I am yours.” It was a promise, made in the throes of your Lord’s possession, vocalized.

Without coherence, your hand blindly clamored forth, reaching for him in a way that you hadn’t before. Warm, silky digits found his chest, which expanded with each hoarse rasp, a low growl escaping him.

Your embrace evoked a dark, ravenous famine within him, one that threatened to devour you whole. He watched with a thinly-veiled rapture as you sank forth, hands finding his haggard form, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

Rough-hewn furs drifted beneath your fingertips, and at last, you felt him — as real as the dust-laden stone beneath your feet, no longer feeling like some ghostly omnipresence. Claws languidly dragged themselves against your crown, perusing through your tresses in one drawn-out caress.

The soft, pliant curve of your mouth enticed him so, the very essence of temptation, like the lull of a siren’s song from oceanic depths. He wanted you to invite him in, as one would invite a godly presence, let you crawl to him.

Black hues bored into you, indiscernible with an amalgamation of emotions, some hidden to you. A sharp exhale split through your ribs, one that shook with an encroaching exhilaration. Your gaze did not tear away out of fear, transfixed upon him.

“Kiss me,” It emerged as a whimper, a plea of such intense desperation. He had only ever appeared to you as a veiled shadow, never to feel the lively flush of your skin, or the pulsating of your heart within your throat. “Please.”

It was as if his breathing became unnaturally laborious, more than it had before, threaded with a desirous exhale. This act of physicality would inevitably lead to a point of no return, flesh bound as one in some grim eternity.

Your mind had never wavered — not once did you show an ounce of spite or a will to depart from his side, digits beginning to curl into his tunic. You hoped that your touch would beseech him to act, and yet, he remained eerily still.

“You know not what you desire.”

He wanted to hear your devotion firsthand, spilled from your throat, laid bare like a sinner’s shameful confession. A twinge of pathetic frustration began to burn your features, body pressing closer until your chest had brushed against him.

“I do, my Lord, I do — I beg of you,” Breathy, wanton pleas left you in myriads, gaze glistening with an unrestrained ardor. Whatever he wanted from you, he would have it — you belonged to him. At last, his rotting lips ghosted above yours. “Take me — all of me.”

Control seemed fleeting, and you danced along the knife’s edge of desire, hoping to let it plunge into you like a mortal wound. Those elongated claws brushed across your cheek, coming to cradle your jaw in a way that only a lover could.

A throaty sound erupted from your chest, wisps of air ripped from your diaphragm when his lips collided with yours. You had not tasted anything like him before — a decay sweeter than demise. Passion took root, followed by lust.

The prickled coarseness of his mustache scratched against your mouth, and yet it hadn’t felt so heavenly before. Elation rushed through you like the swell of a tempestuous tide, prompting you to mold yourself to his own frame.

A growl stirred within him, one that evoked his possession over you, his domineering will. He tasted life within your lips, the warmth of fire, burning away the forlorn chill of the grave.

It was as if your surroundings had melted away, reduced to an endless sea of darkness, with only him as your guide. A ravenous pull laced itself into his kiss as he pressed you further, a sharp nail tracing across your jugular.

“To your chambers.”

The sharp, gravelly rumble of his cadence tore at your thoughts, ensnaring your attention as you straightened. Pitch-colored hues glowered upon you as you peeled yourself from him, obeying his command as you returned to your quarters.

He had not followed, manifesting beside the window as you shut the door, wrought-iron groaning in protest, echoing throughout the halls. The penumbra of his oppressive shadow fell across you, tangling you within the visceral gnarl of his obsessive desire.

Moonlight pooled through the singular window of your room, liquid silver casting a ghostly light upon his towering physique. No longer aghast by his haggard features, a man reanimated, you inched closer, seeking him once more.

You yearned for his mouth, for his all-consuming kiss, stepping forward until you were merely breaths away, lacking any shred of nervousness. Had you not been fantasizing of this for some time, you might’ve been terrified — instead, you felt excitement.

“Reveal thine flesh, for it belongs to me.” He rasped, desiring to see you closely this time, unable to flee from his gaze. With each visit of his shadow upon you, left him unable to truly revel in your eternal beauty.

Gooseflesh raked across your spine, accompanied by an arousing flame that ignited within your belly, burning so intensely that it threatened to scorch you, too.

You had not experienced an exhilaration quite like this — as longed-for like dusk that yearned for the moon’s enchanting silver.

Trembling digits found the front ties of your dress, untangling them with insistent tugs before you turned, back facing him. A gathering of silken ties and string pieced it all together, and your hands attempted to make swift work of their hindrance.

The feather-light embrace of claws raked across your bare shoulder, roughened pads of his spindly digits absorbing the heat of your skin. A wisp of icy breath rasped from him, hoarse and labored along the nape of your neck.

A shiver of elation rolled across your spine, lips parted with bated breath as he loomed ever closer, towering over you. God, did you want him, needed him — needed him like air, a strangled gasp of desperation.

Gnarled talons bunched themselves within loosened threads, and with an inhuman display of strength, he ripped your dress. Dark hues seemed to flicker, swirling with such lust — he wanted to bite into your passion, let it consume him.

“My Lord.” A wanton mewl slipped past your lips, listening to the shred and rending of fabric as the Count tore it from your body. Tugging your arms from the puffy sleeves, your breasts were exposed to the chill of your chambers.

His dismembering of your garments continued, elongated fingers and talons prying it all away, unraveling you, revealing you to him. Those large, gnarled hands smoothed over the curve of your hips, pushing the dress down, down.

A guttural growl unfurled from within his chest, a sharp noise that rattled your bones with a needy thrill. His initial tenderness was entirely unexpected, silently admiring the unblemished plane of your flesh.

