just call me midnight // she/her // late 20s // 18+ Only // NSFW Fanfics & Stories // Second blog for @gaybybirth
This blog is a spot for the more explicit NSFW stories I write. It'll focus on general fiction and monsterfucking, but there will be some fanfics too
Asks are always open for random prompts if you'd like to submit them! You can do so with your specific prompt, or if you'd like to use these and send some numbers in, you can do that too! :)
This is not a role playing blog, so please do not send anything but writing prompts/requests in. This is also my second blog, and I'm on here in short bursts, so requests/stories will come sporadically. But you can check out the masterlist for upcoming stories :)
Anyway!! Thank you and happy reading!
full masterlist // inbox prompt options
ask tag: #midnightmxnster asks
story tag: #midnightmxnster writes
Note: I do not write anything featuring: daddy kink, scat, incest, a/b/o, cannibalism, lactation, or aged-up characters (-> fanfics)
you're sent on a data extraction mission that should be an easy, no complications mission...until the newbie with you--Cerys--decides to let her naive determination fuck everything up in a matter of seconds. it leaves you subjected to a crazy scientist more robot than woman, and the drug she's eager to test to its very limits.
warnings: 3.5k words // fem!reader, fem!newbie, fem!robot/human!scientist // nsfw - non-con/dub-con, drugging, very powerful aphrodisiac forced on them, hentai logic, bondage, woman has robotic arms doc ock style but has like twice the amount, explicit mindbreaking, mad scientist stuff, reader watches it unfold on Cerys first, toys/fucking machine, vaginal and anal penetration, double penetration, rough sex (with toys), overstimulation, clit stim, various nipple stims, nipple suction cups, multiple & constant orgasms, forced orgasms, med/scientific fetish, squirting (Cerys--repeatedly), trying to hold on but giving in, crying, begging (for more despite fighting it), and obviously...succumbing // (no aftercare & no rescue--only mentions of it)
a/n: idk what possessed me to write this but here we are <3
It was a simple data extraction mission. The facility was supposed to be abandoned. It wasn’t even a two-person mission, but there was a newbie, Cerys, they wanted to shadow you. Mid-twenties, late to the agency training program, Cerys was naive, but determined. A dangerous mix that you never would’ve agreed to if you’d known what was waiting inside the facility.
Technological experimentation and advancements. That’s what was written in your file as a description of the place. You didn’t need to know anything else; it wasn’t pertinent. All you had to do was find anything that wasn’t destroyed and bring it back to base. You were armed out of protocol, but even then, you hardly felt anything more than a blade and a pistol was necessary.
Unfortunately, as you ventured deeper into the facility, down steps that weren’t nearly as degraded as they should’ve been, around corners where the cameras had lights that still blinked, Cerys’ naive determination bit you right in the ass. The both of you.
While you were checking stacks of too-clean files in an office, she got to the computer first. The fact that it booted up as quickly as it did should’ve deterred her, but she carried on. The instructions were to boot it up, insert the thumbdrive to link your tech support back at base, and then lock the computer to allow for them to break through it. She forgot the order.
You were only a few words into the file–gained not just intelligence, but humanistic cravings–when she purposefully locked the computer. When the alarm sounded and you saw that thumbdrive in her hand, you knew you were screwed. Naive and dangerous. The words rattled around in your head like a death siren.
The gates dropped before you could take a step toward the door. The loud roar of the siren drowned out the hissing of the vents situated within the ceiling, walls, and the floor. There was just the scent of honey in your panicked breathing, and such panic…. You’d inhaled too much already. Cerys collapsed first without even reaching for her gas mask. You managed to get yours off your belt and halfway to your face when your eyes couldn’t stay open. It fell to the floor as unceremoniously as you did, giving you a final look at it cracked just out of reach.
As your vision faded to black, a mechanical whirring replaced the alarm. A shiver sank along your spine as the edge of consciousness danced in front of you. Years of training and direct experience sank dread into you. Death was typically better than whatever waited for you on the other side of capture. You tried to keep your eyes open, tried to move, to reach for your weapon, to get anything to alter the outcome awaiting you. But there was a beep amongst the noise; a blurry figure replacing the opening gate. Half a dozen, small, spindly arms spun out from their back; a mechanical hum slithered into the air while metal claws pinched and spun, inching toward you at the snail’s pace the person maintained.
“Mmmm,” a quiet voice carried from them. Robotic. Curious. You struggled to keep your eyes open long enough to see the red eye glowing back at you and the scarred skin across that side of her face. “New toys. Let’s play, shall we?”
Cold metal brushed your cheek.
In one breath, everything stilled. Every sense was clouded; nary a thought came to imagine what awaited on the other side of unconsciousness for you. There was the office, then darkness, and then…the world was back. Just like that.
It was a slow return. One where your eyes remained as heavy as they’d been prior. Opening them was a struggle; they weighed a hundred pounds, and the rest of your senses were swimming in a rip tide to get the fuck out. Where were you? What happened? What was going on? Where was Cerys? Your weapons? Your mission? You–where were you? Who had taken you? Who was there? What’d happened to them? What’d happened to you?
Stuck. That was the first to break through. You were stuck. Something thick and sturdy held you firm in a cold, stiff chair. And…and a pinch. There was a pinch in your arm that stayed; were you injured? You tried to get your eyes open to see, but your head was pulled back and a quiet latch was done. You couldn’t move your head.
You couldn’t move.
But you could hear.
First, your pulse. It slammed around inside of you like a sledgehammer trying to break out. Then, whirring. Loud, slow whirring. Nearby. Next to you. Around you. All around you. It rumbled and hummed and…and there was a gasp. A whine. A grunt. Shouting. Muffled shouting. There–right there. Right where your eyes wouldn’t open.
Come on.
Your pulse ticked higher.
Your stomach twisted.
Open. Open. Open.
Open!
Blurry vision graced the first successful attempt. It was uncomfortable, but you managed a blink. Then, another. The dark, grimy room grew crisper. The source of the noises became crisper. In front of you. Where you were strapped to a bottomless chair so tight, you could only move your fingers and toes–nothing else gave. Your suit had been stripped off, leaving you in your sports bra and underwear, baring your arm for what you saw to be an IV tucked into the crook of your elbow. Taped firmly, but nothing was entering or leaving…yet.
But you couldn’t focus on that. You couldn’t, not when your head was strapped back to the padded headrest. You had to look forward. Had to see the strange woman, more metal than flesh, hang the giant bag on the hook next to Cerys. A golden liquid going through the tube to the needle taped into her arm. She shouted, tried to thrash, tried to fight, but a gag in her mouth kept everything incoherent except for the occasional no, stop.
Panicked eyes shot across to you right as the concoction reached the needle. Poison? What– Cerys’ eyes dilated. Her breathing didn’t settle, her chest heaving and shoulders writhing to break through the strap across from them, but her eyes glazed over and tears welled up in moments.
“Mmmm, there we go. See? I told you, it will be fun. So fun. New test subjects….” The stranger brushed her metal fingers over Cerys’ cheek, smearing her tears. “I have cleaned up the…the formula. It is stronger. Much more potent. Addictive, I have found, an unfortunate side effect, but I need to ensure it works. Every drop. Every…every test.”
Cerys thrashed harder. A sob broke out from behind the gag.
“New toys, new toys, new toys–they are so welcome. So fun. So perfect, yes.” The mechanical arms on the woman’s back moved. They reached for what you couldn’t see well in the dim lighting behind Cerys’ chair. Your stomach twisted, and you tried to break free again. Tried to help. But the restraints held. You were next.
You….
A large device was pushed underneath the back of Cerys’ seat. One arm reached up and pulled a string, turning on a spotlight to capture all of the area. Sweat already formed on Cerys’ brow, more tears streamed down to her jaw, and there was drool on her chin. Her pupils stayed wide and eyes stayed just as glazed over. Her thighs quivered and her hips tried to move.
The woman hummed a nonsensical song.
Various arms moved toward Cerys, and you went totally still.
The device that was locked at its wheels just underneath Cerys had three ends protruding, a motor, and a remote connected by a long wire at the bottom. One mechanical hand came in with a bottle of something glistening, dribbling it over the thick, long, protruding ends that were aligned in such a way…. Another mechanical arm moved. Its three-clawed fingers went between Cerys’ legs. She didn’t flinch when it bunched the material of her underwear up and pulled, ripping the crotch and successfully baring her.
The woman reached forward herself, metal fingers skimming up Cerys’ leg and not even hesitating to touch her. She ran her long, slender fingers over Cerys’ cunt, spread it, inspecting it, dipping a finger inside of her–
Cerys moaned. Her eyes clamped shut and her hips tried to buck.
The woman laughed. “Yes, yes. You want it. I know. I know the concoction does that much. Yes, you want. And want. And want.” Her finger pulled out, taking a wet trail with it, all the way up to Cerys’ clit. “This, too. Yes. Yes. Yes.” She flicked it hard, and Cerys lurched, barking out a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure. “But I need you to want to never not want. Need…need to make it feel like it is never enough. Never, ever, ever enough. Over and over and over. Until you are coming apart asleep. Until you only want. Only ever want. No matter what. No matter anything. Yes, yes, yes.”
Your grip tightened on the end of the arm rests. The woman knelt down and gave the device one last adjustment. Then, without much fanfare, she turned the remote and pressed a few buttons. The arms moved to Cerys’ sports bra, snipping away at the fabric to slip it away from her right as the protruding ends moved up. The first found her cunt, pressing in slowly, making her eyes fly open and more drool come past the gag. The second was further back, earning a gasping, writhing reaction as it pressed its way into her ass. The third was smaller, coming up higher, where the woman used her fingers to bare Cerys’ clit. Then a flat, silicone end was adjusted to press flat against it. The restraints kept her steady without a single inch to run away from as they filled her.
The woman flicked the bag on the hook only to turn and tilt her head, eyes on Cerys shaking uncontrollably in the chair.
“Test one. Subject A. Singular inserts in each hole. Begin.”
Click.
Click.
Click.
The device roared to life. The phallic ends moved opposite of each other at a steady pace, squelching as they began to pump into her. The flat end locked against her cunt began to vibrate. Loudly. It happened in a second–the start, and the shriek Cerys let out. She bounced in those restraints, taking the objects against and again, and every writhe that was able to move her, just wound up humping herself against that front piece on her clit.
The mechanical arms and their small claws came forward. Cerys’ eyes rolled back before they touched her. She screamed just as they closed around her nipples, tweaking, pulling, and pinching the hard peaks while she thrashed.
While she came.
Abruptly.
Almost painfully.
She squirted around the devices, shaking visibly, gasping and pulling and moaning uncontrollably.
The woman laughed, clapping.
The device stayed on.
Cerys whined. Moaned. Louder and louder, her throat sounding raw already. The golden concoction stayed in the IV. Stayed in her veins.
Again.
Throwing her head back in the restraint holding it, she clamped her eyes shut and came again. Her breathing stuttering, her thighs quivering, her toes curling. Squirting again.
Click. Click. Click.
The device got faster. Harder.
Cerys’ eyes opened in a daze, drool was all across her chin and down her front. Tears welled into big drops that raced each other down her cheeks, but her shoulders pushed back, pressing her chest out. She rocked her hips as much as she could. Her eyes rolled back before she convulsed again, moaning with her climax and gushing around the object thrusting into her cunt.
The woman laughed again. Clapped again.
Then, there was a red eye landing bright right on you. Your breath caught, but you stayed silent despite the lack of a gag. Speaking earned you nothing, despite not being able to find your voice yet. It hung back in the netting of knots in your throat. Your fate was laid out in front of you, drugged out her mind, trying to nod along when she came again. Then again. And, when the woman turned and stepped toward you, head tilting and eyeing you dangerously–she came again.
“Subject B,” she mused, the extension scarring wasn’t just on the side where the metal met flesh on her face, but everywhere she wasn’t organic. Two arms stayed back with Cerys as she approached you, seeming to act with a mind of their own. “Toy, toy, toy, new toy.” She walked closer. She smelled like motor oil and the irony scent of metal. “I am not ready for you yet, yet, yet.”
A cold hand tapped your cheek. You didn’t flinch. Enough training kept you steady despite the panic in your gut.
Cerys came again.
She shouted something. A single word. Repeated.
“Her first.” She pinched your chin and dragged her fingers down your throat. “Her, first, first, first because she will break easier. I can tell. I know these things. They are so easy to spot now.” She brushed her fingertips lower. Over your sports bra, hooking one around the very top, and then something clicked. The material started to give as she carried her finger downward through it.
Cerys repeated that same word, crying it out in clear desperation.
You closed your eyes and barely huffed out a breath when the fabric over you parted entirely. Cool air washed over your bare chest.
Cerys came again, sobbing. Shouting.
Yes.
The word clicked when she sobbed it out behind the gag. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
One mechanical arm shot back. The machine clicked three times, and the sound died. The visceral sound Cerys let out brought a shiver down your back. The woman flicked your nipples until they perked, and you just squeezed the arm rests tighter. Harder. The needle in your arm burned.
No.
Cerys shouted.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“No!!!”
“See?” the woman mused, laughing. Her grin was wide and mangled, her stare maniacal. “See, so easy. So perfect. So susceptible, that one is. Yes.” A mechanical arm reached behind you. Squeaking made goosebumps rise and your pulse stammered. “Do you want more? Do you want to see how much your aching holes stretch and take?”
“Yes!!!!!”
The woman hummed.
Your eyes dropped to the tube being brought near your needle. To the yellow concoction in the bag just in your peripheral vision. Multiple arms shot back to Cerys. The concoction began to drip out of the bag. Air bubbles gone, she connected the tube. Your chest heaved, knowing what to expect. Knowing you were seconds away from becoming Cerys.
You tried to fight it. The immediate rush of heat that slammed into you when it reached your bloodstream. It turned the room fuzzy, and your heart raced uncontrollably. You itched. Beneath your skin, beneath your underwear, it itched. It itched with…with a sudden, sharp throbbing. An ache that wrapped around you like barbed wire. It was like a lick of heat against your clit that drew nearly all attention to the pleasure senses in your body, and it licked again. And again, but only like it was mocking you. It turned your stomach to clenching, hot lava that traveled down to your already leaking cunt. Where you clenched around nothing, and it felt like death to be left so. Rewiring you–you felt it–like it was trying to weasel its way into your head to make you drool, beg, and moan for relief.
Fight it. You clawed at the arm rests.
The woman stood in front of Cerys. The arms moved frantically around her.
Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. You had twelve hours of silence before a rescue team would be sent after you. Fight it. You just had to fight it.
The woman stepped back. When you blinked, you felt the tears fall down to your chin. When you blinked, Cerys had moved. She faced away from you, her back arched near painfully as two suction cups were attached to her nipples. The rest of her secured to the chair where she sat off of the very edge. Where you could see her dripping. Clenching. Everything on display for you right as the device was wheeling out and turned around. Another attachment was added.
Lined up again, one end larger than the last stretched her asshole with a slow press in. The same flat piece was seemingly nudged up between the chair and her cunt, staying perfectly stuck against her clit. Then two phallic ends nudged up against the entrance of her cunt.
Click.
One pressed in, and Cerys’s whines got louder.
Click.
As the first was halfway inside of her, the second pressed in after it.
She shuddered. She screamed.
Click.
The part on her clit roared to life.
She shook and clenched, spasming in the chair as she came hard. Squirting, again, all in perfect sight for you to watch.
Fight it. You clenched your jaw. Your pussy ached. Clenched. Pulsed. The phallic ends fucked Cerys harder. Faster. She was gone. She already was by the first orgasm earlier, but watching it unfold now, she was nowhere to be found. She just moaned and, when the gag was removed, begged for more. Shouted yes over and over again. Until you realized you were sitting there with your toes curled, panting, dripping onto the floor as a mechanical hand nudged your underwear aside. Just watching.
F-Fight…it….
The woman stood next to you, humming and laughing ecstatically.
“Watch, watch, watch my success!” She gripped your shoulder and squeezed, shaking you in excitement. “Look! Look at her! Look at it work!”
Her hand dropped. Her hand went all the way down. She knelt next to you, her hand falling between your legs. Cold fingers touched you and yanked your focus to your cunt. She ran her fingers over your sopping went cunt, spread you and plainly going to pull the hood back on your clit. You couldn’t see past your heaving chest or her, but you could feel her stare before she brought a fingertip to your clit.
One brush.
All she did was brush against it, and you lurched.
More. More. For fuck’s sake, more. Only wanted more. Only wanted that. Nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing else. More.
You clenched your jaw until you swore a tooth cracked. F-Fight it, goddamn it.
She tapped her finger against it hard and slow. Your thighs quivered. Your pussy clenched.
Fight. It.
She slid her thumb and forefinger around it, pinching it just a little, then rubbed it between them with gradually increasing pressure until everything clenched. It hurt how good the attention felt. It hurt how badly you’d take whatever she’d give you. Whatever pushed you to the edge you were creeping toward at breakneck speed. The edge that Cerys fell over again, sobbing. Squirting.
Red glowed up at you from below. She started slow circles on your clit while she stood. Staring at you. Watching you. Watching your face contort as you fought it. Fought it. Fought it. As hard as you could.
As hard as you could for as long as you could.
Mechanical arms brought small claws to your aching nipples. You jerked, but you had nowhere to go. They came around them with a pinching touch and then they pulled back, pulling at them in rhythmic motions. Over and over and over. While her finger worked your clit faster with a little more added pressure.
No.
You felt another tear slip out.
She grinned, nodding.
No, no, no–fight it.
Your vision blurred over. Pleasure licked your nerves and injected them directly.
N-No….
The claws pinched your nipples harder. She kept attention on your clit. Cerys came again with a wanton, hungry moan. The shaking of her body in pure ecstatic pleasure telling you what awaited you in a second. A single, desperately fought second.
But you fell.
Empty. Pulsing. Clenching. Your mouth fell open in a sound you didn’t so much hear but rather feel in its sinful, hungry, sheer desperation. Pure pleasure. Wrung right out of you from the claws, from her finger. Your clit throbbed. Your pussy gushed and dripped.
Something…snapped inside of you as pleasure drowned.
More.
It wasn’t enough.
As you thrashed in the chair, pussy aching, you shouted it wasn’t enough. Begged. Pleaded. Screamed as the itch set in deeper. It clawed through you and tore you asunder. No part of you was left untouched by it. It swallowed you whole and spat you out.
Thick, lubed ends pressed into you by your next breath. They stretched and filled you so wonderfully, searching for that itch they’d scratch, and scratch, and scratch for you. Your toes curled as the flat end was latched forward and pressed against your clit.
“Subject B. Begin.”
Click. Click. Click.
Twelve…Twelve hours….
Your body became alight. There was nothing but the chase for ecstasy. Overwhelming stimulation ripped through you, and you found that obsession in that very ecstasy again. And again. And again. And again. Until you it wasn’t about an itch to scratch but a feeling to feel; to chase; to drown in while chasing the rip tide.
as i write/post more general fiction and any mermay/merfolk related stuff, i'll pull those off the main masterlist and give them their own just to clean stuff up. i'm going to leave it as-in for right now, but it will get cleaned up in the future <3
here's everything i've written thus far. this is just a placeholder post. i will be making separate masterlists for each subsection. for now, here's this mess <3
Scheduled fics post at 12:00 PM (Eastern Standard Time) & stories with a ✉ are based on requests sent in!
Links: inbox ask game list // inbox // schedule
general fiction:
spa day - your roommate forces you to take a handmade, at-home spa day because you need to relax // masc!character x fem!reader & non-con
work retreat // (pt 2) // (pt 3) // (pt 4) - a mandatory work retreat uses new methods to encourage a non-hostile work environment // fem!reader & dub-con/non-con & strong aphrodisiacs
yandere!handmaid - fem!reader // chastity belt
cowboy quickie - a quick fuck with your situationship at your daddy's ranch // masc!cowboy x fem!reader
vengeance - masc!coworker gets his revenge // fem!reader & dub-con
testing - gn!doc runs sexual tests on fem!reader // aphrodisiac
pool party - mean girls at your work invite you over for a pool party. // fem!reader
a cruel fate - a princess is captured by the resistance and tortured with an aphrodisiac and denial until she gives them the information they need // fem!reader & non-con, kidnapping, aphrodisiac, orgasm denial
free use snippet - your employer and his friends take turns making you guess who's fucking you // maid fem!reader
boss x fem!employee - snippet // you tease your boss while he's on a video call
disgruntled employees x fem!boss!reader - some disgruntled employees give you a taste of your own medicine and gather some special blackmail // non-con
yandere!friend - gn!friend // a jealous and betrayed friend shows the fem!reader how much they really care about them // kidnapping, drugging, non-con, latex bondage
orcs & trolls:
academic desperation // (pt 2) // (pt 3) // (pt 4) - a four-part series - you take the only extra credit your pent up, pining, pervy professor offers. // masc!orc x fem!reader
his betrothed // (pt 2) - a two parter - a troll king kidnaps you to make you his queen. // troll king x virgin fem!reader // explicit non-con // ✉
a king's toy - with an orc king in town, you're fetched to be his toy for the evening. a rough, animalistic evening ensues when the king really uses you like a toy to break. // orc!king x sex worker masc!reader
performance review - human fem!reader has to earn her promotion and raise by pleasing the board of directors and the CEO // coercion, dub-con, gangbang + [demon, witches, werewolf, orc, and half-dragon x reader]
a cursed charmed gap - dozens of goblins set up a trap to lure in various humans to gangbang, and you're their latest victim // fem!reader, explicit non-con, trapped, forced
merfolk:
Coming in May 2026:
a gift from the gods - Your stop in a small seaside town isn’t as accidental as you think it is. Unfortunately, you find that out after waking up on a stone altar with some locals ready to take you as their gift. // fem!reader & non-con // ✉
a siren’s call from the abyss - a beastly, mangled creature from the abyss swims up to see if tonight, he’ll finally catch his prey. // fem!reader & non-con // ✉
experiment - sirens' lagoon - you swap places with a coworker for the day to take what you can’t believe she doesn’t want: a paid day to go lay out in a lagoon with an experimental perfume on. in your years of working at the lab, they’ve never been successful in attracting mermaids, so why would today be any different? (surely!) // three mermaids gangbang a fem!reader // dub-con
eldritch - a sorta nsfw mini piece about meeting an eldritch sea creature a cult worships and being given as an offering/sacrifice // fem!reader
the abyssal pool - following yet another urban legend to pick apart for your blog, you wind up at a small coastal town trying to see if this deep-sea beast you’ve seen written about is actually real. first and foremost, you have to find the location, and surely that doesn’t even exist, right? but when you find that the abyssal pool is real, you’re already in too deep to realize the trap you’ve walked into. it’s not until the silent song has been sung and your mind is breaking that you realize your new fate awaiting you. // gn!siren-like creature x fem!reader // dub-con/non-con, strong aphrodisiac, kidnapping, breeding kink, tentacle sex
werewolves & demons:
experiment - werewolf - a doctor tricks you into testing a perfume that's supposed to tame werewolves in heat. it…doesn't exactly do that. // fem!reader
a debt paid - a loan shark offers you a way to repay your debt and make a few grand on top of that. a job for the night–being the entertainment for hell's depraved elite. what other option do you have but to take it? // various masc!demons x fem!reader // ✉
repayment - fem!reader repays a dom fem!demon
elves:
a demanding boss - you start working for a demanding dark elf that has very specific tasks for you to complete for her, and she hates being disappointed. with the pay as good as it is, you can't say no to showing up with lingerie on underneath your clothes or tonguefucking her under her desk. but as the degradation escalates, you start to wonder if you should stay working there. // fem dark elf x fem!reader // ✉
aliens
subject #2409 - you're abducted by aliens and become their impersonal test subject, being shown raunchy images and pornographic videos while they use a special device to edge you. endlessly. constantly. studying you like the "thing" you are to them. // gn!aliens running tests on fem!reader // alien abduction, non-con, forced edging, med/scientific fetish
I’m on mobile so I’ll update the masterlist tomorrow but it’s making me so happy (and very unexpectedly too) to see y’all loving the abyssal pool. I wasn’t expecting it to get so much love holy shitttt. Thank y’all :)
following yet another urban legend to pick apart for your blog, you wind up at a small coastal town trying to see if this deep-sea beast you’ve seen written about is actually real. first and foremost, you have to find the location, and surely that doesn’t even exist, right? but when you find that the abyssal pool is real, you’re already in too deep to realize the trap you’ve walked into. it’s not until the silent song has been sung and your mind is breaking that you realize your new fate awaiting you.
