The first rays of sunshine warm your face. A cold breeze tickles your right foot as you labour to open your eyes. Cat-like, you stretch and purr to yourself. Sluggishly, you drag yourself into the neighbouring bathroom. The first glance in the mirror makes you cringe. Bruises adorn your arms, hips and décolleté. You carefully run your fingertips over the bruises and remember Alec's loving kisses. Smiling, you open your eyes and switch on the shower so that it is already warm. You glance back at the room you share with Alec. There's no sign of him. The hot water hits your pale skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Sighing, you stroke the bruises again and smile at the thought of last night.
Alec had been on a mission for weeks. His only thought was to come into your room and breathe in your infatuating scent. He had been separated from you for three weeks and it was affecting his mental stability. If he made an effort, he could hear you humming as you worked on your laptop. He imagined you, as so often in the hot Italian summer, sitting on your bed in just his shirt and a pair of panties. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists. "You're dismissed," Aro said, nodding to the four of them. Alec's feet automatically carried him to your shared chamber. He turned the knob and walked quietly into the room.
Your gaze flitted in his direction. A loving expression came over your features. "Alec," you breathed, briskly putting the laptop to one side. Alec didn't give you the chance to get up as he had already thrown himself onto the bed and positioned you underneath him. "Amore," his voice was husky, his eyes dark, "I've missed you a lot." A wimper was all you could manage as he began to kiss along your neck. He brushed the strands of your hair to the side for even better access. "Your smell," he continued, "your voice and how that can both change with a little bit of" With the last words, he stroked your inner thigh up to your centre. His fingers rubbed over your hot, throbbing centre, but your slip separated his fingers from your most intimate place. Your breathing quickened and a soft moan could be heard. "That's what I've been missing, amore," a mischievous smile was all you saw before he turned his attention to your dellekoté. He kissed his way from your neck to your breasts, where he paused for a particularly long time, to your stomach until he reached your thighs. In between, he ran his teeth over the thin skin of your hips. "Hai un odore così buono, amore", he purred.
Your left hand stroked through Alec's hair as he looked up at you from below. "Should I stop, my love," he asked calmly with a hint of sarcasm. "Don't you dare," came from you hoarsely. Grinning, Alec tore the little bit of fabric off you and sank between your legs. Groaning, you arched your back. "Holy shit Alec" Alec grumbled and replied with a small pause, "nothing about this is holy, my dirty little bitch"
A whimpering "please" you gasped before Alec turned his attention back to your throbbing centre. Your hand in his hair presses him even closer to your hot flesh. Your breaths are short and quick. "Vieni per me, Amore", huffs Alec. Alec's Italian words threw you over the edge and you came.
Without letting you catch your breath for a moment, Alec kissed you again and sank into you. His hands held your hips in his firm grip. You didn't know when he had removed his clothes. " So tight my love," he moaned as he thrust into you with precision, "just for me, right?" You moaned and pressed your head even further into the pillow. Alec stopped after a strong thrust. "I asked you a question my little bitch," he mumbled, biting gently into the thin skin over your breasts. "Oh God Alec," you croaked, "God won't help you, doll. You're in hell, with me," he murmured, thrusting hard into you again. Dark spots danced before your eyes and a knot formed in your abdomen. "I'm yours and yours alone," you breathed powerlessly. Alec nodded and kissed your swollen lips before thrusting rhythmically into you again. His moans became darker and more breathy, just like yours. "Come with me Amore," Alec breathed. Moaning loudly, you came around him. His cock twitched at the sudden tightness of you. "Such a good girl," Alec purred and kissed your cheek, your forehead and your lips. Lovingly, he pulled you to his chest and covered you. "I love you," you murmured before falling asleep exhausted in his arms. "I love you too doll"
The memories warm you in the shower as the door to the shower opens. Alec stood there, naked, horny and grinning. "I smell a second round, my love"
hey!! i just found your blog and i’m obsessed with how you write the volturi 💋✨😍 would you maybe write something for alec? maybe headcanons about how he acts when he actually falls in love for the first time after centuries of not caring about anyone
Alec Volturi falling in love for the first time
• Alec has spent over a thousand years feeling almost nothing but apathy, cold, calculated detachment. Emotions are for humans and newborns vampires. Then you appear, and for the first time in his immortal existence, something cracks inside his chest that he doesn’t know how to handle it.
• At first he doesn’t even recognize it as love. He thinks it’s curiosity. Or maybe irritation. Why does he keep watching you? Why does his gaze linger when you speak? He tells himself it’s observation. Nothing more.
• The first sign is protectiveness. Not the casual Volturi loyalty, but something fierce and personal. If anyone even looks at you too long, his gift flickers unconsciously, and it bothers him that he lets himself loose control.
• He becomes painfully aware of his childlike appearance for the first time in centuries. He wants you to see him as ancient, powerful, worthy , exactly like the Volturi see him — not the eternal boy with the angelic face. He starts carrying himself differently around you, shoulders straighter, voice lower.
• He gets jealous in silence. When you laugh at something Felix says or spend too long talking to Jane, his expression doesn’t change, but the temperature in the room drops and a faint haze of his gift appears. Later he will deny it completely.
• Touch is difficult for him at first. Centuries of distance make casual contact feel overwhelming. The first time you brush his hand, he freezes like he has been burned again. But he starts seeking it out, in obvious ways.
• He becomes strangely gentle. He will carry your things without being asked. Adjust your chair. Stand between you and any perceived danger without explanation.
• Internal conflict eats at him. Love is weakness. Aro could use it against him. Jane would see it as a distraction. But he can’t stop. For the first time, he has something that belongs only to him, and the possessiveness terrifies even him.
• He starts speaking more. Not a lot, but more than his usual few words. Quiet questions about your day, your thoughts, your favorite things from your human life. He listens like every word is precious information he is a toring away for eternity.
• When he finally admits it (to himself, not you) it hits him like a blow.
• His version of flirting is subtle and old-fashioned. He brings you rare books from the Volturi library. Leaves small gifts on your pillow, and honestly just wait for you to find them and then deny that he left it there.
• He gets anxious when you are away too long. Not pacing or obvious, just quieter than usual, eyes distant, fingers tapping restlessly. When you return, the relief in his eyes is impossible to miss.
• Physical closeness develops slowly. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder first. Then one night he pulls you into his lap without warning and simply holds you, face buried in your hair, breathing you in like he is afraid you will vanish.
• Jane notices immediately. She teases him mercilessly in private, but she is also protective and jealous, the idea of her twin being in love is both amusing and concerning to her. Alec warns her to stay out of it.
• He worries constantly about your mortality. The thought of watching you age and die makes him feel something dangerously close to panic. He push you to change and probably force it.
Alec's hands grip the meat of your thigh as he's pushing your legs up to the near point of touching your chest, panties barely being pushed to the side in a fit of hurried lust. Fingers digging into you like he's afraid you'll move away from him.
Your hand are dragging harsh red lines down his arm, they don't do much, healed right away due to his vampiric healing, he can't wait until your turned, your marks would take longer to heal, the though drags a raw moan out of his mouth, the vibration causing your finger to dig in more.
His tongue lazily swirls around your clit, groaning into your soaked core, his lips glistening with your past orgasms, dripping down his chin. The next swipe of his tongue is sloppy, caring more about tasting you than having some dignity left, licking a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, the tip of his tongue making a tight circle, greedily lapping at your juices, moaning at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue.
You can’t help but throw your head back, mewling as he works his fingers inside your cunt, your hips grind against him on their own, Alec takes an unneeded breath of air as your gummy walls tighten around him, his fingers are thick and perfect, curling just right.
Did I cook or did I cook... This barely makes sense but it's been awhile and I'm horribly sick so yippe! Also to those that sent request's in don't worry, I have over thirty drafts, I just have to figure out how to make them make sense.
Actually, it was even longer, but I reached Tumblr’s limit so this is turning into a series with multiple parts!I’ve got a serious creative writing overflow right now, and I yearn to write, haha. As always, English is not my first language, so there will be some mistakes I apologize in advance! I’d love to get some feedback or requests that I can write. I also plan to write for the other guards too! Enjoy xoxo
The leather seat was cold against your back, the chill seeping through your clothes and settling into your bones. Or perhaps it wasn’t the seat at all perhaps it was the icy dread that had taken residence in your chest, spreading through your veins like frost across a winter window.
Your fingers gripped the edge of the seat, knuckles white, as Alice took another sharp turn. The stolen car because of course it was stolen, though that seemed almost laughably insignificant now hugged the curve of the narrow Italian road with a screech of tires. The countryside blurred past the window in streaks of gold and green ancient olive groves, terracotta rooftops, cypress trees standing like dark sentinels against the afternoon sky.
It should have been beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Twenty four hours. That’s all it had taken for your entire understanding of reality to shatter like glass under a hammer.
Vampires were real.
The thought still didn’t feel real, even as you turned it over in your mind for the hundredth time. Vampires. Not the stuff of movies and Halloween costumes and goth kids with too much eyeliner. Real. Edward Cullen the brooding, Pale boy from Forks High School who always looked vaguely distrest was a vampire. So were his siblings the tall, blonde one who looked like she’d stepped out of a shampoo commercial, the big one who never stopped grinning, the smaller blond one who looked perpetually annoyed, and Alice.
Alice, who sat in the driver’s seat now, her pixie cut hair perfectly styled despite the chaos, her small hands gripping the steering wheel with inhuman precision as she wove through traffic like she was playing a video game. Alice, who could see the future. Who had seen something that made her insist no, demand that you come on this absolutely insane mission.
And Dr. Cullen. Sweet, kind Dr. Cullen who’d stitched you up that time you’d sliced your hand open. A vampire. His wife too, with her kind eyes and warm smile.
All of them.
The word still felt strange in your mouth, impossible and heavy. You’d spent the entire car ride first the frantic drive to the airport, then the endless flight across the Atlantic, and now this breakneck race through Tuscany trying to wrap your mind around it. Trying to make it make sense.
It didn’t.
And now Edward, the vampire who’d started all of this, wanted to kill himself.
Because he thought Bella was dead.
Bella, who was very much alive and sitting in the passenger seat, her face pale and drawn, her fingers twisted together in her lap. Bella, who’d been a shell of a person for months after Edward left her. Who’d screamed herself awake every night. Who’d sought out danger like an addict seeking a fix, just to hear his voice in her head.
Edward, who’d abandoned her in the woods like she was nothing. Who’d left her vulnerable while a red headed vampire, because apparently there were more of them, just roaming around hunted her like prey.
And now Bella was ready to throw herself into the lion’s den to save him.
You didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand any of it.
If it was up to you, Edward Cullen could march into the Italian sunlight and sparkle himself to death in front of vampire royalty because apparently that was a thing too, and you wouldn’t shed a single tear.
But it wasn’t up to you.
Nothing was up to you.
You were just… here. Dragged along for reasons Alice refused to explain, no matter how many times you asked. And you had asked. On the plane, you’d asked at least a dozen times. “Why do I need to come?” “What does this have to do with me?” “Alice, please, just tell me what you saw.”
But she’d just looked at you with those strange golden eyes, really, like a cat’s eyes catching light and said, “You need to be there. Trust me.”
Trust.
The word felt hollow now, rattling around in your chest like a dried seed in a gourd.
“Alina”
Alice’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts like a knife. Sharp. Urgent. You jerked your attention forward and saw her eyes flick to the rearview mirror, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second.
There was something in those eyes. Something you’d never seen before.
Fear.
Alice was afraid.
The realization sent a fresh wave of ice through your veins.
“Listen to me very carefully,” she said, her voice low and fast as she whipped the wheel to the left, overtaking a small Fiat with what couldn’t have been more than inches to spare. The driver laid on the horn, the sound angry and prolonged, but Alice didn’t even flinch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road, her jaw set. “When we get there, you stay close to me. Within arm’s reach at all times. Do you understand?”
You leaned forward slightly, your heart already beginning to race. “Alice”
“Do you understand?” she repeated, harder this time.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” She took a breath, unnecessary for her but somehow emphasized. “Just do exactly as I say and try not to get noticed.”
The words settled over you like a shroud.
“Why?” The question burst out of you before you could stop it, louder and sharper than you intended. Your voice cracked slightly. “Why do I even have to go with you if it’s so dangerous? Alice, this is insane you said yourself it’s dangerous, so why?”
“Bella,” Alice cut you off, her attention already shifting away. “We’re almost there. The moment we arrive, we run. Straight for the clock tower. No hesitation. Do you understand?”
Bella nodded, her face somehow even paler than before.
You sat back hard against the seat, frustration and fear warring in your chest, making it hard to breathe. No one was going to answer you. No one was going to explain. You were just expected to follow along, to trust, to walk into danger for reasons no one would share.
Like a lamb being led to slaughter.
The city of Volterra rose before you like something out of a medieval painting. Ancient stone walls, weathered by centuries, climbed the hillside in irregular curves. Terracotta roofs huddled together within the walls, and at the highest point, a tower rose against the blue sky, the clock tower, you realized. The hands were approaching noon, the sun climbing higher, brighter.
It should have been beautiful. Romantic, even. The kind of place you’d want to visit on vacation, to wander the narrow streets and eat gelato and take photographs.
Instead, it looked like a fortress.
A trap.
The streets were packed with people as Alice navigated into the city, all of them dressed in strange red cloaks, laughing and chattering in rapid Italian. Some kind of festival, you realized dimly. They filled the narrow roads, moving in rivers of crimson.
Alice didn’t slow down.
“Hold on,” she muttered.
The car lurched forward, scattering people, and then Alice was slamming on the brakes. The car screeched to a stop at an angle, half on the sidewalk, completely illegal and completely blocking traffic.
She didn’t care.
“Now!” she said, and Bella was already out of the car, moving. “Run!”
Your hands fumbled with the seatbelt, your fingers clumsy with adrenaline. By the time you got the door open and stumbled out, Bella was already several paces ahead, weaving through the crowd of red cloaked festivalgoers.
Your shoes completely inappropriate for running, you realized now slapped against the cobblestones as you dodged between people. The crowd was thick, the festivalgoers laughing and drinking, and you had to push past them, muttering apologies in English that no one understood.
Alice urged you to run faster but you couldn’t keep up she promptly threw you in her cold hard arms zooming to the Palaza withe you
Your lungs burned. Your legs ached. You felt dizzy. You’d never been athletic, and certainly not built for sprinting through medieval Italian cities.
The narrow street opened suddenly into a plaza, and there it was the clock tower, massive and imposing.
And at the base of the tower, partially hidden in shadow, stood a pair of massive wooden doors.
Alice reached them, leting go, stumbling to a stop beside her, gasping for breath. Your chest heaving, a stitch burning in your side.
Alice didn’t wait. She placed her small, delicate hands against the ancient oak doors doors that must have weighed hundreds of pounds, that must have been locked and bolted and she pushed.
The sound was like a gunshot.
The wood splintered. The lock shattered. The doors burst inward with a groan of protesting metal and wood, swinging open to reveal darkness beyond.
Alice was already moving inside, pulling you with her. “Come on,” she hissed at you.
You didn’t think. You just followed, stumbling through the broken doorway into shadow.
The temperature dropped immediately. The sounds of the festival cut off as if someone had closed a door which, you supposed, someone had. The darkness was absolute for a moment, and then your eyes began to adjust.
You were in a stone hallway. Ancient stone, the kind that had stood for centuries, maybe longer. The walls were decorate elegantly in dark colours with, and the air smelled of warmth and age.
Alice moved forward without hesitation, her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling her along. You followed, your footsteps echoing too loudly in the enclosed space.
Your heart hammered against your ribs.
And waiting there, as if they’d been expecting you because of course they had been were four figures.
No.
Two figures as well as Bella and Edward.
Edward stood in the center of the corridor, shirtless, his marble pale chest catching the torchlight. He looked surprised, his gold eyes widening as he saw you, as he saw Alice.
His brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze locking onto you for a moment too long. As if he couldn’t understand why you were there. As if your presence was wrong somehow, unexpected in whatever future Alice had shown him.
Alice said, smooth and almost cheerful, tinged with amusement. “Come on, guys. There are ladies present you wouldn’t want to make a scene.”
You looked at the two other figures
One was massive. Taller even than Emmett which you hadn’t thought possible with shoulders that seemed to fill the corridor. His skin was pale as marble, smooth and perfect and utterly inhuman. His hair was dark, cropped short, and his face might have been handsome if not for the expression he wore.
And his eyes.
Red.
Deep, vivid crimson, like fresh blood.
The Cullens had golden eyes. Warm amber, like honey in sunlight. You wondered why maybe it was like human eye colour…
His eyes made you uneasy
And he was staring at you.
Not just looking. Staring. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach drop, made your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to do anything but stand there. His lips curved into a slow grin, and there was something in it, something hungry and lustful and predatory all at once.
Like a cat that had just spotted a mouse.
Your mouth went dry, heart beat picking up
But it was the other one the second figure who made the world tilt beneath your feet.
He was tall but leaner and a bit smaller than the giant, built like a god you thought long lines and controlled grace. His hair was dirty blond, styled in a way that seemed artfully careless, though you suspected nothing about him was careless. His features were sharp and aristocratic high cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jaw, lips that were full and curved in a way that might have been sensual if everything else about him wasn’t so clearly dangerous.
He was beautiful.
Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful, like a Renaissance sculpture come to life. Like something that shouldn’t exist in the real world.
And you felt it.
That pull.
It hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. Like someone had wrapped a rope around your chest and yanked, trying to drag you toward him. Your feet actually shifted forward a step before you caught yourself, before you managed to lock your knees.
What the hell?
You’d never felt anything like it. It was magnetic. Irresistible. And wrong so wrong.
Your heart lurched in your chest, your pulse suddenly too fast, too loud. You could hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat.
And he noticed.
His head turned, slowly, deliberately, until his gaze found yours.
And locked.
His eyes were black.
Not brown. Not dark. Black. Pitch black, like pools of ink, like endless voids. There was no iris, no distinction between pupil and anything else. Just black, fathomless and hungry.
They fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees weak, made your breath stutter in your chest.
And he growled.
Low. Quiet. A sound that rumbled from deep in his chest like distant thunder.
Every instinct in your body every primal, ancient part of your brain that remembered what it meant to be prey screamed at you.
Run.
But you couldn’t move.
Your legs wouldn’t work. You were frozen, pinned under that terrible gaze like a butterfly under glass.
Your hand shot out blindly, grabbing for Alice who was looking at Edward with uneas, finding the fabric of her jacket and clutching it like a lifeline. You tried to step behind her, to hide behind her small frame, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
If he wanted you, she couldn’t stop him.
The giant chuckled, the sound deep and amused, echoing slightly in the corridor. “Interesting,” he said, his accent faintly European French, maybe? “Another human. This keeps getting better and better.”
His red eyes glittered with amusement, still fixed on you.
“Enough.”
The new voice was sharp and cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Everyone’s attention shifted even the blond vampire’s gaze finally released you, and you gasped as if you’d been held underwater.
A girl stood at the end of the corridor.
with pale blonde hair and delicate features. She wore a dark cloak, the fabric expensive looking, and her face was angelic. Innocent.
Porcelain perfect.
But the way Edward stiffened, the way Bella went somehow even paler, the way Alice’s grip on your arm tightened almost painfully
You knew
This girl was dangerous.
More dangerous than the others, maybe. Despite her size. Despite her appearance.
“Aro is expecting us,” the girl said, her voice soft and sweet, almost musical. It made your skin crawl. “He wants to know what’s taking so long.”
“Jane,” Edward said, and the single word was heavy with dread.
Jane tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. Then she turned, her cloak swirling around her, and began walking deeper into the corridor.
“Just do as she says,” Edward muttered, his voice tight. He reached for Bella’s hand, and she took it immediately, clutching at him like he was her anchor.
They followed Jane without another word.
Alice tugged you forward, and you stumbled after her on legs that felt like jelly.
Which meant the other two fell into step behind you.
Your skin prickled with awareness. You could feel them back there. The blond one and the giant close. Too close. The air itself seemed to hum with their presence, charged like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.
You wanted to look back. Desperately. You wanted to see where he was, how close, what he was doing.
But you didn’t dare.
The corridor stretched on, silent except for footsteps on stone. Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears, too fast. You tried to calm it, but your body wouldn’t obey.