The sharp bridge of his nose slipped against your throat, lips pressing a vigorous kiss there, roughened tongue lapping over your saccharine skin. With a keening moan, you sank into his hold, bristling at the sensation of a hand encircling your breast.

Teeth grazed across the hollow between your throat and shoulder, temptation oozing from your pores before he bit. A ripple of pain spread from his bite, enough to taste the coppery pool of your blood.

It was not a harsh bite, not intended to feed — that would come last. His penchant for your cruor called to him like a hymnal, rough tongue dragging over the wound he’d made. Talons caressed your breast, kneading at the pliant mound.

One palm closed around your neck, caging you in against his frame as he greedily lapped at oozing droplets of crimson. You felt euphoric, eyes pleasantly half-lidded as you stepped from your dress, bare-skinned and willing.

His touch evoked an enraptured ardor from you, a need so overwhelming that it seemed to wash over your core. Arousal hung heavy within the pit of your stomach, molten heat that oozed like honey between your thighs, scent ambrosial to Orlok.

The cool metal of his signet pressed against your jugular, nails cupping your chin. As he withdrew his lips from the hollow, stained in a sheen of crimson, he continued his trail of kisses along the nape of your neck, rumbling with a low rasp.

Each ragged, raucous breath he drew was accompanied by an invasive gust of your musk, vetch and bellflower, native wildflowers found within the Carpathian Alps. It was intoxicating, and he inhaled once more, lips sealed to your shoulder.

At last, he permitted you to look upon him once more, noticing the doe-like sheen to your gaze, the unusual fondness you held for him. Your desire mirrored his own, softer in-nature, but just as vivacious.

Without hesitation, your hands silently clamored toward his gaunt visage, a mask of ghastly appeal, features sharp and haggard. You wondered what he might’ve looked like in life — comely and regal, handsome; a true pylon of nobility.

Warm palms cradled his face, pads of your fingertips wandering across his cheekbones, over patches of decay and rot, over tangles of scars that would never fade. He seemed enamored — obsessed in an unholy sense, drawing to you like a shadow to a pious moon.

“Without thee, this hunger remains eternal — without thee, I cannot be sated.” The thunderous purr of his raspy cadence sent shivers down your spine, body calling out to him. This lust he filled you with was one of sheer ecstasy.

A simpering gasp ripped through your diaphragm, bringing with it a wave of want. It was as if your entire being was tethered to him in some supernatural manner — two souls, once adrift — now, two bodies joined as one.

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, and yet you conveyed your sentiments through your lips, coaxing him in for another kiss. This entanglement was of a primal sort — impassioned mouths, teeth, a moan emerging from your throat.

His hand held your throat, claws sweeping beneath your chin, along your jaw as he reciprocated with his own famine. He was ravenous, kissing you with a yearning fervor that made your flesh scream with a pleasurable fire.

“I burn for you,” It was a mewl, a wanton utterance that made his bones sing. Orlok snarled, a possessive sound, one that seemed to savor your vocalized lust. “Please, do not stop.” You pleaded, seeking his rotten lips once more.

There was a crawl to your kisses, but a necessary one. He withdrew, enough to shed his overcoat, a mountain of fur and fine fabric, now discarded alongside your dress. A hitch formed within your throat, longing to see his flesh.

A nail traced across your lower lip, holding your face with a smoldering possessiveness. Your gaze did not falter from the Count’s, whose pitch-dark hues burned with lust. Tenderly, you kissed the pad of his thumb, able to hear the hitched rasp of his breath.

With a longing embrace, your digits fluttered to the front of his fur-lined tunic, weathered and worn by time, finding the column of embroidered buttons. He did not recoil or foil your movements, pressing slow, hungry kisses to your jaw.

As you sluggishly began the process of disrobing him, you caught glimpses of rotting flesh, grey and ashen, preserved in his current state. To lay with a strigoi often meant that you would be forever tainted by darkness — tainted, you would be.

In life, ages ago, the Count was imposing and well-muscled, much of it still preserved, beginning to succumb to the slow gnarl of decay. Each warm stroke of your fingertips brought him to heel, craving you in a most abhorrent manner.

The silken-and-cord wrap that held the elongated tunic together came next, working in gentle silence as you untethered it from his person. Talons continued to grope at your body, leaving behind faint scratches, some deeper than others.

No longer burdened by the weight of sin, you felt weightless — able to drown yourself within his veneration, his obsession. It was a dark and twisted thing, an ungodly sentiment, and you remained unfettered.

It was your mouth that beseeched him for another kiss, mouths entangling, rough and hungry. The stiff, coarse bristles of his mustache scratched against your silky skin with each kiss, a low moan stirring within your throat.

He tastes dreadful — of ash and brimstone, like damp earth pulled from a tomb, and yet, your lips urge him to continue. Crimson stains sharp indents of teeth in the hollow of your shoulder from where he bit, now bruised.

Pushing his tunic aside, you were exposed to taut, haggard arms, his complexion grave-like, rotting — his perfection was unparalleled, in your eyes. Your palms spread wide against his bare chest, as cold as ice-laden snow, able to feel each heave of his hoarse breath.

The warmth he draws from you is akin to bloodletting, sucking the rot from a festering wound. He savors it, a kiss of light that he shall never taste, your passion blanketing him like sun warmed rays.

Wordlessly, you pull away, bare feet dancing across the deteriorating rug covering cold, stone floors. You move onto the bed, gossamer sheets ruffled from use, the curtains seeming to flutter of their own accord.