Warnings: 6.7k // nsfw - gn!siren-like creature x fem!human!reader // dub-con/non-con + aphrodisiac, strong aphrodisiac, bodily fluid/cum as an aphrodisiac, siren behavior, reader being unaware of things being done to them, rough tentacle sex, bondage with magic seaweed/vines, recording, breeding kink, luring and kidnapping, oral (reader choking on a tentacle & being forcibly fed the aphrodisiac), nipple stim, clit stim, harsh tentacle fucking, (light) claiming, mindbreaking (siren stuff), anal and vaginal penetration, double & multiple penetration, multiple orgasms (like a lot), lots of squirting, lots of cum & cumplay, implied very slight oviposition, masturbation, a dirty dream thrown in there, and…the reader succumbs; character is a gn!siren with multiple tentacles that can change in size and secrete an aphrodisiac & cum.
a/n: happy mermay with this fucked up tale <3
See, there’s an urban myth about this coastal town and this cave off the edge that has a dock that pokes out in the darkest, scariest waters that’ll ever be so close to human civilization. Basically, it promises that if someone goes into the water at the very end of the docks, they’ll find deranged beasts waiting for them underneath the surface. The abyss is so dark, if you even so much as stuck your hand in, you would not see it. It’s supposedly as cold as ice, yet never freezes, and filled with a strange flora that wraps around your legs to keep any poor soul that ventures out there underneath the water for a hungry beast.
Local stories talk about it like it’s the myth that it is. Any local or tourist who have mysteriously gone missing are deemed hoaxes, or, at least, later found washed up on a shore a few miles away after floating out too far. It’s simply just what it claims to be–an urban myth.
So, of course, you find yourself eager to prove that for your blog. When you go around proving and disproving ghost stories, urban myths, and cryptic tales alike, you can’t exactly pass on something so terrifying sounding. Besides, odds are, the cave probably doesn’t exist, let alone the dock. Worst case scenario, you get to write off a beach vacation as a business expense. Best case scenario, you discover some unique, impossible, supernatural abyss that actually exists there.
With your gear packed, you head out to that coastal town. It’s all sun and tourists, filled to the brim as they line the sidewalks, the stripmalls, the highrise rentals all along the coast. Nothing is amiss, really. So, hoax it is? Even when you question the locals as you check into your rental just nearby the supposed cave, they shrug it off and say it’s just a tale to get the curious in. And look at that, it brought you to them, so…. You couldn’t argue with that. Still, upon checking in, you double-check your things for your investigation.
An underwater camera on the end of a pole, a tripod and camera to set up on the edge of the supposed dock, a battery pack to keep it charged. A notebook for general notes and outlining, your phone to take pictures of anything happening in the moment. As if anything will happen. You’ve already got the outline done for the obvious hoax of it all. You just need to go and prove it.
Following the directions across dozens of other blog posts about the supposed beastly depths, you walk the busy beach. There is a rocky cliff’s edge near where the beach ends and blocks your view beyond. It matches up with the rest of the descriptions, so you follow a path you have to make around towels, bags, and chairs. Down where the sand becomes rocky, and rocky risks becoming too-slippery to walk on, but the tide is low. You checked and double-checked–it wasn’t going to rise for hours. You had more than enough time, and going slow enough….
You just need enough to peek around to see if the cave exists.
So, up you climb. The rocks layer across each other like bits of broken slate, and you hold on without trying to slice your hands open while climbing. It smells considerably more like the sea as you go. A few people stop and watch you surely for your stupidity, to see if you’re about to fall and bust your head open, but you continue as if they’re not there. Down around the rocks, your sneakers getting wet where the water laps up over the rock’s edges, and then….
Leaning on a rock, you peek.
Holy shit.
There’s a hole in the side of the cliff where the rocks at the front become sand. A literal cave beckoning you to walk to it. You lift your phone and snap a quick picture. So part of it is real, then. Truths always help lift up a good lie. You sneak around until your wet shoes touch the sand on the other side of the rocks and cliff. You have to stop yourself from running to enter.
Using your phone’s flashlight, you step up to the cave entrance. It’s damp and cold, and it still smells like the sea. But the ground isn’t slippery stone, it’s more sand. Interesting. And from what you can tell, nothing gives way to the ocean, so any dock that’s in there can’t exist.
Judging the general look of it very, very carefully, you risk a step in. Then another. Sand remains until your feet, and the ground only slightly slopes down. Nothing dangerous screams at you, nothing tries to make you slip and fall, no noise except the soft sound of waves splashing carries up. No wild animals. Maybe someone deranged is in there, but wouldn’t you hear them? Adrenaline and disbelief carry you past that thought and you go in further.
Deeper.
Lower.
The cave stays slightly taller and slightly wider than you, no less and no more. It twists down, leaving the sunlight behind you until you make a final curve of a turn, and then there’s just your phone. But since it’s a straight path, there’s no getting lost. Just a leg-burning incline waiting for you on the way back. It’s hard to really identify it–the change in the air as you go. But the cold shifts. It warms in your lungs and it makes you start to sweat underneath your layers. Shirt, shorts, bathing suit, socks, and sneakers. Your bag pressed against your back makes your shirt suction itself to you with sweat.
The sea-salty air clings to you.
You round the corner with no deranged individual to bar your path.
Holy…shit…?
THe cave opens to the impossible. Or, certainly not for it’s there, but…? Light spatters across the glistening, expanding walls. They’re speckled with what look like gems or stars or something luminescent that brings an eerie aura to the round break in the path. The path that takes you down another step along the suddenly steep incline, and there, the sand becomes an old, worn, discolored wood. A small dock of just two dozen boards that goes out to where the ground vanishes. Dark, murky water is bubbling like a spring. A black and blue essence of depth that becomes a rich, terrifying abyss looking back at you before you even take another step.
The water ripples when you step further onto the dock. It seems to match the hard thumps of your heart as you go. Step by shaky step, testing each board along the way. The water only grows darker. The threat of something looking back at you that you cannot see sits on your shoulders like a person resides there. Trying to push you down to your knees when you stand as close as you’ll allow yourself to the dock’s edge. The end peeking down into the very center of that circle of sea.
You can only see your reflection. Yes, there’s water beneath; an abyss. A depth. But as you shudder out breaths and feel the trickle of sweat drip along your back, you cannot seem to catch your breath or look away from the water.
The rippling water.
Like a beast walks the earth around you to shake the very pool you look into.
A cold chill erupts along your spine, but you cannot move.
Nothing comes to peek out of the water. For there cannot be anything there, right? Maybe some sharks lurk below? Or some mere fish looking for a bite to eat. But the pool cannot possibly house a…a beast. No grand whale-like, fang-having carnivore waiting to devour your hand if you were to reach in.
This isn’t Jaws.
You’re there. You tell yourself in quiet thoughts. You’re there. You must abide by the fact that you’ve found it. That, at the very least, deserves some recognition. Maybe there is nothing there to scare beyond its mere existence in the urban myth. A legend made of those truths. So…. So you force the deepest of breaths you can manage, and you sit back on the dock you pray is as sturdy as it seems to be.
Carefully, you unpack your bag.
Tripod goes up, camera gets connected to the battery then set atop, angled to record. You assert that the waterproof camera is working and begin extending the pole it will be latched to before coming to kneel, once again, at the edge of the dock. A light sparkling look upon the water makes it appear like the night sky. It’s beautiful, really, as much as it is eerie. A portal to another realm rippling back at you. But no beast is behind you, shaking the world. So maybe there really are those mythical plants beneath that you cannot see causing that? Or just fish.
You shake off the sentiment and pull out your phone. An app connects to the camera, and you double-check the connection. You see yourself looking back at you from the protected lens. So, rather unceremoniously, you turn the flash onto the brightest option, set your phone aside, and turn the camera down toward the water.
Another slow chill sinks over you. Do not do this, something whispers in the back of your head. A risk of losing your camera? Eh. You have more. So long as you move carefully, you will not disrupt any ecosystems there, and you have no intention of falling in. God, it’s hot. You shake off the sentiments, sweat clinging to you despite the strange chill whispering behind your ear, and you let the camera fall past the water.
Darkness. Rich, impenetrable darkness. You lower the camera slow enough that, if you were to be watching a movie, you’d curse them for such a languid pace. But you are trying not to disturb anything that could be down there. Deeper. The water swallows the pole, and you keep your eyes on your phone screen. Bit by bit, it goes. And goes. And goes. The flash does nothing to light the way. It’s as if light cannot penetrate the water at all. A vacuum capturing it whole, yet it is endless in its length. You continue, noting just how much is disappearing into the water. More and more, you see the water slosh. The pole vanishing. Nothing on the capture.
Huh.
So there’s…nothing? Nothing you can see.
You stop just before your fingertips touch the water.
You pull the pole back until water drips off the end of the camera. The light of the cave breaks out over the capture and bits of what look like black seaweed are wrapped around the end. Whoa, okay. You haul it up onto the dock, scooting back. The humid air brings the back of your hand to your forehead, but your eyes stay on the strange, vine-looking seaweed perfectly wrapped around the pole.
“That’s…okay.” What luck to capture it like that. There has to be a current under the water–maybe causing the rippling–that lent it to a perfect spiral? You snap a few pictures of it with your phone before carefully pulling it off the pole. It’s slippery and slimy, yet weirdly…warm? For the darkness, you would’ve guessed freezing cold. But it feels burning hot. “Shit.”
You pull back quickly, forgetting the gloves you’d packed. They sit in your hotel room, waiting to be put in your backpack. You might’ve just touched something poisonous. Fuck. The seaweed and pole clatters against the wood in a hollow, faraway sound. A light, sparking burn sinks in over your fingertips. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A light, murky discoloration covers it–a sheer black goop–and you pull your shirt off to use it as a rag. Quickly, wiping it over your hand and dumping some of your water over where the goop once was before repeating.
Nothing lingers. No rash sits in place. It’s still possible you’ve just marked yourself with death and there’s no other telltale signs until it happens. But as you kneel there, waiting to see if necrosis suddenly marks your fingers, your pulse pounding through the ocean and the cave, there’s…nothing. Something? But nothing. Just the unbearable heat trickling in around you. Your shirt coming off because of this was almost a godsend. You readjust the top of your bathing suit with your clean hand, and roll your shoulders.
Nothing. Nothing happens.
Okay.
Okay.
You close your eyes and attempt a slow, deep, calming breath.
You’re okay. It’s all okay.
For now.
The nagging voice in the back of your head speaks with reasons. Leave. Hospital. Now. What matters is what you touched burned, and you need to check that. Leave. Go. Get yourself checked out. It’s smart. It’s the right call. It’s a long walk back, and if you linger and something is wrong, you’ve screwed yourself. So–
Splash.
A soft, wave-like splashing draws your eyes to the end of the dock. It’s not the little ripples hitting the dock, no. This is a splash. A loud, heart-stopping splash. The secret beast? But if there is one, it does not look back at you over the end as fear made you worry. There’s nothing there waiting for you at the end. Leave. Leave it. But there was a splash! You cannot….
You have to see if you imagined it. At the very least.
So, quietly and carefully, you crawl. Right over to the edge, a lump in your throat, a burn in your lungs, and a pit in your stomach. You peek over. Maybe you just dislodged something when you stuck the camera in?
You look back at yourself. Your reflection. The glint in your eyes making you jump, but they’re just your eyes.
Holy fuck. You press your hand to your heart.
There’s nothing.
Nothing but your reflection.
Nothing but the dark water.
Nothing but–bubble. A bubble. A few bubbles, slipping up and breaking the surface tension with soft pops. You go still, watching them cause larger ripples across the suddenly still water. Okay, so then…?
Then.
Then there’s something.
Just underneath the water. Wrapped up in the dark seaweed. Stuck before it can touch air. It’s right at the edge. An arm’s reach away. You tilt your head, squinting, trying to make out what the hell that could be. It looks like nothing. Maybe a piece of debris? Of some sort of shipwreck? Pollution? You put your hands on the edge of the dock and lean closer. What the fuck is it that’s trying to escape?
Closer. Closer. Closer.
You reach. It’s right freaking there, come on.
You watch in your reflection as your finger comes to the water. It bends and breaks, sending a brand new rippling across the pool. Burning hot water touches your fingertip, yet it doesn’t blister or hurt. It sinks in like a hot spring, and you feel it slither up around your wrist, arm, elbow. The object falls away before you can touch it, like it lost its buoyancy. The pattern of the wood presses into your knees whilst you shift. Reaching. Humidity feels like steam on your face. Water goes up to your elbow.
Something brushes your fingers in a slimy, warm, wrapping sensation. The seaweed. But as you stare at yourself in the water, your hand invisible in the darkness, your body bent over the dock, you don’t…it’s not important anymore. That it’s touching you. The hospital. No. You shake your head, leaning back onto your knees and shimming out of your shoes and shorts, shifting forward to really lean over the edge of the dock to try and find what vanished from you.
What was it? It burns into the back of your head. Sweat trickles down in quick succession of one drop after the other while you bend over the dock. The rough edge presses into your stomach through your one-piece. Another bubble comes up next to where the water swallows your arm up past your shoulder.
What was it? What was it? What was it?
You turn your head, reaching back to hold onto a wide gap in one of the boards to leverage yourself properly without falling in. What was it? You shift, grip firm, water sneaking up to your shoulder. Past. Your cheek touches the warm, steaming, bubbling water.
What the hell was that?
A bubble pops against your cheek. It throws water against your mouth and eyes, and you blink them away and taste sweet saltwater on your lips. Another bubble pops, and you do it again. There’s something at your fingertips. Something hard. Metal. But it’s getting hard to move. The current you cannot see wraps the seaweed around your fingers. Your wrist. It comes up around your arm, past your elbow, up to your shoulder. You reach, still, eyes shut, trying to get that damn thing. What was it? What was it? What was it? What is it?
Your fingers close around what feels like a handle or…or a hook. Something curved and metal and latchable. You have it! You have it!! You smile, another bubble coming more like a splash at your cheek, soaking your face in the warm water, and you laugh. You’ve got it! You’ve got it.
You pull, but it doesn’t move.
No, come on!
Water splashes again.
It tastes so, so sweet on your lips.
Come on. Come on! You yank.
And yank.
But it doesn’t move.
You don’t notice the darkness rising out of the water. The seaweed, the vines, climbing higher. Escaping the depths and wrapping around your throat, your upper half, your stomach. You pull and pull and pull, drinking in more than just mere splashes of the water at every failed dislodging of the thing you cannot let go of. They climb higher, wrapping around your hips, thighs, feet. The arm that is back and the hand that’s on the board. They twist around you until they’ve netted you like prey. Locking you in place on the end of that dock.
You don’t notice anything but the thing you cannot get free staying right where it is no matter how you pull.
You don’t notice the whipping current moving around you, or the splashing growing more excessive, louder, harder. The way you cannot move. The heat sinking in beneath your bathing suit. Beneath your skin. Beneath every part of you. What is it? What is it? What is it? Repeats like a broken record, consuming every breath that nearly drowns you in the water you gulp back.
You don’t notice the small tendrils sneaking through the cracks of the dock. Don’t notice the brush of them against your inner thighs. Don’t notice their warm, slimy feel amongst the seaweed encapsulating you and sneaking underneath your suit. Right at the tight edges digging between your legs.
You just tug. And tug. And tug on the hook that won’t come loose.
You don’t even notice them touch you. Not where one writhes against your asshole. Not where one closes like a mouth around your clit. Not where one presses against your cunt. You don’t notice the two sneaking out of the water to slide into your suit to latch onto your nipples.
And as the hook dislodges from whatever has trapped it beneath the water, sending a large gulp of warm water into your throat, you don’t feel the thick, creamy liquid they secrete onto you. Into you. Pushing just the very tips into both holes.
Into your mouth as you beam into the water, drowning yourself to get that thing out of the water.
You don’t notice.
Everything’s gone when you can finally move. There’s nothing but you falling back onto the dock, licking away the substance you don’t fully realize you’re tasting while you move. Seated back on your ass, holding up your treasure. A small box with a round handle at the top. Locked with a lock that’s more rust than anything else.
A treasure! Something to have made this outing worth it, if there’s something inside!
You quickly gather your things. There’s no more bubbling in the water, no more splashing. The heat cools around you. What is it? It still lingers, but you’re able to breathe again, and you wipe your shirt over your mouth to get the murky water off of you. The dock exists, the cave exists, the water exists. And if there’s something in this box…. Well, you’ll have a unique story to tell. Unfortunately, no beasts lurk for they would’ve gotten you for such a ridiculous move, right? Reaching into the water.
You laugh at yourself.
How stupid could you have been?
You haul your backpack over your shoulder, cling to the box, and carry yourself out of the cave without a look back.
When you ventured down to the cave, it was already late afternoon. It’s only a little surprising when you come out to a pitch-black sky. Maybe an early sunset? You shrug it off. Getting back takes effort after walking up the long incline back out of the cave, then the rocks, then the stretch back to your hotel. You’re exhausted when you get to your room. Your bag drops with a heap onto the floor, and you fling yourself into the shower.
The potential treasure can wait until tomorrow. Working on your blog can wait until tomorrow. Exhaustion drags your eyes shut, you hardly scrub yourself in the shower, and you collapse into bed after barely managing to put you pajamas on.
So…tired….
The second your head hits the pillow, you’re out.
The plan lingers in your head. Wake up, get breakfast, open the box, work on the blog, enjoy the beach. A simple plan. An easy, wonderful, even possibly interesting plan if there’s something strange inside the box. It’s best not to get your hopes up, you know that. But you found a box! A locked box! There could be something incredibly fascinating in there!
But….
You jerk awake while the moon still shines. Your chest heaves with hard breaths and your blankets are askew. Your dream…it’s far away as you blink. Gone. Whatever softness was there is replaced with an itch. A burning, striking, fierce itch that crawls underneath your sweat-dampened pajamas.
Oh. You roll onto your back. It burns. You look over yourself in the moonlight. How your chest heaves, the fabric dragging over your pointed nipples like it’s winter in the room. How your shorts have ridden up and the center seam presses between your legs.
Oh, fuck.
You shudder. What…? Itchy. So itchy. Not the kind needing a scratch, no. This comes in an ache that throws your hands onto the bed to squeeze. Your hips jut up. Your heels press into the bed. Oh, fuck. What? What the…what? Your eyes close, and that’s your doom. You don’t know it. You didn’t know it when you ventured into the cave. But as your eyes shut and your head presses back, something more than sleep takes you.
Your eyes roll back.
The softness of your mattress stays under you, but in the dark abyss around you, you smell the murkiness. Feel the dock underneath you while you blink up at the star-like cave ceiling. Your bathing suit clings to you. The seaweed seeps out from the water and wraps around you. The dock. You can feel it, see it without seeing it, entrapping you. Wrapping around you in a burning spiral where your heels can’t kick the bed anymore and where you’re bound to the dock.
No.
The bottom.
The bottom of the dock.
You blink at the ceiling as it becomes the murky water. The underside of the dock presses uncomfortably against your back. Your arms. Your feet. Legs. Slimy seaweed wraps around your throat. Your forehead.
You stare at your bound reflection in the rippling water.
It ripples again.
And again.
You stare at rich, black eyes looking into your own.
Black tendrils rise out of the water. They glitter like scales with a sheer pearl-like coloration over them. They rise higher. Up. To you. You aim to scream, but as your mouth parts, eyes pulled and locked onto those looking upon you like another human trapped under the water, a tendril presses inside. Thicker than what it was when it left the water.
It pushes down your throat and there’s a sudden warmth and blistering sweetness glazing everything over.
You feel heavy. So, so heavy. Going limp and hanging there, drool dribbling down and dripping into the water. It’s a dream. A rippling thought, falling away into an incoherentness that feels exactly as you believe–it’s a dream. A vivid, choking dream.
Tendrils continue to rise. To move.
The top of your one piece is pulled down. Two tendrils wrap around your bared breasts and latch onto your nipples. You moan, shuddering as something is secreted around them. Twisting. Tweaking. Massaging and groping. It feels good. Goosebumps rise and your eyes want to roll back, but you cannot look away. Those that watch you, they’ve captured you. Captivated. Ensared.
More tendrils rise. They sneak underneath your bathing suit between your legs.
Tears well and the eyes below you blur when they touch you. Slimy. Secreting that substance that’s being dripped down your gulping throat. Everything…it itches. Bed. Hotel. Itchy. Wet. Touching. Your pussy clenches in a way that makes you yank hard on what holds you, but it only lends itself to a tendril pressing against your cunt.
They move in tandem.
One latches onto your clit, writhing around it as it seems to…suckle it like a mouth. One leaks as it pushes into your asshole and the other does the exact same as it pushes into your cunt.
The eyes glint wide and full, glittering like a whole galaxy held within them.
All of the tendrils inside of you swell.
The stretch alleviates an itch you could scream for in pure satisfaction.
The water ripples.
The tendrils suck on your nipples and clit in alternating patterns.
Then, the others move.
They fuck you. Pumping in and out of you, deep. Too deep. But it’s a pleasure you cannot feel outside of the dream. It’s impossible. It’s beyond. It’s blinding. You still do not look away from the eyes, and you moan incessantly, wantonly, just mewling around the tendril choking you. Harder. Deeper. Rougher.
The tendrils only grow in size. They continue to secrete the lube-like, slimy, burning substance that just makes your body writhe in the bindings. Thrashing as you feel it seep into you. As goosebumps rise, your body grows sensitive, you get heavier and heavier, trying to move in any capacity beyond taking what it gives you for it’s so much. Too much. It feels too good. Your hips buck somewhere else, but against the bottom of the dock, they don’t move.
The water grows closer to you. The eyes stare into your soul as you scream again. Pussy clenching, pulsing, shuddering around what rubs against every sensitive spot inside of you. The tendril on your clit seems to vibrate as it sucks it. The tendrils rub against each other inside of you; they tweak your nipples; they pour more and more into you until it drips back into the water.
It’s blinding, how good it feels. It’s like an injection of ecstasy that’s lingering before the peak. Long waves of pleasure building and building and building. Until you’re crying, sobbing, choking–looking down at those eyes that move ever so slightly. Like a head turning, curious, watching your toes curl and back try to arch. It feels so good. So fucking good. Too fucking good.
Your shriek is muffled against the tendril when you break.
Those long waves lengthen into a feral, unapologetic pleasure. It’s unkind. It’s brutal. You have no escape from it as they pound into you incessantly. Repeatedly. Milking you of it in hard, rough, squelching drags. You cum.
You cum squirting–something you’ve never done before. Ruining your swimsuit and hearing it drip into the water. Barely. Barely conscious when it continues fucking you. And feeding you. And attacking you with the tendrils, pushing you to a true breaking point of pleasure that rips through you.
Right before you truly break, they still. The one in your mouth and the one in your ass pour thick loads into you. Something spurts over your chest and your cunt, painting you in what you see drip into the sea as something pearly white. But in your cunt, you feel the tendril swell and push inside of you. A slow pulse fills you. Literally fills you. Rubbing around inside of you like multiple tentacles trying to enter you at once.
Your clit pulses.
The tendril rubs it again.
And rubs it.
And rubs it.
Another orgasm creeps up as the tendril in your cunt leaves you, but you still feel so full. The tendril in your ass leaves, after, locking itself over your swimsuit and between your legs as the one on your clit rubs you rapidly. Your nipples are sucked again; pinched until you yell around the tendril in your mouth. What’s inside of you is clenched when you just about cum again. Thick and full and writhing. Filling your cunt like it belongs there, wiggling every which way and hitting every sweet spot until–
You jerk awake on the hotel bed, right at the edge of the orgasm in your dream.