Torches lined the walls at regular intervals, their flames casting dancing shadows that seemed to reach for you.
The ceiling arched high above, disappearing into darkness.
How far underground were you?
The corridor turned, and turned again, a labyrinth of ancient stone. You tried to memorize the path left, then right, then straight but you knew it was useless. You’d never find your way out alone.
And then you saw it an elevator.
It was old, ornate, the kind of cage elevator you’d see in old European buildings or vintage hotels. Wrought iron worked into elaborate patterns, polished until it gleamed in the torchlight.
Jane reached it first and pulled open the gate with a metallic screech. She stepped inside, and Edward and Bella followed immediately.
Alice moved forward, her grip tight on your arm, pulling you along with her toward the ornate elevator. Your feet moved automatically, one in front of the other, even though every instinct screamed at you to resist, to pull away, to run.
But where would you run to? You were underground, in a labyrinth of ancient stone corridors, surrounded by vampires. There was nowhere to go.
“Wait.”
The single word cut through the air like a blade.
Jane’s hand came up, small and delicate and pale as porcelain. The gesture was almost casual, but Alice stopped immediately, as if she’d hit an invisible wall.
“It appears,” Jane said, her voice sweet and musical, echoing slightly in the stone corridor, “that the elevator is too small for us all.”
You looked at the elevator. Really looked at it.
It wasn’t small. The wrought iron cage was spacious, elegant, clearly designed to accommodate multiple people. It could easily fit six, maybe seven people comfortably.
This was deliberate.
Your stomach twisted with dread.
“Demetri,” Jane continued, her cherubic face turning slightly, her gaze sliding past you to focus on something, someone, behind you. “Stay behind with the other human. Make sure she doesn’t run.”
Demetri.
So that was his name.
The name seemed to echo in your mind, settling there like a stone dropping into dark water. Demetri. The blond vampire who’d been staring at you with those pitch black, hungry eyes. The one who made that inexplicable pull in your chest intensify until you could barely breathe.
Your heart dropped into your stomach, your pulse suddenly deafening in your ears.
“I will inform Aro that you’ll be following shortly,” Jane added, her tone pleasant, as if she were discussing dinner plans rather than separating you from the only people who might protect you.
“Alice…” you started, your voice cracking, desperation bleeding through.
But Alice’s hand tightened on your arm, her fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise. Cutting you off. Silencing you.
You looked at her desperately, pleadingly, your eyes wide and probably wild with fear. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone with him.
Her golden eyes met yours, and you saw it all there in that brief moment apology, worry, fear. She knew what she was doing. She knew what this meant. And she was doing it anyway.
But she didn’t fight it. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to negotiate or insist that you come with them.
She just… let go of your arm.
And stepped into the elevator.
The sense of betrayal that flooded through you was almost physical, a sharp pain in your chest that made it hard to breathe.
Edward was looking at you too, his expression conflicted, his jaw tight with tension. His golden eyes darted from your face to something behind you, to Demetri, you realized, and his brows furrowed deeply, as if he were seeing something that troubled him. Something that made him uneasy.
But he said nothing.
He didn’t protest. Didn’t object. Didn’t offer to stay behind in your place or insist that you come with them.
He just stood there, one arm around Bella, and watched as Jane pulled the gate closed.
The metal clanged shut with a sound that felt horribly final.
The elevator began to descend with a mechanical whir and the grinding of old gears, the cage disappearing slowly into the darkness below.
Taking Alice and Edward and Bella with it.
Leaving you behind.
And they were gone.
For a single, frozen moment, there was only silence.
The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, that made you acutely aware of every small sound. The distant drip of water somewhere in the stone corridors. The faint crackle of the torches on the walls.
And your own heartbeat.
Fast. Too fast. Hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest.
You could hear your breathing, too. Shallow and quick, barely pulling in enough air, making you feel lightheaded.
And then…
Wind.
A gust of cold air, sudden and sharp, there and gone in an instant.
And suddenly he was in front of you.
You gasped, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet corridor, and stumbled backward on instinct.
Demetri stood inches away.
Only Inches.
Up close, he was even more devastating than before. The torchlight played across his features like he’d been specifically designed to be displayed in flickering firelight. It highlighted the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the strong, defined line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, lips that were curved in a slight smirk, amused by your reaction.
His skin was smooth and pale and utterly flawless, like marble carved by a master’s hand. Not a single imperfection, not a pore or a freckle or any sign that he’d ever been human at all.
Beautiful.
Impossibly, inhumanly beautiful in a way that made something in your chest ache.
And tall. God, he was tall. He towered over you, his frame blocking out most of the light from the torches behind him, casting you in his shadow. His shoulders were broad, his build lean but powerful, every line of him radiating controlled strength and predatory grace.
But it was his eyes that held you captive.
Still black. Still endless.
Still hungry.
They roamed over your face slowly, deliberately, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the shape of your lips. As if he were memorizing every detail. As if you were something fascinating, something rare and precious that he wanted to understand completely.
Or devour.
You couldn’t tell which.
Maybe both.
“It’s rude to back away, darling,” he said, and his voice…
God, his voice.
It was deep and rich, smooth like aged whiskey, with a faint accent you couldn’t quite place. Mediterranean, maybe, but old. Ancient. The kind of accent that had softened and shifted and evolved over centuries, picking up influences from a dozen different languages and places.
The sound of it resonated in your chest, made your pulse spike even higher, made heat coil low in your belly despite the bone deep terror coursing through you.
You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but nothing came out. Your voice had abandoned you entirely, fled somewhere your mind couldn’t reach. Your tongue felt thick and useless in your mouth.
His lips curved into a slow smirk, clearly amused by your silence. By your fear. By the way you were frozen in his grasp like a cornered animal.
He liked it, you realized with a jolt of horror. He enjoyed this. The power. The control. Your fear.
“Tell me,” he said, and this time his voice changed. Became harder. Commanding. Authoritative. The kind of voice that didn’t ask but demanded, that expected immediate obedience and wouldn’t tolerate anything less. “What’s your name?”
The question bypassed your brain entirely, shot straight past any conscious thought or decision, and went directly to your mouth.
But you clamped your lips shut, pressing them together hard, forcing the answer back down.
Alice’s words echoed in your mind Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it.
You’d already failed at the second part, you couldn’t not look at him, not when he was right there, filling your entire field of vision, but you could still manage the first.
You didn’t answer.
His smirk faded slightly. His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and something dangerous flickered in those black depths.
He stepped closer.
Impossibly closer, eliminating what little space had remained between you. You could feel the cold radiating off him now, seeping through your clothes, making you shiver. He was like standing near an open freezer, all that unnatural chill that reminded you he wasn’t human, wasn’t alive, not in any way that mattered.
“I believe I asked you a question,” he said, his voice dropping lower, taking on an edge that made your survival instincts scream. “Now. Answer. Me.”
The command in his voice was overwhelming, undeniable. It wrapped around you like chains, pulling at something deep inside you that wanted desperately to obey, to please, to give him whatever he wanted.
“A…Alina,” you stammered, the name tumbling out before you could stop it, barely recognizing your own voice. It sounded small and frightened and broken.
“Alina,” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully, as if testing the weight of it.
The way he said it made it sound like something precious. Something beautiful and rare. He rolled each letter on his tongue as if tasting it, savoring it, testing the shape and sound of your name in his mouth.
His smirk returned, widening into something that might have been a smile if it wasn’t so predatory. If it didn’t make him look like a wolf that had just caught the scent of wounded prey.
“Alina,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a purr.
And then he moved again.
That same impossible speed, that same gust of cold wind that announced his movement, and suddenly he was behind you.
Your entire body locked up, every muscle going rigid with tension and fear.
You couldn’t see him anymore, but you felt him. God, you felt him. The cold presence of him at your back, so close that you could feel the chill radiating from his body through your clothes, seeping into your skin. Close enough that if you leaned back even slightly, if you lost your balance for even a second, you’d be touching him.
Pressed against that hard, cold, marble body.
His hand came up, and you felt his fingers, cold, so impossibly cold, brush against your hair.
The touch was feather light, almost gentle, but it made electricity shoot down your spine.
He lifted a strand of your hair, slowly, carefully, as if it were made of the finest silk and might break if he wasn’t cautious. You felt the faint tug at your scalp as he separated it from the rest, raising it.
And then you heard him inhale.
Deeply.
Deliberately.
A long, slow breath, as if he were breathing you in, drawing your scent deep into his lungs and savoring it like fine wine.
“You smell exquisite, Alina,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, meant only for you. His breath, cold, unnecessary, a mockery of human habit, brushed against your ear, making you shudder.
A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. A whimper, high and frightened and entirely involuntary.
You wanted to be strong. Wanted to be brave. Wanted to face this with dignity.
But you were terrified.
Your entire body shivered, trembling like a leaf in a storm, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that your body was responding to him, to his proximity, to his voice, to his touch, even as your mind screamed at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there frozen.
That pull was still there. Stronger now. Overwhelming.
It made you want to lean back into him. Made you want to turn around and press yourself against that cold chest and…
No.
God damn it, what the hell was happening to you?
This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal. You didn’t know this person, this thing, and yet your body was reacting like… like…
You didn’t even have words for it.
“Tell me, Alina,” Demetri continued, his voice a purr that seemed to vibrate through your bones, resonating in your chest. His fingers still held that strand of your hair, twirling it slowly between his fingers, playing with it. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?”
And with that, he pulled.
Not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to make your head tilt back, to make you lean against him. Your back pressed against his chest, and it was exactly as you’d feared, hard as marble, cold as ice, utterly unyielding. Like leaning against a statue.
A statue that was holding you captive.
“I…I don’t know,” you gasped out, your voice shaking. “Alice didn’t tell me.”
You felt him go still behind you.
The change was immediate and terrifying. The playful, almost teasing quality that had been in his voice vanished, replaced by something colder. Harder.
He was angry.
You’d said something wrong, though you had no idea what.
The silence stretched for a long, horrible moment, and you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe.
And then…
Ding.
The sound of the elevator returning, the mechanical whir of gears and the rattle of the cage rising back up the shaft.
Someone must have pressed the button to call it back up. To summon it.
Relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it.
Demetri released your hair and stepped away, the cold presence at your back disappearing. You nearly stumbled without him there, your legs weak and unsteady.
He moved in front of you again with that impossible speed, positioning himself between you and the elevator as it arrived with a final clank.
The gate opened.
The cage was empty.
Demetri turned to look at you, his expression unreadable now, carefully blank. He gestured toward the elevator with one hand, the movement graceful and courteous, like a gentleman inviting a lady to enter.
As if he hadn’t just been holding you against him. As if he hadn’t just terrified you.
“After you,” he said, his voice once again smooth and controlled.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
He raised one eyebrow expectantly.
You forced your legs to work, forced yourself to take one shaking step forward, then another. You walked into the elevator on legs that felt like they might give out at any moment, your hands trembling as you gripped the ornate iron railing inside.
Demetri followed, stepping in behind you, and pulled the gate closed with a metallic clang that echoed in the shaft.
The elevator began to descend.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the grinding of gears, the creak of old metal, and that faint opera music drifting up from below.
You kept your eyes fixed forward, staring at the stone wall passing by through the gaps in the cage, trying desperately not to think about how small this space was. How trapped you were.
“You’re afraid,” Demetri said suddenly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question.
You didn’t answer. Didn’t trust your voice.
“You should be,” he continued, and there was something almost… approving in his tone. “Fear is wise. It keeps prey alive.”
The word prey made your blood run cold.
“I’m not…” you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren’t prey? When everything about this situation screamed that you were exactly that?
“You’re not what?” he pressed, and you could hear the amusement in his voice now. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.
“I’m not just… I’m a person,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.
There was a pause. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was a soft sound, rich and genuine, and somehow that made it worse.
“Yes,” he said amused, and suddenly he was closer, you could feel him right behind you again, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. “You are Prey, my Prey.”
The possessiveness in those words made you shiver.
“I don’t belong to you,” you whispered, even though you knew it was pointless to argue.
“Don’t you?” His voice was right by your ear now, intimate and dark. “We’ll see about that, cara mia.”
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and you nearly sobbed with relief
The gate opened, and you practically fled from the cage, desperate for space, for air, for anything but that suffocating closeness.
Down here, it was significantly darker than above. No more windows. No more natural light filtering in from the world outside, no more warm, earthy tones of sun baked stone and terracotta.
Just torches and shadows.
The corridor stretched before you, impossibly long, lined with more of those ever-burning torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The ceiling arched high overhead, disappearing into darkness. The stones beneath your feet were worn smooth, polished by countless footsteps over countless centuries.
How deep underground were you?
How far from the surface, from sunlight, from safety?
The longer you walked, the more your unease grew, expanding in your chest until it felt like you couldn’t breathe properly. Every step took you deeper into this place, further from any hope of escape.
You felt again like a lamb being led to slaughter, walking docilely toward your own doom.
You shivered, partly from fear and partly from the cold. It was freezing down here, the chill seeping into your bones, making your fingers numb.
And suddenly, you weren’t cold anymore.
Weight settled over your shoulders, heavy, warm, soft. A cloak, you realized dimly. A thick, dark cloak had been draped around you, the fabric so dark it was nearly black, the interior lined with fur that felt impossibly soft and luxurious against your skin. Like a runway piece.
The warmth was immediate and blissful.
You looked up, startled, and found Demetri watching you. He’d moved beside you at some point, silent as a ghost, and had placed his own cloak around your shoulders.
The gesture was… unexpected. Almost kind.
It confused you.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pulled the cloak tighter around yourself, grateful for the warmth even as you wondered at his motive. “But won’t you be cold without it?”
The words were out before you could think about them.
His expression changed immediately.
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening, and anger flashed in those black eyes. Real anger, sharp and sudden.
“Did you just ask me if I would become cold?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
You flinched. “Y…yes, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
You didn’t get to finish.
His hand shot out, fingers gripping your chin and forcing your head up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. His hold was firm, unbreakable, his cold fingers pressing into your skin.
“Are you even aware of what we are?” he demanded, his voice hard.
“Yes,” you whispered, your heart racing again. “Alice told me on the plane here.”
“On the plane?” He repeated the words slowly, as if testing them. As if they meant something significant.
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, something calculating flickering in their depths.
And then he moved.
His hand shifted from your chin to your arm, gripping it firmly, and then he was pulling you forward. Not walking, running. Moving at that impossible inhuman speed that made the corridor blur around you, made your stomach lurch with disorientation.
You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up, and then you weren’t walking at all, he was half dragging, half carrying you, moving so fast the torches became streaks of light.
And then, suddenly, you stopped.
Two massive double doors loomed before you, easily twice your height, made of dark wood carved with intricate designs that might have been beautiful if you weren’t so terrified.
Demetri didn’t slow down.
He hit the doors with his shoulder, and they burst open with a thunderous boom that echoed through the chamber beyond.
And the sight that greeted you stole what little breath you had left.
The room was one of the most marvelous spaces you had ever seen.
It reminded you of the Vatican, not that you’d ever been, but you’d seen pictures. That same overwhelming grandeur, that same sense of ancient power and wealth and importance.
The ceiling soared overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes that depicted scenes you couldn’t quite make out in the flickering torchlight. Marble columns rose at intervals, supporting the vaulted ceiling. The floor was polished stone, reflecting the light like dark water.
And at the far end of the chamber, raised on a dais, stood three thrones.
Not chairs. Thrones. Massive, ornate, carved from stone and cushioned with rich fabrics in deep crimsons and golds. The kind of thrones kings would sit on. Emperors.
One of the thrones was empty.
Standing in front of the one in the middle, as if he’d been pacing, was a figure in dark robes.
He turned as the doors burst open, and his face lit up with delighted interest.
The vampire had long black hair that fell past his shoulders, his face pale and ageless, his eyes a deep, unsettling crimson. He wore robes, actual robes, like something from a Renaissance painting, in black and deep burgundy. He looked… eager. Excited. There was something childlike in his expression, something unsettling in the way he smiled, wide and genuine.
Sitting behind him were the other two. One with hair as white as snow, stern and disapproving, his posture rigid and formal. And another with wheat colored hair, looking almost bored, as if this interruption was mildly inconvenient at best.
These were the kings.
The vampire royalty Alice had mentioned.
The Volturi.
Demetri marched right up to the raven haired king, his hand still gripping your arm, pulling you along with him. You stumbled trying to keep up, your legs shaking, and your eyes darted around wildly, trying to take everything in.
Alice was there, standing near Edward and Bella. All three of them turned as you entered, their expressions varying degrees of worry and shock.
Edward’s eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening.
Alice looked… guilty. And afraid.
Bella just stared at you, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that looked like horror.
The giant vampire, Felix, you remembered his name now, was leaning against one of the columns, and his red eyes found you immediately. That same predatory grin spread across his face, like he was delighted by this new development.
And Jane stood near the thrones, beside a boy who looked remarkably similar to her. They both looked about eighteen, though something about their eyes suggested they were far, far older. Both pale and angelically beautiful and utterly terrifying.
Demetri stopped before the raven haired king and extended his hand.
The king’s eyes lit up, actually lit up, like a child being offered a present. He practically bounced forward and placed his hand in Demetri’s, his palm pressing against Demetri’s palm.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then the king’s eyes glazed over slightly, his focus turning inward, as if he were watching something only he could see.
What the hell…?
How could this situation get any more weird? How was any of this possible to begin with?
The king’s eyes cleared, and he released Demetri’s hand. For a moment, he was completely still.
And then he threw his head back and laughed.
The sound echoed through the chamber, high and delighted, almost manic in its joy.
“Ahhhh,” he exclaimed loudly, his voice carrying through the vast space. “What a lovely surprise!”
He spun around, his robes swirling dramatically, and spread his arms wide as if addressing an audience.
“Our dear Demetri has found his mate!” he announced, his voice full of genuine delight. “Isn’t that marvelous?”
The word hit you like a physical blow.
Mate.
You looked at Alice, your eyes finding her across the chamber.
The look on your face could probably be described as complete and utter devastation. Betrayal. Horror.
Understanding crashed over you like a wave.
She’d known.
Alice had known.
That’s why she’d insisted you come. That’s why she’d refused to explain, why she’d dragged you, no, kidnapped you, to Italy without telling you why.
Because she’d seen this.
She’d seen that this vampire, this monster, was apparently your “mate,” whatever the hell that meant.
And she’d brought you here anyway.
Rage exploded in your chest, hot and sudden, burning away the fear and replacing it with something fiercer.
“You fucking cunt,” it burst out of you before you could stop yourself, the words loud and harsh in the sudden silence.
Everyone in the chamber froze.
“How could you do this?” you shouted, your voice cracking, shaking with fury and fear and betrayal. “You selfish bitch! You dragged me, no, you kidnapped me into this situation, telling me nothing, leaving me alone here with Dracula over there, and for what? So you would have an easier time here? To use me as some kind of… of bargaining chip?”
“I…” Alice started, but you cut her off.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice rose higher, becoming almost a scream, tears streaming down your face now, hot and angry. “You ruined my life!”
The last words came out as a broken sob.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Alice had averted her gaze, staring at the floor, unable to meet your eyes.
Edward looked stricken, guilt written across his features.
And the raven haired king was watching you with undisguised fascination, that unsettling smile still on his face.
“Alina,” he said, interrupting the charged silence, his voice gentle and pleasant and completely wrong.
You looked at him, and something about that smile made your skin crawl. It was like a mask, you realized. Pretty and pleasant on the surface, but with nothing genuine behind it. Nothing warm or kind or human.
“I believe our dear Alina has had quite the journey here, haven’t you?” He tilted his head slightly, that smile never wavering. “Such strong emotions. Such fire.”
“Aro…” Edward tried to interrupt, his voice tight with tension.
But Aro held up one pale hand, silencing him without even looking at him.
“Alec,” he said, addressing the young man standing near Jane. “Why don’t you bring Alina to the gardens, hmm? Let’s deal with this… issue,” he gestured vaguely toward Edward and Bella, “first, before we properly introduce ourselves to miss Alina.”
How did he know your name? You hadn’t told him. Demetri must have…
No, wait. When Demetri touched his hand, something had happened. Aro had seen something, learned something.
He’d read Demetri’s mind.
Or memories.
Or whatever the hell that was.
Alec stepped forward, moving with that same liquid grace all the vampires had. He looked young, maybe eighteen, with hazel brown hair and features that would have been beautiful if his eyes weren’t that same unsettling crimson.