Sinking into the feathered duvet, you await his presence with bated breath, and he moves like a liquid shadow. You do not recall seeing him shift onto the bed to join you, clothing entirely absent. His physicality is pointed, spindly, gaunt — your breath hitches with excitement.

Patches of sinewy rot blanket his flesh like blotches of colour upon a canvas — time was not a generous creature. A lonesome beast, awakened by the grace of the maiden, you. He crawled over you like a shadow, a growl reverberating within his throat.

Drawing your legs apart, his tall, taut frame slithers between your thighs, each ragged breath one of obsession. His putrid musculature covers you, hand coming to cup your chin, elongated digits extending toward your crown.

Talons brush through your tresses, downy and soft, a stark juxtaposition to his wretched state. His gaze meets yours, evoking a subtle gasp from your mouth as you reach for him, palms finding their purchase at the nape of his neck.

The protrusions of bone are felt beneath your fingertips, the icy temperature of his flesh. Exhilaration stings your lungs, liquid heat becoming a swirling tempest within the pit of your stomach. One palm cradles the back of his skull, inviting him in for a kiss.

A moan sears your throat, bubbling forth before his mouth devours yours — frighteningly hungry, hips beginning to still against yours. You feel the swell of his member press into your core, setting your nerves ablaze.

Teeth scrape across your lower lip, dangerously sharp, like the serrated edge of a blade. His kiss is like that of a tempestuous storm — dark, foreboding, consuming — you wade into his waters with a girlish giddiness.

Reciprocating his kiss, you feel his claws begin to dig, raking against your scalp as his obsessive nature rages like a gust of furious wind. Whatever fleeting prick of pain you feel, it pales in comparison to twined mouths and the lap of his tongue.

A leathery palm encircles your breast, covetously kneading at the pliant flesh, nail flicking over the sensitive peak of your nipple. A gasp tore from your chest, lips colliding with his with such desperation, reveling in his caress.

Before him, before pledging yourself to him, you had never been touched — any kisses you received were fleeting and lifeless, momentarily bliss that lacked want. It was obsession you craved, the repressed desire to be coveted.

Lips moved in an ecstatic dance, a fervent union of flesh and lust, a twisted reverence. Carnality bled into your ministrations, your mouth paling in comparison to the domineering force of his kiss.

In one swift breath, his lips peeled themselves from yours, only to greedily smooth over the column of your throat. He worshiped your flesh, listening to the erratic pounding of your heart, hastily galloping with encroaching excitement, a sensual thrill.

Down, down — in a sluggish descent, Orlok continued his wet string of kisses, a low rumble coagulating within his chest. Like coarse bristles of a comb, his mustache tickled your flesh, mouth finding the pliant curve of your breast.

A myriad of whimpers escaped you, hands continuing to cradle his head, thumbs caressing along the nape of his neck. His noises were sounds of satisfaction, savoring the lively smolder of your skin as you stroked him.

Vigorous kisses planted themselves across your breasts, your sternum, above your heart — he did not bite, not yet. He was agonizingly slow, drawing out your pleasurable torment, causing you to writhe beneath him.

“My Lord,” You mewled, palms drifting towards your sides, fisting at the sheets as he slithered downward. A violent warmth stirred between your thighs, now slick with arousal. “Please, please …” Delicate pleas tapered off into whispers.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

It was his voice, so crystalline within the recesses of your mind — your body trembled, awaiting the inevitable wave of bliss. He offered his lust freely, like that of a shadowed plague that swept across you, gnawing away at your bones.

He inhaled — a hoarse, horrible sound that expanded throughout his diaphragm. The feminine scent that had mounted between your legs was nearly as tempting as that of blood, saliva beginning to pool within his maw.

With a lingering kiss pressed to the angular curves of your hipbone, the Count growled, mouth dipping further, until he reached the heat of your core. Claws raked across your thigh, pressing down into your supple flesh, leaving behind the marks of his possessiveness.

His tongue raked hot embers over your cunt, wet and ravenous as he began to lap at your core. Your noises emerged, unrestrained moans that tapered off into wanton whimpers. It was unexpected, his actions, yet not unwelcome.

Talons searched for your hand, dainty and delicate within his massive palm, fingers intertwining with your own. You used this as an anchor, heels digging into the bed beneath you as he greedily lapped at your aching slit.

Legs twitched and quivered from exhilaration, gooseflesh taking up residence along your spine. A wash of icy air fluttered across your stomach, over your breasts, nipples beginning to pebble with the sudden draft.

Sloppy, damp sounds resonate from below, the noises of a greedy, covetous creature whose hunger knows no bounds. His tongue possesses a mind of its own, dragging over your cunt in desirous strokes that leave you wanting more.

Fire unfurls from within you, a lustful burn that seeks to sear the both of you. It only grows in intensity with each flick of his tongue, snaking across your cunt as he savors your taste.

Joined hands rest atop your hip, his digits splayed over your lower stomach, claws occasionally piercing your flesh. No longer a stranger to the blissful pain he brings you, a moan leaves you, one that vocalizes the depths of your enjoyment.

“More,” You croak, back arching from the feathery surface beneath you, as if pulled into his darkness by some invisible force. He can taste your want upon your flesh, yearning oozing from your pores like sap from ancient bark. “More.”

The soft, desperate crooning lulls the Count into sating you, mouth greedily exploring your cunt, dipping into each crevice. It is then that his tongue laps over the pearl of your slit, causing a spasmodic tremor to pulse through your body.

A raspy, guttural growl shakes his throat, seeking the pearl of your cunt once more, dragging his tongue over it. You squirm, prompting him to continue, delivering long, wet strokes of his tongue to that sensitive clutch of nerves.