D…Dream….
Itchy. Burning. Your pussy clenches as you stare down at yourself on top of that bed. The sunlight creeps in over you. Your blankets are on the floor. Your shorts have been kicked off, and your shirts up. Accidentally risen up over your chest, where the cool AC makes your nipples tighten. Burn.
You taste the sweetness on your tongue.
You see the eyes when you blink.
You pussy weeps for something. A blinding, thought-wiping something that has you crawling off the bed, clinging to the last remnants of sanity. Was it just a dream? You get rug burn on your knees on your way to your bags. Did you miss something at the pool? Did the seaweed infect you with a hallucinogenic?
You haul your laptop out. Your cameras. The connecting cables. Your pussy throbs as you kneel there. Back arching back like there’s someone behind you to greet you. To satisfy the itch making you drool. Go back. It echoes in the back of your head like a little, dangerous melody. But you don’t return to your bed. You don’t go back to sleep. You merely lean back against the end of the bed, laptop set aside, and click through the footage you took at the cave.
It’s…wait.
You have it set for repeat recording so you don’t accidentally meet the limit mark and loose footage. So it starts a new recording automatically. And this…. There are dozens. How…how long were you in that cave? You click through them with a shaky hand. Your breasts ache. Your clit throbs. You click past the setup, the camera insertion into the water, the seaweed on bare skin debacle. And then…then it changes.
In the footage from the underwater camera, you can see how your eyes glaze over.
Your heart skips a beat as you watch yourself.
Moving slowly towards a beckoning splashing. Like a fucking call pulling you in. You crawl. The water ripples and ripples and ripples for you until you’re in frame of the one on the tripod. All of you. Leaning over the water. Your shorts kicked off, just your bathing suit covering you.
Then, the minutes tick by. You wrestle with the thing under the water as the vines creep out. Your pussy throbs as they overtake you. They cling to you, pressing into the meat of you tight enough to lock you entirely unmoving against the dock. You still wrestle, unaware of it. A light chill sinks into you as the minutes tick by. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty. Half-drowning in the water, pulling to get that box.
Your pajama shirt clings to you as sweat sheens over you. It’s hard to ignore the damp spot making your underwear cling to you. Fear is a cruel whisper against the back of your ear.
Then, you see them.
After an hour of being in the water like that, your bottom in the air and right in view, you see what sneaks through the gaps in the dock. Like the ones in your dream. On the floor, your legs part. Your thighs quiver.
In sheer horror, you watch where they go. Sliding like some eldritch curse sinking underneath your bathing suit. They bulge against the tight material, giving you no ignorance to where their aim is. And with the angle you’ve been forced into like that, your legs parted, back arched, you watch them on the recording. They writhe. They slide. They push into you, with the material darkening as they clearly secrete something into your cunt and asshole. The material stretches as they begin to pump. Writhe. The bunched up material at the top of your suit tells you they’re not just inside of you.
Minutes tick by.
You can’t move. In the capture nor where you press back against the bed, chest heaving. They fuck you slowly. The damp spots grow and grow until you see something pearly start to dribble out of the sides.
The splashing in the water stops, and you start to shake on camera. Moaning. Whining. Your hips jerk in the restraining seaweed. You sound muffled when they fuck into you faster, and you can taste that sweetness in your throat right then.
Come…back…. echoes in the back of your mind.
Your thighs shake on camera.
The tendrils move. More rise through the cracks.
You hold your breath as they seem annoyed at your bathing suit, and they move it. More coming in. More finding you. Your lungs burn as you go from seeing yourself getting visibly fucked by a single tentacle in each hole to two. Stretching your holes as they secrete that pearly liquid and you scream. Shuddering. Thrashing.
Climaxing.
Squirting around them and squeezing them. A mess of you and them coming around yourself while you are bound and shaking and falling into a whining daze. They stretch you wide and fuck into you alternatingly and hard. The sounds are wet. Wrong. You look down at yourself on the recording and then at yourself there, in the hotel room, your pussy leaking and begging.
With a dry swallow, you….
You itch.
Burn.
Need.
Come…back…to…me….
The room blurs. Your eyes lock onto the screen while you cum again, squirting and thrashing. Your hand dances down to yourself, there. Moving your underwear aside. You can’t. Can’t. Can’t. A heavy sensation fills the room. A ringing enters your ears with a soft melody amongst it. You dip two fingers into your dripping cunt. You feel the absence of it yet it feels like a reminder all the same. What was there in your dream. What’s there in the video. What’s more than your fingers pumping into your cunt. More finding your clit. You pull your shirt off frantically, seeing the very minimal remnants of something having left divots in the soft, sensitive skin there.
Everything falls into a haze.
You watch yourself cum again.
You pump your fingers deeper; nowhere near where the tentacles clearly reached. But you try. You chase. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you throw your head back. Gasping. Shaking. Squirming against the end of the bed.
You watch yourself cum again on screen. And for a moment–a brief, world-shattering moment–you remember it. You feel it. In the dream, down at the docks. You feel it. And then it’s gone. Your fingers aren’t enough. They’re hardly anything, but they still give you something. You kick your feet out and lift your hips up. The tentacles go still on the screen, pulsing as they seem to push something into you. And you blink the tears away as you break apart, just watching in a locked, unbreakable gaze. Gushing just a little around your fingers in a wet, pitiful orgasm.
It almost mocks you.
It does mock you. It’s one lowly wave of pleasure that feels like heaven on earth before it just…stops. Meek, bored pulses around your fingers that you desperately thrust into yourself. You rub your clit harder, trying to chase what’s ripped away.
But it…. It….
Come…to…me….
Movement in the water on screen catches your sniffling attention. The tendrils readjust your bathing suit. They retreat back into the water. A hand comes to the surface. A human-like hand covered in dark, black, glittering scales. It cups the side of your cheek, and there’s a face. Amongst the darkness in the abyss. Black, glowing eyes look at you.
Come to me.
It retreats.
The vines retreat.
You kneel there for forty-eight minutes as your body twitches and leaks whatever it left in you.
Then, finally, you come back to yourself. Hauling the water-worn, rusted-locked box out of the water. Like nothing happened. Like you aren’t leaking down onto the dock through your suit as you hold the box up to the camera. And you pack everything up like normal. You turn the camera off with a wide grin, holding it up off the tripod, the pool in the back framing you from a high angle.
Eyes look back at you over your shoulder from the depths.
You’re looking back at you fingering yourself in the reflection of your computer screen when the capture cuts. Trying to get more. Trying to chase another orgasm that won’t come.
Come to me…. Now….
You pant. Huff. Go limp, staring at your laptop.
With a wet squelch, you pull your fingers out.
Come to me.
You pull your shorts on without fixing your underwear. You pull your shirt on without a bra underneath. Come to me. Now. You slip into sandals and leave everything behind, staggering out of your room. Down the hallway. Down the stairs. The sun has barely risen when you pass runners on the beach and the early swimmers out in the ocean.
Come.
You crawl over the rocks.
Come….
You find the cave.
Come.
You stagger down the incline.
Come…. Come now.
You pull your clothes off while you walk the length of the dock.
Come. Take my kin.
You stare at the black eyes waiting for you in the dark water. Dark hair pools out where they let their head peek out of the water just a little. Black scales line pale white skin at their temples and down over the tops of their cheeks.
You climb partway down into the water, but you’re stopped hanging off the end of the dock. Legs spread wide and held in place as seaweed climbs out instantly. You’re latched to the end there, hanging, spread over the tops of the board with your arms out far from your head. Your ankles are bound to the posts of the dock. Water goes up right underneath your bottom, gently kissing your ass when it ripples and waves.
Tendrils climb.
Just like your dream, they find you.
They fill your mouth, your cunt, your asshole.
They slip underneath you and suck on your nipples. Up to your clit to vibrate and suckle.
The world fades into nothing as your body itches, burns, thrashes in abrupt, milking pleasure. The pearly white secretion drips down your thighs and into the water below.
Mine….
The deep voice echoes in your head.
Been waiting…so long…to breed….
Pleasure ravishes. It blinds. It tears through you with deep, hard, stretching thrusts. There’s no telling what’s happening; what’s inside of you. You just feel. Shudder. Cum. Squirting and shaking, sobbing as it falls over you in long waves. Long, rich, endless waves that raw your throat before more sweet substance slips down it.
Mine…forever.
Will not let…this one…get away.
Cold, rough, scaly fingers skate over your thighs underneath the water. Cold breaths brush against your ass. A chill seeps in at the base of your spine where fangs nip what unmistakably is a kiss right there. But it fades the second another orgasm throws itself at you, and you fall into the warm, dark, drowning abyss.
following yet another urban legend to pick apart for your blog, you wind up at a small coastal town trying to see if this deep-sea beast you’ve seen written about is actually real. first and foremost, you have to find the location, and surely that doesn’t even exist, right? but when you find that the abyssal pool is real, you’re already in too deep to realize the trap you’ve walked into. it’s not until the silent song has been sung and your mind is breaking that you realize your new fate awaiting you.
Warnings: 6.7k // nsfw - gn!siren-like creature x fem!human!reader // dub-con/non-con + aphrodisiac, strong aphrodisiac, bodily fluid/cum as an aphrodisiac, siren behavior, reader being unaware of things being done to them, rough tentacle sex, bondage with magic seaweed/vines, recording, breeding kink, luring and kidnapping, oral (reader choking on a tentacle & being forcibly fed the aphrodisiac), nipple stim, clit stim, harsh tentacle fucking, (light) claiming, mindbreaking (siren stuff), anal and vaginal penetration, double & multiple penetration, multiple orgasms (like a lot), lots of squirting, lots of cum & cumplay, implied very slight oviposition, masturbation, a dirty dream thrown in there, and…the reader succumbs; character is a gn!siren with multiple tentacles that can change in size and secrete an aphrodisiac & cum.
a/n: happy mermay with this fucked up tale <3
See, there’s an urban myth about this coastal town and this cave off the edge that has a dock that pokes out in the darkest, scariest waters that’ll ever be so close to human civilization. Basically, it promises that if someone goes into the water at the very end of the docks, they’ll find deranged beasts waiting for them underneath the surface. The abyss is so dark, if you even so much as stuck your hand in, you would not see it. It’s supposedly as cold as ice, yet never freezes, and filled with a strange flora that wraps around your legs to keep any poor soul that ventures out there underneath the water for a hungry beast.
Local stories talk about it like it’s the myth that it is. Any local or tourist who have mysteriously gone missing are deemed hoaxes, or, at least, later found washed up on a shore a few miles away after floating out too far. It’s simply just what it claims to be–an urban myth.
So, of course, you find yourself eager to prove that for your blog. When you go around proving and disproving ghost stories, urban myths, and cryptic tales alike, you can’t exactly pass on something so terrifying sounding. Besides, odds are, the cave probably doesn’t exist, let alone the dock. Worst case scenario, you get to write off a beach vacation as a business expense. Best case scenario, you discover some unique, impossible, supernatural abyss that actually exists there.
With your gear packed, you head out to that coastal town. It’s all sun and tourists, filled to the brim as they line the sidewalks, the stripmalls, the highrise rentals all along the coast. Nothing is amiss, really. So, hoax it is? Even when you question the locals as you check into your rental just nearby the supposed cave, they shrug it off and say it’s just a tale to get the curious in. And look at that, it brought you to them, so…. You couldn’t argue with that. Still, upon checking in, you double-check your things for your investigation.
An underwater camera on the end of a pole, a tripod and camera to set up on the edge of the supposed dock, a battery pack to keep it charged. A notebook for general notes and outlining, your phone to take pictures of anything happening in the moment. As if anything will happen. You’ve already got the outline done for the obvious hoax of it all. You just need to go and prove it.
Following the directions across dozens of other blog posts about the supposed beastly depths, you walk the busy beach. There is a rocky cliff’s edge near where the beach ends and blocks your view beyond. It matches up with the rest of the descriptions, so you follow a path you have to make around towels, bags, and chairs. Down where the sand becomes rocky, and rocky risks becoming too-slippery to walk on, but the tide is low. You checked and double-checked–it wasn’t going to rise for hours. You had more than enough time, and going slow enough….
You just need enough to peek around to see if the cave exists.
So, up you climb. The rocks layer across each other like bits of broken slate, and you hold on without trying to slice your hands open while climbing. It smells considerably more like the sea as you go. A few people stop and watch you surely for your stupidity, to see if you’re about to fall and bust your head open, but you continue as if they’re not there. Down around the rocks, your sneakers getting wet where the water laps up over the rock’s edges, and then….
Leaning on a rock, you peek.
Holy shit.
There’s a hole in the side of the cliff where the rocks at the front become sand. A literal cave beckoning you to walk to it. You lift your phone and snap a quick picture. So part of it is real, then. Truths always help lift up a good lie. You sneak around until your wet shoes touch the sand on the other side of the rocks and cliff. You have to stop yourself from running to enter.
Using your phone’s flashlight, you step up to the cave entrance. It’s damp and cold, and it still smells like the sea. But the ground isn’t slippery stone, it’s more sand. Interesting. And from what you can tell, nothing gives way to the ocean, so any dock that’s in there can’t exist.
Judging the general look of it very, very carefully, you risk a step in. Then another. Sand remains until your feet, and the ground only slightly slopes down. Nothing dangerous screams at you, nothing tries to make you slip and fall, no noise except the soft sound of waves splashing carries up. No wild animals. Maybe someone deranged is in there, but wouldn’t you hear them? Adrenaline and disbelief carry you past that thought and you go in further.
Deeper.
Lower.
The cave stays slightly taller and slightly wider than you, no less and no more. It twists down, leaving the sunlight behind you until you make a final curve of a turn, and then there’s just your phone. But since it’s a straight path, there’s no getting lost. Just a leg-burning incline waiting for you on the way back. It’s hard to really identify it–the change in the air as you go. But the cold shifts. It warms in your lungs and it makes you start to sweat underneath your layers. Shirt, shorts, bathing suit, socks, and sneakers. Your bag pressed against your back makes your shirt suction itself to you with sweat.
The sea-salty air clings to you.
You round the corner with no deranged individual to bar your path.
Holy…shit…?
THe cave opens to the impossible. Or, certainly not for it’s there, but…? Light spatters across the glistening, expanding walls. They’re speckled with what look like gems or stars or something luminescent that brings an eerie aura to the round break in the path. The path that takes you down another step along the suddenly steep incline, and there, the sand becomes an old, worn, discolored wood. A small dock of just two dozen boards that goes out to where the ground vanishes. Dark, murky water is bubbling like a spring. A black and blue essence of depth that becomes a rich, terrifying abyss looking back at you before you even take another step.
The water ripples when you step further onto the dock. It seems to match the hard thumps of your heart as you go. Step by shaky step, testing each board along the way. The water only grows darker. The threat of something looking back at you that you cannot see sits on your shoulders like a person resides there. Trying to push you down to your knees when you stand as close as you’ll allow yourself to the dock’s edge. The end peeking down into the very center of that circle of sea.
You can only see your reflection. Yes, there’s water beneath; an abyss. A depth. But as you shudder out breaths and feel the trickle of sweat drip along your back, you cannot seem to catch your breath or look away from the water.
The rippling water.
Like a beast walks the earth around you to shake the very pool you look into.
A cold chill erupts along your spine, but you cannot move.
Nothing comes to peek out of the water. For there cannot be anything there, right? Maybe some sharks lurk below? Or some mere fish looking for a bite to eat. But the pool cannot possibly house a…a beast. No grand whale-like, fang-having carnivore waiting to devour your hand if you were to reach in.
This isn’t Jaws.
You’re there. You tell yourself in quiet thoughts. You’re there. You must abide by the fact that you’ve found it. That, at the very least, deserves some recognition. Maybe there is nothing there to scare beyond its mere existence in the urban myth. A legend made of those truths. So…. So you force the deepest of breaths you can manage, and you sit back on the dock you pray is as sturdy as it seems to be.
Carefully, you unpack your bag.
Tripod goes up, camera gets connected to the battery then set atop, angled to record. You assert that the waterproof camera is working and begin extending the pole it will be latched to before coming to kneel, once again, at the edge of the dock. A light sparkling look upon the water makes it appear like the night sky. It’s beautiful, really, as much as it is eerie. A portal to another realm rippling back at you. But no beast is behind you, shaking the world. So maybe there really are those mythical plants beneath that you cannot see causing that? Or just fish.
You shake off the sentiment and pull out your phone. An app connects to the camera, and you double-check the connection. You see yourself looking back at you from the protected lens. So, rather unceremoniously, you turn the flash onto the brightest option, set your phone aside, and turn the camera down toward the water.
Another slow chill sinks over you. Do not do this, something whispers in the back of your head. A risk of losing your camera? Eh. You have more. So long as you move carefully, you will not disrupt any ecosystems there, and you have no intention of falling in. God, it’s hot. You shake off the sentiments, sweat clinging to you despite the strange chill whispering behind your ear, and you let the camera fall past the water.
Darkness. Rich, impenetrable darkness. You lower the camera slow enough that, if you were to be watching a movie, you’d curse them for such a languid pace. But you are trying not to disturb anything that could be down there. Deeper. The water swallows the pole, and you keep your eyes on your phone screen. Bit by bit, it goes. And goes. And goes. The flash does nothing to light the way. It’s as if light cannot penetrate the water at all. A vacuum capturing it whole, yet it is endless in its length. You continue, noting just how much is disappearing into the water. More and more, you see the water slosh. The pole vanishing. Nothing on the capture.
Huh.
So there’s…nothing? Nothing you can see.
You stop just before your fingertips touch the water.
You pull the pole back until water drips off the end of the camera. The light of the cave breaks out over the capture and bits of what look like black seaweed are wrapped around the end. Whoa, okay. You haul it up onto the dock, scooting back. The humid air brings the back of your hand to your forehead, but your eyes stay on the strange, vine-looking seaweed perfectly wrapped around the pole.
“That’s…okay.” What luck to capture it like that. There has to be a current under the water–maybe causing the rippling–that lent it to a perfect spiral? You snap a few pictures of it with your phone before carefully pulling it off the pole. It’s slippery and slimy, yet weirdly…warm? For the darkness, you would’ve guessed freezing cold. But it feels burning hot. “Shit.”
You pull back quickly, forgetting the gloves you’d packed. They sit in your hotel room, waiting to be put in your backpack. You might’ve just touched something poisonous. Fuck. The seaweed and pole clatters against the wood in a hollow, faraway sound. A light, sparking burn sinks in over your fingertips. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A light, murky discoloration covers it–a sheer black goop–and you pull your shirt off to use it as a rag. Quickly, wiping it over your hand and dumping some of your water over where the goop once was before repeating.
Nothing lingers. No rash sits in place. It’s still possible you’ve just marked yourself with death and there’s no other telltale signs until it happens. But as you kneel there, waiting to see if necrosis suddenly marks your fingers, your pulse pounding through the ocean and the cave, there’s…nothing. Something? But nothing. Just the unbearable heat trickling in around you. Your shirt coming off because of this was almost a godsend. You readjust the top of your bathing suit with your clean hand, and roll your shoulders.
Nothing. Nothing happens.
Okay.
Okay.
You close your eyes and attempt a slow, deep, calming breath.
You’re okay. It’s all okay.
For now.
The nagging voice in the back of your head speaks with reasons. Leave. Hospital. Now. What matters is what you touched burned, and you need to check that. Leave. Go. Get yourself checked out. It’s smart. It’s the right call. It’s a long walk back, and if you linger and something is wrong, you’ve screwed yourself. So–
Splash.
A soft, wave-like splashing draws your eyes to the end of the dock. It’s not the little ripples hitting the dock, no. This is a splash. A loud, heart-stopping splash. The secret beast? But if there is one, it does not look back at you over the end as fear made you worry. There’s nothing there waiting for you at the end. Leave. Leave it. But there was a splash! You cannot….
You have to see if you imagined it. At the very least.
So, quietly and carefully, you crawl. Right over to the edge, a lump in your throat, a burn in your lungs, and a pit in your stomach. You peek over. Maybe you just dislodged something when you stuck the camera in?
You look back at yourself. Your reflection. The glint in your eyes making you jump, but they’re just your eyes.
Holy fuck. You press your hand to your heart.
There’s nothing.
Nothing but your reflection.
Nothing but the dark water.
Nothing but–bubble. A bubble. A few bubbles, slipping up and breaking the surface tension with soft pops. You go still, watching them cause larger ripples across the suddenly still water. Okay, so then…?
Then.
Then there’s something.
Just underneath the water. Wrapped up in the dark seaweed. Stuck before it can touch air. It’s right at the edge. An arm’s reach away. You tilt your head, squinting, trying to make out what the hell that could be. It looks like nothing. Maybe a piece of debris? Of some sort of shipwreck? Pollution? You put your hands on the edge of the dock and lean closer. What the fuck is it that’s trying to escape?
Closer. Closer. Closer.
You reach. It’s right freaking there, come on.
You watch in your reflection as your finger comes to the water. It bends and breaks, sending a brand new rippling across the pool. Burning hot water touches your fingertip, yet it doesn’t blister or hurt. It sinks in like a hot spring, and you feel it slither up around your wrist, arm, elbow. The object falls away before you can touch it, like it lost its buoyancy. The pattern of the wood presses into your knees whilst you shift. Reaching. Humidity feels like steam on your face. Water goes up to your elbow.
Something brushes your fingers in a slimy, warm, wrapping sensation. The seaweed. But as you stare at yourself in the water, your hand invisible in the darkness, your body bent over the dock, you don’t…it’s not important anymore. That it’s touching you. The hospital. No. You shake your head, leaning back onto your knees and shimming out of your shoes and shorts, shifting forward to really lean over the edge of the dock to try and find what vanished from you.
What was it? It burns into the back of your head. Sweat trickles down in quick succession of one drop after the other while you bend over the dock. The rough edge presses into your stomach through your one-piece. Another bubble comes up next to where the water swallows your arm up past your shoulder.
What was it? What was it? What was it?
You turn your head, reaching back to hold onto a wide gap in one of the boards to leverage yourself properly without falling in. What was it? You shift, grip firm, water sneaking up to your shoulder. Past. Your cheek touches the warm, steaming, bubbling water.
What the hell was that?
A bubble pops against your cheek. It throws water against your mouth and eyes, and you blink them away and taste sweet saltwater on your lips. Another bubble pops, and you do it again. There’s something at your fingertips. Something hard. Metal. But it’s getting hard to move. The current you cannot see wraps the seaweed around your fingers. Your wrist. It comes up around your arm, past your elbow, up to your shoulder. You reach, still, eyes shut, trying to get that damn thing. What was it? What was it? What was it? What is it?
Your fingers close around what feels like a handle or…or a hook. Something curved and metal and latchable. You have it! You have it!! You smile, another bubble coming more like a splash at your cheek, soaking your face in the warm water, and you laugh. You’ve got it! You’ve got it.
You pull, but it doesn’t move.
No, come on!
Water splashes again.
It tastes so, so sweet on your lips.
Come on. Come on! You yank.
And yank.
But it doesn’t move.
You don’t notice the darkness rising out of the water. The seaweed, the vines, climbing higher. Escaping the depths and wrapping around your throat, your upper half, your stomach. You pull and pull and pull, drinking in more than just mere splashes of the water at every failed dislodging of the thing you cannot let go of. They climb higher, wrapping around your hips, thighs, feet. The arm that is back and the hand that’s on the board. They twist around you until they’ve netted you like prey. Locking you in place on the end of that dock.
You don’t notice anything but the thing you cannot get free staying right where it is no matter how you pull.
You don’t notice the whipping current moving around you, or the splashing growing more excessive, louder, harder. The way you cannot move. The heat sinking in beneath your bathing suit. Beneath your skin. Beneath every part of you. What is it? What is it? What is it? Repeats like a broken record, consuming every breath that nearly drowns you in the water you gulp back.