“Come,” he said simply, his voice soft and oddly gentle.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
Demetri’s hand tightened on your arm, you’d almost forgotten he was still holding you, and he leaned down slightly, his lips near your ear.
“Go with him,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll come find you soon.”
The promise in those words made you shiver.
But you didn’t have a choice.
You never really had a choice.
Alec approached and gestured for you to follow him toward a door you hadn’t noticed before, set into the wall behind one of the columns.
You walked on numb legs, Demetri finally releasing your arm.
As you passed Alice, you couldn’t help yourself. You looked at her one more time.
She still wouldn’t meet your eyes.
And somehow, that hurt worse than anything else.
You walked slightly behind Alec, your steps hesitant and unsteady, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.
To your surprise, he seemed… gentle.
Almost kind, even. Not like the giant, Felix, with his predatory grin and hungry eyes. Not like Jane, with her cherubic face that somehow made her more terrifying, not less.
Alec didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t fill the silence with meaningless pleasantries or threats. He simply walked, his pace measured and unhurried, as if he understood that you needed time. Space. Room to breathe.
You were grateful for it.
The tears came silently, hot tracks down your cheeks that you didn’t bother to wipe away. Your vision blurred, but you kept walking, kept following the pale figure ahead of you through the endless corridors.
And Alec said nothing.
Didn’t comment on the fact that you were crying. Didn’t mock you for your weakness. Didn’t play on your fear the way you suspected the others might have.
He just… walked.
After what seemed like a relatively short walk compared to the other endless corridors you’d been dragged through, you came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. It was old, the wood dark and weathered, carved with intricate patterns that reminded you of everything else in this place, ancient and beautiful and wrong.
Behind it was a gate, ornate metalwork that gleamed in the torchlight. Copper, you realized. Or maybe bronze. The metal was worked into elaborate swirling patterns, vines and flowers and shapes you couldn’t quite identify.
Alec pushed the gate open, and it swung silently on well oiled hinges.
And beyond…
Your breath caught.
It was one of the biggest gardens you had ever seen.
No, not a garden. A park.
That would be more fitting. The space was vast, impossibly vast for something underground, though you could see the sky above, dark with evening, stars beginning to appear.
Were you still underground? Had you come back to the surface?
You couldn’t tell anymore. Couldn’t orient yourself in this maze of stone and shadow.
Tall walls surrounded the space, sandy colored brick that looked ancient, weathered by time. Large trees grew at intervals, their branches spreading wide overhead. You recognized some, oak and cypress, but others were unfamiliar, their leaves strange shapes and their bark unusual textures.
Ponds dotted the landscape, their surfaces reflecting the darkening sky like mirrors. Statues stood at intervals along the paths, marble figures in classical poses, gods and goddesses and creatures from myth.
A spring bubbled somewhere nearby, the sound of running water peaceful and incongruous with the nightmare you were living.
Red stone paths curved through the space with mathematical precision, each turn and angle deliberate, designed. They wove between flower beds that even in the dim light were breathtaking.
Roses. So many roses. Red and white and pink and yellow, their blooms full and perfect despite the season. And other flowers too, varieties you recognized and many you didn’t. The scent was overwhelming, sweet and heady, filling your lungs with every breath.
It was beautiful.
Horrifyingly, impossibly beautiful.
You stood there, frozen, taking it all in. Your mind couldn’t quite process it. Couldn’t reconcile this peaceful, lovely space with the terror of the throne room, with Demetri’s cold hands and Aro’s unsettling smile.
You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until you noticed Alec was several steps ahead, standing on the path, waiting.
Watching you with those red eyes that glowed faintly in the growing darkness.
You tried to remember the way you’d come. Left, then right, then left again? Or was it right, left, right? The corridors had all looked the same, endless stone and torchlight, and you’d been too upset to pay attention.
But would you get far even if you did remember? Probably not. They were vampires. They could move with impossible speed. You’d seen it. Felt it when Demetri had dragged you through the corridors.
Running would be pointless.
Still, your mind catalogued the information anyway, some survival instinct refusing to give up even when logic said it was hopeless.
Alec stood there, patient, not rushing you. After a long moment, you forced your feet to move, to catch up with him.
He led you deeper into the garden, following one of those red stone paths. It curved gently between flower beds and around trees, past statues that seemed to watch you with blank stone eyes.
You saw the pond before you reached it. It was larger than the others, its surface rippling slightly in the evening breeze. And on that surface…
Ducks
Actual ducks, paddling peacefully, occasionally dipping their heads under the water to search for food. Their soft quacking sounds filled the air, normal and mundane and completely surreal in this place.
Alec stopped beside a bench near the pond’s edge. It was made of the same red stone as the paths, worn smooth by time and weather. He gestured for you to sit, a graceful, courteous movement.
You sat, your legs grateful for the rest. They’d been shaking for so long you’d almost stopped noticing.
Alec moved to sit beside you, but he left distance between you. A respectful distance. More space than Demetri had given you, more than seemed necessary if he wanted to keep you from running.
For some reason, Alec seemed to be the only one who understood your fear. Who was trying, in his own way, to give you room. Space to breathe. The only one not actively trying to trigger your terror even more than it already was.
You looked at the ducks, watching them glide across the water’s surface, chatting to each other in their duck language. One dove under, and you watched the ripples spread outward in perfect circles.
“How old are you, Alina?”
Alec’s voice was soft, non threatening. A simple question.
You looked at him, studying his profile in the dim light. He looked young, barely older than you, with that same ageless quality all the vampires seemed to have. Beautiful and terrible and frozen in time.
“Sixteen,”
you mumbled quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.
His expression shifted slightly. Something that might have been surprise, or concern, or something else you couldn’t identify.
“That’s quite young.” He paused, then continued, “My sister and I are eighteen. I believe you met Jane before.”
So they were siblings. Twins, given how they were the same age.
You nodded, not sure what to say to that.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… heavy. Weighted with everything unsaid, everything you didn’t understand.
“Alec…” you started, then hesitated.
He turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.
“Why were Alice and Edward so…” you searched for the right word, “afraid of Jane’s presence?”
A smile curved his lips. Not the gentle expression he’d worn before, but something else. Something with an edge to it. Almost sinister.
He chuckled, low and amused.
“Because of her gift.”
Gift.
You turned the word over in your mind. Was that what they called it? Was that like Aro, the way he’d read Demetri’s thoughts through touch? Like Alice, seeing the future?
“What do you mean by gift?” you asked.
He looked at you for a long moment, and you saw conflict flicker across his features. As if he were weighing something, deciding how much to tell you.
“I must say,” he said slowly, his tone taking on something almost bitter, “for someone as gentle and respectful of human life as the Cullens like to paint themselves, the vegetarians have really done you dirty.”
Vegetarians? What did that mean?
“I think,” he continued, “it would be better to have this conversation with Aro. He can explain things better than I can. More… thoroughly.”
But you latched onto the word he’d used. “Vegetarian? What do you mean by that?”
Alec was quiet for a moment, then said simply, “The Cullens don’t consume human blood. Instead, they feast off animals. We call them vegetarians because of that.”
The words hung in the air between you.
Human blood.
Animals.
And with that, you were reminded, viscerally and unavoidably, of what Alec was. What they all were.
Vampires.
Creatures that drank blood to survive.
The Cullens drank animal blood. These vampires, the ones with red eyes instead of gold, they drank…
You went silent, your mind reeling. How had you been conversing so casually with Alec, knowing what he was? What he did?
The ducks suddenly seemed very far away, their peaceful quacking distant and dreamlike.
“Do you think…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “do you think Aro will hurt me? For my outburst?”
You’d called Alice a cunt. Had screamed at her in front of everyone. In front of the vampire kings.
Alec chuckled again, but this time it sounded almost… reassuring?
“No, Alina. I think Aro is also displeased with what the Cullens have done to you.” He paused, then added, “Although I would advise you to be courteous with Aro. Trust me when I say he doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s best if you trust him. He can make this whole thing as pleasant for you as possible.”
You nodded slowly, not asking any more questions. Your mind was too full, too overwhelmed to process anything else.
The silence returned, and you sat there watching the ducks, trying not to think about blood and hunting and the cold hands that had held you.
Alec suddenly turned his head, his posture changing slightly, becoming alert. As if he’d heard something you couldn’t.
“Well, Alina,” he said, standing gracefully, “it was lovely chatting with you. But I believe dinner is ready.” A pause, and something in his tone shifted. “Demetri should be here any second. Please excuse me.”
He took a step away, then stopped, looking back at you over his shoulder.
“And Alina… don’t try to run.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was almost… kind. A warning, maybe. A piece of advice.
And then he was gone.
Just… gone.
Vanished between one blink and the next, as if he’d never been there at all.
You stared at the spot where he’d stood, your mind struggling to understand. How was
that possible? Where did he go? Could he teleport?
The garden suddenly felt very empty. Very quiet.
And then you saw him.
In the corner of your vision, a figure appeared. Walking toward you along one of the red
stone paths, moving with that predatory grace you recognized.
Demetri.
Something in your chest pulled tight.
You wanted to run. Wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms and cry into his chest and feel those cold hands hold you safe. The pull was overwhelming, undeniable, a physical ache that made your hands shake.
But you also wanted to run away. To flee, to escape, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and this creature who made you feel things you didn’t understand. Things that terrified you almost as much as he did.
The two desires warred in your chest, tearing you in opposite directions, leaving you frozen on the bench.
He came to a stop in front of you, looking down with those black eyes that seemed to
see straight through you.
“Come, love,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. The endearment rolled off his tongue like honey. “Aro would like to talk to you. To give you the explanation you deserve, and answer your questions.”
You stood up slowly, your legs unsteady, and took his offered hand.
His fingers closed around yours, cold and strong, and that pull in your chest eased slightly at the contact. As if touching him was what you’d needed all along.
Defeat washed over you like a wave.
You couldn’t fight this. Whatever this was, this bond or connection or curse, you
couldn’t fight it.
“Demetri…” you said as he began to lead you back toward the gate.
“Yes, amore mio?”. Another endearment, foreign and beautiful and terrifying.
“Please don’t walk so fast.” Your voice came out small, weak. “I think I feel a bit unwell.”
He slowed immediately, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, concerned. “Are you alright?”
But you weren’t alright.
The world was tilting strangely. The garden around you blurred at the edges, the colors bleeding together. Your legs felt distant, disconnected from your body.
To be continued…
Part 2⬇️
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · The Pull due · This is part two of The Pull series there will be more chapter’s comming. As always, English is not my first
Neteyam (20 yrs old) is kidnapped by the Olo’eyktan alpha from a nearby clan who claims that Eywa has destined them to be soulmates. Only weeks away from fully presenting as omega, Neteyam is caught between trying to find his way home and giving in to his primal desires.
Withered 💛🔞💔
You and Neteyam have opposite lives. He thrives in the daylight of possibilities while you are forced to the shadows. You are sure that the right course of action would be letting the future Olo'eyktan go. Neteyam is less convinced. Neteyam’s rut sneak peek
Lesson Learned 🔞🤍💛💔 (ft. Lo'ak)
Your relationship with the Sully brothers comes with expectations, rules, and punishments. Yet nothing quells that fire deep within better than the two putting you back in your place.
Midnight Desires 💛🔞 (ft. Ao'nung)
Neteyam asks for a helping hand in the middle of the night. Ao'nung, however, does not appreciate being left out.
Little Gift 🔞💔🖤
The RDA are forced to negotiate with a certain Olo'eyktan. Luckily, there is only one thing he wants. Dark Neteyam x Human Reader
Curious Eyes 🔞🤍🖤💔
When intruders come onto Omatikaya soil Neteyam gets more than he bargained for.
Princess 🔞🖤
Princess or not, a spoiled brat like you needs to be put in her place. And since you have been given over to him now, Neteyam is more than ready to put that attitude in check.
Unmovable 🔞
Lo'ak may have been born an omega but that doesn’t mean he wants to act like one.
Grovel 🤍💔🔞
Lo'ak broke your heart all those years ago. If he plans to woo you once more it is going to take a lot more than a debonair grin.
Lesson Learned 🔞🤍💛💔 (ft. Neteyam)
Your relationship with the Sully brothers comes with expectations, rules, and punishments. Yet nothing quells that fire deep within better than the two putting you back in your place.
Ma Neteyam 🔞💛 (ft. Neteyam)
Neteyam (20 yrs old) is kidnapped by the Olo’eyktan alpha from a nearby clan who claims that Eywa has destined them to be soulmates. Only weeks away from fully presenting as omega, Neteyam is caught between trying to find his way home and giving in to his primal desires.
Midnight Desires 💛🔞 (ft. Neteyam)
Neteyam asks for a helping hand in the middle of the night. Ao'nung, however, does not appreciate being left out.
Precious💛🔞🤍
A soft creature like you is easily scared by the smallest things. For some reason your greatest fear seems to be the future Metkayina Olo'eyktan and Ao'nung can’t quite figure out why.
Healing Hands 🔞💔💛
So'lek has accepted his life as an outsider, no clan of his own to call home. For years nothing has consumed him more than the need to exact revenge on the RDA who stole everything from him. Yet somehow all of that changes when he meets you.
Courting Spider 🔞💛💔
It’s time that someone takes care of Spider for once. Zhali is up for the task.
Forever My Babygirl 💛
Tuktirey is now 16 years old and receving attention from young male suitors looking to court the beautiful ray of sunshine. However, this becomes nearly impossible as her older brothers and father are there to scare off any advances. In Jake’s eyes, Tuk will always be his babygirl.
Synopsis: Neteyam is kidnapped by the Olo’eyktan alpha from a nearby clan who claims that Eywa has destined them to be soulmates. Only weeks away from fully presenting as omega, Neteyam is caught between trying to find his way home and giving in to his primal desires.
Warnings: omegaverse, abo, male x male, explicit MDNI, abo, alpha/omega dynamics, power imbalance, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, heat, male omega, alpha oc, aged up Neteyam Sully, family guilt, first child syndrome, angst, smut, fluff, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, etc.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Jealous Neteyam
Persuasion
Kxolo's birthday
Kxolo
Young Kxolo
Vamai
Pulo
Neteyam calls Kxolo 'Daddy' in front of Jake (Neteyam/Kxolo reaction)
If you would like to join the Ma Neteyam taglist feel free to comment or message me.
My ask box is always open for Ma Neteyam thoughts, questions, or ideas
jason todd who's a little perv and so shy about it ╱ mdni, panty sniffing and stealing, soft teasing ˚.✦
You've been waiting for the perfect moment to confront your boyfriend about your fourth missing panties of the week.
It comes late that night. Jason’s just peeled off the Red Hood gear and he’s standing in the bedroom doorway in nothing but low-slung sweatpants and the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbones. He looks tired, beautifully so, dark hair damp and falling into his eyes. He hasn’t noticed you watching him yet.
You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, one of his t-shirts swallowing your frame. In your hand is the thin black lace you found shoved hastily under his pillow this afternoon, the fifth pair, actually. You hold them up by one finger, letting them dangle.
“Jay.”
His head snaps up. Green eyes lock on the scrap of fabric, then on your face. The color drains from his cheeks so fast it’s almost comical, replaced a heartbeat later by a flush that crawls from his throat all the way to his ears.
“Shit,” he breathes. One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic he can’t ever quite kill. “Fuck. You weren’t supposed to—”
“Find them?” you finish softly, tilting your head. You don’t sound angry. You don’t even sound surprised. “Baby, this is the fifth pair this week.”
He winces like you’ve struck him. His mouth opens, closes. Opens again. Nothing comes out at first except a mortified sound caught somewhere between a groan and a plea.
“I didn’t...” He stops, drags both hands down his face, fingers splayed wide. “I didn’t come in them. I swear to God. I wouldn’t—I’m not that fucking disrespectful, I just—”
He cuts himself off, throat working. The flush deepens until the tips of his ears are practically glowing. He can’t look at you. His gaze keeps darting to the panties, then to the floor, then to the wall. Anywhere but your face.
You stand slowly, letting the lace slip from your fingers onto the bed. You step closer. Not crowding him, not yet. Just close enough that he can feel your warmth, smell the faint trace of your shampoo still clinging to your skin.
“Tell me why,” you murmur.
Jason swallows hard. His voice comes out wrecked, barely above a whisper. “They smell like you.”
He risks a glance at you then, like he’s waiting for disgust or laughter or disgust-laughter. When he doesn’t find either, his shoulders drop a fraction.
“I know it’s fucked up,” he mumbles. “I know. I just… after patrol sometimes I come home and you’re already asleep and you smell so fucking good and I um... I miss you even when you’re right there. So I took one. I was gonna wash ’em and put ’em back, I swear, I just—” He breaks off, voice cracking on a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll buy you new ones. Ten. Twenty. Whatever you want. I’m sorry.”
He’s practically vibrating with embarrassment now, huge frame hunched in on itself like he’s trying to disappear. One hand is clenched into a fist at his side, the other keeps scrubbing over the back of his neck like he can wipe the shame away.
You reach out, slow, and catch that restless hand. His fingers twitch against yours but he doesn’t pull away.
“Hey,” you say gently.
It takes him a long second. When he finally looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, cheeks scarlet. He looks like he’s two seconds from bolting or dropping to his knees.
You step into his space properly this time, until your chest brushes his. You can feel the frantic thud of his heart against your ribs.
“You could’ve just asked,” you whisper, lips curving. “I would’ve let you keep one. Or… I could’ve worn them for you. Let you take them off me.”
A broken noise punches out of his throat. His free hand flies to your waist, gripping hard like he needs the anchor.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasps. “Don’t hah say shit like that when I’m already losing my mind here.”
You smile against his jaw, press the softest kiss there. “Too late.”
His forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot and uneven against your neck.
“I’m such a fucking pervert,” he mutters into your skin. “You deserve better than me sniffing your underwear like some desperate—"
You slide your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.
“You’re my desperate pervert. And I like that you want me that bad. I like that you think about me when I’m not even awake. I like that you’re blushing so hard right now I can feel the heat coming off you.”
He groans miserable and turned-on all at once.
You tip your head, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Next time… just tell me. Or better yet, take them off me yourself.”
His grip on your waist turns bruising. His breathing stutters.
“Fuck,” he chokes. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“I be you'll die happy,” you murmur, smiling against his pulse.
He laughs and finally wraps both arms around you, crushing you to his chest like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I love you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Even when you’re torturing me.”
You slide your hands up his bare back, nails grazing gently. “I love you too. Panties and all.”
He buries his face deeper against your neck and lets out a long breath.
“…Can I keep the black ones?” he asks, so quiet you almost miss it.
These P̢̧͓͕ͥ̓̾͒͛̋͘ͅA̻̠̦͔̠̤͙̥͔͓̬͗̋̐͒ͫ͐̿̑̕̚͢_̵̸̣̝̳͎̹̭̤̠̯̍͛̏ͮ̑ͯ̽̀̃͠ͅR͈̺̟͈ͭ̂͠Ḁ͈̣̣͇̃͒ͮ̀̾͒Ş̵͍̲̯̹͔̤͚̜͇̩̖̮͎̒̓ͭ͒͐͆̀ͮ̈̚͘͠͠ͅI̧̹̬̅_͇̮̥̝̮͖͚̫̯̩͇̱ͭ͑̄͒̑ͮ͌ͬ̑́ͯ̂̉ͮ͛̀͋̀̂͗̀̾̎͊̑̀̇͟͡T̷̸̡̛̗͖̘͙̜͉̗͕̺̱̼̭͇̹͎͔̹̠ͭͪ͛ͭ̅̊̀ͤ̐̀̆ͨ͐͐͒͆͑͟͟͢͡͞͠͡͡Ȇ̶̴̶͕̬̤̰͖̱̮̻̺̭̽̓͛̆̎̚̚͟͜͡S̴̨̢̡̧͚̠̫̫̲̳̻̗͋̑̍̂̒ͪͭ̆͝
Caine is slowly growing crazy and manic in his office, But his favourite ⱧɄ₥₳₦ hasn't abandoned him yet. Right?