A crescendo of moans escape you in droves, your ecstasy vocalized to the black nothingness of your chambers. The curtains flutter, with bluish moonlight pooling in, its silvery glow tarnished by wisps of dark cloud, dancing across your body.

The Count continues to devour your cunt with his greedy laps and light graze of his teeth, hand snaking down to hold your thigh aloft. A tendril of drool drips from his lower lip, slavering as a wild animal would over their prey.

His tongue leaves you, shaking and forlornly, head angled towards the supple, velvety flesh of your inner thigh. With a sickening, wet sound, he bites into the skin, breaking it with ease as his mouth is filled with your tantalizing cruor.

A hapless mewl leaves you then, and from his wound, you feel a startling wave of ecstasy. Pain becomes pleasure, bliss — your hands are left to claw at the sheets, bringing the fabric into the confines of your tightly-wound fists.

Dexterous fingers seek to stimulate you even still, circling around your clit with a peculiar expertise. The muscle in your forearm flexes from use, tugging at the sheets with desperation. As he laps at your blood, your hips jolt into his palm.

He sups of your blood, tonguing over the freshly-made indent, still oozing with crimson. With a lap of his mouth, he moves to the pearl of your cunt once more, thin maw wrapping around it, stimulating you with his suckling.

Slurred cries of ecstasy slip past your lips, back arched, keening into any sliver of friction he offers. The air is stale, the scent of copper and decay fresh upon the wind, invading your senses like some noxious plague.

There is a primal messiness to his devourance, chin steeped in your blood, mouth latched to your cunt as he evokes bliss from you. A rush of white-hot delight sears your bones, blanketing you in a wave of pleasure, stomach swirling with a violent heat.

He brings you to your peak, claws digging into your hips, caging you in against his mouth. It is his unorthodox appetite that entices you so, an amalgamation of crimson ichor and your arousal, tongue sluggishly raking over your core once more.

Pitch-dark hues rove across your body, drinking you in, bewitched by your devotion. With a sluggish crawl, he begins to make his way along your form, mouth scraping across your flesh as he ascends, seeking to join you together.

The aftermath of your release lingers heavily between your legs, matted with your nectar and remnants of blood. A low snarl erupts from his throat, welcomed by the sensation of your silken digits cradling him once more.

It is he who kisses you — rough, unyielding, the piquancy of darkness. He ensures that you savor it all, the concoction of blood, your nectar, his unwavering veneration stinging your mouth.

Instead of repulsion, you were elated, clamoring to reciprocate his devouring kiss with one of your own. Your hand cups the back of his rotting skull, the other caressing around the nape of his neck. A wheezing inhale leaves him, as if he is attempting to swallow down your beguiling scent.

The incessant swell of his member nudges against your core, causing a shiver to roll down your spine. Talons rake along your flesh, scratching you like a hot-iron brand, his mark emblazoned upon your soul. He gropes at your breast, nails beneath your chin.

Each heated, consuming kiss leaves you struggling for air, each gasp one of desperation as you draw him closer. The closeness between you is one of a strange intimacy, his garish form bared to only you, a creature of gaunt bone and grey flesh.

Take me, take me, take me — your voice screams within your mind, like some incantation that you become transfixed by. Your Lord hears your cries, teeth drawing forth a drop of blood from your lower lip, skin breaking apart to reveal a pearl of crimson.

Without hesitation, his tongue drags across your mouth, taking with it your blood, setting fire to his lust. His spindly frame is enough to keep your legs apart, hips urging themselves against your own as his cock pushes into you.

The sudden intrusion makes you moan, foreign and unfamiliar, yet terrifyingly wonderful. His ragged breathing seems to hitch, his member taking root within your cunt as he sluggishly rolls against you. The pace he sets is somewhat erratic and rough, made to rut.

It had been many torturous centuries since he had last lain with a woman, the one who bore your countenance. The Count did not think of her now, focused upon you, this enchantress.

Some omnipresent force bids you to search for his gaze, black hues ensnaring you, visceral pits of carnality as his hips cascade into yours. Your body is flush against him, breasts heaving with delighted cries as you cling onto him like a drowning woman.

Friction dances between conjoined bodies, igniting your flesh with a feverish pitch as you feel his mouth clamor for yours once more. Unabashedly, you kiss him, tongue reaching into the cavern of his mouth, able to hear the soft wheeze from his throat.

Each prolonged snap of his hips send you reeling, cunt clenching around his cock, as if you are coaxing him deeper inside of you. He is sheathed like a blade within a scabbard, claws groping, scratching, reaching within you.

A brief ripple of pain wafts from your kiss-swollen lips, puffy from the bite he delivered. As tongues perform a desperate ballet, you hear him growl, a half-groan that coagulates within his maw, expressing his satisfaction.

Miraculously, your body bears the oppressive weight of his obsession with ease, blood slowly oozing from bites pressed into your hollow and thigh, marked by garish talons. Some have broken the skin, and yet your ardor for him remains entirely unvanquished.

The needy rut of his hips brush against your pelvis, cunt stretched around the swell of his cock. With another drag of thrusts, his possessive kisses come to a crawl, filling you with a twinge of disappointment. You miss the gravely chill of his mouth as he makes his descent.

He seeks your chest, a surge of sanguine ichor pumping throughout your veins, beside your breast. The Count does not intend to drain you, merely keeping himself satiated until the next dusk.

The rough pad of his tongue smooths over your jaw, planting a string of covetous kisses along your neck. Spindly, narrow digits press beneath your chin, holding your throat with a light pressure, claws extending toward your splayed tresses.

The notched bridge of his nose brushes along your jugular, teeth lingering beside your delicate flesh. You remind him of fine velvet, perfection beneath his hold, a plane of softness, all belonging to him. Invidious is he, seething with a yearning that only you can satisfy.