You don’t notice the small tendrils sneaking through the cracks of the dock. Don’t notice the brush of them against your inner thighs. Don’t notice their warm, slimy feel amongst the seaweed encapsulating you and sneaking underneath your suit. Right at the tight edges digging between your legs.
You just tug. And tug. And tug on the hook that won’t come loose.
You don’t even notice them touch you. Not where one writhes against your asshole. Not where one closes like a mouth around your clit. Not where one presses against your cunt. You don’t notice the two sneaking out of the water to slide into your suit to latch onto your nipples.
And as the hook dislodges from whatever has trapped it beneath the water, sending a large gulp of warm water into your throat, you don’t feel the thick, creamy liquid they secrete onto you. Into you. Pushing just the very tips into both holes.
Into your mouth as you beam into the water, drowning yourself to get that thing out of the water.
You don’t notice.
Everything’s gone when you can finally move. There’s nothing but you falling back onto the dock, licking away the substance you don’t fully realize you’re tasting while you move. Seated back on your ass, holding up your treasure. A small box with a round handle at the top. Locked with a lock that’s more rust than anything else.
A treasure! Something to have made this outing worth it, if there’s something inside!
You quickly gather your things. There’s no more bubbling in the water, no more splashing. The heat cools around you. What is it? It still lingers, but you’re able to breathe again, and you wipe your shirt over your mouth to get the murky water off of you. The dock exists, the cave exists, the water exists. And if there’s something in this box…. Well, you’ll have a unique story to tell. Unfortunately, no beasts lurk for they would’ve gotten you for such a ridiculous move, right? Reaching into the water.
You laugh at yourself.
How stupid could you have been?
You haul your backpack over your shoulder, cling to the box, and carry yourself out of the cave without a look back.
When you ventured down to the cave, it was already late afternoon. It’s only a little surprising when you come out to a pitch-black sky. Maybe an early sunset? You shrug it off. Getting back takes effort after walking up the long incline back out of the cave, then the rocks, then the stretch back to your hotel. You’re exhausted when you get to your room. Your bag drops with a heap onto the floor, and you fling yourself into the shower.
The potential treasure can wait until tomorrow. Working on your blog can wait until tomorrow. Exhaustion drags your eyes shut, you hardly scrub yourself in the shower, and you collapse into bed after barely managing to put you pajamas on.
So…tired….
The second your head hits the pillow, you’re out.
The plan lingers in your head. Wake up, get breakfast, open the box, work on the blog, enjoy the beach. A simple plan. An easy, wonderful, even possibly interesting plan if there’s something strange inside the box. It’s best not to get your hopes up, you know that. But you found a box! A locked box! There could be something incredibly fascinating in there!
But….
You jerk awake while the moon still shines. Your chest heaves with hard breaths and your blankets are askew. Your dream…it’s far away as you blink. Gone. Whatever softness was there is replaced with an itch. A burning, striking, fierce itch that crawls underneath your sweat-dampened pajamas.
Oh. You roll onto your back. It burns. You look over yourself in the moonlight. How your chest heaves, the fabric dragging over your pointed nipples like it’s winter in the room. How your shorts have ridden up and the center seam presses between your legs.
Oh, fuck.
You shudder. What…? Itchy. So itchy. Not the kind needing a scratch, no. This comes in an ache that throws your hands onto the bed to squeeze. Your hips jut up. Your heels press into the bed. Oh, fuck. What? What the…what? Your eyes close, and that’s your doom. You don’t know it. You didn’t know it when you ventured into the cave. But as your eyes shut and your head presses back, something more than sleep takes you.
Your eyes roll back.
The softness of your mattress stays under you, but in the dark abyss around you, you smell the murkiness. Feel the dock underneath you while you blink up at the star-like cave ceiling. Your bathing suit clings to you. The seaweed seeps out from the water and wraps around you. The dock. You can feel it, see it without seeing it, entrapping you. Wrapping around you in a burning spiral where your heels can’t kick the bed anymore and where you’re bound to the dock.
No.
The bottom.
The bottom of the dock.
You blink at the ceiling as it becomes the murky water. The underside of the dock presses uncomfortably against your back. Your arms. Your feet. Legs. Slimy seaweed wraps around your throat. Your forehead.
You stare at your bound reflection in the rippling water.
It ripples again.
And again.
You stare at rich, black eyes looking into your own.
Black tendrils rise out of the water. They glitter like scales with a sheer pearl-like coloration over them. They rise higher. Up. To you. You aim to scream, but as your mouth parts, eyes pulled and locked onto those looking upon you like another human trapped under the water, a tendril presses inside. Thicker than what it was when it left the water.
It pushes down your throat and there’s a sudden warmth and blistering sweetness glazing everything over.
You feel heavy. So, so heavy. Going limp and hanging there, drool dribbling down and dripping into the water. It’s a dream. A rippling thought, falling away into an incoherentness that feels exactly as you believe–it’s a dream. A vivid, choking dream.
Tendrils continue to rise. To move.
The top of your one piece is pulled down. Two tendrils wrap around your bared breasts and latch onto your nipples. You moan, shuddering as something is secreted around them. Twisting. Tweaking. Massaging and groping. It feels good. Goosebumps rise and your eyes want to roll back, but you cannot look away. Those that watch you, they’ve captured you. Captivated. Ensared.
More tendrils rise. They sneak underneath your bathing suit between your legs.
Tears well and the eyes below you blur when they touch you. Slimy. Secreting that substance that’s being dripped down your gulping throat. Everything…it itches. Bed. Hotel. Itchy. Wet. Touching. Your pussy clenches in a way that makes you yank hard on what holds you, but it only lends itself to a tendril pressing against your cunt.
They move in tandem.
One latches onto your clit, writhing around it as it seems to…suckle it like a mouth. One leaks as it pushes into your asshole and the other does the exact same as it pushes into your cunt.
The eyes glint wide and full, glittering like a whole galaxy held within them.
All of the tendrils inside of you swell.
The stretch alleviates an itch you could scream for in pure satisfaction.
The water ripples.
The tendrils suck on your nipples and clit in alternating patterns.
Then, the others move.
They fuck you. Pumping in and out of you, deep. Too deep. But it’s a pleasure you cannot feel outside of the dream. It’s impossible. It’s beyond. It’s blinding. You still do not look away from the eyes, and you moan incessantly, wantonly, just mewling around the tendril choking you. Harder. Deeper. Rougher.
The tendrils only grow in size. They continue to secrete the lube-like, slimy, burning substance that just makes your body writhe in the bindings. Thrashing as you feel it seep into you. As goosebumps rise, your body grows sensitive, you get heavier and heavier, trying to move in any capacity beyond taking what it gives you for it’s so much. Too much. It feels too good. Your hips buck somewhere else, but against the bottom of the dock, they don’t move.
The water grows closer to you. The eyes stare into your soul as you scream again. Pussy clenching, pulsing, shuddering around what rubs against every sensitive spot inside of you. The tendril on your clit seems to vibrate as it sucks it. The tendrils rub against each other inside of you; they tweak your nipples; they pour more and more into you until it drips back into the water.
It’s blinding, how good it feels. It’s like an injection of ecstasy that’s lingering before the peak. Long waves of pleasure building and building and building. Until you’re crying, sobbing, choking–looking down at those eyes that move ever so slightly. Like a head turning, curious, watching your toes curl and back try to arch. It feels so good. So fucking good. Too fucking good.
Your shriek is muffled against the tendril when you break.
Those long waves lengthen into a feral, unapologetic pleasure. It’s unkind. It’s brutal. You have no escape from it as they pound into you incessantly. Repeatedly. Milking you of it in hard, rough, squelching drags. You cum.
You cum squirting–something you’ve never done before. Ruining your swimsuit and hearing it drip into the water. Barely. Barely conscious when it continues fucking you. And feeding you. And attacking you with the tendrils, pushing you to a true breaking point of pleasure that rips through you.
Right before you truly break, they still. The one in your mouth and the one in your ass pour thick loads into you. Something spurts over your chest and your cunt, painting you in what you see drip into the sea as something pearly white. But in your cunt, you feel the tendril swell and push inside of you. A slow pulse fills you. Literally fills you. Rubbing around inside of you like multiple tentacles trying to enter you at once.
Your clit pulses.
The tendril rubs it again.
And rubs it.
And rubs it.
Another orgasm creeps up as the tendril in your cunt leaves you, but you still feel so full. The tendril in your ass leaves, after, locking itself over your swimsuit and between your legs as the one on your clit rubs you rapidly. Your nipples are sucked again; pinched until you yell around the tendril in your mouth. What’s inside of you is clenched when you just about cum again. Thick and full and writhing. Filling your cunt like it belongs there, wiggling every which way and hitting every sweet spot until–
You jerk awake on the hotel bed, right at the edge of the orgasm in your dream.
D…Dream….
Itchy. Burning. Your pussy clenches as you stare down at yourself on top of that bed. The sunlight creeps in over you. Your blankets are on the floor. Your shorts have been kicked off, and your shirts up. Accidentally risen up over your chest, where the cool AC makes your nipples tighten. Burn.
You taste the sweetness on your tongue.
You see the eyes when you blink.
You pussy weeps for something. A blinding, thought-wiping something that has you crawling off the bed, clinging to the last remnants of sanity. Was it just a dream? You get rug burn on your knees on your way to your bags. Did you miss something at the pool? Did the seaweed infect you with a hallucinogenic?
You haul your laptop out. Your cameras. The connecting cables. Your pussy throbs as you kneel there. Back arching back like there’s someone behind you to greet you. To satisfy the itch making you drool. Go back. It echoes in the back of your head like a little, dangerous melody. But you don’t return to your bed. You don’t go back to sleep. You merely lean back against the end of the bed, laptop set aside, and click through the footage you took at the cave.
It’s…wait.
You have it set for repeat recording so you don’t accidentally meet the limit mark and loose footage. So it starts a new recording automatically. And this…. There are dozens. How…how long were you in that cave? You click through them with a shaky hand. Your breasts ache. Your clit throbs. You click past the setup, the camera insertion into the water, the seaweed on bare skin debacle. And then…then it changes.
In the footage from the underwater camera, you can see how your eyes glaze over.
Your heart skips a beat as you watch yourself.
Moving slowly towards a beckoning splashing. Like a fucking call pulling you in. You crawl. The water ripples and ripples and ripples for you until you’re in frame of the one on the tripod. All of you. Leaning over the water. Your shorts kicked off, just your bathing suit covering you.
Then, the minutes tick by. You wrestle with the thing under the water as the vines creep out. Your pussy throbs as they overtake you. They cling to you, pressing into the meat of you tight enough to lock you entirely unmoving against the dock. You still wrestle, unaware of it. A light chill sinks into you as the minutes tick by. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty. Half-drowning in the water, pulling to get that box.
Your pajama shirt clings to you as sweat sheens over you. It’s hard to ignore the damp spot making your underwear cling to you. Fear is a cruel whisper against the back of your ear.
Then, you see them.
After an hour of being in the water like that, your bottom in the air and right in view, you see what sneaks through the gaps in the dock. Like the ones in your dream. On the floor, your legs part. Your thighs quiver.
In sheer horror, you watch where they go. Sliding like some eldritch curse sinking underneath your bathing suit. They bulge against the tight material, giving you no ignorance to where their aim is. And with the angle you’ve been forced into like that, your legs parted, back arched, you watch them on the recording. They writhe. They slide. They push into you, with the material darkening as they clearly secrete something into your cunt and asshole. The material stretches as they begin to pump. Writhe. The bunched up material at the top of your suit tells you they’re not just inside of you.
Minutes tick by.
You can’t move. In the capture nor where you press back against the bed, chest heaving. They fuck you slowly. The damp spots grow and grow until you see something pearly start to dribble out of the sides.
The splashing in the water stops, and you start to shake on camera. Moaning. Whining. Your hips jerk in the restraining seaweed. You sound muffled when they fuck into you faster, and you can taste that sweetness in your throat right then.
Come…back…. echoes in the back of your mind.
Your thighs shake on camera.
The tendrils move. More rise through the cracks.
You hold your breath as they seem annoyed at your bathing suit, and they move it. More coming in. More finding you. Your lungs burn as you go from seeing yourself getting visibly fucked by a single tentacle in each hole to two. Stretching your holes as they secrete that pearly liquid and you scream. Shuddering. Thrashing.
Climaxing.
Squirting around them and squeezing them. A mess of you and them coming around yourself while you are bound and shaking and falling into a whining daze. They stretch you wide and fuck into you alternatingly and hard. The sounds are wet. Wrong. You look down at yourself on the recording and then at yourself there, in the hotel room, your pussy leaking and begging.
With a dry swallow, you….
You itch.
Burn.
Need.
Come…back…to…me….
The room blurs. Your eyes lock onto the screen while you cum again, squirting and thrashing. Your hand dances down to yourself, there. Moving your underwear aside. You can’t. Can’t. Can’t. A heavy sensation fills the room. A ringing enters your ears with a soft melody amongst it. You dip two fingers into your dripping cunt. You feel the absence of it yet it feels like a reminder all the same. What was there in your dream. What’s there in the video. What’s more than your fingers pumping into your cunt. More finding your clit. You pull your shirt off frantically, seeing the very minimal remnants of something having left divots in the soft, sensitive skin there.
Everything falls into a haze.
You watch yourself cum again.
You pump your fingers deeper; nowhere near where the tentacles clearly reached. But you try. You chase. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you throw your head back. Gasping. Shaking. Squirming against the end of the bed.
You watch yourself cum again on screen. And for a moment–a brief, world-shattering moment–you remember it. You feel it. In the dream, down at the docks. You feel it. And then it’s gone. Your fingers aren’t enough. They’re hardly anything, but they still give you something. You kick your feet out and lift your hips up. The tentacles go still on the screen, pulsing as they seem to push something into you. And you blink the tears away as you break apart, just watching in a locked, unbreakable gaze. Gushing just a little around your fingers in a wet, pitiful orgasm.
It almost mocks you.
It does mock you. It’s one lowly wave of pleasure that feels like heaven on earth before it just…stops. Meek, bored pulses around your fingers that you desperately thrust into yourself. You rub your clit harder, trying to chase what’s ripped away.
But it…. It….
Come…to…me….
Movement in the water on screen catches your sniffling attention. The tendrils readjust your bathing suit. They retreat back into the water. A hand comes to the surface. A human-like hand covered in dark, black, glittering scales. It cups the side of your cheek, and there’s a face. Amongst the darkness in the abyss. Black, glowing eyes look at you.
Come to me.
It retreats.
The vines retreat.
You kneel there for forty-eight minutes as your body twitches and leaks whatever it left in you.
Then, finally, you come back to yourself. Hauling the water-worn, rusted-locked box out of the water. Like nothing happened. Like you aren’t leaking down onto the dock through your suit as you hold the box up to the camera. And you pack everything up like normal. You turn the camera off with a wide grin, holding it up off the tripod, the pool in the back framing you from a high angle.
Eyes look back at you over your shoulder from the depths.
You’re looking back at you fingering yourself in the reflection of your computer screen when the capture cuts. Trying to get more. Trying to chase another orgasm that won’t come.
Come to me…. Now….
You pant. Huff. Go limp, staring at your laptop.
With a wet squelch, you pull your fingers out.
Come to me.
You pull your shorts on without fixing your underwear. You pull your shirt on without a bra underneath. Come to me. Now. You slip into sandals and leave everything behind, staggering out of your room. Down the hallway. Down the stairs. The sun has barely risen when you pass runners on the beach and the early swimmers out in the ocean.
Come.
You crawl over the rocks.
Come….
You find the cave.
Come.
You stagger down the incline.
Come…. Come now.
You pull your clothes off while you walk the length of the dock.
Come. Take my kin.
You stare at the black eyes waiting for you in the dark water. Dark hair pools out where they let their head peek out of the water just a little. Black scales line pale white skin at their temples and down over the tops of their cheeks.
You climb partway down into the water, but you’re stopped hanging off the end of the dock. Legs spread wide and held in place as seaweed climbs out instantly. You’re latched to the end there, hanging, spread over the tops of the board with your arms out far from your head. Your ankles are bound to the posts of the dock. Water goes up right underneath your bottom, gently kissing your ass when it ripples and waves.
Tendrils climb.
Just like your dream, they find you.
They fill your mouth, your cunt, your asshole.
They slip underneath you and suck on your nipples. Up to your clit to vibrate and suckle.
The world fades into nothing as your body itches, burns, thrashes in abrupt, milking pleasure. The pearly white secretion drips down your thighs and into the water below.
Mine….
The deep voice echoes in your head.
Been waiting…so long…to breed….
Pleasure ravishes. It blinds. It tears through you with deep, hard, stretching thrusts. There’s no telling what’s happening; what’s inside of you. You just feel. Shudder. Cum. Squirting and shaking, sobbing as it falls over you in long waves. Long, rich, endless waves that raw your throat before more sweet substance slips down it.
Mine…forever.
Will not let…this one…get away.
Cold, rough, scaly fingers skate over your thighs underneath the water. Cold breaths brush against your ass. A chill seeps in at the base of your spine where fangs nip what unmistakably is a kiss right there. But it fades the second another orgasm throws itself at you, and you fall into the warm, dark, drowning abyss.
when you're called in to see the big boss for your performance review, you're excited to finally make a case for a raise after all of your hard work. except, when you walk in to find the entire board of directors there waiting for you, the night quickly takes a much more...hands-on turn with your review.
tldr: human reader has to earn a promotion and a raise by pleasing the board of directors, of which is made up of various supernatural beings/creatures
warnings: 11.8k words // fem!human!reader x masc & fem board of directors // nsfw - coercion, dub-con, demonic contract, gangbang, power imbalance, magic used, magic used as bondage, vampire bites + vampire bites = aphrodisiac, blood drinking, explicit degradation, choking, hair pulling (reader has nondescript hair), humiliation, some mockery, face fucking & tonguefucking (others receiving), fingering, anal & vaginal penetration/sex, double penetration, size difference, mindbreaking, multiple orgasms, overstim, collar/leash-like moment with magic vines, using the reader like a toy, cumplay, lots of cum play, all unprotected sex, + general nsfw warnings // i did not proofread this i am so sorry
a/n: i might've gotten a bit carried away with this one. there's actually a bit of a plot/worldbuilding but it was fun to write. hope y'all like it! happy reading!
The Hierarchy at Cardinal Veil Industries:
The Board of Directors:
Phoenix Shade - a half-dragon and half-man with dark gray scales scattered across his body.
Calder Blackwood - a cursed werewolf with glowing yellow eyes.
Gaian Cross - a thousand-year-old vampire with a horribly ironic name.
Fiona Vexx - a witch of dark, earthly magic.
Varfu Cornelius - an orc of average size, and is known for his impatience.
The CEO:
Lucius Veil - a powerful, magic-wielding demon whose influence and namesake helped create the company.
The Manager:
Beatrix Barclay - a witch from a powerful lineage of witches that manages the 5th floor.
You:
a lowly human who spent her first year at Cardinal Veil Industries busting her ass to make a name for herself and work her way up the ladder as fast as possible.
It was that time of year–performance reviews. Where your timecard was overanalyzed, logged mistakes were drafted up into a single document, and your general work was skimmed over by your boss. This was your first performance review at Cardinal Veil Industries, and you’d spent the last year busting your ass to get everything done before the deadlines, taking on extra work when coworkers were sick, and did so much overtime to compensate for others’ delays, you practically lived at the office.
For all intents and purposes, you were due not only for a raise, but a promotion. A decent, hefty, well-earned bit of recognition, rising of the ranks, and that raise.
So, when the notification appeared in your email that it was time for your performance review, you were excited. When you read that it wasn’t just going to be with your general manager–Beatrix Barclay–but with the big boss as well? That excitement actually blossomed into some semblance of hope. Maybe he’d recognized your efforts. Maybe he’d reward them. Sitting down with a personal meeting with Lucius Veil meant something. Possibly, it even meant you might actually walk out of there with a raise and a promotion.
You were going all the way up to the top floor to see Lucius, his grand office, and his notice–clearly. Why else were you going all the way up there?
The meeting was scheduled for the end of the day on a Friday, which, given any other circumstances, might’ve worried you. But you were the best worker on your floor by a wide margin. Even the employees that’d been there for years were coming to you for help, questions, and general requests for assistance as their workload backed up. Granted, you were eager to take on the extra hours and overtime pay, so when coworkers needed to be out due to feeding requirements, unavoidable heats, and shifting hours as the days got longer and those vampyric couldn’t be reached, you covered. With the structure of the job, too, getting noticed so early into your career by the single demon that could help you prosper into much, much more than what you were doing…you were downright bubbly. Eager.
You flattened your hands along the faint wrinkles in your skirt. They were unavoidable since you’d been scrunched up at your desk all day, but shaky hands and nerves had you trying to rub them out. You had on your best for the sake of the meeting. A black pencil skirt, a white button-up blouse with a matching black blazer over it, your finest heels that were miraculously unscuffed, and nylons. You would’ve gone with nude ones, but they’d gotten a run in them while you wrangled with them to get them on. Sheer black ones were their replacement, and by an equally as sheer miracle, you managed to get through the day without getting a single run in them.
“Deep breath,” you muttered, staring up at the numbers increasing above the elevator doors. It ran smoothly, but it ran slowly. A dragging ride up to the 31st floor that left far, far too much time for your heart to begin racing, your stomach to twist into knots, and your thoughts to creep in on themselves. “You’ve busted your ass for this. You’re a good worker. You’re a strong worker. You’re competent, a team player, and an asset to their team. You’re going to ask for a raise, and you’re not going to budge on anything undeserving. You’ve got this. You can do this. It’ll be fine.”
The elevator vanished into darkness for a long moment when you took a deep breath. Inside, it smelled like rosemary, gentle ash, and that familiar heat of lingering magic. It’d taken some getting used to–everything that collected in the atmosphere there–and how it settled against you, over your skin, in every breath, but you’ve mostly adjusted. Still, it tickled your already jumbled nerves like a whispered breath trying to tangle them.
“You can do this,” you repeated to yourself three times over. “You can.”
The elevator came to a careful stop. The quiet ding was like a gong ringing next to your ears. Still, when those doors opened to the hallway outside of Lucius’ office, you stepped off. You had to. Otherwise, riding back down to your floor, clocking out, and retreating was forfeiting what you deserved.
Your heels clacked the entire way to the door. A supply closet, a bathroom, and a small breakroom for his two assistants were passed. All closed. All locked up for the workday, then. Which meant Darnell and Eva were gone. Alright–no big deal. It just meant you had to announce yourself, Maybe Lucius would just have his main office door open for you to go through without it being awkward?
You silently prayed that was the case when you reached for the doorknob. Cardinal Veil Industries was scrawled across the milky glass in perfect cursive. A golden light shone through that was from the grand fixture in the center of the next room, positioned right over the double front desks for Darnell and Eva. But…but you paused, your hand hovering over the brass doorknob.
Through the pounding of your heart, the thin glass on the door did very little to muffle the hum of conversation carrying through it. The words itself were garbled nonsense, but there were words. And not simply Lucius communicating one-sidedly. Multiple voices carried through. Not just Beatrix’s, which you could place by her higher-pitched tone. There was Lucius’–which you knew well-enough from the visits he’d make to various floors and meetings to ensure work was progressing as he’d liked, then there was Beatrix’s, and then there were…more. One more? No, two. Another feminine voice. Three, maybe. Four? It was hard to place, exactly, when you were hidden behind that door.
Had you gotten the time wrong? The date?
No. You looked down at your printed calendar you always kept on your folder for the day. Your performance review was with Lucius at 5:00 sharp on Friday–that Friday. Had he cancelled and the messenger missed you? No, you’d been at your desk all day. So maybe it was a message that never got relayed? Or…an unexpected meeting?