Characters :: Caine x Reader
Relationship :: Romantic 💌
Word count: 650+
Warnings: Ep8 spoilers , Yandere!Cain , Imprisonment , Gaslighting , NOT proofread , Possibly OOC (out of character)
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Finale)
Caine who starts to absolutely lose his shit in his office, Pondering aggressively and fixatedly on Ẁ̷̵̴̵̶̢̞̭̮̦̺̪̗̯̤̲̘̣̍̒ͮ̃̍̎̎ͨ̉ͪ́́͂͘̕̕̕̕͟͞H̶̱͍̫͔̊ͨ̎ͧ͂̓ͧͫ́̚͠ͅY̸̷̛̼̘̻͙͖̺͇͒ͯ̾̓͟ These...These Humans, Just won't appreciate his hard work he puts in every adventure!
Caine who's gum full of teeth head starts to form a V shape to make out a frown in Anger, slamming his fists onto the desk when bubble starts driving him absolutely nuts, Driving him to madness and denial with each sentence that overgrown bubble spits at him with that permanent cheshire grin.
Caine who slowly starts glitching, Limbs turning all sorts of colors rapidly. That V shape staying in place. eyes moving around rapidly trying to focus on something or Someone to ease his mind.
Caine who's shoulders Shoot up when he hears a knock of his Office doors, not expecting anybody to be here. to check on him. to LOOK for him..Maybe not everybody hates him! RIGHT? Whoever it is MUST be there for HIM.
And yet his shoulders don't stop tensing when it is you who walks into his office looking for him, The one person looking for him. The one person who feels the human emotion that is Caring about someone, an emotion he started believing is something the others surely didn't have anymore for treating him like this!
But when you actually start speaking to him, ACTUALLY verbally asking him if he's doing okay since you haven't seen him since...since the whole Abel thing, It makes him snap. Noone can tell if it's HIM that snapped or the program he was made with.
One second you were at his office near the exit door staring at him with furrowed brows, either in concern or fear or Both and the next you were Right infront of him between his body and the desk. Those 2 mismatched eyes between his..Gums? staring directly at you with unpure intentions.
"You. Human. Y/N. YOU don't hate my adventures RIGHT? YOU DON'T HATE ME? RIGHT? Those...those FREAKS down there are the utmost Stupidest Humans i have EVER encountered. But you're smart! You. are. so so Smart.. you're too valuable to lose."
It doesn't take much for you to be alarmed by him, I mean. If you weren't alarmed before of the sight you saw when you first entered his office, But with how he phrases and vocalizes his words right infront of you makes every single possible alarm go just as haywire as him.
And just as you were about to back away and try to get out of here, or atleast out of this..room where god knows what will happen to you, The Ringmaster of all of this snapped his gloved hand and teleports you both straight into the void, Everything just white with nothingness around like some padded room
"NOONE will think about crossing me again, They aren't the ones in control. I AM THEIR GOD and i am YOUR GOD! im your SAVIOR Y/N. and i will make sure, noone else will be there to even try to change your mind about who you belong to, let alone listen to."
"I WILL fulfill my purpose even if i have to get rid of those Parasites that Torment me! that take you away from me! i was never the bad guy, They are. and they will face the consequences."
and yet, Staring into the void lost in a trance, Feeling like your whole body is nowhere and your mind is anywhere. You don't notice the way his gloved hands aggressively sink into your shoulders, Possibly possessiveness or the anger bubbling inside of him.
But no matter what it is, It isn't something you'll be messing around with anytime soon as he dissapears with the same snap of his fingers that brought you both here. Leaving you back in the void until he brings you out where only both of you will reside in the circus anymore. How lovely.
Episode 8 was crazy man, can't believe TADC is over in June!
Im sorry if my writing is sloppy or bad, I haven't had enough time to process the whole episode to make a good enough writing T3T but hey! My requests are open! Mwa!
Lucifer and his fallen angel collection (Link coming soon!)
Lucifer Angst week
Masterlist, a character study via 7 snapshots of Luci's life
Garden Kisses (Angel!Lucifer)
Summary: As humanity's first year comes to a close, you spend the night watching the only two humans pass their time. The courtship of humans moved faster than that of angels but perhaps tonight the two of you could court at the speed of humans.
Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)
Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.
CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor
Lost Flowers (Human!Reader)
Summary: Imps doing whatever the fuck they did dropped a sex flower in the human world and it's Lucifer's problem as the king of Hell to find it. When he finds it, picked up by you, he has a obligation to help you ride out the effects.
CW: Sex pollen, compromised consent, smut, oral sex, fingering
Praise Be Thy Tongue (Fallen!Reader)
Summary: After turning your back on Heaven in favor of the man you had fallen in love with, you present yourself to Lucifer asking that he show you the ways of pleasure…
CW: oral, fem receiving, slight praise kink
What's This (Fallen!Reader)
Summary: Lucifer's lover, a newly fallen Angel continues her exploration of sinful pleasure as Lucifer teaches her what the cockring she found in his nightstand is for. Follow up to Praise Be Thy Tongue
CW: Cock ring, overstimulation, pleasure Dom undertones, wings, Luci a bit in his feels, Begging, praise, multiple orgasms
Hot and Cold (Fallen!Reader)
Summary: Lucifer treats his newly fallen love to a picnic and on a whim decides to expand her pleasurable horizons using the ice from the champagne bucket and the wax from the candles.
A follow up to Praise Be Thy Tongue
CW: Wax play, Ice play, Ice put inside the body, Oral, It's just smut, don't put ice cubes up your whooha, only use body safe wax for wax play
Snowball Fight (Alastor x Lucifer X FReader)
Summary: On a rare snow day in hell, the residents of the hotel indulge in a snowball fight that has a rather enlightening ending, revealing unlikely teammates and what you would have considered even less likely feelings. The solution to the frosty mess? Even more surprising.
CW: smut, Luci being a sad sack of shit, threesome, two dicks in one hole, oral
A Breath Of Air
Summary: You were at the most exclusive holiday party in all of Hell and it should have been a great time. Instead, you were in a dress you didn't feel good in and left by yourself. If you didn't have anyone to spend the party with, you'd make friends with the bartender. One thing lead to another and before you knew it, you were in the most depressed drink off with the King of Hell himself and needing to step outside for some air.
CW: Public sex, garden sex, drunk sex, oral sex
Caught In The Act (Lucifer x Vox x Adam x Alastor x FReader)
Summary: You get caught with Adam by your other lovers, sending your carefully constructed house of cards tumbling down. While your lovers are all angry, they're have a surprising way they wish to handle the situation
CW: dub con, group sex, multiple orgasms, noncon recording, anal, rough oral, BDSM, restraint, DP, f receiving oral, cheating
A Gift For Himself (Sex Worker FReader)
Summary: You had a job to do. It was a more complex job than people gave you credit for, a deeper job than seeing to the physical needs of your clients. Having been summoned to Pride Manor once again, you knew Lucifer's needs this holiday season were, like many of your clients, so much deeper than just indulging in the sin of lust but that was alright, you were prepared to be exactly what and who he needed this night.
CW: Sex worker Reader, P in V smut
Our spot Luci x Reader w/ Past Luci x Lilith
Summary: Lucifer brought you somewhere close to his heart to show you how much you mean to him. From the distance, Lilith simmers with rage over the prospect of being replaced
CW: Smut. Sand in places it shouldn't belong. Jealousy
Your Splashiness (Fallen!Reader)
AN: A continuation of the Fallen series of Lucifer fics. Read stand alone or stay tuned for the fallen masterlist!
Summary: Lucifer continues to expand the horizons of his little fallen angel, this time introducing her to the novel idea of a swimming pool. While guilt lingers over the growing evidence of her corruption, that doesn't stop the pair from having the time of their lives.
CW: Skinny dipping. Nudity. Hard ons. Sexy undies. Lame jokes.
CW: Titty fucking, large breasts, Adam being adam, oral, cum shots, facial Summary: Adam and his new, large breasted lover have been fucking like rabbits but you're tired and sore. Adam though, in love with your curves will gladly take the chance to lavish your chest with some affection.
The Original Dick
CW: Rough blowjob, semi public blowjob, m receiving oral, stalking, reader is a bit craycray
Summary: After repeated encounters with Adam at work, through the hole, you have no choice but to follow him in hopes of finding an organic way to meet again. When you're less of a skilled stalker than you thought, you're faced with the repercussions of your actions. (Follow up to crash landings)
Crash Landings
CW: Rough sex, Dub con, sex pollen, degradation, pussy slapping, fingering, compromised ability to consent
Summary: After taking damage to his wings, Adam has no choice but to make an emergency landing in a clearing of purple flowers, unaware of the unique flora of hell. While he waits for his flight feathers to regrow, he's met with some rather unexpected side effects of exposure to Hyperrigidus Purpureus pollen. His luck this extermination had been shit but when a pretty little demoness all but trips over him, he is pretty sure his luck was about to change.
Satin Ribbons
CW: Smut, Adam typical degradation
Summary: It was once a year that you got to see your angelic lover. A romantic, or perhaps just sexual, tryst you waited all year for. This year, you dressed yourself in something you hoped Adam would think about all year long. (AU follow up to Crash Landings)
Fallen For Glory (Sinner!Adam)
CW: Glory holes, sex work, Oral (M receiving), fem masterbation
Summary: Seven months after your fated encounter with the First man, you struggled to get him off your mind. Even after a unexpected failed early extermination and the broadcasted slaying of Adam on the battlefield, you couldn't get him off your mind as rumors of him being reborn, sentenced to hell himself made it impossible for you to let go.
And then, sitting in the both of the shitty glory hole joint Valentino ran, you heard his voice once again. Rumors were true. Adam lived and your obsession was fueled by nothing more than the taste o
Caught In The Act (Lucifer x Vox x Adam x Alastor x FReader)
CW: dub con, group sex, multiple orgasms, noncon recording, anal, rough oral, BDSM, restraint, DP, f receiving oral, cheating
Summary: You get caught with Adam by your other lovers, sending your carefully constructed house of cards tumbling down. While your lovers are all angry, they're have a surprising way they wish to handle the situation
Wrong Plug
Summary: You had a simple request for Adam- All you wanted for Christmas was a new charger plug for your tablet. It was a small, simple request, something well within his powers even with the household's limited financial budget. When he fails to even get that right, you have a gift of your own to fill his Christmas stocking... (Guest starring Vexi's BLT sandwich)
CW: Dub con, strap on, unprepped anal sex, vibrator, dildo, angry spouse, hand jobs, Anal as punishment
Rock Kisses
Summary: Adam threw a New Year's Eve party that was legendary. He stood on the stage and put on a once a year show where he lived his rock star dreams. Every year, he brought someone on stage to welcome the New Year in the spotlight with him.
Fireworks Adam x REaDer
AN: Guest Starring Kot aka Reader from @redvexillum's FoxDicker fics! This is a continuation of Stalked Adam, though prior fics are not required reading, nor is FoxDicker. Crash Landings -> Casting Call -> Fallen For Glory
Summary: After swearing you would give up your obsession over Adam, you run into him and his new girl at the fair. One thing leads to another and you're waiting to see if he'll show up in the alley behind the fairgrounds.
CW: cheating, voyeurism, public sex, m receiving oral, references to sex working, Cream pie, double cream pie, bathroom sex, alley sex, alley blow job. Adam x Kot smut. Adam x Reader smut.
CW: Public sex, heats, electric play, collars, public nudity, breeding, creampie
Rated: Adult
Summary: Being a cat demon, you suffered some of the most extreme heat cycles in all of hell. Every few weeks you went out of your mind with the need to be bred. It didn't matter who, when, where or how.
It was a good thing you belonged to Vox. But what happens when your cycle sneaks up on you, slamming into you a little earlier than expected while Vox is at a meeting? Can you make it to your powerful lover before someone else takes you or will you fall for the first male you see?
You were everything Vox thought he could never have. At least, not that would willingly want him. You were a cat personified. Not in the way that some sinners were. No, you were long elegant lines and an agility that mesmerized him. He struggled to believe that this wasn’t how you always were, that you hadn’t spent your living life with the pointed ears atop your head and long thin tail that told so much of your moods.
It was love at first sight for Vox. Or perhaps obsession. Maybe you were just his soulmate. It didn’t matter. He had stopped at nothing until what you were was his.
That’s what made Vox both love and hate your biology. Your cycle ruled your emotions and your body. In the privacy of his own penthouse, oh how he loved the way you would rub up against him, present yourself and beg for him to breed you. He was delighted to indulge in your needy whimpers and whines, taking you through your heat every few weeks.
He couldn’t always be there for you, though. Sometimes, he lost track of time. Sometimes he was caught up in meetings. Sometimes your heat snuck up on you just as much as him.
That’s what he realized happened now as you slunk down the hall. Your skirt was so short it nearly didn’t exist, even by hell’s standards. It was one he had gotten you for in the privacy of your home, to wear for him. The crop top you wore was nearly torn in two, hiding your breasts but only just as you climbed onto the floor’s reception desk.
Vox watched as you stretched, arms high over your head, pulling the hem of your top to caress the underside of your breasts. Looking around the boardroom, Vox found he wasn’t the only one watching the show you were putting on. Valentino watched you with the hunger of a man who had lost what was one of his star toys.
“Your pussycat looks like she’s feeling pretty needy and isn’t about to be picky,” Val teased, taking a long drag of the cigarette between his fingers.
“Shut up,” Vox demanded as he stalked out of the room, slamming the glass door with so much force that it cracked, a spiderweb of white racing across the surface.
A high pitch whine cut through the air as a feline, something thick and hairy, reached out for you. His clawed hand ran up the back of your thigh as you slunk around the desk, legs spread just enough to make it clear you wanted to be filled.
“Touch her and I’ll shred you,” Vox grabbed the furry wrist, wrenching it back from the smoothe skin of your thigh with such force that bones broke, ripping through flesh. You purred at the display of violence, heat fogged mind hardly seeing the men before you as anything more than men, one more powerful and worthy than the other.
“I’m sorry,” the man whimpered as he backed away, blood spilling down his forearm and dripping off his elbow in a broken river. “I didn’t know she belonged to you.”
“She does, now fuck off.” Vox wrapped his large hand around the back of your neck, pulling you from the desk as close to by the scruff as one could. You mewled, rubbing your thighs together at the dominance of the touch, wrapping your arms around the TV demon as soon as your feet hit the ground.
That same high pitched needy yowl spilled from your throat, demanding as you pressed the length of your body up against him. He knew you would have no peace until you were seen to.
“Please,” you whined, not caring that there were eyes on you as you ran your hands over the tall, lean man. “Please, fuck me.”
“Right here?” Vox asked as your hand caressed his crotch, finding the evidence that your displays impacted him as well, though he had no way to recieve the scent of you. Your hand gripped and rubbed his cock, bringing it from where it had been semi hard to straining against his pants.
You were ready to sink to your knees, to take him with your mouth and convince the powerful man to fuck you, mate you, breed you. Tears gathered in your eyes, born of the intensity of your physical need.
“Turn around,” Vox said, folding you over the desk as soon as you did. The position had you perfectly placed for breeding. The skirt did nothing to cover the thong you wore, glued to your cunt so well by your need that you may as well have been wearing nothing at all.
He could see the outline of every fold. Slick smeared on your thighs, shiny and wet. Even the underside of your tail, whipping and fanning the scent of your heat, was damp with it.
He would fuck you right there, in the lobby and make it damn clear to anyone that watched that you belonged to him. Claws ran up your back, leaving red marks as he ripped through the fabric of your top. It wasn’t like it was doing much to cover your breasts, anyway.
Your ears flicked back, honing in on the sound of his belt unfastening, then the zipper running down. Clawed fingers ran up and down your covered cunt before peeling your soaked panties down, slick clinging to the fabric, spreading in strings he pulled it away.
There was no time spent prepping you. He knew you would be tight, opening clenched and tense, waiting for someone to bully their way into you. It was what your body was craving, and he was going to make a show of giving it to you.
“There are people watching,” Vox said, voice loud enough to carry. “What do you want?”
“Fuck me,” you backed up, wiggling your exposed cunt at him. “Breed me.”
Vox thrust into you with one strong, smoothe motion. His cock spread up open, girth forcing your walls to part for him as he sank deeper and deeper into your burning heat. You gasped, body tensing and then relaxing as you finally had the feeling you had been chasing all day.
“Fuck,” you whimpered, fingers clawing at the reception desk as he pushed deeper and deeper.
A large hand wrapped around your neck, pinning you in place as he bottomed out. “Who do you belong to?” Vox asked, voice slowly sinking into your ears through the fog.
“You,” you whined, ready to beg him to move.
“What’s my name?” He asked, hips thrusting harshly into you with each word. “Tell these folks who gets to fuck you through your heats.”
“You,” you whined, needing him to fuck you in earnest and not the teasingly slow way he would pull out of your body, only to then push in harshly with the words. “You do.”
“My name, pussycat.”
“Vox,” you gasped as his fingers wrapped tighter around your neck.
Electric current ran over your skin, dancing in a sizzling blue arc that singed away hair at the nape of your neck. The blue strands of lightning curled around eachother, weaving together. Each new strand of electricity banded with the last, creating something real and lasting around your neck.
There was a flash of light, bright and hot, and then Vox’s hand left you, leaving a leather strap wrapped around your neck. On the front, a D ring held a metal tag. It scraped and clanked against the surface of the desk as Vox fucked into faster.
Static ran over your skin, reminding you of what and who Vox was. It was a powerful promise. You had no choice but to take what he was giving you. The threat was unneeded. Vox knew you stood no chance in the face of the simple biology that ruled you.
You wouldn’t be able to think clearly until someone’s seed was deep in your cunt. Vox would ensure that it was his seed. Always his. Every single heat.
Electric blue chains formed, wrapping around his wrist and hooking around the blue collar. A sharp moan slipped from between your lips as he pulled you up by it.
Each sharp thrust pushed you forward, throat straining against the collar. Your breasts bounced with them, nipples dancing for everyone that looked on.
“Please,” you choked out the words, drool running from the corner of your lips, “breed me.”
Static ran over your skin, little sparks of blue light jumping between hairs, arching over nipples. It ran down, down your abdomen. Gooseflesh broke out across your body as the static concentrated between your legs, zapping between your spread folds in painful shocks.
“Who do you belong to?” Vox asked, fuckin into you harder and harder, chasing his on release as static electricity jumped around your folds, zapping your thighs and tingling over your clit.
“Y-you,” you whined out, cunt clenching painfully around Vox’s cock.
“My name, Kitty.” Vox jerked on the collar, static tingling, zapping, lighting nerves on fire. You were so close, so very close to coming undone as you struggled to make sense of the voice through the fog. “Or you don’t get to cum. You want to cum, don’t you?”
“Yes,” tears ran freely down your face. “Please. I want to.”
“If you want to cum on my cock, tell me who owns you,” Vox growled in your ear. “Tell me and I’ll give you everything you need.”
You moaned, walls fluttering as your brain struggled to process. Each thrust of his cock through your sopping walls stole your thoughts. Strings of slick swung, hanging off the base of his shaft. You had soaked the front of his pants.
“Vox,” you finally breathed out his name, plucking it from the shifting sea of fog.
“Say it louder,” Vox ordered. “For everyone to hear.”
“Vox,” you did as he said, his name quickly becoming a chant as he shoved you over the edge. The coil inside you snapped. Harsh, violent waves of pleasure slammed through your body as you screamed his name.
He pounded into you, shoving you harshly down on the desk. Pain flared as your forehead struck the hard surface. Cold stone pressed into your naked chest as Vox chased his release, thrusts and static, keeping you in a perpetual state of orgasm until he exploded within you.
Hot seed burned as he shot into your quivering hole, painting your cervix with the one thing that would bring your heat to a quick end and buy you clarity. Each pump of his cock gave you more of his seed and, with it, pushed the fog away.
When Vox was done, he pulled out from your warmth and tucked his cock away. He took a moment to admire how your knees trembled. Heavy breaths racked through your body as you lay with your micro skirt pushed over your ass and otherwise naked.
Dark blue hands grabbed your ass, spreading you open. Vox indulged in watching a thick glob of his cum run from your abused opening. Only when he was satisfied with the view did he slap your ass one last time before returning to his meeting.
Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!
day ten: cock worship/instruction (huskerdust x fem!reader)
sequel to this fic. you wake up in the boys' arms after your first time together, and angel continues your sexual education by teaching you how to blow husk. 3k.
You wake up surrounded by warmth, and you can feel the comfortable weight of other bodies in your bed. You blink sleep out of your eyes blearily for a moment before you place them, and the soft pink of the fur of the arm wrapped around you matches the colour burning in your cheeks as the memories of the night before come back to you.