Still, he continues, his path of darkness one that leaves you wrought with exhilaration, continuing to rut your hips into his. The vigorous ministrations of his thrusts seem to momentarily pause, cock still inside of you, filling you in a way that only he can.

A pleading moan flutters from your lips, palms rooted to his ashen flesh, pillowing his rotting skull as he kisses along your body. Your back begins to arch, an incessant release mounting within you, arousal warm and slick between your thighs.

Honed, wet fangs seek the warm cavern between your breasts, sternum rising and falling with excitable sighs. A low, wanting snarl reaches your ears as Orlok bites into your chest, beside your left breast.

The damp crunch of teeth rending through flesh echoes throughout your chambers, accompanied by greedy, putrid gulps as he sups your blood. Pain blossoms throughout your breast, unfurling like the petals of a wilting flower.

There is an understanding of his appetite — you know that he would not bring about your demise, even if he willed it to be. The sudden swirling of your cruor within his maw seems to invigorate him, hips urging to life as his cock drives deep within you.

A whimpered gasp rips through your diaphragm, body reacting viscerally to the sudden drive of his being. Again, his pace is erratic, driven by lust and primal instinct above all else.

Wandering digits caress the nape of his neck, fingertips nearing the base of his skull, your other palm splayed out between his shoulders. You cradle him against you, feeling the arch of his physique as he ruts into you, pounding away at your cunt.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

The hoarse baritone of his thunderous cadence invades your mind, making your thighs twitch, legs involuntarily squeezing near his pointed waist. Your cunt clenches once more, evoking a growl from within his chest as he drinks.

His head lifts, chin stained with crimson, teeth hidden behind his mustache. Pitch-dark hues rove across your pleasured countenance, finding you to be enchanting, beauteous.

Warm palms dance along his frame, causing him to hiss, a low, delighted sound that instills him with desire. The bite embedded within your chest oozes with crimson, crescent teeth indents likely to scar. He laps at your blood, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Nearing your peak, you writhe, clutching onto him, begging for more through strained whimpers. The Count does not cease, sluggish thrusts of his hips forcing his cock deeper, deeper — until there is nowhere else to go.

Reaching for one of your hands, he pins it out to your side, claws dragging across the feeble flesh of your wrist, coming to interlock your fingers together. It is a gesture that makes your bones burn, flesh searing with such fervent desire.

His hands dwarf yours in size, locking your arm into place, your other palm left to cradle his head. Warm, vermillion ichor oozes onto your chest, rivulets of blood trickling over your breasts.

Without hesitation, he openly rakes his tongue over the trails of crimson, seeking your sanguine cruor, cock urging into you with a sense of finality. It is then that his attention is drawn to your lips, swollen and agape, deliciously tantalizing.

Mouths join together through the ecstasy of your shared release, hips beginning to stutter as you rocked against him. His cock drove deeper still, driving into your cunt as you reached your climax. It was relief he felt, the sensation of fullness.

Upon his lips, you taste the coppery sting of your own blood, accompanied with his own stale breath, the coarse prickling of his mustache. You cry out into him, feeling him swallow your moans, eating your pleasured sounds.

Squeezing at his hand, he seems unfettered by your grasp, nails digging into his ashen flesh, body rolling into him once more before you begin to settle. The aftermath of your release is a dizzying one, white-hot haze blurring your senses.

A low purr reverberates from his diaphragm — a drawn-out sound that blankets you in a strange sense of comfort. He stills, mouth receding from your own, ogling the remnants of cruor left behind from your heated kiss.

“You are mine.”

Dacian is known to you, a captivating language that only sounds mysterious and dark from his tongue. You sink into the mattress, able to feel his cock inside of you, ministrations having ceased, and yet he remains.

You welcome it, digits stroking from the base of his skull to his sharp, defined features, like warm kisses peppering his icy flesh. Exhaustion floods through you like the crash of an ocean wave upon the rock, and you recline completely.

He does not move from you, blanketed across your body in a possessive way, head coming to rest entirely against your collarbone. It is your saccharine breath he feels wafting across his visage, like the first inkling of springtime.

Joined hands rest beside your head, and you feel elated — a joy not felt before in your melancholy lifetime. His monstrous frame does not detract, and in the silvery pools of moonlight, he seems more picturesque than ghastly.

“I am yours,” Through a tender whisper, your eyelids grow heavy with encroaching sleep, tired from what proved to be a lengthy entanglement. He had supped enough of your blood this night. “Forever yours, I will remain.”

As you drift away into a blissful slumber, your paramour remains, claws perusing through your tresses, allowing such twisted obsession to eat him alive. You sate him in a way that no other has done before — whole, fulfilled.

By the time the first light of dawn creeps over the line of the Carpathian Mountains, he is gone — but the stains of his teeth are not.

With contentment, you know that dusk shall come again, and you will be sated once more.

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yeetmetotahiti · 5 months ago

Text

Under Your Skin - Ian Malcolm

Includes: Ian Loves to Tease, And Patronise, Bratty!Reader, Jealous!Reader, PwP, Oral (M Receiving), Car Sex, Riding, Consensual Choking, Slight Voyeurism? Size Kink, Spit Kink (I Apologise).

The air was hot and thick with trepidation.

You’d been stuffed into the back of one of the tour cars for over an hour now, stuck directly outside the T-Rex pen, and your patience was wearing thin.

In the midst of the Southern American Summer, paired with an oncoming thunderstorm that rumbled in the distance; the car was sweltering.

Beside you, Dr. Ian Malcolm, who had no shame in stripping from his leather jacket down into his thin black button-up, with the top few buttons undone.