You glanced back toward the elevator waiting at the hallway’s end. You…could turn around and leave, then send him a message on Monday regarding the sounds of a meeting you did not wish to interrupt. Better that than going in and risking a stir to your good reputation with the big boss, right? Or it was an error and he still wanted to have the meeting with you, thus making any leaving and assumptions made reflect poorly upon you.
Crap.
What were you supposed to do then? Either way, if this was unplanned and you chose wrong, you’d take some sort of hit. Which was better, politely interrupting a meeting or assuming you ought to simply leave? You had your answer before you finished even asking the question. It was better to go in and ensure that you ought to leave and reschedule.
It was.
It was.
Alright. Alright!
You closed your eyes again. Another deep breath filled your lungs with the very same scents as earlier. Rosemary, ash, and magic. As did another deep breath, and then a third. That was about all you’d spare for yourself before you’d just fall into the category of stalling.
“Okay,” you breathed.
And with a tip of your chin up, you turned the knob and stepped in.
Lucius’ office was made up of two parts. The front area where Darnell and Eva worked, greeted visitors, and facilitated everything tasked upon them for Lucius. Beyond their desks sat the door to the office of the very man who signed everyone’s paychecks in a luxurious office three times the size of Beatrix’s. Maybe more.
Within the space, you stepped across dark walnut-colored wood flooring illuminated by that golden-glowing grand fixture overhead. It was eyecatching, magnificent, and worth a hell of a lot more than just a few paychecks. The higher up you went in the building, the better the pay got. And since you worked down on the fifth floor, you had a lot of stairs to climb.
As expected, unfortunately, Darnell and Eva’s desks were empty and cleaned meticulously. Not a paper was visible on the surfaces, not a pen was out of place, and they only had a handful of personal items donning the edges. You walked past them slowly, like one might peek out from a secret space to beckon you back to be announced to Lucius. But alas….
The various voices were a bit clearer, then, carrying through the cracked door. The thrum of your pulse still kept the words muddled, but at what must’ve been the clacking of your heels, they died off into a painful silence. Even before you raised a shaky hand to knock on the thick wood, you knew that they knew you were there.
Fuck.
“Come in, (Y/N),” Beatrix called. A familiar voice was reassuring, but not calming.
Despite your attempt to avoid it, you were hesitant in your movement. Nudging the door open awkwardly, forcing yourself to keep your shoulders back, and trying to length your timid steps. But they were expecting you. That rang out when you passed the threshold and entered Lucius’ office. So that was a positive.
But it was a backhanded positive, you realized, when you stood in Lucius’ office with more than Beatrix and the man himself. Upon his finely upholstered furniture, vaguely familiar faces glanced your way. Faces in which you passed each morning on your way into work in the lobby.
Phoenix Shade, half-dragon and half-man with dark gray scales climbing along his jaw. He looked younger than he was–somewhere in his early thirties to the actual eighty-years he actually was, though given his genetics, he aged differently than most. Slower. He was as clean shaven in his picture, and he was clean shaven right then, with dark hair combed back without a strand out of place.
Calder Blackwood, a cursed werewolf with glowing yellow eyes. Curly brown hair was wild and tousled without product, matching the speckle of stubble going across his jaw with hints of gray in it. He couldn’t have been older than his late thirties with the wear of work to show for it in his features and faded tattoos along his arms.
Gaian Cross, a vampire with a horribly ironic name, with eyes as red as the blood he lived off of. Blemishless skin looked cold even through his portrait and there in the golden-lit room. A fine dress shirt donned him with pressed slacks and he had his silvery white hair pulled back. He was at least a thousand years old, yet he looked younger than you.
Fiona Vexx, a witch of dark, earthly magic. A dark green dress matched her eyes and the streaks in her black hair done up in braids, twists, and golden pieces. Gold flickered over tattoos on her arms and legs like magic itself whispering her power into the air.
Varfu Cornelius, a middle-aged orc with dark green skin and dark eyes that matched. His brown hair was longer than what was pictured, yet he wore the same gray shirt and darker tie, the sleeves done up over his forearms to show off scarring and thicker muscle than you’d ever seen.
The Board of Directors.
All lounging back casually upon the dark red, handcrafted furniture lining Lucius Veil’s office.
Lucius Veil…a demon whose namesake named the very place that he ran under their guidance. His age unknown with dark hair without a speck of gray or any deep wrinkles to give anything away. He leaned against the front of his desk with a welcoming–beckoning–smile. A typical suit fit him tailormade, blacker than black, with a silver necklace hanging down and tucked into his dress shirt. A slew of charmed rings sat on his fingers as they always did, clinking against his glass of dark liquor. Even from there, magic seemed to just bleed from him. It always made his appearances around the office imposing and inadvertently intimidating.
Amongst all the magic within the room, all the power, you froze.
What the fuck was the Board of Directors doing there?
“Take a breath,” Lucius mused, following his words with a lazy sip of his drink. “It’s not often a new hire makes as big of a splash as you have. You’ve caught everyone’s attention with your work ethic. They wanted to put a face to the name. Meet the newbie putting our most senior employees to shame. I figured what a better time to do so than your performance review?”
“You’re going to give the poor woman a heart attack, Lucius,” Gaian interjected. Sharp red eyes were waiting for you when you followed his voice. They flitted over your face and down along your jaw. Lower, even, right where your shirt collar brushed up against your throat. “Her pulse is erratic. You should have warned her.”
“Any good worker can adjust and prepare for the unexpected,” came from Fiona. She was draped across a loveseat across from Gaian, her dark green dress parting on a slit over her leg. Her eyes were a richer green than the forest when she pulled your attention away from Gaian’s. “You seem to be a net positive on all fronts otherwise. Does she panic this hard this often, Beatrix?”
“No, she is the best we’ve had so quickly.” Beatrix lifted her glass of what looked to be a rich red wine. Cheers to you? As if your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your chest for Gaian to enjoy as a delicacy right then and there. Your breaths were short and shallow; goosebumps pricked along your skin while you tried to reel everything back in. What the fuck were the Board of Directors doing there? For you?
“Sit, (Y/N).” Lucius waved you forward. A single chair sat in front of where he stood. With the layout of the room, it was practically boxed in. Other chairs, the desk, loveseats, and two couches framed it in. And with Lucius right there, the space felt smaller than it was. For as grand as the room was, as you took a small, timid step forward, you felt like you were an animal caught in a trap.
The chair was ungodly comfortable, though, forming to you perfectly when you sat. It kept you supported along your back and down where you crossed your legs to try and feign some sense of professionalism where it was starting to lack.
What the fuck was going on? They wanted to meet you? That wanted to meet you. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Right? Right. That had to be. Definitely a good thing. Certainly a good thing.
“Uh, I-I’m sorry, forgive me,” you sputtered, shaking your head. A harsh furrow of your brows almost hurt, and you shook your head, trying to get traction back beneath your feet. “This just wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Obviously,” came Varfu’s deep voice. Blunt like the edge of a letter opener.
“Would you like a drink, (Y/N)?” Lucius asked. His eyes were a silvery blue with more of that glittering silver in them. Be it not for his fingers tapping the thick file on his desk beside them, you might’ve gotten lost in them. They held such power in them that you could feel it with just a look. Beatrix was similar in that regard, but hers was less silent and foreboding. She wore hers on her sleeve, using magic to assist with everyday tasks. Magic that came from her lineage. Lucius’ came from somewhere much deeper and much darker. “We will be here a while going over your file. It’s thicker than most, and we want to ensure you get a proper review. A drink might help you relax.”
A…drink. A drink. Right. A little bit of liquor to calm the nerves? In came a very, very slow breath joined by a stronger scent of magic, rosemary, ash, and even bits of blood, earth, and the sweet scent of wine. Was having a drink the smartest move in a room full of your bosses? Was not having a drink seen as an insult? Okay. Okay.
“Sure,” you muttered. “Yes, please, I mean. Thank you.”
Lucius stepped around you and a brush of his hand brought it to your shoulder. The thick material of your blazer all but blocked it as a general warmth. He radiated it as he radiated magic. And it wasn’t until he squeezed your shoulder, bunching up the fabric and brushing his pinkie against your neck that you twitched. Heat pummeled you, and dragged out goosebumps with a vice grip.
It lasted mere seconds, not even. A quick squeeze that had your breath catching in your throat, then he was gone. Walking towards a small bar positioned over to your left, in between where Beatrix stood and Fiona was stretched out over that loveseat.
A soft click brought your eyes back further. The office door sat closed under Phoenix’s hand, and he gave you a quirked-brow glance before returning to the couch to sit beside Calder. The glint in his yellow eyes brought you right back to Lucius pouring you a glass of something sweet-smelling.
“You put in an absurd number of hours here for someone who works down on the fifth floor,” Lucius mused. “Most do not try to do even a fraction of your workload until they reach the tenth floor. Even then, they just aim for a managerial spot and call it a day. We will go over each project you’ve already completed, and before deadlines nearly each time, but what is your goal here, (Y/N)?” He turned with a full glass of something sparkling and clear. “Why work so hard so soon?”
“Not to sound like Phoenix, but new hires often make that mistake–burning themselves out before they even know they’re ash,” Calder murmured. “But you seem to enjoy being here more than you do at home if your hours aren’t incorrect.”
“I double-check all hours.” Beatrix threw a sharp look over your shoulder. Lucius handed you your drink. “Hers are always correct.”
“Thank you,” you said with a short nod. What was your goal? Ten minutes ago, and you had the answer poised on the tip of your tongue. But right then, you stalled your response by taking a careful sip of the sparkling drink. Oh. It was as sweet as it smelled without being overpowering. It wasn’t quite a white wine, but not champagne either. It was something else that went down smooth and thicker than it looked, but it was still light. Almost tempted to drink too much of it if you’d been in a more appropriate environment. “Uh, I just…um.”
You shook your head again. You were better than this; you could converse without filler words, could actually come up with said word within your head without them going blank. This wasn’t putting your best foot forward, so you took another sip, praying it’d calm those damn nerves down.
What was your goal?
Your goal. Right. You wanted to work your way up as fast as possible. You’d busted your ass in school and other jobs, and a few careless errors always screwed you over. Situations where you should’ve stayed instead of going home; where you should’ve said yes instead of no; where you misjudged your importance at the company only to be tossed out on your ass. None of which you were going to say to your employer, but they hung over you.
“I want to be dependable and irreplaceable.”
Lucius smiled. It was a slow smile. The kind that made your heart skip when he gave it to you over the rim of his glass. Your hands trembled around yours, and you made yourself take another sip just to fill the silence between your words and his smile.
“That’s a good answer.” He nodded, tapping your file again. “Every project you’ve worked on has been top-notch. It’s been outright perfect, even, with the rare mistakes only back when you first started. Everyone talks you up. You’ve got a perfect attendance record. Stay the latest, come in the earliest. Cover for anyone who needs it. Beatrix even talks you up every chance she gets.” He tilted his head and there in came the clinking of his rings against the glass again. Light shifts behind you were the literal reminder whom you sat amongst. Though, you could feel all of their eyes falling upon you with every word Lucius said. “Even with overtime, I don’t think you’re being fairly compensated. Do you?”
Well, that was certainly a tangent into that conversation. Your pulse flickered, and you could pinpoint Gaian sitting back in his spot right as your heart stuttered. Knowing he was so honed in on your pulse…what else was everyone there focused on? What were they thinking when they looked at you? What should you be thinking? What should you be fucking saying as Lucius waited for you response?
Payment. Properly paid. A raise.
You cleared your throat a tad awkwardly, licking the drink from your lips. You hadn’t eaten since early that morning and that food in your stomach was doing nothing to soak up the alcohol.
“If the offer of a raise is on the table, yes, I…wouldn’t mind discussing it for the workload I handle,” you answered with a nod. “For a more fair compensation.”
Lucius’ smile grew a little more. The silver in his eyes got a little darker.
“Right.” He returned your nod. “For the work you volunteer to do.”
The word was like a tip of a blade pressing against your jugular. It left you with the retort, and you had to do so carefully or else you’d get cut.
Volunteer. You did volunteer for it, yes. But….
“If I did not, there would be slack left to be picked up by someone else who wouldn’t do it, or, at least, not do it as well as I do.” You pushed your shoulders back a bit more. “Beatrix has been able to leave when she wants every day because I hold back and catch up on deadlines for the others.”
“Voluntarily. Do you think it earns you brownie points because you save Beatrix a few late nights while cashing in on an overtime check?” Lucius leaned back, resting his hands on the edge of his desk and tapping his fingers on the underside. Ever so gently, but it was just loud enough with his rings that you couldn’t help but watch, distractedly. “You choose to sacrifice your time at your own discretion.”
You sucked in a hot, frustrated breath.
“Would you like me to stop? I can return to my typical duties and my expected schedule.” If that’s what the meeting was about–trapping you in some twist of your words and overtime to prevent giving you a raise–you’d do exactly that. Work to the exact degree your contract stated. No more. “If you think you can compensate for my dependability through those elsewhere on floor five, of course. I’m happy to do that.”
“Oh, she’s got more bite than I thought,” Fiona hummed. “Fun.”
Heat touched the tips of your ears. Was this about intimidating you? This could’ve been a message from Darnell or Eva. Hell, Beatrix could’ve pulled you aside to say as much. But having the entire Board of Directors there while you got a dressing down for having the audacity to think they might give you a slight raise was overkill. It was just cruel.
“Honestly, I admire your dedication to the job. I wish even half of my employees would try and bleed me dry as you are with how often you’re here. More than you’re ever home, it seems. You are dependable, aren’t you?” His fingers continued the same rhythmic tapping. The slew of gems on his rings caught the lights in the room with all the flare they held within them. Your heart stammered again; your breath caught in your throat. “You’d make a good manager, always taking care of everyone when Beatrix can’t. Covering for them. All with impeccable work to top it off. You are practically irreplaceable.”
Yes, you were. And outside of a raise, you’d love a promotion. But given how this talk was already going, the idea of looking for other places for work wasn’t too far away. You’d done a lot of work just to get a job there; it was the best spot to work at in town by a longshot. But if they were going to underpay and undervalue you already, mocking you in front of the damn Board of Directors, then the best option was to leave. Right?
“We have a special practice here at Cardinal Veil Industries. For promotions, for raises.” Lucius hummed, finishing off the last of his drink. “I agree with you and I agree with Beatrix, who came to me on your behalf to once again talk up her best employee. You deserve a raise. A proper raise. But in order to sign off on that, we’re going to have to ask you to really prove your dedication to Cardinal Veil Industries.”
You blinked at him. Prove yourself? A little trickle of warmth slid down the back of your neck and down into your chest. A dry mouth was satisfied with another longer sip of the sweet liquor–with how floaty the room was getting, it could only be liquor–and you swallowed it hard, throwing the confusion right at Lucius without a filter.
“Have I not proven that dedication over the last year?” you asked a bit too bluntly.
“Oh, you have.” Lucius pushed up. Slow strides moved him from in front of you to your side. His fingers skimmed along the edge of the armrest and followed it up, up, and up to your shoulder. Up where his fingers skimmed over the very edge of your blazer, and another warm shiver climbed along your neck. Right where his warm fingers skimmed over your jaw and so gently held you.
Turned you.
Your breath went quiet yet frantic as you were turned. Just a little tilt of your head, nothing more, but his touch at your jaw was as burning hot as it was soft. And out to the side, where your eyes fell, came his other hand. A single flick of wrist brought forth a cloud of sparkling ash and a piece of paper. Held carefully before you, the tips of his fingers lazily running along the curve of your jaw, you blinked at the ink forming on the page.
40% raise - Assistant Managerial Position - Floor 8.
“How does this sound?” he asked, tracing his fingers down along the side of your throat.
How did that sound? Holy shit. You’d expected a few dollars. Not a 40% increase, a floor promotion, and a title promotion. That…. No wonder the Board of Directors was there. This was far from what you’d anticipated. Your hard word had paid off.
You nodded. You’d be an idiot not to nod. There was no negotiating anything better from that deal.
Except, when you glanced down at the bottom of the page for any semblance of a line for a signature, there wasn’t one. The document just outlined the basic premise of the salary raise and the promotion. That and…and signing wasn’t signing with the company. You were signing with him. With Lucius.
With him, Phoenix, Gaian, Calder, Fiona, Varfu, and Beatrix as an added beneficiary as she’d recommended you. To secure your employment and “protect” your position beyond the means of traditional contracts. Like the paper one sitting in a filing cabinet you’d signed when you’d been hired. To earn a yearly 20% raise–at the very least–and the promise of a promotion if your work did not fall in standard. It guaranteed days off, doubling your already unused PTO; gave you an assistant and your own office.
All to be sealed with the aforementioned CEO, Board of Directors, and manager of which such recommendation came from–physically. To ensure a sealed contract.
Your stomach flipped. The contract blurred out when you did not blink nor lift your eyes from the page. The heat of his touch seeping into you when he brushed his fingers back up along your jaw was like hot wax eager to seal a demon’s deal.
This…. Your mouth parted to scoff, but no sound came out. Lucius’ fingers skimmed back down along your throat but didn’t stop at the brush of your collar; they dipped ever so slightly underneath, the very tips tickling the top of your collarbone and sending a lightning bolt of…of something down your stomach to where your legs sat crossed.
It was offensive. It was bullshit. It was a twist of power. It was coercion. It was downright disgusting.
“It’s a lucrative offer,” he mused, brushing the fabric aside as his finger traced your collarbone with what it could reach without restriction. The lightest of touches. Back and forth. A mere movement away from wrapping his fingers around your throat in the choking grasp he might as well have had on you. “You won’t get a better one again if you decline, and you won’t get anything even a fraction of this good elsewhere. If you want to get up and leave, by all means. I’ll even write you a stunning letter of recommendation for wherever else you go. But this?” His hand moved. It slid right into that very grasp, closing around your throat high enough to move your head back. Eyes pulled away from the contract to focus on his, his thumb brushing over you soothingly. “This is life-changing, and you know it.”
Your breath hitched underneath his grasp. His smile might’ve been upside down, but it was still a smile. A burning, soft, wicked smile that was right. As much as it pained you, it was. It was a miraculous offer that came with no miracles attached. A demon’s deal to sign, and to sign it with yourself…with…with all of them. It wasn’t even about your work ethic anymore, was it? Or maybe it was and that was entirely part of it.
Every being in that room…. Well, it made sense why they were there. Really made sense. A sting of tears pressed against the back of your eyes as Lucius kept them glued to his. What’ll it be? A question they asked and you asked yourself. If you wanted a raise and a promotion, what were you willing to do for them? What were you willing to give up if you didn’t? You could leave, but you’d be taking him at his word that all would go on as normal if you stayed in your position. You could quit, and trust he’d write you a good letter of recommendation. But you’d made the mistake of trusting when you shouldn’t have; one too many ill choices put you exactly in that position for trying to better yourself.
“So what will it be?” he asked, gliding his hand higher.
His thumb brushed over your lips while he cupped your jaw. It was softer than you would’ve thought, and moved so, so delicately as he parted your lips. A careful press of the pad of his thumb rested atop your mouth, rubbing back and forth.
So what would it be?
You felt the magic looming in the air, and the threat of failure and distrust beyond the walls of his office. You blinked away the sting of tears.
“Make it floor ten,” you murmured, forcing the words out steadily.
Lucius’ smile twitched into a smirk. A short, sharp laugh followed, and you felt it down in your stomach. It was a last-ditch effort but–
“Nineth floor, no higher,” he answered, pressing his thumb down harder as he flicked his other wrist. The number changed on the contract instantly.
And just like that….
You swallowed hard.
“Okay.” The word left you breathlessly. “We have a deal then.”
It was the only option you had for success. A demon’s deal secured with a glow of red within the ink, marking the finality of it. Your position secured so long as you followed through with the terms. The terms sitting in seven all around you. Seven powerful beings sitting up straighter, shifting, finishing off and topping off their drinks while the air turned hot and thick.
Lucius kept that grin as the contract poofed from his hand and appeared floating over his desk. Elongated–new lines appearing next to everyone’s names. Their signatures waiting, yet you instinctively knew there was no pen to be taken and no ink for it to be dipped in. The stipulation of the contract was singular and simple. Physical.
“Well then,” he cooed, “we should seal it with a kiss.”
Lucius dragged his thumb slowly, adjusting his grip to take you by your throat. There’d needn’t be much behind the hold, the start of his pull had you moving to your feet in an instant. Gradually rising out of the chair whilst his lips came to yours halfway. You hardly stood, barely getting your legs uncrossed to get the proper support. To keep your balance, you had to plant your hands on the armrests, fighting the curve of your back and the hold on your throat as his mouth pressed to yours.
Slowly. Searing.
He tasted like magic–dangerous, powerful magic.
“There we go,” he murmured, nudging your lips apart with his. He kissed you harder, held you just the same, pressing the patterns along his rings into your skin. The air in the room grew inexplicably warmer; a humidity in their air that made every breath feel thick and as dangerous as those you were with. “Let’s earn you those signatures.”
One flick of his wrist, and what balance you’d tried to maintain was gone. On weak knees and heels that suddenly felt too tall, you were turned and shoved to the very center of those caged in around you. Beatrix, Gaian, Calder, Phoenix, Fiona, and Varfu. Lucius stalking up behind you.
The momentum and positioning sent you staggering directly forward. Staggering until your knees buckled and hit the rug positioned just in front of Calder and Phoenix. You caught yourself on your hands, staring down at the ornate rug now pressing into your palms and knees. At Phoenix’s dress shoes and Calder’s expensive sneakers. Your stomach twisted into something molten at the mere sight, and it twisted harder when they shifted.
When a hand reached and cupped the bottom of your chin.
Phoenix guided you up to your knees with your chin in his hand. Scales were a light glint when his tailored shirt shifted over his wrist, and you could see the faint outline of them going across his forearm.
“Open your mouth,” he whispered.
Gold eyes looked back at you with a flash within them. A striking difference to the glow in Calder’s settling in just in your peripheral vision. Phoenix tipped your chin up more and pulled you in closer, parting his knees so you sat right up against the edge of the couch. It pressed into your midsection, and you planted your hands on it on either side of you to support yourself while he moved you. While you felt the heat of defeat and humiliation on your lips, lingering with a strong tingling from Lucius’ kiss, when you parted them.
Phoenix hummed. Next to him, you needn’t look to know that the low growl was from the man next to him. It turned something in your stomach that you kept quiet on. Had to keep quiet on. Phoenix lifted his other hand and gradually sank his middle and ring finger into your mouth. Starting so, so languidly, giving you the tips and just that before catching your eye and pressing them in.
And in.
And in.
He tasted like ash as his rough fingers pressed down on your tongue and sat just a hair shy of your gag reflex.
“Have you ever been with anyone who wasn’t human?” he asked, gingerly pulling his fingers back to the tips, then pressing them right back in. His hand remained on your chin, keeping it up and locked onto him. Your breathing picked up and you tried to close your eyes, but there was something captivating about his. Something that told you to stay right there; that was right. This was what you just sealed with a kiss.
That did not stop the kiss of degrading humiliation from touching your cheeks.
You tried to delay your answer, but by the time he pumped his fingers into your mouth again, you knew you had to answer.
You shook your head as much as his grasp would allow.
Calder made another sound akin to a growl. There were various hmmms across the room that sent goosebumps down your spine.
“Sorry, Varfu, you’ll have to go last. This one seems…delicate.” Phoenix stilled his fingers just outside of your mouth, making you look back at your spit glistening on them. “We don’t want to break her.”
A low, grumbling huff made your stomach do a flip. There wasn’t an average person in that room. Sure, some looked human, Phoenix himself was half-human, and most had general human proportions. But they weren’t human.
What would they want from you?
Phoenix wiped his wet fingers over your lips. Calder’s chest heaved with huffing, audible breaths.
“Poor thing. You’re going to make her have a panic attack.” Gaian’s smooth voice carried across the space to brush up against your ear. “Or are you just trying to tease me with her fluttering pulse, Phoenix?”
“Enough.”