You’d slept with them.
You’d actually had sex… you’d lost your virginity to Husk and Angel.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
And now here you are, cuddled up with the two of them as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’ve rolled over during the night, and the scent of cloves, whiskey, and something woodsy teases your nose where it’s buried in plush fur. Husk’s chest rises and falls slowly underneath your cheek, and you tilt your head back to dare a glance up at him.
“He’s pretty cute when he’s sleepin’, huh?”
You let out a soft squeak of surprise at the sound of Angel’s voice, soft and slightly nasal with sleep. He’s pressed up against your back, an arm slung casually around your waist. He squeezes you with it and you feel his hand move entangling itself in the hem of your shirt. His fingertips graze your stomach beneath it, and the touch makes you shiver. Your cheeks flush with heat as you remember that aside from your shirt, you’re completely bare.
“Like a livin’ teddy bear, don’t’cha think?”
You hum a quiet laugh, “Kinda, yeah.”
“I ain’t sleepin’,” Husk grumbles out with his eyes still closed, but there’s a soft smile playing over his lips. “But I’d be more than happy to get back to that.”
“Bullshit you weren’t sleepin’.” Angel retorts teasingly. “Ya tongue was doin’ that lil ‘blep’ thing it does when you’ve passed the fuck out.”
“Watch it,” Husk warns, and you can’t help but giggle into the bartender’s chest. He hums affectionately in response, and you feel a light pressure on the crown of your head. You realise after a moment that Husk has pressed a kiss there, against your hair. The gesture sends butterflies swirling into your stomach. “How’re you feelin’ kid?”
Husk’s voice is quiet and you lift your head bashfully, resting your chin on his chest and smiling up at him with pink in your cheeks. “No complaints here. Except maybe the fact that I wish I was wearing pants.”
You feel the feathers of Husk’s tail brush up against your calf.
“Better not be complainin’,” Angel interjects, pressing a teasing kiss of his own to the back of your neck. While Husk’s kiss had been soft and gentle, Angel pairs his with a playful bite that makes you squirm, pressing you closer to Husk. You feel the bartender’s paw move to spread over your thigh, daring to hook it against his own. You flush, burying your face in his chest, and you feel as well as hear Husk’s answering chuckle. ‘Huskie here was pullin’ his A-game out for ya last night.”
“Can it,” Husk says, amused. Angel snickers, leaning up and over you so he can catch the bartender in a kiss. You can hear Angel moan lightly into it when Husk slides his tongue into the spider’s mouth, and the sound of it makes you swallow, a tingling heat rising in the small of your back, your chest. The hand Angel has in your shirt spreads against your stomach, and another finds your ass and squeezes it. You jerk away from it in surprise, which only brings you closer to Husk; you’re almost straddling his thigh now.
Which, you realise, is probably exactly what Angel intended.
The spider demon laughs into the kiss and Husk rolls his eyes at him as they break apart. “Idiot.”
“Ooh, talk dirty to me, baby,” Angel shoots back, tucking hair away from your neck. He turns his attention to you before Husk can come up with a response. “So, sweetcheeks, ya still keen on us in the light of day?”
You nod once more into the bartender’s chest, and you feel his paw come up to brush hair away from your face hesitantly. You can feel the soft, rusty purr that start’s in Husk’s chest under your cheek when you dare to run your fingers through the fur of his stomach. “Uh-huh.”
“Good.” Angel says simply. “Any ideas on what’cha wanna do next?”
The heat in your face returns as an idea comes to you, and you grab at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down as far as possible before rolling over and leaning up to whisper in the spider’s ear bashfully. You hear Husk groan, low in the back of his throat, as you do. Those butterflies increase when you realise its because you’ve pressed your ass back into him.
Angel grins as soon as you’ve finished speaking. “Well, damn, sugar. I was kinda thinkin’ breakfast or somethin’. But if you wanna treat us like slabs of meat and skip straight to the horny shit I ain’t gonna complain.”
“Oh, my God,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry, I—”
Husk presses his nose into the side of your neck, humming reassuringly. That purr is still rolling through him quietly. “He’s kidding, doll.”
“Damn fuckin’ right, I am.” Angel snickers, rolling onto his back and stretching out all six of his visible limbs. Then he claps two hands together the way Charlie does when she’s ready for them all to start on some new ‘super-fun’ project she’s concocted, and he sits up, brushing his hair back with one hand. “Alright, Huskie. I’m gonna need ya to sit your cute ass on the edge of the bed.”
“Are ya now?” Husk raises a brow, a small, amused smirk playing over his features. Still, he does as he’s told, daring to press a fleeting kiss to your shoulder as he moves away from you, a silent way to tell you to relax. His fur and feathers are ruffled from sleep, and he shudders lightly when you reach out with tentative fingers to run them through some wayward feathers.
Angel giggles. “Careful, dollface. Do that again and he’ll be creamin’ his jeans before you even get a taste.”
You withdraw your hand obediently, and Husk’s brow rises again. “Legs, she doesn’t have to—”
“Oh, baby, she wants to do it,” the spider croons, taking your hand in his as he stands. He pulls you up off the bed, leading you around in front of Husk and winks at the cat before guiding you gently down onto your knees in front of him. Husk’s pupils widen, and his tail slides back and forth across the dishevelled sheets. “Our innocent lil babycakes here spent one night with ya and decided the first thing she wanted to do this mornin’ is wrap those pretty lips around your cock.”
Your face is flaming, and Angel saves you from commenting by leaning over and catching Husk in a kiss, long and burning and sweet. The spider teases his fingers over the fur behind Husk’s ear and the bartender moans lightly into his mouth.
“Better be a gentleman, Huskie,” Angel tells him. “Give our girl a kiss.”
Husk smiles, leaning down and catching your cheek in his palm. You move to meet him before he even has a chance to check in, meeting his lips with your own. You can feel his surprise at your enthusiasm in the way he freezes for a second, then the smile that blooms on his lips as he relaxes again. That addictive little thrill goes through you again when he slides his tongue into your mouth.
The kiss lingers until Angel clears his throat jokingly, and you sit back on your heels. The spider moves to kneel behind you, two hands taking your waist, the other two kneading a relaxing pressure into your shoulders.
“Alright, babycakes,” Angel coos in your ear. His breath tickles the side of your neck. “Ya ready for ya next lesson?”
You swallow, daring to reach up and smooth your hands over Husk’s thighs. Your voice comes out shaky with nerves, but your tone betrays your excitement. “Y-yes.”
Husk smile softly, encouragingly, his eyes darkening further. His voice is low, a rough-edged tenor that goes straight between your legs. “That’s a good girl.”
Heat flushes through you at his words and your breath catches in your throat. Angel giggles quietly, pressing himself up against your back, his lower hands smoothing over your hips, tugging your shirt up slightly to tease Husk with the reminder of your near-nudity. “Careful, kitty; she liked that. You keep that up and you’ll have her passin’ out before she even gets your fly open.”
Husk looks amused, but more than that… he looks intrigued. His tail twitches slowly behind him, and you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue as you eye the bulge in the front of his pants. Husk distracts you from it by brushing hair away from your face with a paw. “That so, doll?”
“Maybe,” you mumble, and a giggle slips out of you as Angel nips playfully at the side of your throat. “Ah!”
“Focus, baby,” Angel mutters, smoothing his hands up over your arms and taking hold of your wrists. He leads your hands up to the fastenings of Husk’s pants, and the bartender exhales a soft groan as your fingers brush over his clothed erection. Angel continues speaking, low in your ear. “You’re gonna take this nice and slow, okay? No teeth – you get them near those barbs and Huskie ain’t gonna love ya too much after that. But he’s gonna love that tongue of yours. Jus’ have a taste an’ watch how pretty the kitty gets when he squirms.”
You nod, the spider demon’s chest fluff tickling at the back of your neck as you fumble with the button and fly of Husk’s pants. His breath hitches as your gaze flickers up to meet his in the same moment your fingers encircle his cock. He’s half-hard already and you stroke him slowly, remembering the way he’d moaned when you’d squeezed the base of him and flicked your thumb over the tip. And if that’s just from your hand…
Husk moans in the back of his throat as you lean forward and swipe your tongue experimentally over the head of his cock. “Shit…”
Angel hums approvingly, and you do it again, daring to swirl your tongue around the tip slowly. He lets out a low, appraising whistle. “Well, ain’t ya jus’ a quick study, baby?”
You hum by way of response as you wrap your lips around the head of Husk’s cock, and the bartender groans quietly as the sound vibrates your lips around him. You pull back, face flushed as you look up at Husk. He’s staring down at you with dark eyes, pupils blown wide and his lips parted with unsteady breath. You’ve seen him drunk, belligerent, sleep-deprived, but you’ve never seen him so… needy. It sends a thrill, a heat, down into the pit of your stomach.
Swallowing back your remaining nerves, you hold Husk’s gaze as you move back down to wrap your lips around him. His eyes roll back for a second at the touch of your tongue, his claws curling around the edge of the mattress.
“Ooh, see that? He’s tryin’ to stop himself from grabbin’ hold of your hair.” Angel coos in your ear, and you shiver slightly, licking a slow stripe up the length of Husk’s erection. “You like how he tastes, baby?”
You nod, daring to take him into your mouth properly. Husk’s breath catches as you engulf him in the warmth and wetness of your mouth, and you try to take more, eager to hear that sound again. You gag as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, pulling back as your chest seizes with it.
Angel snickers, running his fingers through your hair soothingly. “Someone’s eager…”
“Easy, doll,” Husk breathes, claws tightening on the sheets for a moment. Then one comes up to smooth over your cheek, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “As flatterin’ as that sound is, don’t go makin’ yourself sick.”
You giggle, wiping drool from your bottom lip. Angel reaches past you, wrapping his hand around the base of Husk’s cock and pumping it slowly, teasingly. Husk groans quietly in response.
“Little trick for ya, baby,” Angel says, squeezing the base of Husk’s cock. “Keep a hand at the base; ya gonna be able to play with the whole thing without tossin’ ya cookies in the guy’s lap.”
Angel’s hand caresses the back of your neck as you bring your mouth back to Husk’s cock, keeping his hand wrapped around the base for you. He squeezes him almost rhythmically, and as you take Husk’s cock back into your mouth until your lips brush against Angel’s fingers. You hear the spider hum approvingly, and Husk moans aloud when you suck as you pull back, wriggling your tongue back and forth as you do to tease over the barbs that line the underside of it.
“Oh, fuck…” Husk exhales, his voice rough. His claws do skim through your hair then, and you whimper lightly as you take up a tentative rhythm around his cock.
Angel reaches past you with his lower hands to massage talented fingers into the twitching muscles of the bartender’s thighs. “How’s she feel, baby?”
“Good…” Husk groans, head falling back for a moment. His wings flutter, the air off them tickling your face. “Sooo fuckin’ good…”
You feel him shift his hips, thrust ever so slightly up into your mouth. The muscles in his thighs are taut; he’s holding himself back from taking more. You quicken your pace, and Husk shudders, chuckling brokenly as he presses a hand to your shoulder to push you gently away.
“Take it slow, baby,” he murmurs, catching his breath. He jumps slightly when you flick your tongue over his tip again. “Christ, I ain’t gonna be hold out for ya if you keep goin’ like that…”
Angel kisses the side of your neck, and you’re sure he’s smirking at Husk. “No need to hold out, baby. I bet she’s jus’ about ready to beg for a proper taste, ain’t ya, sugar?”
He grazes his teeth against your pulse point, withdrawing his hand from Husk’s cock when your hand moves to replace it. Husk’s erection twitches under your touch, and you slide your fingers back and forth over the saliva-slickened flesh.
“You want Huskie here to cum for ya? Tell him where ya want it.”
Angel touches fingers to your lips before walking them down over your chest enticingly. Husk’s eyes follow the movement almost hungrily, and your mind fumbles with the options. You want to taste him, you do… but when Angel’s hand brushes over your sternum through the soft cotton of your shirt, you’re struck with the need for him to mark you in some way. There are still pink lines marking your thighs and hips from last night, and you want more, more signs, even brief ones, that he’s claiming you.
You sit back for a moment, squashing down your nerves and pulling your shirt up over your head. You let it fall onto the carpet beside you, and Angel lets out another appreciative whistle. Husk’s eyes widen, pupils so big there’s barely a ring of gold visible anymore, as you flick your fingers over your chest, your other hand retaking its hold of Husk’s cock.
“Here,” you tell them, eyes on Husk’s. “I want… I want you to cum on my chest.”
“Shit…” Husk breathes.
“Atta girl,” Angel grins, skimming his hands up your now-naked sides. “I knew there was a little pervert in there.”
You giggle, taking the bartender’s cock back into your mouth. Husk groans as you do, claws in your hair again as you swallow around him, curling your tongue against him and fuck him with your mouth and hand. Angel keeps cooing sweet nothings and praise as you do, hands squeezing your hips and waist. You only move away long enough to breath before your mouth is around him again, saliva on your lips and chin. Your movements are uneven, without the grace of anything Angel can do, but your enthusiasm is making Husk’s eyes roll back, his hips grind up off the bed and into your mouth.
“Shit, baby…” he moans, his tail lashing behind him. “Fuck, baby, I can’t…”
“You want him to paint those pretty tits of yours, I’d pull back, dollface,” Angel says teasingly. “That little shiver he’s doin’ means he’s close.”
You do as he says, mouth making an audible ‘pop’ as you release Husk’s cock. Your hand continues pumping at Husk’s cock and the cat demon moans your name aloud, his voice rough, almost desperate. When he cums, it’s on your chest and chin, and he groans heavily, tortured, as your tongue darts out to lick at the cum on your bottom lip.
“Oh, fuck…” he exhales, an almost delirious smile on his face. He leans down and catches you in a kiss, heedless of the cum still on your chin, and you moan quietly into his mouth. “That was… Christ, baby…”
“You’ve officially rendered the man speechless,” Angel grins, taking a turn to kiss the bartender. “Kudos, babycakes.”
You feel daring enough to reach up and ruffle the spider’s hair, and he laughs. “Is it wrong to ask what the protocol is here regarding…” you gesture vaguely at your chest.
Husk chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Shower, baby. I’ll look into finding us breakfast.”
I don’t know how I missed this but I think I’ve actually ascended. I am at the pearly gates and this fic will be lining the walls of my own personal heaven.
huskerdust x fem!reader. a birthday present for the wonderful, inimitable @mckeeks. if anyone deserves to be lovingly spoilt (and dicked down) by this duo, it is unequivocally her. ❤️ happy birthday, babe!
when you reluctantly reveal to the other residents of the hazbin hotel that you're still a virgin, angel graciously offers up his and husk's services in rectifying that condition for you. and how could you turn down such a kind offer from hell's best couple?
(as always, the dynamic here is one in which husk serves as the hinge between the reader and angel). way longer than I thought it'd be - 7.8k.
featuring: afab/fem-presenting reader, established!huskerdust, polyamory, soft!dom angel dust, voyuerism/exhibitionism, praise kink, lowkey daddy kink, oral sex (reader receiving), handjobs (husk receiving), masturbation, facials, husk has barbs (and you're into it), unprotected sex (it's hell so who cares), gendered petnames, the hotel rooms have cuck chairs (sorry).
“Sooo…” Angel draws out liltingly, his glass clasped between two hands, and you immediately regret accepting his invitation to join him at the bar. His voice isn’t teasing – just curious – but you can still feel your face begin to burn before he even gets the question you know is coming past his lips and into the air between you. “…A virgin, huh?”
Dear God or whoever is listening, if there is any chance that the ground could open up and swallow you whole, you really needed it to happen right about now.
“Angel.” Husk says from his usual position on the other side of the bar. He has his back to you as he sorts the bottles back into their designated positions after a long night of ‘family bonding’ with the rest of the residents. You’re grateful, for once, that his eyes aren’t on you. Husk’s voice is edged with a gentleness you think might be reserved just for the spider. Still, there’s a warning there, too. “Leave it.”
Where he’d usually make some teasing or sarcastic remark, Angel’s silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice stays gentle, still curious. “You one of those god-fearin’ types or ya just never had the opportunity?”
You loved Charlie, you really did, but right now…
Right now, fuck her and her bonding activities.
“I just…” you swallow the knot sticking in the middle of your throat, keeping your eyes trained pointedly away from Angel’s face. You notice that maybe Husk’s hand pauses for a moment, as though he’s waiting for an explanation too. Well, who wouldn’t? You might have died younger than most, but not young enough to just chalk up your inexperience to the innocence of youth. “I just never met anyone I liked, I guess. And Hell’s not exactly lousy with decent men.”
“Huh.” Angel says simply, finishing his drink. He sets the glass back down, stretching one pair of arms above his head, the other two behind him. He settles all four of his hands in his lap as Husk refills his drink. And then,
“You should get Husk to help ya out with that.”
Your cheeks flame, and Husk chokes on the drink he’s just taken. Eyes watering and his throat burning with the whiskey that sticks in it, he coughs his admonishment. “Angel!”
You grope for a response, for a joke that’ll get the conversation away from your sex life… or lack thereof. Before you can find one, Angel continues, ignoring the way Husk is still hacking up the last of his drink. Even as mortified as you are, you feel your lips quirk upwards slightly in amusement as Husk reaches blindly for a new bottle before he’s even done coughing up the remains of the first.
“Look at you two, blushin’ like some kinda…” Angel smirks as he glances pointedly at you. “…well.”
You frown. “I really don’t need you mocking me, Angel.”
“I ain’t mockin’ ya dollface,” he replies, raising two hands in surrender. Still, that placid note stays in his voice, something that could be read as sincerity if what he was offering wasn’t such a ridiculous notion. “I’m bein’ serious here. Huskie’s downright godly in the sack.”
Husk finally turns around to face the two of you properly, bright pink staining his muzzle. You notice his eyes dart towards you, and you could swear the blush deepens. The idea that it does sends a thrill through you, and you clutch tightly at your glass as though it could somehow stem the feelings churning inside you.
Husk was Angel’s. You’d accepted that, you had. You’d written off your attraction to the bartender as some silly crush. You didn’t think about him like that anymore.
You didn’t.
“Legs, I’m beggin’ ya,” Husk says, even as he refills the spider’s glass, “For the sake of whatever you believe in, please shut the fuck up.”
“What?” Angel protests, waving a hand almost dismissively. He actually looks confused by the objection. “I ain’t got a problem sharin’ if it’s with a friend.”
Husk sighs, directing his eyes towards the ceiling. There’s a tightness to how he stands, in the way his tail is switching back and forth behind him. He’s still avoiding your eye, his face still warm with colour.
“That ain’t the—” he breaks off, taking a deep pull from the bottle in his hand. He grimaces, tilting the bottle to read the label – watermelon vodka of all things – but shrugs and takes another drink as though it helps him gather his thoughts. Or his nerves. “She ain’t a toy, Angel. You can’t jus—”
“You tellin’ me ya ain’t interested anymore?” Angel interjects pointedly, raising a brow.
Husk stiffens, his ears dropping back against his skull. “I—”
“What?” you finally find your voice again, straightening slightly in your seat. You turn your attention fully to the bartender, and he meets your gaze with equally wide eyes. “You… you were interested? In me?”
“I…” Husk seems to struggle for words for a moment before he sighs, an almost sheepish, self-deprecating smile touching his lips as he exhales. “C’mon, doll. I’d have to be blind not to notice you.”
Something warm and wonderfully light settles in your chest, and Angel’s smile widens as he takes in your reaction. You jump as you feel one of his hands touch your arm.
“Told ya so,” he says, skimming his hand up along your arm as he stands. He continues to caress across your shoulder blades, moving to stand behind you. “Shoulda seen it, baby. How he’d bend himself all outta shape feelin’ guilty for feelin’ all warm and gooey over ya.”
“Angel, I didn’t—”
“’s okay,” he assures you gently, his hands taking your shoulders and waist. He leans against your back, meeting Husk’s eye as he speaks in your ear. Angel’s voice is low; his warm breath against your neck makes you shiver. “Like I said, I don’t mind sharin’.”
Your eyes flick back to Husk.
“So, why not get somethin’ out of it? Huskie here can be real romantic about it… he’ll make ya feel so, so good…”
You can feel your breath leave you unsteadily. Husk’s pupils all but eclipse the gold of his eyes, and his gaze falls to your mouth for a moment before he meets your eye again.