From out of your peripherals, aimlessly flicking through pages of Dr. Grant’s book (Tim had given it to you to read in the journey towards the park’s reception, the kids having stayed with Ellie to look after the sick Stegosaurus), Ian’s chest shone with perspiration.

You had to psychically stop yourself from crawling over the backseats and lapping the salty sweat up.

But you refrained for once, out of pure courtesy for Alan—sitting in the front seat, who did not need to witness that—and because you were in a mood with Ian.

Earlier in the ride, before meeting with the ill dinosaur, Ian couldn’t resist flirting with the paleobotanist.

As he traced over Ellie’s hand, whispering about his beloved ‘Chaos Theory’ and paying her sweet compliments, his gaze had raked over your figure in the front-seat beside Ellie.

He tugged his plush bottom lip between his teeth, dipping his index and middle finger into a near cup of water. You had to squeeze your thighs together quickly (thankfully unbeknownst to Ellie or Alan, who too had an envious glint in his eyes as he watched the interaction), which Ian definitely did not miss.

You knew Ian’s had a penchant for meaningless flirting and even thought it was harmless, anger coursed through your veins.

Truly, you had not right to be upset—you and Ian weren’t a couple, just friends with a fucked up relationship dynamic. A couple years back, you were one of Ian’s college students before earning your PhD in taphonomy.

Throughout your time having Ian as a professor, neither of you could ignore how Ian’s gaze never seemed to leave yours as he explained something, or how your slender hand traced across his thigh as you thanked him for helping you on an equation.

It was an honest coincidence that John Hammond had both invited you to Jurassic Park on the same week.

At first you’d internally squealed when you spotted Ian at the heli-pad, but now you just wanted to leave.

You didn’t want to see Ian Malcolm’s smug face ever again.

That was a lie.

Despite how irritated you were, you couldn’t stay angry at Ian for long. Especially not when his hips bucked upwards slightly, adjusting his black jeans that had rolled up his large thighs in a way that oozed sex.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Ian questioned, his gum smacking as he chewed it vigorously—your knees felt like jelly.

Gritting your teeth, turning a page, you responded, “I’m fine. I just want to get back to the centre and have dinner.”

His laugh echoed in the car, that sort of growl and rugged sound tugged at the corners of your lips, but you resisted the small smile that tried to weasel its way onto your face.

“You’re pretty squished there, why don’t you shuffle over, plenty of room back here.”

You scoffed, “Perfectly un-squished, actually.”

Resting his elbow against the window, his head supported by his fist, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You scared? Don’t be scared.”

His voice came out as a light coo, it irked you that he was talking down to you so. However a coil turned in your stomach at the pet name.

“Not at all, are you scared, Dr Malcolm?” You asked sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

“I am, petrified, hysterical even, think you might need to help calm my nerves down.” He teases calmly, signifying for you to move on closer with a wag of his fingers.

Alan stared at you through the rear-view mirror, sipping at his water bottle uncomfortably. Rolling your eyes, you slammed the book shut, not worrying about loosing the page you’d been skimming over for the past 10 minutes.

“If you insist.” You huff, as if Ian’s request was the worst thing imaginable—secretly you loved his determined tonation. Scooting into the middle seat, he tutted.

“Come on, I won’t bite, unless you beg for it.” He leant into your ear. Goosebumps pricked at the slick skin at your neck at his cool, minty breath.

You hesitated.

Before you could inch further, large warm palms wrapped around your waist, picking you up and gently placing you down.

Now, your cargo-clad legs burned as they stuck against Ian’s jeans. From here you could smell his cologne, you were desperate to press your nose into his nape and inhale his scent.

He politely tugged your thin shirt back over your stomach as it had risen up slightly.

“Much better.” Ian winked at you behind his sunglasses, patting your lower-thigh gingerly, interestingly enough forgetting to removing his palm though.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here for?” He asked Alan. The palaeontologist shrugged, checking his wrist watch, “If we’re lucky, half an hour?”

Ian nodded, his free hand scratching at the stubble around his jugular—that looked so appetising under the moonlight.

Suddenly, an idea sprung to his mind. You could tell by the way he slid further into his seat, slyly raising one of his eyebrows.

You almost jumped when the pad of his finger began to circle your smooth skin.

Swiftly, slapping at his hand, gaping into his hazel eyes with the intention of scolding him for being so shameless—his finger pressed against your lips.

Your chest heaved, as his wrist slowly moved back to your leg, only further upwards now. Exhaling deeply, your eyes squeezed shut when he pinched at the fat of your thigh, he gazed at your attentively before speaking.

“Say, don’t you want to check on Gennaro up there? Must be lonely all on his own, with only his fist to keep him company.”

Alan’s eyebrows furrowed, why did Ian suddenly give a shit about the jobsworth, lawyer.

“He can beat one out to insurance and company negligence, I’m sure he’s alright.” Alan retorted, unknowing as to what was going on behind his seat.

At that point, Ian’s fingers grazed over your throbbing heat, tucked behind the small cargo shorts.

Although you gnawed at the inside of your cheek at the thought of Alan spotting you two, a certain thrill tingled at your spine, stemming from the area Ian was touching.

It was getting trickier to stay silent, only deepened when Ian pressed a featherlight kiss to your temple, neck to your hairline that was brushed with sweat.

“You got any cigarettes tucked away in those lovely shorts there?” Ian asks loudly, already knowing the answer, patting the tops of your back pocket.

Peering into the back seat, Ian’s just quick enough to retract his touch before Alan sees.

Ian knew Alan hated smoking after nearly entering a heated debate in the helicopter about carcinogens. This would surely shoo him away.