Fiona’s voice cut through the room like a knife. There was a snap to it you could feel. No,no–you did feel it. A snap of something that latched onto you. Around your throat. It constricted your airway just enough to make you gasp for a deeper breath, but all you earned was a tug. It hauled you away from Phoenix’s opening hand, and brought you to your hands and knees on that rug. Crawling. Following that pull like a leash toward Fiona. A dark green vine looming with matching magic puffing around it like smoke. Thorns lined it, but only pinched against your skin when you didn’t crawl fast enough.
She rolled her hand in a wave to wrap the vine around it, sitting upright and right on the edge of her loveseat, eyes burning into you. One tug, and you were there. Chin up just the same, gasping for more air than she was giving you. She dragged her free hand over her lap and down her upper thigh. Green-painted nails caught the fabric until there wasn’t any there; two fingers dipped and hooked around the slit going along her leg, and she arched her back and spread her legs while she pulled it aside.
The thinnest, silky piece of black cloth covered her.
“If we play your idiotic games, we’ll be here all night. There is a nuance to toying and teasing.” She wrapped the leash around her hand again. Your chin bumped the edge of the loveseat. Her inner thighs were soft against your jaw. With a smooth, easy motion, she hooked her fingers around her underwear. And with a light tug, she was there in front of you. Bare. Wet. “Like seeing how wet she gets from eating pussy. Go ahead. I want to see if you have any talents outside of brown-nosing at work.”
This was the stakes of the contract. This–
Fiona tugged on the leash again, and lest you want the thorns to break skin, you moved with it. The last few inches, nestling your face between her legs without a second to try and catch your breath. When you gasped, it was just her. Wet against you. Her legs parted to give you more room, and you felt a surge go through you at all there; all watching; all the blank spaces on the contact. The contract. The position. The singular opportunity.
You’d sealed it with a kiss, there was no backtracking a deal with a demon.
With another endless stammer in your pulse, you closed your eyes and let your mouth fall open. Lolling your tongue out, there she was. Wetter than you’d anticipated for the circumstances. Sensitive, too, when you lapped at her cunt, trying to find her clit. She rolled her hips, not inherently helping or guiding, but it was enough to let you really dive in. Chin and jaw wet, chest heaving, tongue lapping at her clit.
The second her quiet moan broke through the room, you repeated the motion. Earn her signature. You were already there; already tongue deep inside of her as she yanked down on the leash and brought your tongue to her fluttering cunt. You felt a light ache in your jaw and neck as you tilted your head to tonguefuck her, but carried on. Thinking of the logistics was easier. You were trying to make her cum, that was it. You weren’t on the floor of Lucius’ office with the rest of the Board of Directors, all awaiting their turn. You…you weren’t…. You weren’t enjoying it.
You weren’t–
Two hands on the backs of your thighs made you yelp. Fiona’s hold on the leash kept you steady and stuck, leaving you to lap at her cunt as fingers tucked underneath your skirt. The fabric was stretched tight when you were on your knees like that. Really tight. It made for a bit of force being necessary when they tugged up on the material. Up, up, and up just enough over your ass where they squeezed your hips.
“Steady now,” Gaian murmured beside you. They were his hands, then, skimming down over your ass to grip your inner thighs. A low burning started in your head at what he was doing–what all he could be doing. You closed your mouth around Fiona’s clit and sucked, trying to focus on that instead. Right as he slid his fingers up over the seam of your nylons. With one rightly placed pull, you felt them give. A small hole he pulled open, earning you a brush of his fingers over your bottom first. Then, lower, as he guided that hole open more, more, more along the seam. “There we go.”
Right over your cunt.
“Now…let’s see….” He hummed softly, and therein came a brush of his knuckle just over the crotch of your underwear. It was a fleeting touch at first. Barely there, but enough to send your nerves on high alert. Then, there was another. It lingered just a tad longer, one brush becoming two. Two becoming three. Three becoming a light press of his thumb rubbing up and down over your cunt, making you tense up frozen solid. “Uh-oh, what’s this?”
No.
Fiona yanked on the leach again. You gasped into her cunt.
Gaian’s hand slid up, and his thumb hooked around the edge of your underwear.
No, no. Wait. This…was happening too fast. Everything was happening too fast since you walked in there.
Cool air hit you. The elastic in your underwear stretched to accommodate Gaian’s movement, holding it aside to bare you to the room.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Gaian whispered with an edge of sincerity in his voice that circled back around to direct mockery. Heat trampled you; it drowned you. You just shoved your face forward and drove your tongue into Fiona again, listening to her whine so, so lazily. “Would you look at that? Look at how wet her pretty cunt is.”
Gaian’s fingers were freezing cold. He brushed them over you, rubbing in exactly what he’d just shown off to the room. Smearing your wetness around like you were a toy to play with, and your pussy was the best part. You tried to ignore it; tried to fight the shiver sneaking along your back and down to your parted thighs. This wasn’t…. No. This was a mockery of you. This was degrading. It was coercion.
“Hear that?” Gaian ran his fingers in big, lazy circles over you, smearing you with yourself again. Even where you were face-first, caged in by Fiona’s thighs, lapping at her wetness, you could hear it. Felt it. Felt where he shifted his fingers so the very tips brushed against your clit, and you jolted with a painful gasp. “Ha.”
His hand retreated for a mere moment before it was back with a light slap. A wet, squelching slap that brought a quick sting of contact to your clit. You fell forward, panting against Fiona’s upper thigh. Your knees tried to you, your legs tried to close–what they were doing was humiliating–but a yank on the leash had your head up. The light of the room came back. Fiona’s eyes locked onto yours.
You could see it on the minimal slack of the leash that you were shaking.
“Pathetic. You’re better off with your tongue being used while you lay there.” A wave of her hand was all it took to be able to breathe again, but you weren’t even sure you could do that properly. Your underwear was still askew, your skirt was pulled up, and before you could reach down to fix it, Beatrix was walking by to grab you by your blazer.
She dragged you back over to Phoenix and Calder. The latter’s eyes were burning a dangerous yellow that made the hair on your neck stand on end. Phoenix was simply reaching for his belt. He unbuckled his and silently reached next to him. He undid Calder’s just as Beatrix dropped you against their couch. All Phoenix did was curl his fingers at you. A simple beckon. Right where he nudged his pants open to show off the bulge in his briefs. There was little time to react. Beatrix was behind you, reaching around to pull your blazer off and toss it aside. Phoenix cupped the back of your head as she did so, guiding you right over to where he tugged his cock out. Erect. Thick. Leaking already. A peek of scales was visible at the base of his shaft where he held himself with a lazy fist.
Your lips and chin still glistened from Fiona when he brought you to him. His turn, then? You parted your mouth like you’d been hired for this very task–tending to them. Serving them as they wanted to each take their turn. Yet your mouth opened, yet you closed it right around the head of his cock, and yet you held no resistance when he gradually pressed down on the back of your head and groaned.
You took him as deep as you could on that first try. The salty taste of him spread from your tongue to the back of your throat, and he held you there a moment. Heat touched the tips of your ears, slid down your cheeks, and danced along your neck.
This…was….
He pulled you back, and moved your head again, bobbing it along his erection.
Beatrix’s hands slid down your inner thighs until they got to your knees. She pushed until they gave, and she pushed until they were far apart. Your eyes watered as you choked on Phoenix’s cock.
The noise Calder made beside him was downright beastly.
“Wait your turn,” Phoenix breathed. “A moment longer, wolf, then she’ll taste you.”
Stated so matter of factly. But with a mouth full of cock, you have nothing to say about it. There was nothing to say to the contrary. You just swallowed around Phoenix’s cock and continued to bob your head, taking him at his guidance. Trying to do your best, trying to do what you figured they wanted from you. Just trying to satisfy since there was nothing to bring you back to the moment before Lucius sealed the deal with a kiss.
An assistant manager spot on the ninth floor with an insane pay raise. You repeated the sentiment to yourself again and again. This had to be worth it. Phoenix lifted you off when you bobbed your head again, and held a tight grip on your hair while he moved you over. His grasp didn’t leave when you blinked down at Calder’s steadily leaking cock. He had both arms back–one along the back of the couch and the other on the armrest. His grip was iron; painful looking; bruising. And a mere glimpse of those glowing yellow eyes said this was about the closest thing to caring about your well-being outside of them declaring Varfu would go last.
As you licked the drool from your mouth, Phoenix brought your mouth to Calder. His grin was a fucking vice–harder than when you’d been on him. He moved you at a snail’s pace and absolutely no faster. He held you at Calder’s tip.
“Lick,” he outright seemed to order.
What could only be Beatrix’s hands skimmed over your inner thighs again, this time traveling up.
Tentatively, you did as you were told. Carefully lolling out your tongue to lick at Calder’s tip. Sensitive. The word was quite literally thrust up into your mouth when his hips jerked up. The sharp stinging in your scalp came when Phoenix reeled you back, only letting Calder’s thrust get him partially inside your mouth and no more.
“Sit still, or I’m bringing her back to me.”
Calder’s grown was a fucking threat. It triggered the fight or flight right down in your stomach, and were it not for Phoenix’s hand, you wouldn’t have moved at all. He brought your mouth back to Calder at that snail’s pace. Very, very gingerly bringing you down over his cock. With how his thighs tensed up, how he started shaking, it must’ve been torture keeping still. You might’ve relished in that if it didn’t seem like everyone in the room was taking sick satisfaction from it.
Especially when Calder’s cock hit the back of your throat and Phoenix held you there.
Especially when just as your eye stung from the position, Beatrix’s fingers rubbed over your cunt.
“Mmm, I have been wanting to do this since I hired you,” she breathed. With one little movement, two fingers were there. Pressing inside of you. Carefully filling you with curling, parting like scissors. You clenched around them involuntarily, making a humiliating sound over Calden’s cock that made him jolt and grunt. “You know, every late night and early morning I saw you hunched over your desk working, I wondered if you even had anyone that played with your pussy like this. But if you did, you wouldn’t have been at work, would you?”
Her fingers pumped into you right as Phoenix lifted your head, and slowly bobbed it back down over Calden’s cock. He grunted again, throwing his head back so the sound bounced out across the whole room.
Tears pricked the back of your eyes. Calden’s cock hit the back of your throat when his hips jutted up once again.
“Perhaps we should not play with her cunt then,” Varfu added. Phoenix lifted you from Calden and brought you back over to himself, gliding his cock into your mouth and guiding you into a faster, deeper pace. Beatrix curled her fingers into you and held them there, wiggling her fingers and brushing them just up against your sweet spot with an accuracy that made you nearly yelp. It turned into what should’ve been a gasp, but with Phoenix’s cock in your mouth, you moaned. Sloppily. Awkwardly. Desperately. “One orgasm, and she may lose all efficiency. I have no qualms taking the time to fit myself into her asshole.”
“Too good for her mouth, is that it?” Fiona chirped.
“She will have enough lockjaw from you lot.” The couch creaked a tad under Varfu. You clenched around Beatrix’s fingers and whined in the in between as Phoenix brought you back to Calden’s cock. “Besides, I can see her clenching from here. I want to feel that on my cock.”
“Varfu.”
Lucius’ voice was calm yet…strong. It was all too much to keep up with. Every person in the room; every touch; bouncing between Phoenix and Calden. You whined again as two fingers became three, and Beatrix leaned in and drew her tongue over the curve of your ass.
“What did we say about not breaking her?” You could barely hear it, but his rings tapped against what had to be his glass.
Varfu merely grunted. “Do not dismiss my point. Are you not thinking it yourself? Have you not denied a person for weeks at a time until they are maddened by it or am I confusing you with another demon?”
Weeks? Others? You choked back another moan on Phoenix’s cock, held with his tip at the back of your throat while Beatrix slid her other hand around to find your clit. Oh, dear god. Your eyes clamped shut and tears and drool mixed together on the base of Phoenix’s cock. It was too much. It was too good. Felt too good. Felt way too good. Beatrix had one finger rubbing slow, precise circles right over your clit, giving it proper attention. Right as her fingers curled and shallowly slid out before sliding right back in. Loudly squelching while they fucked your pulsing cunt. Right as you started to really gush around them, the sensation rising into a peak you could shove away.
Dear god. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oh, are you going to cum?” Beatrix murmured. “That quickly? We’ve barely gotten started. Do you just like having your mouth used like this or has it just been that long since someone’s fucked you properly? At all, even?”
No, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yes. Fuck. You choked hard around Phoenix’s cock, lending a hard yank on your hair and a shove that did a lot more than pull you off his cock. You stumbled off, falling back into Beatrix before anything…before…. Her arms wrapped around you to catch you, her wet fingers coming up to your mouth. It happened fast, the press of them past your lips as she held you. As you locked onto Phoenix squeezing the base of his cock, Calden panting with glowing yellow eyes so fierce you nearly choked on Beatrix’s fingers, and both watching you firmly.
You tasted yourself on your tongue.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?” she asked. With her other hand, she reached around for the top button of your blouse. It gave with ease. As did the second. And the third. And the fourth. Until you were on top of her, trying to close your legs, your shirt open to expose your white bra. “I’ll take your silence as a no, then. Hm. Gaian, are you hungry?”
With a retreat of her fingers wet from you in various ways, she took a hold of your chin. Your head spun as fast as the room was. Your cunt ached in ways you couldn’t keep up with. Everything was happening so fast. And…and hunger–Gaian? Then Lucius. And Varfu. Everyone…everyone they….
Beatrix turned your head and angled it for you to look right at Varfu. He was palming his cock through his slacks, eyes glued to you. Lucius stood beside him, arms crossed, drink in his hand. The silver in his eyes burned into you just as cold hands skimmed over your sides.
“I am ravenous.” Gaian came in abruptly, his mouth brushed against your throat without any hesitation. “But tell me, Lucius, before I bite the poor woman and ruin any plan of efficiency you think Varfu is correct about. One bite, and we both know she’ll be done for.”
One bite. You craned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his fangs. Beatrix jerked you back into position just as quickly as you’d looked. One vampire bite. You’d never been bitten before, but you knew the effects.
There was a weird moment then; knowing what awaited if he bit you. Falling into the depths of sin pumped into your veins from his venom. You’d be drunk on it. A version of yourself without restraints, high on needing everything from them. But knowing if he fed from you without biting you? One orgasm and you could lose all efficiency.
Did you want to fall into the very depth of pleasure unlocked within and degrade yourself with so much eagerness that the contract wouldn’t have mattered if Gaian had bit you from the start? Or did you want to retain some dignity while they hauled you between them, playing with you like a toy that only ever reached an edge, never to fall over?
Your eyes dropped to Varfu’s giant bulge. The notion of fitting that inside of you was already daunting. Knowing he was going to stuff it inside your ass while you went the night right on the very edge Phoenix had shoved you away from right into Beatrix’s arms?
But Lucius was a demon. Your eyes flitted back over to his and you could feel the fear erupt within yours. The best answer was silence on your behalf. Begging, asking, pleading for one over the other would grant you nothing. It would earn you the opposite of whatever you wanted, and if you tried to play the game of reserving that psychology around, someone as powerful as him would just intensify the reaction for even considering that.
Gaian drew his tongue over your throat, and you let your eyes flutter shut.
“Oh, sweet thing, you’re going to have a heart attack if you don’t calm down,” Gaian murmured. “Deep breath. In, out.” He rubbed a hand over your chest, holding it right over your heart. “In and out. There you go.”
Your exhale shuddered.
You shuddered.
You–flinched. Your eyes jerked open at the warm touch against your cheek. Lucius knelt in front of you. Right in front of you, his eyes burning into you so deeply, you felt yourself start to crack down to your very soul.
Your next breath stuttered like it was on the verge of a sob
“Bite her,” he breathed. “She wants it so badly it hurts.”
Varfu grunted in frustration, but you only heard the sound. Lucius knelt blocking the view, brushing a finger over your cheek just as you realized a tear snuck out. He caught it and brought it to his lips right when Gaian’s parted over your throat. A sharp prick broke through your skin, and Lucius reached for you. He held you as your jaw tight.
It took one single second. Gaian’s fangs pierced you, you took the start of a breath, and then the overwhelming heat shot through you like a bolt of lightning. It danced along your back and through your nerves with a brush of kisses. It sank beyond you and down into that soul you felt cracking. It latched onto every inch of you from the inside out, and everything heightened. Everything grew aching. Everything tensed up and you curled your toes. And at only the drag of Gaian’s tongue over the puncture wound, you snapped.
Your mouth fell open in what you couldn’t decipher as a silent scream or an audible one. Lucius didn’t so much as flinch to give you any hints. Your pulse was in your head, drowning out all other sounds, until it turned into a spiral of visceral, orgasmic pleasure that was as such so literally. You fought Beatrix and Gaian’s collective hold, and Lucius maintained his, his eyes so strikingly on yours. Not so much as a blink met them.
Everything was on fire in indescribably wonderful ways as you gushed around nothing. As you gasped and writhed and came.
And Lucius smiled.
“This is an official work contract, Varfu,” Lucius hummed while he cupped your cheek. “Let’s not start it off with such a cruel punishment.”
“And if I am correct and her efficiency falters?” Varfu asked. His belt clanked as he yanked it open.
Lucius brushed his finger over another of your tears and stood.
“Then, as such fine print states, you can have your vote on a punishment and such participation within on. Or what stipulations are necessary for her next promotion and so on. Really, you must dampen your impatience. It is unbecoming.”
Unbecoming?
Unbecoming.
You were unbecoming the second your eyes rolled back. In such a description, you were correct–all self-control and potential lingering dignity snapped. The moment Gaian’s fangs sank into you, you were beyond gone. You bled onto his tongue as pleasure bled into you. The desperation for it coming in thick, near-painful waves. You felt yourself sob when Beatrix’s fingers slid back down to your cunt, and you sobbed again when she rubbed your clit aimlessly, licking along the path of a tear as your body tensed, shuddered, and came with another cry.
Description, yes. You had that correct. But the actual effects?
You knelt in front of Fiona’s loveseat with your face between her legs. Only your torn nylons and pulled-aside underwear remained on you. The rest of your clothing was off elsewhere within the room with a few pieces from the others. Roots grew up from the floor as you lapped at her cunt, wrapping around your arms to hold them behind your back, your knees to keep them spread apart, and up around your throat where it leashed out into her palm like the thorny vine. They spread further than you as you dove your tongue into her weeping cunt.
They locked Calden against the floor beneath you from the waist up. He barked when Fiona brought them over him just as he slid underneath you to slide his cock into you, but she didn’t let up. She even went as far as tightening them to still him like a collared beast when Phoenix came up behind you, pulling you off of Calden, asking you if you wanted him to fuck you, too.
You barely registered the frantic yes that came out of you.
All you felt was that desperate, visceral need. That choking want that slammed into you over and over again at breakneck speed. A sharp contrast to Calden’s growl when Phoenix slowly pushed into you. His cock filled you, and he kept that slow speed while Calden thrashed underneath, barking out curses that went in one ear and out the other.
All you knew was need. All you wanted was more.
Fiona came twice and you were drowning in your own countless orgasms by the time you weren’t just swapping between Phoenix and Calden, but both pressed into you. Phoenix worked you open bit by bit when Calden fucked you. It was a perpetual state of not enough. It didn’t matter that Phoenix reached around you to rub your clit as they both sat inside of you, stretching both holes, with Varfu grunting about them hurrying up–you came as hard as you had when Gaian bit you.
You came just as hard when they both finally moved, and your vision blurred with pure, sobbing ecstasy.
“Mmm, there she is,” Gaian hummed beside you. Blood coated the front of his shirt, his chin, and where he hadn’t licked it off of his lips. A fistful of Beatrix’s hair was wrapped in his fist, and his red eyes seared into you as he guided her mouth over him. “You picked a good one, Beatrix. I like this one a lot.”
“She did pick well.” Lucius leaned back against his desk, nursing another drink. Your file sat open next to him, the contract floating beside him. Fiona’s name was the only one scribbled in, and that you only saw when she tossed your head back, and you fell against Phoenix’s chest. He wrapped you in an impersonal embrace, holding you at your throat with a grip that was nothing more than support, and at your hips, readjusting the angle so he could keep thrusting into you. The roots receded from Calden, and he let out a fierce growl. “Beatrix’s instincts have always been topnotch. I want you to move to nine with her. You work well together.”
Beatrix hummed around Gaian’s cock, and the rest blurred when Phoenix moved his hand to rub your clit. He needn’t do it for any sake attributed to you; Calden was fucking into you so hard and fast, you couldn’t keep up with how abrupt he threw you over the edge. You would’ve buckled and fell forward were it not for Phoenix’s vice grip. He grunted next to your ear and held you steady.
“Fuck. That’s it, squeeze me,” he breathed, a lick of something hot hitting the shell of your ear. “Fuck.”
His grasp tightened on your throat until you couldn’t get air in your lungs. His hips stuttered, and he slammed into you deeper; harder. Calden didn’t stop, his chest heaving and his grip growing bruising on your legs and his. He barked out a grunt, his eyes fluttering over you, your cunt, his cock driving into you, and then back over your shoulder and Phoenix went still. He bit at your earlobe as he came inside of you, milking every drop he had, the rough brush of his scales against your ass with every thrust.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Calden grunted. He threw his head back just as another orgasm came barreling in at you, and tears spilled. He came with a fierce intensity, jerking his hips up, and rutting into you without a stammer in his pace.
He came hard; he came a lot. It spilled out of you and dripped onto him and the floor, but he kept driving into you. Again. Again. Again. You fell back against Phoenix when another peak reached you, and felt the room spin.
Cum still leaked out of you when Calden pulled out. With blurry vision, their names appeared on the contract.
“There you go,” Gaian murmured, pinning your legs back as you blinked up at him. His cock nudged at your lips, but you weren’t entirely focused on him.
Calden and Phoenix were back on their couch enjoying fresh drinks, their eyes down on you. Fiona had Beatrix bound up in vines next to her on her loveseat, her fingers lazily fucking her cunt while she writhed. Lucius stayed next to the floating contract. Beatrix’s name was down at the bottom next to manager of the recommended line. But Varfu, he had you on his couch. The cushions were a false sense of comfort when he dropped his cock over your cunt.
Big.
Girthy.
Leaking.
Lucius spoke for the first time since your position change. Two words.
“Again, Gaian.”
Those silver eyes fell to you with a smile over his glass when you felt the stinging pinch of Gaian’s fangs on your ankle. Everything burst anew; exhaustion lay underneath it and the added sensitivity to where you were already sensitive had you arching your back off the couch with a moan. And just as you moved, just as Gaian slid his cock into your mouth and lapped at your blood, Varfu’s fat tip pressed against your cunt.
“First, here,” he grunted, “since I had to wait so fucking long.”
He pressed his hips forward, giving you his cock bit by girthy bit. It was too much. It was too fucking much. You outwardly choked on Gaian’s cock whilst writhing, and Varfu was only halfway in when you came. Blindingly, eyes fluttering shut, body shuddering–came.
And again, when he pulled out and snapped his hips forward. You could only take half of him, and he seemed fine with that. You jolted and jostled on the couch, lost in a stupor of orgasmic pleasure. Over and over–he milked sensations out of you that you couldn’t even fathom then.
You barely registered Gaian fucking your throat until he came, spilling down it with a soft grunt, brushing his thumb over your cheek until you swallowed. And swallowed.
“I’m a simple vampire,” he mused. He pulled out of your mouth with a pop. “And your blood is absolutely decadent.”
Gaian’s name faded onto the contract right as Varfu snapped his hips forward with a quiet roar. Calden had cum in what you’d thought was excess; it wasn’t until Varfu spilled inside of you that you had a new definition of that. He pulled out to cum the rest over your stomach, and you could still feel it seeping out of you. A full mess of his seed, painted white all across your abdomen, barely registering all of it when he pressed his still-hard cock against your ass.
“Now, here.”
He pushed in with a reserved motion you weren’t anticipating, and you weren’t silent in your gratitude.
He fucked your ass long and hard, drawing it out until you took all of him. Stretched wide, shuddering, and aching to cum as the fresh bite on your ankle drove you mad.