“There’s no pressure, baby,” Angel assures you, and you can tell he means it. “I’m jus’ sayin’, we’d have a lot of fun together.”
“‘We’?” you repeat, surprised enough to turn and face him. Angel wears his pride like a second skin, and as far as you were aware, he never swung back the other way without being paid for it. You try to find the right words as Angel beckons Husk to join the two of you, and heat pools in the small of your back as you hear, feel, the bartender round the bar towards you slowly. You choose the words carefully. “I didn’t think you were…”
Angel smirks, lifting your chin with two delicate fingers. That same heat burns in the pit of your stomach at the gentle dominance of the action. “Don’t panic, dollface. I ain’t joinin’ in the ride. It’s your show; yours and Husk’s.”
He leans down, bringing his face so, so much closer to yours. You feel Husk’s presence beside the two of you, and Angel reaches out to take his hand. Husk takes it wordlessly; he’s so close you can feel the soft fur of his stomach brush against your knee as he breathes. It puts images in your head of him stepping between your thighs, taking hold of your hips… trapping you between his body and the bar…
There’s a heat in Angel’s eyes that makes it impossible for you to look away; one that floods through every inch of you. It makes your entire body tingle with need for connection, for touch. Angel seems to recognize this; he reaches up with another hand to brush hair behind your ear and his smile twitches wider when you shudder.
Nerves war with the excitement that has bloomed in the very centre of you, and you feel alien and out of place sitting on the bed, one knee bent against the mattress, the other leg hanging off the side. Husk sits in a mirrored position, wings tucked tight against his back. He’s so close that his knee bumps against yours.
The lights are low, but his eyes still glow as they study you. Your eyes keep falling to your hands where they tangle in your lap before they find his again, and you can feel just how flushed your cheeks are under his gaze. The feathered end of his tail twitches back and forth slowly beside the bed, and he clears his throat.
“We don’ have to do anything you don’ want to, sweetness.” he says in a low murmur, his voice all warm velvet and silk. The pet-name makes you press your lips together, the tip of your tongue darting out to wet them. Husk’s gaze falls to follow the movement, and he inhales sharply. “We… I don’ want you to feel like we’re forcin’ you into anything y—”
You lean forward and press your lips to Husk’s impulsively in a brief, fleeting kiss. You hear, feel, the quiet mrrp of surprise he makes, his wings fluttering and relaxing behind him. You can feel the softness of his lips before you pull away again, your face aflame. He blinks at you before his lips curl into a smile, and your breath catches in your throat as he closes the distance between you again.
Husk’s hand cups your cheek in the same moment his lips meet yours. This time the kiss lingers, and your nerves give way to desire as you feel his other paw touch your knee. Husk kisses you softly, searchingly, his lips brushing gently against yours. Your own lips part, his nose bumping against yours as you take a breath. Then he’s kissing you again and you whimper as you feel his tongue touch your bottom lip, begging permission.
God, the way he groans quietly when you part your lips and meet his tongue tentatively with your own.
Husk strokes your cheek with his thumb, the pad of his palm soft against your skin as he slides his claws carefully into your hair. It makes you shiver and you lean into his embrace, reaching up with uncertain hands to card fingers through the fur of his chest. A rumble sounds from deep within him, a rusty purr that you feel as a light buzz under your fingertips.
You can’t help the light, breathless laugh that leaves you as you realise that’s what it is – you’ve made the bartender purr – and Husk smiles into your kiss as he pulls you back to him, catching your lips again. His touch on your knee becomes more confident as you relax into his embrace, and he ghosts the tips of his claws up over your inner thigh, teasing just under the hem of your dress.
“Husk…” you breathe his name against his lips and he chuckles, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against yours.
“Fuck, it sounds so pretty comin’ from you…” he murmurs, his nose cold against your heated skin as he moves to kiss you again.
Your hand journeys up from his chest to slide through the fur of his neck and up to his cheek, and Husk leans into your touch with a soft smile. His paws close around your thighs and he tugs you closer, your legs unfolding to rest on either side of his. Husk’s touch moves to your hips and he kisses you again, guiding you gently back against the pillows as his body covers yours.
Winding your arms around his neck, you feel his feathers tickle at your knees as you bend them to rest against his hips. The move brings him flush against you, and Husk breaks away from your lips with a breathless sound halfway between a groan and a disbelieving laugh.
“Fuck…” Husk lets his head fall forward, his forehead bumping against your collarbone. You feel his hips rock into yours before he can stop himself, and you whimper as you feel his arousal press up between your thighs. He exhales shakily, brushing his lips against your shoulder, your throat, your cheek before he meets your eye again. “’s this okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, carding your fingers through the fur at the base of his ear. Husk shudders against you, eyes rolling back slightly at the touch. A crease forms in his brow as he forces himself not to move, not to grind himself down against your warmth. Your dress is bunched up around him, baring your inner thighs to his tickling fur, his breath warm against your cheek. “Yeah, please… do it again, Husk.”
“Christ,” Husk mutters as you tease at his ear again, knocking his hat off his head. He kisses you firmly, deeply, one paw taking hold of your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh in a way that you could almost call possessive. “You got no idea how dangerous you are…”
“Holy shit, you two are cute.”
Angel’s voice breaks through the haze between the two of you, and you pull away from Husk slightly as you’re suddenly reminded that the spider is there. Your cheeks flush with heat; you’d been so wrapped up in the man in bed with you that you’d almost forgotten your friend was watching. Instead of being cowed by his interruption however, you’re almost taken aback by how much it excites you, knowing he’s watching.
Husk presses another kiss to the edge of your jaw before he turns his head to roll his eyes and smile at his paramour. “You plannin’ on jus’ addin’ colour commentary here, legs?”
“For now, yeah,” Angel replies with a grin, lounging comfortably in the armchair in the corner. He’s watching the two of you with hooded eyes, and there’s something almost sensual in the way he strokes a hand lazily back and forth along the velvety fabric of the arm of the chair. “I’m jus’ waitin’ for ya to do that thing with your tongue that’ll make her go blind for a second.”
Husk snickers and, feeling daring, you lean up to tease the side of his throat with your lips. You feel him groan as your teeth graze over his pulse point. The bartender’s hand tightens on your thigh, hitching it higher against his hip. “Fuck…”
“Ooh, she’s a quick study,” Angel coos, and you thrill under the praise as Husk turns his head to catch your lips in another kiss. “Think you can keep up with her, kitty?”
“Don’ call me that,” Husk mumbles without breaking the kiss, and Angel giggles. Husk dusts kisses down over your throat, and you feel him grin against your neck when he sucks a bruise into the curve where it meets your shoulder and you curse. The sound of it is low and throaty and begs for more, and Husk rewards it with a louder purr and a trail of kisses that teases down along the neckline of your dress. You arch up into his touch as his lips brush over your sternum, his whiskers tickling at the swell of your breasts.
His paw continues its journey up your thigh, taking the skirt of your dress with it. His tail sways back and forth behind him, and when he reaches your hip, he pauses, pressing one more kiss to your chest before pulling back to meet your eye. A smirk plays over his features, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide with desire.
“You got me at a disadvantage here, sweetness,” he murmurs, lips catching yours again briefly. “You’re a little overdressed for the occasion.”
You giggle. “Well, of course you’d think that; you’re the one who walks around the hotel half-naked all day.”
Husk chuckles, and you hear Angel hum a laugh, too. The cat kisses you, his thumb hooking in the band of your underwear and snapping it tauntingly against your hip. “Cheeky girl.”
You sit up and Husk helps you tug your dress up over your head, and God the way he looks at you…
Pulling him down into another kiss, you massage your fingers against the base of his ears and Husk moans, rough and worn and needy. He retakes your hips as you buck up against him, eager to feel him again with one less barrier between you. Husk snickers, kissing your cheek.
“Slow down, princess,” he tells you gently, claws tickling against your ribs as he strokes them soothingly. He hooks them in either side of your underwear, and you whine. He draws them down your legs slowly, pulling away from you long enough for you to kick them away. “I’ve got you, baby. One step at a time.”
You hear Angel shift in his chair and look towards him automatically. The spider smiles and winks, still watching the two of you with that same addictive intensity. You hold his gaze as Husk kisses his way back down your chest, sliding your bra strap down your shoulder gently. You gasp, arching up under Husk at the first touch of his tongue to your nipple. Angel’s smile widens.
Husk’s tongue is warm and wet and deliciously rough, and you moan as he sucks a teasing pressure around the hardened point. It makes your fingers tighten in his fur, and his other paw comes up to brush is claws over your other nipple. He pinches it and tugs, and the sudden pain makes you jump, and Husk snickers into your chest.
“Fuck, Husk…” you whine, eyes squeezed closed. You shift long enough to reach behind yourself and unclip your bra, tossing it aside as Husk immediately returns his attention to your breasts, paw kneading into the soft flesh. “Shit…”
“Ain’t he jus’ got the most magic tongue:” Angel coos, standing slowly. He makes his way towards the bed slowly, focused intently on how Husk’s back arches as he grinds himself into the mattress between your thighs. “Oh, he’s gonna make you feel so good, baby…”
Husk lingers at your breasts a moment longer, still purring deeply, before he continues lower. He dusts soft, teasing kisses down over your belly, paws smoothing down over the curve of your waist. He pauses just above the apex of your thighs, pressing the cold heart of his nose hard against your skin and inhaling deeply, his eyes closed.
“Christ…” he mutters, running his paws down over your hips and over your thighs, pressing them gently apart. His back arches in a long, fluid motion as Angel scratches his fingers through the fur along the cat’s spine. The spider’s touch lingers between his wing joints, and Husk groans, bumping his forehead against your thigh. “Fuuuuck… you smell so good, baby…”
“Husk…” you murmur, an ache throbbing between your thighs. You press your hips up, desperate for him to bring his mouth lower. “Please…”
“Oh, don’t you sound so pretty when you beg?” Husk rumbles, pressing an infuriatingly chaste kiss to your inner thighs, first one, then the other, his eyes watching your face hungrily. The smirk he wears is maddening, as is the snicker you hear from Angel. The spider sits next to you on the bed, stroking his fingers through your hair. You lean into the touch, eyes closing, a frown tugging at your lips as your impatience grows.
“Don’t she?” Angel agrees, nails scratching pleasantly against your scalp. “Be a nice kitty for her, baby.”
Husk’s smirk widens and Angel slips behind you, lifting you gently just long enough to fold his legs under you so your head is in his lap. The spider winks at you again, upside down, just as Husk finally slides his tongue slowly up over your clit.
“Oh, fuck!”
Angel giggles at the way you gasp, your hips rising off the sheets. Your eyes roll back as Husk flicks his tongue over your clit and the cat groans into your cunt at the taste of you. His paws clutch at your thighs, pinning you against the mattress, and while he planned on taking you apart slowly, the taste of you is already too addictive to let him pace himself.
Angel keeps stroking your hair with two hands, and your own reach down to grab at fistfuls of the fur between Husk’s ears. The bartender’s wings quiver as your nails scratch at his scalp.
Grinding your hips up against his mouth as best you can under his hold, you bite your lip against the downright pornographic sounds you can feel catching in his throat as Husk tortures your clit. Angel smirks, another hand coming up to glide over your chin, gently unhooking you lip from beneath your teeth. He giggles as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers blindly, curl your tongue against them and suck.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” he sighs, and Husk moans between your legs as he watches. “Oh, you’re in for a fuckin’ treat if you get her on her knees, Husk-baby.”
Husk chuckles, fangs grazing your inner thigh for a moment before he slides his tongue over your clit and down into your dripping cunt. He fucks you with his tongue eagerly, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit. When your fingers brush against the shell of Husk’s ears he purrs again, and you moan, loud and broken and keening as the sound vibrates up into your pussy.
Angel hums approvingly, withdrawing his hand to slide it down around your throat. He cups it, squeezes it just a little, and you cum with a hoarse cry of Husk’s name. There’s no doubt you’re being loud enough to be heard in the hallway but you don’t care, not with the way Husk’s tongue feels inside you, the way his claws are digging into the flesh of your hips.
Husk doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, your thighs clamping around his ears, one hand clutching at the fur between them. You can feel a wet patch on the comforter beneath your ass, and Husk’s expression is decidedly smug as he climbs back up your body, one suspender hanging off his shoulder. Angel intercepts him before you can kiss him, and you whimper as they kiss over you, Angel cupping the bartender’s head with two hands. You can see their tongues sliding against each other and when Angel moans at the taste of you, you whimper, grinding your hips up against Husk’s clothed erection.
He groans, breaking away from Angel with a breathless chuckle. “Needy little thing…”
Husk leans back down to kiss you, and you can taste a heady mix of the sweetness of Angel’s last cocktail and your own arousal on his tongue. When you reach between you to fumble with the fastening of his pants, he closes a large hand over both of yours, stilling you.
“Slow down, pet. I’ve…” he kisses you gently again, steadying his voice. “Hell ain’t exactly left me with the anatomy you’re expectin’…”
“Say it like that and you’re gonna scare her,” Angel teases, reaching out to rub his fingers against the base of Husk’s ear. The bartender purrs, leaning into it instinctively. Angel looks down at you, giving you a smile that’s somehow both reassuring and downright lascivious. “You’re gonna love it, aren’t ya, babydoll?”
You nod, and there’s a surprising thrill that’s curling inside you at Husk’s warning. Or maybe that’s the way his claws trail lightly up over your hip. He swipes his thumb over your clit again, and you jerk under the touch.
“Angel…”
“Look at her, Huskie,” Angel coos, giving his partner a teasing pout. “It’d be cruel to deprive our sweet girl now. She’s about thirty seconds away from beggin’ ya for it. ‘Sides,” he shrugs. “I got lube if she needs it.”
Husk raises a brow. “You’ve got lube?”
“What d’ya take me for? Some kinda amateur?” Angel says, affronted. “Course I’ve got lube!”
The bartender chuckles, rolling his eyes and apologising by pulling the spider into another kiss. You feel his paw loosen its grip where it still holds your hands against his zipper, and you palm his erection through his pants. Husk moans, shuddering under the touch as he pulls away to meet your eye. “We… we take it slow, alright?”
You nod, maybe too quickly from the way Angel smirks, but Husk accepts it and releases you. You make quick work of his fly as he slips off his suspenders, and your eyes widen as his cock is freed from the fabric. It’s tapered slightly, thickening to the base, and along the length of it are small, pointed barbs. Angel brushes hair away from your face, cooing softly. “They’re gonna feel so good inside you, baby… you’re gonna take his cock so good for us…”
You exhale shakily, a sound echoed by Husk as you wrap your fingers gently around the base of his cock. You stroke him experimentally, and the way the barbs feel against your palm… Husk moans as you squeeze him, stroke your thumb over the tip of his cock. He peppers kisses over your forehead, your temples and your cheeks, catching your lips again and kissing you deeply as you pump his cock slowly. Angel hums his approval and when Husk kisses your brow Angel hooks his fingers under the cat’s chin, bringing him up for another kiss of his own.
You can hear every reaction Husk makes to your touch, the way his breath catches, the way he moans into Angel’s mouth. He thrusts himself into your hand, and you stroke your other hand through the fur over his ribs. When Angel reaches past him to massage the base of Husk’s wings the cat gasps, jerking away from the both of you. “Christ, fuck, you two are gonna kill me here.”
You giggle, and Husk grins, leaning up to kiss Angel’s cheek before he settles himself back between your thighs. Your breath catches as the head of his cock presses up against your cunt, and Angel strokes your cheek as Husk slides an inch slowly into you.
“Oh, God, Husk…” you whine, hips shifting as you feel his cock stretch you open. “Fuck…”
“Look at you,” Angel whispers sweetly as Husk pulls back and presses into you again, sliding another inch into you. The bartender groans as you flex around him, his paws tight on your hips. “Look at how pretty you look like this...”
You reach up to clutch at the pillows and Angel wraps his hand around yours, interlacing his fingers with your own. Husk’s body is warm and firm and a wonderful weight over yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck as he tries to maintain this torturous, glacial pace. Each thrust of his hips stretches you further, and it aches wonderfully, each barb of his cock taking the breath from your lungs in a little ‘hahh’.
“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” Angel continues, trailing fingers of another hand along your other collarbone. “Bein’ such a good girl for daddy… makin’ him feel so good.”
Husk moans into your shoulder, teeth grazing the supple flesh. His paw spreads possessively over your waist, kneading into the flesh of your belly.
“Listen to how hot you get him,” Angel says, a third hand scratching the fur between Husk’s ears. “Look at how kitty fucks you… he’s tryin’ so hard not to hurt you, baby. But you’re so wet for him, aren’t you? You’re so wet and so ready and all you gotta do is say ‘please’… say ‘please’ pretty baby and Huskie’s gonna fuck you so deep and so good… fuck you like you deserve for bein’ such a good girl for him…”
“Fuck…” you whine, rocking your hips up to meet Husk’s. He’s almost completely inside you; the way he corkscrews his hips makes the barbs of his cock drag against the flesh of your cunt deliciously, and your eyes roll back at the feeling of it. “Fuck!”
“C’mon, baby,” Angel urges, sugar-sweet. The hand on your shoulder dips lower, teasing over the curve of your breast. He flicks his fingers over your nipple, and your breath catches in what could almost be a sob. “Beg nice and pretty for daddy and he’ll fuck you just how you need it. “
“Please,” you whine, brow furrowed in frustration as Husk pulls out completely, sliding his cock up against your clit. His breathing is heavy, torn with need of his own, and he dips his head to kiss you, hard and deep. You moan into his mouth as his barbs drag against your clit, and you wrap your arm around his neck, your other hand still locked in Angel’s. “Please, Husk… fuck me, please… Fuck… I need you to… please, Husk…”
“That’s a good girl,” Husk sighs, and the two of you moan in unison as he slides his cock back into you, his hips finally, finally flush with yours. “Holy… fuuuuck…”
“Listen to you two,” Angel says admiringly, his voice strung with his own desire. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty together…”
Husk fucks you deep; each time he pulls back he thrusts in again far enough to make your breath leave you in quick, cut moans. You raise your knees higher, trying to get him deeper, and Angel reaches down with his lower arms, hooks his hands under your knees and draws them up towards your chest. The angle makes Husk’s cock brush against something inside you with each press of his hips into yours and you keen with it, the sound tearing hoarsely from your throat, high-pitched and broken.
“That’s it, baby,” Angel tells you. “Tell daddy how good he feels; tell him how good he feels fucking you.”
“So good…” your breath catches in your throat as Husk touches a careful claw to your clit, your body shuddering with the added stimulation. “Fuck, it’s so good…”
Husk kisses the other side of your neck, tongue and teeth teasing over your pulse point before he kisses you again, sweet and deep and addictive. A purr rumbles through him as he speaks against your lips, bumping his nose against yours. “You feel so fuckin’ good, doll. Fuck, you’re like pure fuckin’ silk…”
Your voice comes out high-pitched, a whine that matches the tears burning in the corners of your eyes. “Please, Husk… I’m so close, I can’t… Husk…”
“’s okay, baby, I got you,” he kisses you again, brief but tender. “I got you, doll. Fuck, you’re so… Christ…”
You clutch at the fur at the back of his head, urging his face back down to your neck. Husk moves obediently, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck just as he thrusts deep into your quivering cunt. You moan aloud as you cum, eyes rolling back and rocking your hips up against his as soon as Angel releases your thighs. Husk groans into your throat, keeping his teeth buried in your sensitive flesh until he feels you slowly relax again. He laps gently at the mark he’s left behind, the roughness of his tongue making your body jerk with each stroke of it against your neck.
Husk’s breathing is just as laboured as yours, and he presses kisses over your cheeks, your chin as he steadies his hips. You whine as he slips his cock out of you, bucking up against him as he slides the barbs of it slowly against your clit.
“Fucking… holy shit,” you reach down to grasp at his hips, and Husk chuckles brokenly into the edge of your jaw as he stops moving. He kisses the bridge of your nose and you wrinkle it when it tickles, and you echo his laugh breathlessly as he brings his lips back to yours. Husk purrs against your lips.