“Seriously?” Alan groans, throwing himself back into the head-rest. Ian raised his hands defensively, snickering to you whilst he popped a stick between his lips.

Without another word, Dr. Grant kicked the door open and rushed towards the other tour car, the rain beating down on his bare arms, leaving you and Ian alone finally.

“Well, that was easier than predicted—see, the Chaos Theory strikes again.” You shake your head at the older man’s antics, reaching for the lighter in his leather jacket’s pocket.

Bringing the flame closer to the cigarette, he took a long drag as it lit, leaning backward to exhale the smoke into the car’s already stuffy air.

You couldn’t look away, the slight bob in his Adam’s apple, the way his tongue pokes at his cheeks, the silver dog tag danging around his thick neck sticking to his glistening chest.

His low whistle and the cigarette waved in front of your face brings you back to reality, you mutter a small apology before hastily inhaling the smoke.

“You started smoking, you’ve grown up fast.” He comments, and you nod steadily, brushing ash off your shorts.

“I’ve always been grown—at least since we first met.”

“‘Course, but back then you had this innocence about you. Like a little deer in the headlights during some of my lectures.” He chuckles lowly, stealing the cigarette back.

“Mmm, only because you’d prefer to tell us about your night at a bar instead of… teaching us?” Ian purses his lips.

“I think I was with ex-wife number two then.” He mumbled, rubbing at the crease between his brows, cigarette perched between those irresistibly large fingers. “How many wife’s you on now? Must be what… 5?”

Chuckling he shrugs, “Ask me after the trip, and I can give you a definitive answer.”

From squinting out the window into the T-Rex pen, you head snaps to meet Ian’s lustful gaze. A thick cloud of smoke swirls through the car now.

The lighthearted atmosphere thickens, into something hotter—more passionate.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You question, subconsciously leaning further into his body so your faces are inches away from colliding.

His whisper’s sultry and soft, you can feel a mean throbbing between your legs, “Whatever you want it to mean, sweetheart.”

Gazing down at your lips and back into your eyes, milliseconds later, his lips press against yours in a deep kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you into his lap, instantly straddling him.

He was significantly larger (in all departments) than you, and your legs ached as they clamped over each of his, lips still attached.

Pulling away for a moment, his lips followed yours until you pushed his shoulders back down, he grumbled taking another drag.

His dumb sunglasses, he insisted on wearing day and night, obstructed his gorgeous chocolate eyes—you needed them off immediately.

Pushing them further up into his head, Ian got the hint and chucked them into the passenger seat.

Wrapping his forearm around your neck, he drew you back in for another kiss. Except this time, his tongue teased at the seam of your lips, respectfully asking for entry rather than barging in.

Your tongues tangled and your teeth clashed, it was a messy kiss—but neither of you cared.

You could still taste the mint-gum residue mixed with the cigarette smoke, which would usually make your hurl, but on Ian, it only amplified your arousal.

Hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt, you rolled your hips over his bulging crotch , trying to get as close as physically possible.

Chests and hips flushed, Ian began to press wet pecks against your cheek, dancing over your flushed cheeks before kissing your jawline.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot that had your stomach tensing and eyes rolling.

“Goddd, I need you to touch me, now.” You whined, your tone seemed demanding, which Ian caught on to immediately,

Pulling away from your neck; that smelled so strongly of your signature perfume that made Ian’s cock twitch; Ian tutted when your eyebrows furrowed.

“Do I have to remind you of who’s in charge here?” He raised an eyebrow in question. You narrowed your eyes and took a drag of the discarded cigarette Ian was still holding and blew the smoke into Ian’s face.

“Go on then.” You uttered, lips grazing Ian’s eyebrow as you pressed a curt kiss to his temple.

Instantly, Ian shoved you off his lap and you landed in the footwell. Your head almost smacked against the drivers seat, but Ian was quick to save you, cupping your head in his large hands.

Fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper, you instructed he relax and take a minute, despite your taunts a mere minute ago.

Passing him the smoke, your dainty hands worked their way at pulling his jeans down his hairy, tanned legs, leaving him in some navy boxers.

You almost drooled at the sight of his happy trail, dipping down into his boxers. The outline of his cock was barely visible under the fraction of light from the moon offered.

Nibbling at his thigh, you almost squealed in delight as he twitched, parted lips emitting a low groan. He was getting impatient.

“Easy there, don’t want to strain yourself too much.” You pout, kissing up his legs until your lips reached the cotton material.

His hands massaged down your back, until they reached your shorts, palming the meat of your bum as you pulled at the waistband of his boxers, to which he almost whined at.

“I might explode if you don’t touch me soon, I’m not in my prime anymore, you know.”

You snickered, kneeling up to kiss his lips sweetly, “In your old age, of course.” He laughed, lightly slapping your cheek.

Finally, you tugged his pants down until they hung loosely around his ankles.

By now, pre-cum was beading at the head of his dick. He was definitely above average in length, and the girth was proportional too.

His heavy balls visibly tightened as you flicked your tongue at them, spreading his legs slightly with your hands.

“So filthy, who would’ve thought?” He chucked lowly, heartily and breathlessly as you kissed your way up the side of his length until you reached his head.

“You obviously don’t know me well enough.” You shrugged, wrapping your mouth around him and bobbing your head slowly.

Staring up at him under your fluttery lashes, Ian could feel himself come undone almost immediately.

The warmth of your mouth and the tightness was just too much for him, you could feel him pulse around you, swivelling your tongue over his tip.

With a loud hiss, like he’d cut himself, he came. Shoving your head down until your nose nestled into the dark curls around his cock, he used your mouth like a ragdoll.