He came inside of you again, giving you every drop he had before pulling out.
He let your legs drop unceremoniously and slumped back with a satisfied humph.
His name appeared on the contract.
The room spun into a sea of golden lights and various sounds when you sprawled out. You aimed to look at the contract, but everything was so much. Everything ached and throbbed, and you still wanted. You needed. You yearned for more despite the limit your body reached.
There was just one blank spot left. It hung there empty beside the very spot that stood just as empty as the page.
More…?
More….
More–
“Sh….”
Silver eyes brought yours up beside you. The couch dipped and he sat, his heat reaching through his clothes until they met your damp, bare side.
The very tips of his fingers brushed along your jaw. They drew goosebumps before they reached your throat, and held them at attention when he traced the curve of your breast down along the side. Your breath hitched, yet his movements were hypnotic; he was, his eyes trained on you, flitting between where his fingers brushed over your nipple and up to your half-lidded, bleary eyes. They stayed there when he rolled your nipple, pinching it softly at firm, until it tightened into such a pinch that brought your shoulders back and your back arched.
“A piece of advice,” he hummed, lifting his fingers and moving his hand lower.
His fingers brushed over your cunt gingerly; they parted you, ran through the mix of cum leaking out of you, and skimmed right down to your aching cunt. Two fingers slid in and curled with such expert precision, you were nearly at a loss for air. You were when his thumb shifted and pressed against your throbbing clit, running idle circles over it.
Your eyes rolled back involuntarily; exhaustion had an equal chokehold on you as need did. You clawed at the couch, panting, falling into the depth of every slow thrust of his fingers and the light stroking of his thumb.
Oh, dear go–
“This is how you earn promotions. How do you think we punish mistakes?”
You clenched around his fingers. Tears sprung from the corners of your eyes. You gasped and kicked, sniffling under the direct threat of white hot pleasure.
“We’ll be watching.” He curled his fingers just right, and the dam broke. Your nails caught on the cushions when you tried to anchor yourself. It was a fruitful effort, and it failed outright. You turned your head, burying it against the back cushion, moaning something fierce and running your already sore throat raw. A warm breath brushed against your ear. “I’ll be watching.”
Pleasure tore through you electric and powerful. Magic incarnate writhing around inside of you, wreaking a special sort of havoc rippling through you. You felt it–his name on the contract at last and the burning seal of it in your soul.
Your heart skipped a beat, and like it was the snap of some finger to cancel a trance, the effects of Gaian’s bite vanished. As did your consciousness. Exhaustion crashed into you; took a hold like a net on a fish, and dragged you down.
What had you done?
When you woke, you were inside a small office on a small, lumpy couch. Dressed. Sore. So exhausted, you couldn’t move. The meeting crept in, every touch, every taste, every single, small detail. It washed over in mortifying truth. In betrayal. In disgust. In need that throbbed where you ached sore.
And when you looked up at the door, milky glass looked back at you with a backwards inscription.
9th Floor Assistant Manager - (Y/N) (Y/L/N).
What had you done…?
You shuddered out a breath and allowed your arms to give out.
Well, you got your promotion.
What else was there to do but make every second of it count?
warnings: 1.6k words // fem!reader & eldritch sea monster // nsfw - non-con, cult, drugging, aphrodisiac + hypnotism, eldritch monster sacrifice, pov swap between reader and cultists at the end, giant monster, tentacles, magic, implied sexual stuff/it's vague but there
a/n: this one is less about the explicit smut and more about the implication <3
No.
You stir much more gently than you aspire for; you know what awaits you–what sits on the other side of your closed eyes. But as your pounding heart somehow stays calm, you’re stuck in place with body-warmed metal laced across you.
No, no.
It’s a fucking monstrosity.
A bump makes everything jolt. You. The metal chains. The world. You yank in a hard breath and feel the elastic in your bathing suit stretch along your chest and around your neck. Something cold drips down over your arms and stomach. It’s sticky and thick.
It’s not real–it can’t possibly be real. This is a dream. A nightmare. A fantasy.
The humidity within the cave makes everything thick and damp. It’s much more than the sweat beading along your brow. It drips down along your throat and down to where the sticky mess they’ve smeared on you. You squirm again as it burns your nerves with itches you can’t scratch, but it only sends an ache to your stomach–the angle of the board they’ve chained you to keeps you slanted, unsteady, and stuck.
This is a fucking nightmare–nothing more. It has to just be that. A very real-feeling nightmare.
The jostling stops, and that’s when you feel your pulse break through whatever was in the tea they’d served you however long ago that was. Could’ve been ten minutes or ten hours. Time itself has been bleeding together since then. As you go from slanted to upright. As hands come to find you, grabbing you at your waist, wrists, ankles. They haul you from the board as easily as a sack of potatoes, and despite how hard you try to thrash from their grasp, you barely twitch.
A low, heavy breathing breaks through the sounds of their scurrying.
A single, heavy, chilling drop falls into your stomach.
Goosebumps spread like wildfire in a drought. The air gets thicker; a murmured conversation in a language incomprehensible to your ears sends chills up to the hairs standing tall on the back of your neck.
Squelching.
There’s…squelching.
It sits there behind your eyes. No matter how hard you try to open them, they weigh a thousand pounds. It’s not sleep trying to take you, no. It’s not unconsciousness. No, you just…can’t yet. Can’t get there. Can’t come to.
But your heart stammers when those moving you lift your wrists up and bind them together on a hook. A cold, damp hook as thick as your forearms. Up. Hands fall away with a neighboring creeeaaak, and your stomach drops. But you lift. Up. Up. Up! Your toes brush the cold ground. You can kick, you can wiggle, you can writhe. But there’s one last brush of ground beneath you and that’s it–you’re dangling in the air with the ache of your weight carrying down through your arms and shoulders.
N-No….
It’s there–the painting of the…the thing inside that little seaside antique shop. The frame no bigger than your laptop screen and so old, it looked ready to fall apart if a gust of wind snuck into the shop. A mass of colors took up the canvas. Dark greens of similar shades, but none singular. At first, it just looked like a mess. But something about it held you steady. Hypnotic, really. You could see the brush strokes the longer you studied it. Stepping closer, you could see. Really see. Where the greens differentiated. Where there were shades of black shadows amongst them. Where the mass of paint wasn’t an abstract design, but a thing. A creature. Two yellow dots mixed in were piercing eyes. The faintest dash of white were the sharp pricks of teeth–fangs. Dozens upon dozens of…of mixing tentacles wrapped around each other and spread out across the canvas, taking up space like it was trying to break free of the frame.
And down as a speck–a little, barely-there speck–was a dollop of paint.
A person.
Drowning in the things arms.
Something stirred deep in your stomach. You scurried back to your friends, taking a moment to catch your stolen breath whilst staring pointlessly into the front counter. The sea of jewels looking back at you with prices you couldn’t afford.
While your friends went to the back to try on some vintage clothes, the kind person behind the counter offered you a cup of tea. For some reason, looking into their calming opal eyes, you accepted.
They gave it to you in a back room far from your friends. It only took a few minutes for the water to boil, but standing there looking around the little room, they talked about that painting. There were more in there–more for them to reference, for you to reference, as they spoke about the monster so many feared when the island once upon a time lost its fishing rights. They spoke of it like it was a god. It’s gargantuan size, it’s magic prowess, it’s all-knowing knowledge. You listened, you obeyed, or you suffered.
No turn took you away from some rendition of the beast. One of it bursting out of the water to roar at the very island you’d visited for a desperate vacation. Another of it attacking a boat the stranger said entered its waters without permission. Then another of various sailors being wrapped up in its tentacles, trapped like prisoners, their clothing torn and eyes entirely black. Then, as the stranger returned with your tea, you looked upon another, framed in gold. A spread of people without a speck of white in their eyes, splayed out naked, draped in its tentacles like they were fine clothing. Mouths wide, bodies limp and arched and curved.
“We have to keep it satisfied,” they said. The tea tasted like chamomile at first. Then, chamomile with something else. And then…something a little more. “You’ll be perfect.”
Their smile penetrated the fog crawling beyond the room and into you. The tea cup slipped from your fingers and the crash of ceramic to the tile floor was far away. So far away.
Their smile faded into darkness.
Then….
You jostle on the hook. The conversation carries off behind you farther into the distance. Another hoist of hook brings you higher; it sends another lurching ache through your upper body, but there’s nothing you can do.
But your eyes move.
They actually move.
The squelching gets louder.
The breathing gets closer.
No…no….
Opening your eyes…you feel them get lighter. You feel them want to open. But opening them means you look at where you are. You face what you can hear squelching closer. Lots of squelching–lots of things. A cold sweat carries itself over you like an anchor dropping. Your toes twitch and a sob climbs your throat.
Something…hot….
A hot gust of wind kisses you. Entirely. You breath hitches. No. You clamp your eyes shut so they stay that way.
It’s not wind.
The squelching doesn’t get louder, it just gets closer. All around you like a tidal wave closing in. No. No. No.
You want to scream, but your jaw won’t move.
You want to break free, but you can barely sniffle.
You want to go back to the beach with your friends, back to work with the boss you hate, anywhere but the antique shop that your friends had to go into.
A low, world-stopping snarl makes everything freeze.
The scent of the sea rushes at you.
Something…something pierces the veil of darkness behind your eyes like needles.
A tear slips out as your eyes involuntarily open.
One single yellow eye the size of you looks upon you. Enshrouded in darkness–a rich, slimy green so dark it nearly looks pitch black. Its pupil shrinks in focus, zeroing in on your frozen self. Around you, there’s the flicker of flames somewhere, but they’re gone in moments. One blink, and there’s darkness again, but your eyes remain open. They remain on the single eye in front of you.
It blinks.
And then something warm and slimy touches your foot.
It approves. From below, its servants watch with smiles. Spared another couple of months, should the new sacrifice fulfill its needs sufficiently. You came with friends, and surely they could use them if needed. It’s reassuring, though, as they bow to their god and whisper sweet thanks, how eager it seems with you.
It goes slowly–curiously. Its tendrils encapsulate your legs first, parting them. Its green excretion will only take moments to consume you, and it seems to take its time watching your eyes blacken and roll back. How it hasn’t even climbed higher than your thighs when your body falls limp and your chest heaves. An addiction made in moments; a new follower indoctrinated and awaited claim.
Its rumbling hum that shakes the cave–the island–with an earthquake sends a rush of excitement amongst its followers. They beam up at their good work. A new chosen one picked perfectly. Watching from below, through the mess of tendrils, they witness their fine work from beginning to its eventual end.
The fall of the thin swimsuit material.
The glistening skin the tendrils overtake.
The sacrifice being risen off the hook and draping herself within the hungry tendrils.
Smiles break out across the crowd.
Wrapped in its first gift, the sacrifice takes the second. Dressed in its tentacles like a tight gown, not a speck of skin bared to anyone but itself beneath them. They squelch and writhe, and a second gift becomes a third. A slow filling, a slow pulsing, a slow thrusting third.
A fourth, muffling all sounds slipping out.
A fifth to fill full and satisfy only the beginning of its hunger.
Thick, loud droplets fall and splatter along the cave floor.
The sacrifice’s muffled scream breaks through the squelching, and there’s a spatter of rain from above. Their god rumbles happily.
It’s only begun.
It needs to relieve. To feed. To breed.
But they picked well–it likes you.
Greatly.
And you accepted its gifts so easily.
They bow again and watch eagerly as the ritual continues.
What fine fate it is that you walked into their shop.
warnings: 1.6k words // fem!reader & eldritch sea monster // nsfw - non-con, cult, drugging, aphrodisiac + hypnotism, eldritch monster sacrifice, pov swap between reader and cultists at the end, giant monster, tentacles, magic, implied sexual stuff/it's vague but there
a/n: this one is less about the explicit smut and more about the implication <3
No.
You stir much more gently than you aspire for; you know what awaits you–what sits on the other side of your closed eyes. But as your pounding heart somehow stays calm, you’re stuck in place with body-warmed metal laced across you.
No, no.
It’s a fucking monstrosity.
A bump makes everything jolt. You. The metal chains. The world. You yank in a hard breath and feel the elastic in your bathing suit stretch along your chest and around your neck. Something cold drips down over your arms and stomach. It’s sticky and thick.
It’s not real–it can’t possibly be real. This is a dream. A nightmare. A fantasy.
The humidity within the cave makes everything thick and damp. It’s much more than the sweat beading along your brow. It drips down along your throat and down to where the sticky mess they’ve smeared on you. You squirm again as it burns your nerves with itches you can’t scratch, but it only sends an ache to your stomach–the angle of the board they’ve chained you to keeps you slanted, unsteady, and stuck.
This is a fucking nightmare–nothing more. It has to just be that. A very real-feeling nightmare.
The jostling stops, and that’s when you feel your pulse break through whatever was in the tea they’d served you however long ago that was. Could’ve been ten minutes or ten hours. Time itself has been bleeding together since then. As you go from slanted to upright. As hands come to find you, grabbing you at your waist, wrists, ankles. They haul you from the board as easily as a sack of potatoes, and despite how hard you try to thrash from their grasp, you barely twitch.
A low, heavy breathing breaks through the sounds of their scurrying.
A single, heavy, chilling drop falls into your stomach.
Goosebumps spread like wildfire in a drought. The air gets thicker; a murmured conversation in a language incomprehensible to your ears sends chills up to the hairs standing tall on the back of your neck.
Squelching.
There’s…squelching.
It sits there behind your eyes. No matter how hard you try to open them, they weigh a thousand pounds. It’s not sleep trying to take you, no. It’s not unconsciousness. No, you just…can’t yet. Can’t get there. Can’t come to.
But your heart stammers when those moving you lift your wrists up and bind them together on a hook. A cold, damp hook as thick as your forearms. Up. Hands fall away with a neighboring creeeaaak, and your stomach drops. But you lift. Up. Up. Up! Your toes brush the cold ground. You can kick, you can wiggle, you can writhe. But there’s one last brush of ground beneath you and that’s it–you’re dangling in the air with the ache of your weight carrying down through your arms and shoulders.
N-No….
It’s there–the painting of the…the thing inside that little seaside antique shop. The frame no bigger than your laptop screen and so old, it looked ready to fall apart if a gust of wind snuck into the shop. A mass of colors took up the canvas. Dark greens of similar shades, but none singular. At first, it just looked like a mess. But something about it held you steady. Hypnotic, really. You could see the brush strokes the longer you studied it. Stepping closer, you could see. Really see. Where the greens differentiated. Where there were shades of black shadows amongst them. Where the mass of paint wasn’t an abstract design, but a thing. A creature. Two yellow dots mixed in were piercing eyes. The faintest dash of white were the sharp pricks of teeth–fangs. Dozens upon dozens of…of mixing tentacles wrapped around each other and spread out across the canvas, taking up space like it was trying to break free of the frame.
And down as a speck–a little, barely-there speck–was a dollop of paint.
A person.
Drowning in the things arms.
Something stirred deep in your stomach. You scurried back to your friends, taking a moment to catch your stolen breath whilst staring pointlessly into the front counter. The sea of jewels looking back at you with prices you couldn’t afford.
While your friends went to the back to try on some vintage clothes, the kind person behind the counter offered you a cup of tea. For some reason, looking into their calming opal eyes, you accepted.
They gave it to you in a back room far from your friends. It only took a few minutes for the water to boil, but standing there looking around the little room, they talked about that painting. There were more in there–more for them to reference, for you to reference, as they spoke about the monster so many feared when the island once upon a time lost its fishing rights. They spoke of it like it was a god. It’s gargantuan size, it’s magic prowess, it’s all-knowing knowledge. You listened, you obeyed, or you suffered.
No turn took you away from some rendition of the beast. One of it bursting out of the water to roar at the very island you’d visited for a desperate vacation. Another of it attacking a boat the stranger said entered its waters without permission. Then another of various sailors being wrapped up in its tentacles, trapped like prisoners, their clothing torn and eyes entirely black. Then, as the stranger returned with your tea, you looked upon another, framed in gold. A spread of people without a speck of white in their eyes, splayed out naked, draped in its tentacles like they were fine clothing. Mouths wide, bodies limp and arched and curved.
“We have to keep it satisfied,” they said. The tea tasted like chamomile at first. Then, chamomile with something else. And then…something a little more. “You’ll be perfect.”
Their smile penetrated the fog crawling beyond the room and into you. The tea cup slipped from your fingers and the crash of ceramic to the tile floor was far away. So far away.
Their smile faded into darkness.
Then….
You jostle on the hook. The conversation carries off behind you farther into the distance. Another hoist of hook brings you higher; it sends another lurching ache through your upper body, but there’s nothing you can do.
But your eyes move.
They actually move.
The squelching gets louder.
The breathing gets closer.
No…no….
Opening your eyes…you feel them get lighter. You feel them want to open. But opening them means you look at where you are. You face what you can hear squelching closer. Lots of squelching–lots of things. A cold sweat carries itself over you like an anchor dropping. Your toes twitch and a sob climbs your throat.
Something…hot….
A hot gust of wind kisses you. Entirely. You breath hitches. No. You clamp your eyes shut so they stay that way.
It’s not wind.
The squelching doesn’t get louder, it just gets closer. All around you like a tidal wave closing in. No. No. No.
You want to scream, but your jaw won’t move.
You want to break free, but you can barely sniffle.
You want to go back to the beach with your friends, back to work with the boss you hate, anywhere but the antique shop that your friends had to go into.
A low, world-stopping snarl makes everything freeze.
The scent of the sea rushes at you.
Something…something pierces the veil of darkness behind your eyes like needles.
A tear slips out as your eyes involuntarily open.
One single yellow eye the size of you looks upon you. Enshrouded in darkness–a rich, slimy green so dark it nearly looks pitch black. Its pupil shrinks in focus, zeroing in on your frozen self. Around you, there’s the flicker of flames somewhere, but they’re gone in moments. One blink, and there’s darkness again, but your eyes remain open. They remain on the single eye in front of you.
It blinks.
And then something warm and slimy touches your foot.
It approves. From below, its servants watch with smiles. Spared another couple of months, should the new sacrifice fulfill its needs sufficiently. You came with friends, and surely they could use them if needed. It’s reassuring, though, as they bow to their god and whisper sweet thanks, how eager it seems with you.
It goes slowly–curiously. Its tendrils encapsulate your legs first, parting them. Its green excretion will only take moments to consume you, and it seems to take its time watching your eyes blacken and roll back. How it hasn’t even climbed higher than your thighs when your body falls limp and your chest heaves. An addiction made in moments; a new follower indoctrinated and awaited claim.
Its rumbling hum that shakes the cave–the island–with an earthquake sends a rush of excitement amongst its followers. They beam up at their good work. A new chosen one picked perfectly. Watching from below, through the mess of tendrils, they witness their fine work from beginning to its eventual end.
The fall of the thin swimsuit material.
The glistening skin the tendrils overtake.
The sacrifice being risen off the hook and draping herself within the hungry tendrils.
Smiles break out across the crowd.
Wrapped in its first gift, the sacrifice takes the second. Dressed in its tentacles like a tight gown, not a speck of skin bared to anyone but itself beneath them. They squelch and writhe, and a second gift becomes a third. A slow filling, a slow pulsing, a slow thrusting third.
A fourth, muffling all sounds slipping out.
A fifth to fill full and satisfy only the beginning of its hunger.
Thick, loud droplets fall and splatter along the cave floor.
The sacrifice’s muffled scream breaks through the squelching, and there’s a spatter of rain from above. Their god rumbles happily.
It’s only begun.
It needs to relieve. To feed. To breed.
But they picked well–it likes you.
Greatly.
And you accepted its gifts so easily.
They bow again and watch eagerly as the ritual continues.
What fine fate it is that you walked into their shop.
dozens of goblins set up a trap to lure in various humans to gangbang, and you're their latest victim.
warnings: 1.8k words // the POV is weird in this one // masc!goblins x fem!reader // nsfw - explicit non-con, forced, trickery, reader is stuck in a charmed wall, gangbang, clit stim (pinching, flicking, sucking), spitting on/in the reader, lube is used, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, squirting, cum play, all of the goblins cum on or inside of the reader in some way, bullying, spanking, reader accepts her fate & she passes out at some point, and rough everything -> rough sex, rough fingering, rough oral, & rough multiple penetration - all vaginal and anal
A/N: idk. this came to me when trying to work on kinktober ideas for my other blog, and this definitely isn't something i can post over there. so. here, maybe this will be someone's niche over here <3
It’s such a simple trap. A charmed gap. It adjusts itself to allow the unsuspecting victim to fit halfway through, and then–bam! It shrinks. It cinches around their waist and locks them in their new home for the next twelve hours. Unfortunately, the goblins haven’t managed a way to extend that time yet, but twelve hours is more than enough time for them. Especially when someone new comes waltzing in so frequently in search of that promised treasure awaiting inside the damp, dark, dangerous caves.
Word surely spreads, of course, of what happens inside those shadowy caves. Sometimes, the visitor even manages to get the propped up treasure before they crawl out of there. But it matters not; the goblins set up another treasure from their hidden pile, and in comes someone new.
This time, in comes you. A lantern in hand, hesitant steps carrying you along the cramped passageways. You’re dressed as the typical adventurer is; sturdy boots, thick clothing to keep the cold out, a machete on your belt, a bag on your back. The faint noise everything makes–down to the flickering of the fire within your lantern–keeps all attention on you. There’s no hiding from what lurks in the shadows as you descend further into the caves. The promise of a golden chalice lined with jewels lures you in.
All the way in.
Right to the very gap in the wall that shines golden and tempting.
The goblins watch from their secret perches when you shrug off your backpack and set aside your lantern. Heat blooms deep beyond their bellies while you drop to your knees. You have to angle your shoulders a little awkwardly to get them through, letting your quiet hums and grunts tease them in endless echoes.
They’re beyond aching when you get your upper half through and that first pebble falls to the ground. You shift; hands flat on the ground where the chalice sits just out of reach, knees ready to push the rest of you through to get to it. To claim your treasure.
The spell kicks in.
The rocks shift in one fell swoop, and your surprised shriek cuts through the gaps.
Instantly, the goblins rush you. The timer has started, and there are so many of them eager and impatient. Their dozens of feet slap against the stony ground in quick succession–the sound acting as the only warning that you are, in fact, not alone within those caves. They bounce and echo and sink in closer. Closer. Closer. But as you squirm, push, and writhe–you have nowhere to go.
The wall doesn’t give; not even by a single pebble.
And all the shimmy of your hips just makes them ready to burst.
There’s nothing you can do but stare at the golden chalice when they reach you. Looking over the rubies and sapphires glinting in a single stray of sunlight creeping in from above. The gold hue overtakes the room with a taunting, mocking glow right as you feel the dozens of hands yank at your belt. Boots. Pants.
Your underwear goes down with your bottoms.
Strong arms force your knees apart.
Rough fingers grope right as the cold slams into you.
They froth at the mouth at the mere sight of you. They have a system and a rotation so all goes smoothly each time. It’s practiced chaos, but still chaos.
You squirm beneath their touch. Hips wiggling as frantically while you shout for help. But the sound barely carries through the wall between you, let alone through the winding turns and deep depths to the hidden entrance of the cave.
They’re ravenous. Desperate. Feral. They hold your legs apart for each other, then grope higher. Spreading you to see your asshole and cunt. They watch you quiver and squirm; clench and unclench. Their spit falls in thick globs, making you jolt and pull at their grasps, but they hold firm, licking their lips as their cocks pulse and leak.
They feel you, first. Keeping you held open for everyone to watch, they grope, rub, touch, taste. Fingers digging into the meat of your ass, rubbing their thick spit over your asshole, down between the folds of your cunt. They snicker and groan and moan. Pinching your clit between their uncaring fingers until your hips angle back and you’re shouting through the wall. They come closer and gather up spit on their fingers and press it into your cunt–one at a time at first, feeling your wet, warm cunt squeeze around them. The same way your asshole does as they press a finger into you there.