“Fuck, you two are hot as shit,” Angel sighs, squeezing your hand. You hum happily, squeezing back, and Husk breaks the kiss to lean up and kiss him. It’s soft and languid and sweet, and Husk groans into it, rutting himself against your thigh. Angel coos against Husk’s lips, kissing him between words. “You still need to cum, don’t ya, kitty?”
Husk nods, groaning as you stroke your fingers through the fur of his chest. “Don’t tease me, legs.”
“Never, baby,” Angel promises with the sweetest smirk, petting the bartender’s cheek. “Now be a good boy and sit back for me.”
Husk does as he’s told, and Angel strokes your cheek with careful fingers. You lean into it contentedly, and his expression softens further with an affectionate smile. “How ya feelin’, dollface?”
“Take a guess,” you sigh happily and he snickers.
“Atta girl.”
You feel Husk smooth a paw up over your calf, and your body warms as you shift to meet his eye. He has his other paw wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly. Each time he reaches the base he squeezes, his breathing unsteady. His pupils are still blown wide, his wings quivering and his tail switching behind him.
“Roll over for him, baby,” Angel instructs you gently. “Up on your knees.”
You groan at the soft ache between your thighs as you roll over, hear Husk’s breath catch as you bare your naked back to him. You feel his paw smooth up the back of your thigh to squeeze your ass, and you lean back against him, his fur tickling at your bare skin, his cock hard against the curve of your ass. He wraps his arm around your middle, claws digging into the soft flesh in what feels addictively possessive, his other hand catching your chin and turning your face towards him. He kisses you over your shoulder, that sweet purr vibrating into your back.
Angel leans forward, turning your face away from Husk’s so he can kiss him instead, moaning quietly into the embrace. When they part, Angel surprises you by brushing his lips over yours. “Bend over, sweet girl.”
You shudder at his tone, a moan catching in your throat as you do as he asks. Husk moves to slide his cock between your thighs, and he groans, low and rough. Angel smooths hair away from your face as he guides you down to rest your cheek against his thigh, and your excitement sparks even brighter as you notice the spider’s erection beneath the tight fabric of his skirt, only a few inches from your face.
Husk thrusts into you again, nice and slow, exhaling heavily as your warm, wet cunt squeezes around him again. A shiver rolls up your spine as he takes hold of your hips, palms pressing into the flesh of your ass, claws digging into your skin. Angel’s lower hands move to your shoulders, pinning your chest to the mattress so your back is arched almost obscenely. He moans as you nuzzle your cheek against his clothed cock, and he gathers your hair in his fist so he can watch your face as Husk rolls his hips into yours.
“Fuck, you’re an eager lil’ thing,” Angel giggles breathlessly. He pulls up his skirt, and you watch through heavy-hooded eyes as Angel strokes himself through the barely-there lace of his thong, the fabric damp with his pre-cum. “Look at how much you’re turnin’ us on, baby… fuck…”
He moans as you clutch at his thigh, nails digging into the lithe muscles hidden under downy fur. You rock your hips back to meet Husk’s every thrust, urging him deeper into you. The bartender is muttering a string of curses the closer he gets to release, the swearing broken by moans and half-there praise for the two of you. When Angel pushes his underwear to the side to wrap his delicate, talented fingers around his own cock, he and Husk moan in unison. Your eyes roll back as Husk’s hands tighten on your hips and his pace quickens desperately.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuck…” you grunt out each time his hips meet your ass, your throat raw. You reach beneath yourself to play with your clit, the sounds you’re making turning high pitched. Angel’s fingers grasp at your hair tighter, his hips rising beneath you to fuck himself into his hand. “Fuck, Husk… Angel… I… fuck…”
“Christ, baby, I can’t…” Husk moans, tail wrapping itself around your sweat-slick thigh. His feathers tickle at the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, at the back of your hand as you roll your fingers hungrily against your clit. “Fuck, I can’t—”
“Hear that, babydoll?” Angel asks you, his usually almost teasing lilt broken by his own desperation. Instead his voice is reedier, breathier, and it’s far hotter than any of the moans you’ve heard him make in any one of the pornos he’s showcased for the other residents. “Don’t ya want our sweet kitty to cum for ya?”
“Yes…” you choke out, your thighs shaking, heat pooling in the small of your back. Husk bends over you to press kisses along your spine, and you feel like you want to cry from all the warring sensations. “God, fuck yes—Husk…”
He growls in response, fangs grazing the middle of your back as he kisses the curve of your back. His paws tighten on your hips further, despite himself, and you find yourself thrilling at the idea that he might mark you.
“Gotta – shit – ask nicely, sugar,” Angel reminds you, nails scratching against the nape of your neck. “Beg for daddy.”
“Please,” you whimper immediately; you can taste iron from the way your teeth dig into your lip. You’re so fucking close, each thrust of Husk’s cock keeps you teetering on that precipice. Each graze of his rigid barbs against the inside of your cunt makes heat pulse through every inch of you and you need to feel him cum. “Please, Husk… please, I – uhnn—I want you to… fuck—cum for me…”
You reach back to grasp blindly for him, closing your fingers around his paw. You swear Husk almost whimpers at your touch.
“Cum inside me, Husk.”
The sound the bartender makes is sinful, an addictive mix of a deep, throaty moan and this cattish growl that you hope will be imprinted on your brain. He squeezes your hand back as he thrusts hard into you, his body curving over yours to press his chest against your back as he spills himself deep inside you.
A few more seconds rubbing furiously at your clit and you follow him, burying your teeth in Angel’s thigh in an attempt to muffle the way you cry out as you orgasm. Angel moans loudly, eyes rolling back, hips thrusting up, and you feel the warmth of his cum on your cheek. “Oh, fuck!”
The flush of the toilet seems a little too loud, and you stand on shaky legs in front of the bathroom mirror as you wash your hands, run damp fingers through your hair to tame it. Your eyes seem too bright, your cheeks still flushed and your bottom lip bee-stung. You touch fingers to the bruises darkening on the side of your throat, flashes of the way Husk’s mouth had felt there replaying in your mind.
Even after three orgasms strong enough to knock the breath out of you, excitement tickles between your thighs at the memory. You exhale shakily, trying to calm yourself, fill the glass on the side of the sink with cold water from the tap and swallow it down.
Holy shit.
There a few lighter bruises across your breasts; your nipple aches as you brush your fingers against the darker bruise beside it. You glance down, making a happy note of the scratch marks on your hips. They’re light, barely there, but a thrilling reminder all the same.
Holy.
Shit.
You’d just lost your virginity.
In a threesome.
With a former Overlord and Hell’s most famous porn star.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Pulling on the oversized tee-shirt you use a pyjamas and wishing you had a clean pair of underwear with you, you take another steadying breath, preparing yourself for an empty room. After all, Angel had explained at the beginning of all this that by going to your room, you’d ‘feel more comfortable telling them to fuck the hell off’ if you needed to. Now that the… experience was over, why would they stay?
So, when you open the bathroom door to find the two of them waiting for you on the edge of the bed, you almost trip over the area rug.
“We were startin’ to think you weren’t comin’ outta there,” Angel says lightly, giving you a reassuring smile. “You okay, sugar?”
You nod, tucking hair behind your ear uncertainly.
“You sure?” Husk asks. His expression is soft, and you’re surprised to see his muzzle is once again stained with a blush. “You look like you’re ready to rabbit. If we did somethin’ you ain’t—”
“What? No!” you assure him quickly, your cheeks warming to match his. “No, I just… I guess I wasn’t expecting you two to stick around.”
Husk raises an eyebrow, and something that could be hurt flashes briefly across his features. “D’you want us to go?”
“And skip the afterglow?” Angel says, like he’s playfully offended or shocked Husk would even suggest it. He stands, and you notice then that he’s changed his clothes – his everyday outfit exchanged for a pyjama set and thigh-high socks. He glances down at himself, offering by way of explanation, “Had to check on Nuggets. And ‘sides, I look cute as shit in this.”
The comment breaks some of the tension you’re feeling, and you huff a quiet laugh. Angel’s own smile widens and he closes the distance between the two of you. he turns and wraps an arm around your shoulders in the same friendly way he’s done a hundred times before, but this time he squeezes your shoulders, another hand coming up to play idly with the ends of your hair. You feel his lips brush your temple as he bends down to speak in your ear. “You want us gone, baby, all you gotta do is say so. But Huskie’s big on the aftercare and checkin’ in and all that. He waited here while I changed – don’t think he’s leavin’ ‘til he knows you’re happy.”
The sentiment warms you, and you lean into Angel’s side. You speak louder than he did, so Husk can hear you, too. You smile softly as his ears flick upward at the sound of your voice, husky and worn from overuse. “I’m happy. Still… not entirely sure if what just happened, happened, but happy.”
“If it didn’t, it might jus’ be hottest fuckin’ dream I ever had,” Angel laughs, fingers playing teasingly with the edge of your shirt. “Now go cuddle up to our boy before he combusts.”
Our boy.
Husk’s worried expression softens into a smile as you approach where he still sits on the edge of the bed, and he holds up a paw to you invitingly. His touch is warm and soft and wonderfully comforting as it wraps around your hand, and you blush when he turns your hand over to brush his lips to the inside of your wrist, a crease between his brows.
“How’re you feelin’?” he asks against your skin, his eyes opening to meet your gaze. You smile, bending down impulsively and pressing a kiss to the lines between his brows. A quiet purr sounds from him at the touch, ears folding down. The fur between his ears is dishevelled and it makes him look younger, less worn.
“I’m good.”
He smiles back up at you. “Good.”
“Fuck, you two are givin’ me a toothache over here.” Angel interjects in amusement, and you hadn’t even realised he’d made himself comfortable against the pillows and the headboard. “Now, am I gettin’ my ass cuddled good and proper here or what?”
You giggle, and he opens all four arms to you expectantly, a smirk playing over his features. Husk seems reluctant to let you go, his hand following you as you move to join his partner on the bed. Tugging your shirt down as best you can to cover yourself, you crawl onto the bed and laugh as you collapse into the spider’s waiting arms. He snickers, wrapping them around you, swatting your ass playfully with one hand. You shove him away with a laugh, breath catching in your throat as you feel Husk climb up the bed and wrap his arms around you.
You settle on your side between them, cradled against Angel’s chest and Husk pressed against your back. His wing curves around you, feathers tickling at your bare arm, his thighs pressed up against the backs of yours. He reaches over you to interlock his fingers with Angel’s, his face tucked in over your shoulder. Husk’s breath tickles at the side of your neck, and he hums contentedly as he inhales the scent of you.
“… Did you two change the sheets?”
Angel nods and grins, trailing fingers up over your thigh idly. “Ya left a hell of a wet patch, baby. Next time we should probably put down a towel.”
You swallow, tilting your head back to look at him. “… Next time?”
“Only if you want, baby,” Husk murmurs into the side of you throat. He shifts, leaning up over your shoulder. Angel hooks a couple of delicate fingers against your cheek in the same moment, turning your head so Husk can kiss you. It’s soft and sweet and wonderful, and you sigh into his kiss. Husk’s purr deepens. “No pressure.”
You turn back to the man you’re laying on, studying his expression. “Angel?”
His smile is warm and sincere, even as that teasing lilt to it remains. “Like I said, baby, I got no problem sharin’ with a friend.”
Husk rubs his forehead against your shoulder, up along the curve of your throat. His voice is soft and velvety, warm in your ear. “’s up to you, pet. We’d love to keep you.”
.
.
.
Again, happy birthday Keeks! Hope you liked this thoroughly un-proofread piece of smut. I am once again letting you know just how grateful I am to have you in my life - we've almost known each other for a year now, and I already cannot imagine life without you. You're an angel, and I love you :)
The Wizard/Oscar Diggs x female reader (NSFW 18+ only)
Summary: You've been The Wizard's pet 'plaything' more or less for a while now after ending up in the land of Oz by accident. One night he decides to try a new trick in the bedroom.
Warnings: unprotected sex, age gap (much older man/younger woman), power imbalance dynamic, slight daddy kink, nonconsensual mildish bondage, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment, drinking, drugging
Word Count: ~6,471
A/N: Ever since watching Wicked when it debuted in theaters, I cannot get over Jeff Goldblum as the absolute sexiest Wizard of Oz and so this was born out of a little self-indulgence that I'm happy to share with others who are also down horrendously bad for this man. Takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously not entirely accurate to canon. Reader is AFAB for this (I might write another fic that is more gender neutral) and no use of Y/N in dialogue. Also, this is my first Oz fanfic, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty!
Oscar Diggs.
That isn't his full name of course; all he ever told you was that it was embarrassingly long and unnecessary. Here in the Emerald City though, he is just known as a godlike figurehead deemed The Wizard. The Great and Powerful Oz. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Oz the Great and Terrible. His Supreme Ozness. All that jazz.
You know now he is a farce, a carny drifted the wrong way west, a two-bit con man that you have no business screwing with. But you do not know the extent of his wickedness and besides, he is just too damn good at wooing and making your heart stutter triple its normal rate for you to dig deeper beyond your feelings. He has an inflated ego, sure, but he's fairly quite kind, at least to you.
You first remembered him when you were a small child visiting the traveling carnival at the state fair in Kansas. His warm olive complexion was complimented with a clean-shaven face and a head full of dark hair and he was so, so tall. He still is, but you have a different perspective now. Back then at your low vantage point, he was so up towards the sky that he might as well have been wearing stilts.
He'd crouched down to your level and displayed out a standard deck of playing cards, and exclaimed: "Pick a card, any card!"
You randomly (or thought so) plucked out the Jack of Hearts and he took it back and shuffled the deck with a flurry of motion, then fanned them back out. You didn't see your Jack among them, and you puckered, lower lip jutted out. His eyes went wide at that, and he feigned concern.
"Ohhh, no, where is it? Is it in here?" He dug frantically into the flap of his jacket to no avail, then the bottoms of his tap shoes.
"Hmm, I don't suppose it could've..." He yanked off his top hat to reveal the same card hidden under there.
You'd gasped, equal parts confused and delighted, and he looked relieved at the successful reaction.
"Here, keep it. I have a dozen of these decks. It's something to remember me by and show all your friends." He pressed the colorful illustrated card into your palm with a grin and your eyes had sparkled with wonder and enchantment.
Thinking back on it, you knew he'd probably done that trick with twenty other kids that day, it was just a ploy to make you feel special, like sure he'd picked you out of the crowd to gift that Jack of Hearts to. But that didn't stop you from hanging onto it as a prized keepsake and keeping that card tucked safely in your jewelry box.
Years passed and you grew up, temporarily forgetting about the nice funny carnival man and shoving it to the back of your mind to solely focus on your simple and hardworking life helping your folks manage the acres of farmland and homestead. One late spring day you were out feeding the flock of chickens when you noticed that off in the distance to the west, dark clouds had gathered into an angry mob, a swirling mass of foreboding. You squinted, dropping the sack of feed. That sure didn't look nothing like an ordinary twister...
A vicious wind blew up and you struggled to walk towards the house, your skirt whipping around like a flag in the pummeling gusts. Ma and Pa were in town with the farmhand picking up supplies, so you were all alone and having never been caught out in the middle of a storm that seemed out of the ordinary, you were terrified.
The tornado spun across the fields, churning up the pastures and few buildings and wooden fences in its wicked wake, until it was no more than a football field's length away. There was no time get to the safety of the cellar, there no time to save anything, and with a scream, you bolted into the barn because it was nearest and covered your head as you flattened to the floor. It occurred to you too late that you should've tied or hitched yourself to a post or something...
Within ten frantic beats of your heart, the monster twister was directly overhead, the roaring and gnashing of its raw power nightmarish. Before you knew it, the barn walls around you started to rip and shudder and then the twister had violently sucked you and what was left of the barn straight up into the air and you promptly blacked out, certain this was it.
********
To your immense surprise, when you regained consciousness some time later, you crawled out of the remaining rubble of the barn to have ended up in a strange colorful place where there were joyously curious multitudes of strangers - people that called themselves citizens of Munchkinland. You were certain you had hit your head on the way down and went bonkers, but somehow it was all very real.
After you had recovered from shock and explained your situation, they advised you to head to the imperial capital, named Emerald City, to plead your case to the ruler who resided there, referred to as The Wizard. A kindly older Munchkin couple lent you their horse and a basket of bread with a canteen of water for the journey. For miles you rode through the farmland and north through mountainous regions to what the Munchkins said was Gillikin Country, home to the Great Gillikin Railway. The train station was gleaming and shiny, and the judgmental and disgusted looks from boarding passengers and workers made you feel like a filthy stray dog. You tried your best to ignore them and strode straight up to the conductor taking tickets.
"Excuse me, sir? I need to get to the Emerald City."
He wrinkled his nose and held out a white gloved palm expectantly.
"Oh, but I haven't any money for a ticket; I lost everything from the freak storm that brought me here."
His thick bushy brows had furried together and he sniffed once.
"A storm, you say?"
"Yes, I ain't got a cent. I was told by the Munchkins to go see The Wizard for my troubles."
His eyebrows shot straight up into his high forehead, and he scoffed loudly. You started to turn away, dejected.
"Well, why didn't you say so? It's your lucky day, miss! Come aboard!" the conductor suddenly exclaimed joyfully, ushering you on.
"Only this once though. You'll go straight to Emerald City where our wonderful Wizard can sort you out."
You boarded and found a private seat by the window, instantly falling asleep as soon as the train sped off. You missed out on the wonderous views of rugged thick moody forests and bright fields of crimson poppies and only awoke when the train jolted to a halt. Once let off at the station, you took to exploring the overwhelming oasis that was the Emerald City. You'd never seen a big city before and certainly not one like this...
It wasn't hard to figure out signs of this mysterious Wizard and the most obvious was a huge statue planted in the center of the town square. With a loud gasp, you recognized the figure as the very carnival man you had met as a little girl all those years ago.
After getting directions to the palace from a couple of citizens on the street, you went hurriedly to the entrance, only to run up against the stationed uniformed guards.
"I need to see the Wizard, please," you begged of them.
They'd been extremely skeptical, but after much desperate explaining and exasperation, you were begrudgingly allowed in and warned that if you were told to leave by him, you must obey and that nothing could be done about it.
The stretched-out hallway that was the walk down to where you were supposed to meet this Wizard was ominous and your boots had clacked loudly across the shiny tiled flooring, each step echoing tenfold.
The room itself was enormous and intimidating with bursts of fire and noise almost as bad as the tornado. Somehow, you'd mustered up some gumption to tell off the ghoulish moving mechanical head mouthpiece that you weren't scared off by its overdramatic display and that you weren't going to leave until you saw the voice behind it.
"I know who you are, Mr. Deck of Trick Cards!" you yelled at it and with a great whirring of the machine shutting off, it then clunked silent.
He'd come out from behind the hanging ropey curtain of thick twisted fibers, purely flabbergasted more than angry, and declared in humbled bemusement that no one had ever told him that before. Seeing him in the vivid flesh instead of a dim memory had made you falter. He had aged, yes, but he was actually rather handsome and so well dressed, radiating off quirky charm and charisma. You properly introduced yourself and recounted how you'd recognized him from your memory of that distant festival day.
"I see, but I'm afraid I don't remember you, sorry?" He coughed into his fist while his right shoe tapped restlessly.
Your heart sunk even though it was perfectly logical, and you didn't even know why you expected any remembrance when he never even knew your name, for Pete's sake! You had been just another cute face in the crowd, a country bumpkin kid to play card tricks with at the fair for a minute of his day. He had no reason to selectively recall you at all.
"I figured as much, it's my fault. I guess I'll get going though I haven't a clue on how to get home. But darn it, you know I didn't ask to be swept up by a tornado and plopped into this freakish land! I didn't mean to travel all this way through hot fields and cold mountains and the long railway just to get turned away by a silly man who runs a giant talking head!" You hadn't meant to sound rude and whiny, but you were so tired, hungry (the bread you were given depleted hours ago), dirty, and utterly exhausted. And the hope you had pinned on this one man was extinguished.
The Wizard crossed his arms tight to his chest and his eyes casually roamed up and down your body, perhaps surveying the pathetic condition you were in. If he was offended by your statements, he didn't show it.
"You know, it's funny, I had something somewhat similar happen to me back in Omaha and that's how I ended up here... I made the most of it, though. You came from the great state of Kansas, you said?"
"Yes, sir."
He had smiled at that, perhaps enjoying the way that respectful reply just automatically slipped out from your lips, and then he had waved a hand uselessly behind him.