Removing his hands from your hair (that was most certainly tangled and matted by how harsh he was gripping) you didn’t come up for air.

Ian shuddered as you breathed through your nose, tickling his lower abdomen, still suckling at his soft cock that still bashed against the back of your throat.

Slapping your cheek, swallowing his cum that hadn’t already been shot down you, you released him with an audible ‘pop’, moaning at the sight of the flustered mess above you.

“I’d like to say we are more than well acquainted, especially now.” He gasped, rubbing at his cock that was quickly turning hard again. “You think?”

Taking your own shorts and panties off now, you jumped up into Ian’s lap. Your pussy rubbed against his cock, lubing him up with your saliva and wetness.

“You want to take control, baby? Want to ride me in the car, when Alan and Gennaro are just metres away?” Pouting innocently, you nodded.

“God, you are such a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ian Sir.” A guttural sound escaped him, wrapping his arm around your waist, one hand pressed against one of your cheeks, he lifted you up.

The tip of his rock hard cock smacked against your clit as you grabbed it. Smacking Ian’s tip against your heat, you sank down, taking inch by inch, going deeper and deeper…

Both of your moans filled the smoky car, hopefully the pattering of rain would muffle your noises for Alan and Gennaro’s sake.

Tucking your head into the nape of Ian’s neck, he cooed as you shivered, moving your hips in a slowwww circle.

“Sweetheart, you think you can do it on your own? I know it’s a biggg stretch, but you can take it.” He praised, you whimpered as his hands gripped under your thighs, lifting you up and down on his cock manually.

After a minute or so of Ian helping, you placed your hands on his shoulders and bounced yourself. “So fucking good, needed you so bad.”

Ian stared at your blissed out expression, your eyes creased as you whimpered out his name, baby hairs stuck to your sweaty face.

Your thighs began to burn as you picked up the pace, perspiration pooled in every crevice of your bodies.

His balls slapped against your bum and the smack! of your thighs on his was pure heaven.

What almost pushed you over the edge after a few minutes was when Ian’s large hand came to wrap around your neck.

At first he didn’t apply any pressure, just resting it there whilst his other hand toyed with your clit. “You want it? All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you breathed out incoherent sentences, words blurring into the other as you pushed yourself deeper and ground your hips.

“Nuh uh, use your words for me now.”

“Yes! God thank you, harder, harder.” You screamed, placing both your hands over one of Ian’s squeezing your throat tighter.

“Don’t be thanking other men, I’m the only one pleasuring you, not him.” His stomach tensed as you giggled, face contorting when his head touched that spongy spot inside you.

“You’re my God the way you feel inside me…” you blurted out, fumbling for oxygen as you rapidly reached for your first orgasm.

Pleasure came tumbling down on you like a house of bricks, pressed flush against Ian, you lazily slumped forwards so your chests pressed against the other.

“That good, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows, laughing when you rolled your eyes and replied.

“Don’t get too cocky, Dr. Ian. You came almost immediately after I got my mouth around you.”

Smiling into a kiss, Ian lifted you up so his cock fell out of your slick pussy, a trail of your cum dripped down onto his sensitive balls that still needed to be milked.

“Think you can take one more for me?” Ian asked cautiously, you were totally fucked out, your brain turned to mush as you smiled deliriously at him over your shoulder.

“Use me, never know when we’ll see each other again so don’t waste your time.”

Growling like he was in heat, he slapped your bum and turned you over so your hands pressed against the window, knees bent underneath you.

He plunged into you, your only warning being his hot breath against the shell of your ear as he moaned.

“Your mine to use, huh? Could tell we’d end up like this. No Chaos Theory here, just inevitability.” He waffled, his mind hazy, forearm pushing against your stomach.

Ian could feel his cock in your insides, which only spurred his movements fasted. Pistoning his hips whilst his fingers darted into your mouth, covering them in spit.

Eyes glossing over tiredly, you looked over your shoulder and made eye contact with Ian. Your back pressed against his sticky chest, hair tickling his upper arm when you leaned back.

His lips connected with yours instantly, letting out a deep sigh when you tugged at his coco curls.

“So tight, can feel you pulsing around me. Feels like pure ecstasy.” He whimpered, biting at your neck that was turning red from his earlier grasp.

You could tell he was approaching his second orgasm by the way his hips began to falter, but so were you.

Rubbing furiously at your clit, your impending release creeped up your spine and exited with a loud cry, shuddering around Ian’s cock.

“I love you, Ian.” You moaned. Even though your brain was practically mush and Ian was drunk off the feeling of your skin and sound of your sweet moans, you truly meant it.

“I love you too, so so much.”

And so did he.

“Fuuck… I’m cumming, did so good f’me, so fucking hot.” With that, he painted your insides with thick spurts of hot cum.

If you weren’t so drained and overstimulated, you might’ve come once again when he grabbed your chin.

“Open nice and wide for me, honey.” Peeling your mouth apart, a glob of his saliva slowly dripped down onto your eagerly awaiting tongue.

Removing himself from behind you, he sat you down in his laps and cradled you.

“Swallow for me.” You did, sticking your tongue out for him to check after.

“Good girl. I’m so proud of you. A star, top quality performance.” He joked, pecking your cheek lovingly as he traced hearts over the crescent of your waist.

“Weren’t so bad yourself, Doctor.”

A few minutes later, when you’d both gotten back into your clothes, the tour cars began to move again. However all you could focus on was the man above you, wittering on about everything and nothing.

You didn’t know what was meant for the both of you; with the implied future proposal; the fact you’d both have to go back to your own lives; but one thing was for sure, you loved Ian Malcolm and he loved you.

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