You seize up, shaking, trying to pull yourself through the wall that won’t give. The light of your lantern illuminates their grins and hungry eyes. It creates a view of the sea that their snickers fall into; each goblin with a cock hard and leaking for you. Each ready to burst as your holes squeeze and your hips jolt.
One spanks you hard, making you lurch and shout.
One crawls underneath you and pulls the hood back on your clit before wrapping its mouth around it. Your hips shove back and your back arches as they suck hard and don’t let up.
One straddles your back and hauls out their celebratory bottle they refill for every trapped victim. A pop of the cork and a little tilt, and all beam wide-eyed as the clear oil is drizzled over your exposed bottom. All of your exposed bottom.
Through the wall, you hang your head as one finger becomes two, pumping into your holes rough and deep. They stretch you as they fuck you, those in your cunt curling to hit your g-spot with such extreme directness, you lose your next breath and try to gasp to catch it. But the mouth on your clit sucks again, and tears well up as your pussy pulses.
Laughter bounces around the lantern-lit area. Your pussy drips as two fingers become four different ones, all pumping in at different times. Five wiggle inside your asshole, and one spits into you as they collectively hold you open and spread.
Soon….
Your pussy squeezes their fingers again.
Another goblin joins the one underneath you, taking turns lapping at your clit. Taking turns flicking it. Rubbing it. Pinching it. Playing with it like that little sensitive toy they know it is. Making you squeal through the wall; feeling every small movement you make as they torment you.
Soon….
The squelching grows louder. Your shouts turn away from pleas and into gasps; whines. You stammer and stutter, but it doesn’t last. Not when your pussy drips around their fingers. Not when you tense up and arch your back. Not when your thighs quiver and your clit swells and you clench around all of their fingers in a hard, involuntary pulsing that lingers. And lingers. And….
Their cocks leak and twitch when your sob break through the wall.
A hard shudder rocks you. Your elbows give out and you collapse, staring with bleary vision at the floor of that little room. Trembling. Drooling. Moaning. As your body falls into a blinding, choking orgasm. It rips through you from your clawing hands to your curling toes. Clenching around the invasive fingers and tongues pushing their way into you. Gushing around them. Squirting.
The mess you make earns you five more hard spanks, and the stomach-dropping moment as you lurch with each one that they’re not stopping.
More fingers wiggle their way into you.
You drop your head onto your arms when rough fingers rub your clit in harsh, tight circles that make you claw at the stone. It’s too much, but your mouth falls open with pleas that go on deaf ears. They don’t stop.
They don’t stop when you cum again, the room wanting to spin around you. Hands pin you still so you just keep taking it. Everything. Every tongue that glides over you, into you; every spanking that burns your ass; every finger that pumps in and pulls out.
Every finger that stays out.
Every finger that is replaced with something thicker.
A single one at first.
Thick and filling; warm; pulsing. Leaking.
They climb over you to stuff their cocks into you. Starting singularly–gripping you with bruising holds, fucking into you hard and fast. Like goddamn jackhammers filling you up and ramming into you. Over and over and over.
Then, there’s more. More stretch. More filling.
Another tongue on your clit, lapping at it just as hard and fast.
The room spins around you as their driving cocks twist you into pleasure. Endless, sharp, rough pleasure. Filling you up. Stuffing you full. Stopping when their balls clench and they spill into you; spilling thick globs of cum into you one by one. Turn after turn. Goblin after goblin. Together.
Cum leaks down. It falls out of you as it’s fucked into you. It’s rubbed over your clit while you cum again.
And again.
Mocking laughter shoots around as you shudder and shake; climaxing and climaxing and climaxing again.
And again.
And again.
The hours tick by.
They take turns.
They finger you. Lick you. Fuck you.
The room fades to black when you cum again–squirting around the three cocks bullying their way into your cunt. Two more take turns in your ass.
The goblins continue, marking the way the wall loosens bit by bit. Hour by hour. Until their time with you is up, and the gap reopens. Until you lay limp within it, holes stretched and leaking their cum, twitching as they rub your swollen clit a little more. As they watch in satisfaction as you cum again with a whine, pushing their cum out only for them to push it back in.
They leave you as is, returning to their shadowy home for the time being. A few hang back to watch you when you eventually wake. Stirring, shifting; groaning and barely able to get onto your hands. Cum still leaks out of you. It covers you; paints you; falls from you when you rise, stumbling forward through the last bit of the gap.
Up onto your weak legs.
Up to the little stone podium.
Up, weak and panting, plucking up the chalice.
You clean and dress yourself in silence. Tucking away the chalice worth more money than you’ll ever need to survive comfortably, you crawl back through the hole, retrieve your things, and stumble out of the cave. A price paid for such a life-changing treasure.
As the setting sun blinds you, the goblins hobble down to their hole of treasures and pluck up another. They let old rumors spread and tuck the new treasure right atop that stone podium, and sit back.
Night turns to day. Day to night. Night to day once more.
And just as that sun rises, a new stranger steps into the caves, murmuring about a secret treasure hidden at the bottom. He ventures deep into the depths with a lantern held out in confidence.
The goblins beam and watch him every step of the way.
Until he’s crawling through the gap in the wall, and that first pebble falls.
fucking on the edge of the bed, your hands cradling his face, your forehead pressed against his — his every thrust is as deep as he can be and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.
“i love you,” you say, hips rolling harder against his. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
his thumb goes to rub haste circles against your clit, his mouth dry and smile breathless as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you moan his name. “i love you, baby.”
dozens of goblins set up a trap to lure in various humans to gangbang, and you're their latest victim.
warnings: 1.8k words // the POV is weird in this one // masc!goblins x fem!reader // nsfw - explicit non-con, forced, trickery, reader is stuck in a charmed wall, gangbang, clit stim (pinching, flicking, sucking), spitting on/in the reader, lube is used, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, squirting, cum play, all of the goblins cum on or inside of the reader in some way, bullying, spanking, reader accepts her fate & she passes out at some point, and rough everything -> rough sex, rough fingering, rough oral, & rough multiple penetration - all vaginal and anal
A/N: idk. this came to me when trying to work on kinktober ideas for my other blog, and this definitely isn't something i can post over there. so. here, maybe this will be someone's niche over here <3
It’s such a simple trap. A charmed gap. It adjusts itself to allow the unsuspecting victim to fit halfway through, and then–bam! It shrinks. It cinches around their waist and locks them in their new home for the next twelve hours. Unfortunately, the goblins haven’t managed a way to extend that time yet, but twelve hours is more than enough time for them. Especially when someone new comes waltzing in so frequently in search of that promised treasure awaiting inside the damp, dark, dangerous caves.
Word surely spreads, of course, of what happens inside those shadowy caves. Sometimes, the visitor even manages to get the propped up treasure before they crawl out of there. But it matters not; the goblins set up another treasure from their hidden pile, and in comes someone new.
This time, in comes you. A lantern in hand, hesitant steps carrying you along the cramped passageways. You’re dressed as the typical adventurer is; sturdy boots, thick clothing to keep the cold out, a machete on your belt, a bag on your back. The faint noise everything makes–down to the flickering of the fire within your lantern–keeps all attention on you. There’s no hiding from what lurks in the shadows as you descend further into the caves. The promise of a golden chalice lined with jewels lures you in.
All the way in.
Right to the very gap in the wall that shines golden and tempting.
The goblins watch from their secret perches when you shrug off your backpack and set aside your lantern. Heat blooms deep beyond their bellies while you drop to your knees. You have to angle your shoulders a little awkwardly to get them through, letting your quiet hums and grunts tease them in endless echoes.
They’re beyond aching when you get your upper half through and that first pebble falls to the ground. You shift; hands flat on the ground where the chalice sits just out of reach, knees ready to push the rest of you through to get to it. To claim your treasure.
The spell kicks in.
The rocks shift in one fell swoop, and your surprised shriek cuts through the gaps.
Instantly, the goblins rush you. The timer has started, and there are so many of them eager and impatient. Their dozens of feet slap against the stony ground in quick succession–the sound acting as the only warning that you are, in fact, not alone within those caves. They bounce and echo and sink in closer. Closer. Closer. But as you squirm, push, and writhe–you have nowhere to go.
The wall doesn’t give; not even by a single pebble.
And all the shimmy of your hips just makes them ready to burst.
There’s nothing you can do but stare at the golden chalice when they reach you. Looking over the rubies and sapphires glinting in a single stray of sunlight creeping in from above. The gold hue overtakes the room with a taunting, mocking glow right as you feel the dozens of hands yank at your belt. Boots. Pants.
Your underwear goes down with your bottoms.
Strong arms force your knees apart.
Rough fingers grope right as the cold slams into you.
They froth at the mouth at the mere sight of you. They have a system and a rotation so all goes smoothly each time. It’s practiced chaos, but still chaos.
You squirm beneath their touch. Hips wiggling as frantically while you shout for help. But the sound barely carries through the wall between you, let alone through the winding turns and deep depths to the hidden entrance of the cave.
They’re ravenous. Desperate. Feral. They hold your legs apart for each other, then grope higher. Spreading you to see your asshole and cunt. They watch you quiver and squirm; clench and unclench. Their spit falls in thick globs, making you jolt and pull at their grasps, but they hold firm, licking their lips as their cocks pulse and leak.
They feel you, first. Keeping you held open for everyone to watch, they grope, rub, touch, taste. Fingers digging into the meat of your ass, rubbing their thick spit over your asshole, down between the folds of your cunt. They snicker and groan and moan. Pinching your clit between their uncaring fingers until your hips angle back and you’re shouting through the wall. They come closer and gather up spit on their fingers and press it into your cunt–one at a time at first, feeling your wet, warm cunt squeeze around them. The same way your asshole does as they press a finger into you there.
You seize up, shaking, trying to pull yourself through the wall that won’t give. The light of your lantern illuminates their grins and hungry eyes. It creates a view of the sea that their snickers fall into; each goblin with a cock hard and leaking for you. Each ready to burst as your holes squeeze and your hips jolt.
One spanks you hard, making you lurch and shout.
One crawls underneath you and pulls the hood back on your clit before wrapping its mouth around it. Your hips shove back and your back arches as they suck hard and don’t let up.
One straddles your back and hauls out their celebratory bottle they refill for every trapped victim. A pop of the cork and a little tilt, and all beam wide-eyed as the clear oil is drizzled over your exposed bottom. All of your exposed bottom.
Through the wall, you hang your head as one finger becomes two, pumping into your holes rough and deep. They stretch you as they fuck you, those in your cunt curling to hit your g-spot with such extreme directness, you lose your next breath and try to gasp to catch it. But the mouth on your clit sucks again, and tears well up as your pussy pulses.
Laughter bounces around the lantern-lit area. Your pussy drips as two fingers become four different ones, all pumping in at different times. Five wiggle inside your asshole, and one spits into you as they collectively hold you open and spread.
Soon….
Your pussy squeezes their fingers again.
Another goblin joins the one underneath you, taking turns lapping at your clit. Taking turns flicking it. Rubbing it. Pinching it. Playing with it like that little sensitive toy they know it is. Making you squeal through the wall; feeling every small movement you make as they torment you.
Soon….
The squelching grows louder. Your shouts turn away from pleas and into gasps; whines. You stammer and stutter, but it doesn’t last. Not when your pussy drips around their fingers. Not when you tense up and arch your back. Not when your thighs quiver and your clit swells and you clench around all of their fingers in a hard, involuntary pulsing that lingers. And lingers. And….
Their cocks leak and twitch when your sob break through the wall.
A hard shudder rocks you. Your elbows give out and you collapse, staring with bleary vision at the floor of that little room. Trembling. Drooling. Moaning. As your body falls into a blinding, choking orgasm. It rips through you from your clawing hands to your curling toes. Clenching around the invasive fingers and tongues pushing their way into you. Gushing around them. Squirting.
The mess you make earns you five more hard spanks, and the stomach-dropping moment as you lurch with each one that they’re not stopping.
More fingers wiggle their way into you.
You drop your head onto your arms when rough fingers rub your clit in harsh, tight circles that make you claw at the stone. It’s too much, but your mouth falls open with pleas that go on deaf ears. They don’t stop.
They don’t stop when you cum again, the room wanting to spin around you. Hands pin you still so you just keep taking it. Everything. Every tongue that glides over you, into you; every spanking that burns your ass; every finger that pumps in and pulls out.
Every finger that stays out.
Every finger that is replaced with something thicker.
A single one at first.
Thick and filling; warm; pulsing. Leaking.
They climb over you to stuff their cocks into you. Starting singularly–gripping you with bruising holds, fucking into you hard and fast. Like goddamn jackhammers filling you up and ramming into you. Over and over and over.
Then, there’s more. More stretch. More filling.
Another tongue on your clit, lapping at it just as hard and fast.
The room spins around you as their driving cocks twist you into pleasure. Endless, sharp, rough pleasure. Filling you up. Stuffing you full. Stopping when their balls clench and they spill into you; spilling thick globs of cum into you one by one. Turn after turn. Goblin after goblin. Together.
Cum leaks down. It falls out of you as it’s fucked into you. It’s rubbed over your clit while you cum again.
And again.
Mocking laughter shoots around as you shudder and shake; climaxing and climaxing and climaxing again.
And again.
And again.
The hours tick by.
They take turns.
They finger you. Lick you. Fuck you.
The room fades to black when you cum again–squirting around the three cocks bullying their way into your cunt. Two more take turns in your ass.
The goblins continue, marking the way the wall loosens bit by bit. Hour by hour. Until their time with you is up, and the gap reopens. Until you lay limp within it, holes stretched and leaking their cum, twitching as they rub your swollen clit a little more. As they watch in satisfaction as you cum again with a whine, pushing their cum out only for them to push it back in.
They leave you as is, returning to their shadowy home for the time being. A few hang back to watch you when you eventually wake. Stirring, shifting; groaning and barely able to get onto your hands. Cum still leaks out of you. It covers you; paints you; falls from you when you rise, stumbling forward through the last bit of the gap.
Up onto your weak legs.
Up to the little stone podium.
Up, weak and panting, plucking up the chalice.
You clean and dress yourself in silence. Tucking away the chalice worth more money than you’ll ever need to survive comfortably, you crawl back through the hole, retrieve your things, and stumble out of the cave. A price paid for such a life-changing treasure.
As the setting sun blinds you, the goblins hobble down to their hole of treasures and pluck up another. They let old rumors spread and tuck the new treasure right atop that stone podium, and sit back.
Night turns to day. Day to night. Night to day once more.
And just as that sun rises, a new stranger steps into the caves, murmuring about a secret treasure hidden at the bottom. He ventures deep into the depths with a lantern held out in confidence.
The goblins beam and watch him every step of the way.
Until he’s crawling through the gap in the wall, and that first pebble falls.
dozens of goblins set up a trap to lure in various humans to gangbang, and you're their latest victim.
warnings: 1.8k words // the POV is weird in this one // masc!goblins x fem!reader // nsfw - explicit non-con, forced, trickery, reader is stuck in a charmed wall, gangbang, clit stim (pinching, flicking, sucking), spitting on/in the reader, lube is used, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, squirting, cum play, all of the goblins cum on or inside of the reader in some way, bullying, spanking, reader accepts her fate & she passes out at some point, and rough everything -> rough sex, rough fingering, rough oral, & rough multiple penetration - all vaginal and anal
A/N: idk. this came to me when trying to work on kinktober ideas for my other blog, and this definitely isn't something i can post over there. so. here, maybe this will be someone's niche over here <3
It’s such a simple trap. A charmed gap. It adjusts itself to allow the unsuspecting victim to fit halfway through, and then–bam! It shrinks. It cinches around their waist and locks them in their new home for the next twelve hours. Unfortunately, the goblins haven’t managed a way to extend that time yet, but twelve hours is more than enough time for them. Especially when someone new comes waltzing in so frequently in search of that promised treasure awaiting inside the damp, dark, dangerous caves.
Word surely spreads, of course, of what happens inside those shadowy caves. Sometimes, the visitor even manages to get the propped up treasure before they crawl out of there. But it matters not; the goblins set up another treasure from their hidden pile, and in comes someone new.
This time, in comes you. A lantern in hand, hesitant steps carrying you along the cramped passageways. You’re dressed as the typical adventurer is; sturdy boots, thick clothing to keep the cold out, a machete on your belt, a bag on your back. The faint noise everything makes–down to the flickering of the fire within your lantern–keeps all attention on you. There’s no hiding from what lurks in the shadows as you descend further into the caves. The promise of a golden chalice lined with jewels lures you in.
All the way in.
Right to the very gap in the wall that shines golden and tempting.
The goblins watch from their secret perches when you shrug off your backpack and set aside your lantern. Heat blooms deep beyond their bellies while you drop to your knees. You have to angle your shoulders a little awkwardly to get them through, letting your quiet hums and grunts tease them in endless echoes.
They’re beyond aching when you get your upper half through and that first pebble falls to the ground. You shift; hands flat on the ground where the chalice sits just out of reach, knees ready to push the rest of you through to get to it. To claim your treasure.
The spell kicks in.
The rocks shift in one fell swoop, and your surprised shriek cuts through the gaps.
Instantly, the goblins rush you. The timer has started, and there are so many of them eager and impatient. Their dozens of feet slap against the stony ground in quick succession–the sound acting as the only warning that you are, in fact, not alone within those caves. They bounce and echo and sink in closer. Closer. Closer. But as you squirm, push, and writhe–you have nowhere to go.
The wall doesn’t give; not even by a single pebble.
And all the shimmy of your hips just makes them ready to burst.
There’s nothing you can do but stare at the golden chalice when they reach you. Looking over the rubies and sapphires glinting in a single stray of sunlight creeping in from above. The gold hue overtakes the room with a taunting, mocking glow right as you feel the dozens of hands yank at your belt. Boots. Pants.
Your underwear goes down with your bottoms.
Strong arms force your knees apart.
Rough fingers grope right as the cold slams into you.
They froth at the mouth at the mere sight of you. They have a system and a rotation so all goes smoothly each time. It’s practiced chaos, but still chaos.
You squirm beneath their touch. Hips wiggling as frantically while you shout for help. But the sound barely carries through the wall between you, let alone through the winding turns and deep depths to the hidden entrance of the cave.
They’re ravenous. Desperate. Feral. They hold your legs apart for each other, then grope higher. Spreading you to see your asshole and cunt. They watch you quiver and squirm; clench and unclench. Their spit falls in thick globs, making you jolt and pull at their grasps, but they hold firm, licking their lips as their cocks pulse and leak.
They feel you, first. Keeping you held open for everyone to watch, they grope, rub, touch, taste. Fingers digging into the meat of your ass, rubbing their thick spit over your asshole, down between the folds of your cunt. They snicker and groan and moan. Pinching your clit between their uncaring fingers until your hips angle back and you’re shouting through the wall. They come closer and gather up spit on their fingers and press it into your cunt–one at a time at first, feeling your wet, warm cunt squeeze around them. The same way your asshole does as they press a finger into you there.
You seize up, shaking, trying to pull yourself through the wall that won’t give. The light of your lantern illuminates their grins and hungry eyes. It creates a view of the sea that their snickers fall into; each goblin with a cock hard and leaking for you. Each ready to burst as your holes squeeze and your hips jolt.
One spanks you hard, making you lurch and shout.
One crawls underneath you and pulls the hood back on your clit before wrapping its mouth around it. Your hips shove back and your back arches as they suck hard and don’t let up.
One straddles your back and hauls out their celebratory bottle they refill for every trapped victim. A pop of the cork and a little tilt, and all beam wide-eyed as the clear oil is drizzled over your exposed bottom. All of your exposed bottom.
Through the wall, you hang your head as one finger becomes two, pumping into your holes rough and deep. They stretch you as they fuck you, those in your cunt curling to hit your g-spot with such extreme directness, you lose your next breath and try to gasp to catch it. But the mouth on your clit sucks again, and tears well up as your pussy pulses.
Laughter bounces around the lantern-lit area. Your pussy drips as two fingers become four different ones, all pumping in at different times. Five wiggle inside your asshole, and one spits into you as they collectively hold you open and spread.
Soon….
Your pussy squeezes their fingers again.
Another goblin joins the one underneath you, taking turns lapping at your clit. Taking turns flicking it. Rubbing it. Pinching it. Playing with it like that little sensitive toy they know it is. Making you squeal through the wall; feeling every small movement you make as they torment you.
Soon….
The squelching grows louder. Your shouts turn away from pleas and into gasps; whines. You stammer and stutter, but it doesn’t last. Not when your pussy drips around their fingers. Not when you tense up and arch your back. Not when your thighs quiver and your clit swells and you clench around all of their fingers in a hard, involuntary pulsing that lingers. And lingers. And….
Their cocks leak and twitch when your sob break through the wall.
A hard shudder rocks you. Your elbows give out and you collapse, staring with bleary vision at the floor of that little room. Trembling. Drooling. Moaning. As your body falls into a blinding, choking orgasm. It rips through you from your clawing hands to your curling toes. Clenching around the invasive fingers and tongues pushing their way into you. Gushing around them. Squirting.
The mess you make earns you five more hard spanks, and the stomach-dropping moment as you lurch with each one that they’re not stopping.
More fingers wiggle their way into you.
You drop your head onto your arms when rough fingers rub your clit in harsh, tight circles that make you claw at the stone. It’s too much, but your mouth falls open with pleas that go on deaf ears. They don’t stop.
They don’t stop when you cum again, the room wanting to spin around you. Hands pin you still so you just keep taking it. Everything. Every tongue that glides over you, into you; every spanking that burns your ass; every finger that pumps in and pulls out.
Every finger that stays out.
Every finger that is replaced with something thicker.
A single one at first.
Thick and filling; warm; pulsing. Leaking.
They climb over you to stuff their cocks into you. Starting singularly–gripping you with bruising holds, fucking into you hard and fast. Like goddamn jackhammers filling you up and ramming into you. Over and over and over.
Then, there’s more. More stretch. More filling.
Another tongue on your clit, lapping at it just as hard and fast.
The room spins around you as their driving cocks twist you into pleasure. Endless, sharp, rough pleasure. Filling you up. Stuffing you full. Stopping when their balls clench and they spill into you; spilling thick globs of cum into you one by one. Turn after turn. Goblin after goblin. Together.
Cum leaks down. It falls out of you as it’s fucked into you. It’s rubbed over your clit while you cum again.
And again.
Mocking laughter shoots around as you shudder and shake; climaxing and climaxing and climaxing again.
And again.
And again.
The hours tick by.
They take turns.
They finger you. Lick you. Fuck you.
The room fades to black when you cum again–squirting around the three cocks bullying their way into your cunt. Two more take turns in your ass.
The goblins continue, marking the way the wall loosens bit by bit. Hour by hour. Until their time with you is up, and the gap reopens. Until you lay limp within it, holes stretched and leaking their cum, twitching as they rub your swollen clit a little more. As they watch in satisfaction as you cum again with a whine, pushing their cum out only for them to push it back in.
They leave you as is, returning to their shadowy home for the time being. A few hang back to watch you when you eventually wake. Stirring, shifting; groaning and barely able to get onto your hands. Cum still leaks out of you. It covers you; paints you; falls from you when you rise, stumbling forward through the last bit of the gap.
Up onto your weak legs.
Up to the little stone podium.
Up, weak and panting, plucking up the chalice.
You clean and dress yourself in silence. Tucking away the chalice worth more money than you’ll ever need to survive comfortably, you crawl back through the hole, retrieve your things, and stumble out of the cave. A price paid for such a life-changing treasure.
As the setting sun blinds you, the goblins hobble down to their hole of treasures and pluck up another. They let old rumors spread and tuck the new treasure right atop that stone podium, and sit back.
Night turns to day. Day to night. Night to day once more.
And just as that sun rises, a new stranger steps into the caves, murmuring about a secret treasure hidden at the bottom. He ventures deep into the depths with a lantern held out in confidence.
The goblins beam and watch him every step of the way.
Until he’s crawling through the gap in the wall, and that first pebble falls.