"I don't know how to send you home. Well, I have a hot air balloon for travel, but it's more strictly emergency purposes and I don't think it would be wise to cause a ruckus and panic the people, so... You know what? How about you, uh, stay the night? You must be so worn out and clearly need a bath."
You winced, knowing you were caked in the unappealing smell of dust, muck, and sweat, but nodded eagerly.
"There's no sense traveling now anyhow, it'll be too dark soon. How about you stay with me for a while, and we'll figure things out, alright?"
You were near tears, yet very grateful, and accepted.
You almost wished you hadn't.
Guards, which were a mix of both normal humans and (bizarrely) blue faced monkeys had come in and dragged you off to a secluded room of the palace where you were scrubbed down and dressed in green pajamas by a small team of maids before being put in a bedroom.
You were stopped at every turn you attempted to leave your room to find an exit and finally they deadbolted it. You spent two nights in confinement with delivered meals before The Wizard had entered and gently explained it was too dangerous to let you leave, that you were safer with him and better off staying with him. At first, you were upset because surely your folks were worried about how you had presumably fallen off the face of an earthly existence, but then you remembered you were definitely an old enough adult to live on your own now and maybe there was nothing left of the homestead anyway if that nasty storm had its way. You didn't miss your work on the farm, nor the pressure your family had been applying to find a young man to marry. You never admitted it out loud, but you had bigger sights than being a simple country girl who let some drunken boyish hick boss you around.
This palace was just so grand compared to anything you'd ever seen in your life, and it was complete with a man you were increasingly infatuated with. It took several weeks of being locked up to come to terms with the realization that you had a raging crush on the man who was playing captor, and you wanted him very badly, but his interactions were limited, and you wondered why the heck he kept you around and alive if all he cared about was hiding his identity.
One night though, he broke down the invisible barrier: as you were knelt down in your room removing your slippers for bed, he grabbed your chin to tip upward and within a matter of two seconds, he kissed you right on the lips before you could make a peep. After a second, you kissed back hungrily without restraint, letting desire overrule fear.
"I'm sorry," you and him both said at the same time when he pulled away.
After that, you shyly admitted your blooming feelings for him and by a stroke of splendid luck, The Wizard reciprocated. He invited you to his private room and you slept with him for the first time. Afterward, he told you a bit about himself, how he really started out just a simple man named Oscar who had become a magician and one day the man in charge because people happened to be so gullible. He was intelligent, inventive, and intoxicating with a dash of cunning.
Of course, you weren't sure if the "love" that he extended was out of pure benevolent generosity or you were merely just a glorified whore, but either way you were happy because you loved him, albeit stupidly. He must genuinely love you back though; what else could all the flowers left on the nightstand and weekly gifts of expensive jewels tucked into tiny ornate boxes with trailing lime green silk ribbons mean? He even gifted you an entire handpicked wardrobe of fine clothing from pressed skirts and beautiful dresses to day-to-day blouses to pajamas and revealing lounge wear, many of which match the colors of Emerald City.
The only downside to this whole odd arrangement was that due to the fact that you already knew too much about him, he'd grounded you to the palace indefinitely. From day one you were not allowed to step even a toe outside the palace walls, you weren't let out to leave the premises even accompanied by guards, and you had to keep to yourself in the designated permitted rooms, of which he had many for a single man. When you asked why he needed the excess of rooms, he chuckled.
"They're for my inventions and all the things I collect. I'm rather sentimental, you see."
"Am I now one of your 'things'?" you asked, to which he had smiled almost impishly.
"You could be, if you want."
********
So it is without resistance that now, many months later, at eight o'clock in the evening (he insists on an earlier bedtime, strictly nine o'clock at the latest) in his grand bedroom, you splay fully naked on your back across the rich emerald green satin sheets like a starfish waiting to be swept away by the power of the tidal force he thinks he is (maybe sometimes he's more of a lukewarm swell but no matter).
The Wizard, or Oscar as he prefers only in private, is a surprisingly fit man for his age with a decent sex drive in bed when he's in the mood, which is at least once a week, but there are dry spells when he's too busy or unhappy. While you spend time reading in the library, he spends hours off somewhere building things and tinkering with models which you've never touched. You sleep in separate bedrooms, but on such nights he's ready for passion however, you're expected to be there and stay the night with him. Enjoying his company isn't hard to do - you've fallen head over heels for the man.
Presently, he's removed his long coat to hang up and is in the process of undressing further, the bits and bobs and chains clinking softly from his vest, when he pauses significantly, humming to himself in the depths of the spacious walk-in closet off to the side.
"What is it?" you ask, perplexed and a smidge annoyed at his distraction. He'd promised - no, ordered - an intimate evening after a long while of leaving too much alone. He's been swamped with work and meetings with other influential folk and plotting and planning that he always keeps quiet and stuffed away from you.
"Do you want a drink, my beauty?" he asks abruptly, turning around and holding a tiny green bottle of his famed elixir that he procured from somewhere.
"What kind of game are you playing at, sir?" you wonder suspiciously, watching candlelight glint playfully off the glass.
"It'll loosen you up, just a sip or two."
"It's just alcohol, isn't it?" You can hear the uncertainty reverberate through your tone and the guilty twitch of his eyebrows doesn't deny anything.
"My very own special blend. Take some," he insists, coming over and pressing the cool bottle into your tender hands.
"Why?"
"It's, uh, for a surprise. I promise it's not poison, by golly."
"Not funny." You narrow your eyes but pop the cork and bring it to your lips to take a quick swig. It goes down smooth like syrup, just not as sweet.
"That's my girl," he praises, and you shiver in delight as he climbs up on the bed, holding his hand out expectantly for the elixir, but you aren't done with it. You drink more, feeling the inexplicable urge to quench your thirst. You finally press the nearly empty bottle back to his hands, swallowing before lying back with a flump onto the plush pillows.
Within two minutes, you feel entirely airy and floaty, like your mind has taken an extension cord out of your body to stick somewhere up on the ceiling.
"This'll 'ad better be gooood..." you slur out.
"I guarantee it will, at least for me." He watches in satisfaction as you doze off to dreamland in a daze, a heavy weight of comfortable numb blackness settling over your bones. The room is bathed in a cozy glow from the candles, and it smells deliciously heady.
********
Not too long later, you stir awake from your short-lived nap and when you roll over to your side, you find you can't. Your back is flush against the satin sheets, arms raised up above your head and pinned to the headboard.
"W-Why am I... all tied up?" you ask groggily, looking down at your spread apart legs and ankles, which are stuck in place to the bedposts by a sturdy soft green rope snaked expertly and securely.
"I thought, uh, we'd try something new here..." Oscar says, seeming hesitant now, as if he's two inches away from regretting playing out this fantasy. Or maybe he's not guilty at all and only perceiving the act of being so (you could never tell with a sleazy con man after all).
You tug uselessly at the bindings, which aren't that uncomfortable; the mossy green rope coils around your wrists and ankles snugly, leaving a bit of room for circulation. The only part that truly bothers you is the restricted mobility and lack of control.
Oscar approaches slowly, as if gauging your reaction and his self-preservation if you should decide to fight back... How exactly, you don't know. Yell at him, cuss him out? Bite him like a lowly animal? Scream until a guard comes in to see if you are being murdered?
You writhe slowly, testing the limitations as he settles down at the foot of the bed, a patient parental expression painting his face, coloring with concern yet intrigue. In the time while you were asleep, he's removed his button down and trousers, leaving just a white undershirt and green boxers that pronounce his male package quite well.
He runs a slow hand up along the length of your left thigh and then alternates to the right, his fingers tracing lines of pleasure into your veins. You automatically whimper and he rigs a sly smile up to one side of his cheek.
"Do you like this?"
"I don't know..." you murmur truthfully. It's not exactly unpleasant, but the loss of control is unsettling.
"Well, I happen to like it. You know, the sight of you like this." He gestures a wide sweeping path across the whole of your body, and you grin sheepishly, chest rising and falling with anticipated breaths.
"You can't squirm from me as much."
"I don't squirm," you protest, raising eyebrows.
"Oh yes, you do. I know you don't mean to."
Before you can react to that, he lunges forward and his hands go to your sides, stroking up around to your breasts, fondling them like priceless treasures. You moan, arousal heating your core even more than before, and he rubs a thumb over the hard buds of your nipples while speaking lowly.
"I thank my lucky stars that you were blown in from that storm, it sure was a lonely handful of years before you stumbled into this place. And to have someone so obedient to all my whims..." he trails off, a hungry glint in his eyes.
He bends down to lick and smooch along your throat, inching upward until he nuzzles the nape of your neck with his nose. His close cropped and trimmed mustache/goatee tickles and scratches at your skin as he leans so close, cupping the opposite side of your face with a firm hand. You whimper as he latches onto your mouth possessively, his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. He tastes faintly like Oz's finest toothpaste and his aftershave should be sold as a candle. Maybe you can suggest to him to market his own line of merchandise; the people of Emerald City will buy anything with their great ruler's handsome face on it even if the product is utter shit.
You feel your hips trying to buck up, needing more contact than of the oral kind, but he's teasing tonight.
"Just keep making those pretty noises, darling..." he whispers, sucking numerous hickeys.
"Please, Oz..."
He moves his head, hot breath on your earlobe as he mutters the words.
"What is it that you desire?"
You struggle to speak, all senses haywire, and he waits patiently as you breathe erratically.
"You-I, please, I need... Oscar, please! Touch."
"Oh, you want me to touch you there? Now we're getting somewhere, darling."
He backs off to run a hand down the length of your body and two of his solid warm fingers slip down into your entrance and out, a give and take motion he does for a bit just to get you hot and bothered. His fingers toy expertly with your moist clit like one does with levers to machines, pressing up and down, rubbing a swiping warm thumb over the knob... When he curls them internally, you cry out cataclysmically, stomach undulating in peaking waves of pleasure as you squirt on his fingers. He chuckles, keeping his grip on your hips, and without the ropes keeping your limbs in place, you'd be thrashing. It's torture, but in the very best way.
When you calm down enough to gaze at him heavy lidded with blown pupils, he focuses on removing his undergarments, taking the white undershirt off first and throwing it to the floor for a maid to pick up later. Then he gets to the main event, the showstopper. You don't focus long on his erect cock because his fingers get in between your legs again. He dips one in, two, then three to stretch you out and your warm slick folds welcome him back in with relief. He holds his free hand down on your stomach and you orgasm once more, yanking in frustration at the bindings that dig into your skin.
"Easy, easy," he says as if trying to tame a wild mare.
"I want... to touch you!" You've fondled his balls and cock before, but even just throwing your arms around his neck would be better than this look-but-don't-touch load of hooey.
"I know, I know. Hey, I'm doing the work here alright? Just enjoy the ride and you'll thank me later."
He looms over before settling down over you and it's strange not being able to grab him in return, to claw at his back, to wind your legs around his waist and claim him as your own for the evening. This power play dynamic is right up his alley, to make you feel utterly vulnerable and pliable underneath him, and it's only fitting for a man who loves to pull the strings of everything and everyone around him. He prefers being on top in bed, but you're definitely known to ride him cowgirl style a time or two (this is your favorite position).
The head of his cock pushes in at a tasteful pace to bottom out and burrow inside that it feels like up in your stomach - and it's taken practice to get to this point; the first time (and a few times after that) hurt and he couldn't get too far mostly because he was just so big. You wonder dimly if taking elixir and being in a relaxed state of mind affects your ability to take his girth. Either way, he never gets angry on nights he can't go all the way; he finds his climax just as well outside. Tonight, though, he's persistent and when he glances at your face which is not screwed up and wincing, he gradually nods in approval to continue.
Oscar moves slowly in rocking rhythm, gentle and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher, nearly growling in pursuit of his own pleasure. His silver hair falls out of its careful coifed style to hang over his forehead, and he keeps his melted milk chocolate-colored eyes dead set on yours as he fucks, a predator to his prey. He has you right where he wants, you can't move away, and you moan as your walls clench tight around his cock. He holds his stare steady, but his frame is shuddering and it's clear he's close to his pinnacle, the one he's been aiming for since you entered this bedroom.
He has made it no secret he has cravings to be a father, even though you're sure he'd be a somewhat inept, possibly even lousy one due to his measurable amount of selfishness. Not to mention the detail that he's old enough to be your own daddy and you oddly don't have a problem with that... But he knows he mustn't intentionally knock you up (a scandal that would cause if word got out) and it was you who had to sadly school him on this fact of life, having been around enough farm animals all your life to know how babies are easily made and knowing friends who had become mothers at the ripe age of 18 back in high school, and you do not want to be that careless. It's lucky there hasn't been any "mistakes" so far in your bedding with Oscar, but you know he almost can't resist spilling inside.
Instead, he pulls out with difficulty at the very last minute, and hot ropes of gooey cum splatter your stomach and splash against your chest. He groans in ecstasy before heaving, out of breath.
"You okay?" you whisper as his lightly sweating chest rises and falls with exertion. He cracks a lopsided smile, steadying himself by using his arms to brace against the headboard above you.
"Are... Are you kidding? I've never been better. Just - just give a man a minute, will you?" He retracts an arm back and holds up a single finger with a dangerous glance.
"And don't you dare make a joke about my age. I'm as fit as a fiddle, just like when I was thirty."
You nod absently, thinking of him as a younger man. The portraits and statues scattered around are decent, but could never do him justice. He's aged like the finest high-quality wine and the silver hair and sprinkling of wrinkles only enhances his austerity.
"You're incredible, your Ozness."
"Flattery always works best, my dear." He ducks his head down and sloppily kisses you softly on the cheek.
"And you deserve to be untied, don't you?" His hands wind around behind your head and with one quick motion, both your wrists are untied. He does your ankles next in a flash and flimsily bundles the short ropes up to toss onto the bedside table.
He climbs off and helps you up ease up to a seated position. You feel suddenly dizzy and droop forward, your brain rushing with slush, and blood flushes into your cheeks.
"Woah, it's okay." He sucks in a breath, catching you against his chest.
"Spinning," you gasp out and he keeps his arms securely around you for a minute before you wiggle, antsy, and he props you up.
"Still on the Tilt-A-Whirl?" he asks, lines deeply creasing his face.
"I... It's gettin' better." You shake your head as though that will dispel the imbalance that you have a strong hunch is a side or after effect from his mystery elixir, not just the sex.
"Thank goodness. You scared me for a minute there, if this is too much..."
"No! I love you," you blurt out and he comfortingly pets your head, raking fingers through and tousling your hair.
"Alright, sweetheart. And to think in addition I was going to experiment with a blindfold and gag- uh, never mind. Maybe that's too advanced; we'll hold off on that one for the foreseeable future."
You gape at him as he gets off the bed with no further word but a grunt and reaches over for a towel on the bedside table to give to you. You take it to wipe up some of the mess while he leaves momentarily off to the nearby bathing chambers to freshen up.
He comes back five minutes later dressed only in a fresh pair of tight fitting boxers predictably of his favorite color that you have to tear your gaze away from lest you foolishly admit to wanting another go around. He clears his throat at your staring, rubbing his jaw and jerking his chin towards the door.
"You can go clean up now," he says a bit gruffly, pointing.
All of Emerald City is extravagant and even the humble washroom is no exception. The first night he'd fucked you, Oscar had given a tour of it.
"See what money and power can buy? It'd do you good to remember that," he'd said as he ran a hand across the shiny marble tiles and gilded gold faucets.
"I came from humble beginnings just like you and now look at me!" He spread his arms out wide in exaggeration and you giggled, utterly enamored.
"Just don't let it go to your head." He chuckled deeply at the ironic fitting joke.
You shuffle off now to wash and wipe down your body in there, using an dark green washcloth that has his moniker of "OZ" stitched on it, and you feel aching soreness all over your body - but it's a good kind, like a full day's work of physical labor accomplishing what you really needed to do.
********
Once you are done in the washroom, you tug on a plush robe the color of jade and return to the bedroom to go to lay back down on the king size bed next to him. He pulls you in with the crook of his arm, the other holding a different bottle than the elixir. This one smells very much like whiskey.
"I should tell you..." he begins with a pause, clearly not in any hurry as he takes a breath and then a couple sips. You can tell by his slightly unfocused gaze and relaxed body that he is getting a tad drunk.
"We're gonna have a special visitor soon from Shiz University, you know Madame Morrible?"
"Yes." You've seen her come and go around the palace, but aren't advised to get within ten feet of the powerful older woman, let alone speak to her. All you know is that she can do impressive magic (unlike him) and is a very close loyal confidant who provides important insider information.
"Well, she invited a very special student with promising magical abilities here for something I'm working on, and I'll need you get out and to stay out of our hair for a while," he explains causally, playing with the neck of the bottle in his fingers.
"You're casting me out?" you ask, disappointment surging up like a muddy river during a flood. This set-up is only too good to last, isn't it? You're so in love that you've almost forgotten all about home, not that you'd really loved your old life there much anyway. But if you truly can't get home ever again, you'll have to start looking for some kind of work in the city to make meager money and hopefully figure out how to cobble a life together if that's even possible. You'll never find another man to depend on like Oscar, that's obvious. Funny that mere months ago, you had been somewhat distraught at the notion of being held against your will in this unfamiliar palace and world. Now you just feel stupid for letting him lead you into a false sense of security and preying on when you were most desperate.
"No, no, of course not," he replies in a scandalized tone, slicing sharply through your spiraling thoughts.
"I greatly value your, uh, commitment to me and keeping my secrets. You're a very delightful girl who doesn't go snooping for trouble and you try to keep out of my business."
You don't mention that you are technically locked indefinitely in this palace, forbidden to go outside off the grounds, and hadn't really had a choice in the first place. But he appears so sad and frustrated, so you nestle and snuggle further into his side, your hand tracing lazy circles on his chest.
"Perhaps only though for your safety, if the upcoming meeting and arrangement doesn't go well, you might have to leave permanently. But, uh, in that case I'll make sure you get you set up with decent accommodations outside the city. Perhaps Munchkinland, Governor Thropp there owes me a favor..."
"Okay," you murmur quietly even though this prospect partially frightens and worries you, and you feel relief oozing from his bones.
"Thank you for always understanding my dear. You know I have such a responsibility and I need everything to go right when this special young lady comes - Morrible is counting on it and you damn know it you don't want to get on her bad side."
"This student of hers must be something else," you mutter more to yourself than him. How much does she know, anyway?
"She sure fucking is from what I've been told. She'll change everything and put me in a greater position than before if I can get her to work with me. Morrible seems cautiously confident and cheered as well by the prospect, which is a sign to be taken seriously. She can often have a stiff stick up her tight ass, huh?" He laughs, deep and throaty, and you know his guard is down when he swears openly in conversation.
"Right." You're silent for a little while, just letting him hold you and trying not to dwell on the implications of whatever this mystery meeting could hold. You could ask for more information, seeing as to how he could be looser lipped from the effects of the alcohol, but you frankly don't care. The post orgasmic state you're basking in is too all-consuming to break out of (plus you are fatigued), and so you let the less business side mood of tonight seep back into the conversation.
"Hey, I liked this tonight, what we did. I really thought the ropes were, um, creative and even though I was nervous at first, it was actually... pretty hot? Maybe we could do that again sometime, sir?"
He smiles tentatively, the gears of his diabolical mind whirring on another track, and your words clumsily snatch him back to the present.
"That's just what I like to hear, sweetheart. That's what I love best-"
"-making people happy," you finish for him, having that line down pat after overhearing him parrot it as part of his political approach.
"Atta girl," he replies with a smarmy smirk and then a contented sigh, ducking his head and resting his chin on top of your head as you lay on his bare chest, listening to the even drumming of his heartbeats.
The palace is delightfully quiet this time of night, the guards in immediate range having been dismissed for the evening so there would be no eavesdroppers. Light from the waxing moon outside the large glass windows curtained with heavy drapes parted a couple inches beams through weakly down, leaving a six inch pale strip to highlight the heavily polished floor.
Kansas and its cornfields feel like worlds away. This is almost like a dream in of itself, but I know it isn't because every day I wake up and I'm still here, you muse sleepily.
Maybe you're staying with the wrong man, and it will end badly between you two. But honestly at this moment, you are too smitten by this lavish lifestyle you stumbled into, his seemingly sincere ongoing affections, and the raw primal love you extract from his flesh on passionate nights like this to give too much of a hoot about it.
