#creature perpetua

[a-chilleus]

Hey ghost fans who write creature!perpetua smut - I have something cursed to show you, courtesy of my friend with a biology degree

(apparently one of his lecturers COLLECTS them??)

he told me about this and I remembered how often V gets compared to a bat, and... anyway i don't write smut but I'm sure you guys can create something horrendous with this so

[bloodysyren]

@danse-macabre-ballerina Perpetua, am I right?

[maniccraftyfangirl]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost (Sweden Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Papa V Perpetua/Reader Characters: Papa V Perpetua Additional Tags: Gender-Neutral Reader-Insert, Penetrative Sex, Knotting, Bad Past Relationship, undressing an unconscious person, Creature Papa V Perpetua, Creature Perpetua Month 2026 Summary:

Your boyfriend takes you to a party that turns out to be a dud, and you're not finding him all that great afterward either. But there is something lurking out in the woods that's looking out for you.

(Already posted this here to Tumblr, but I have now added it to my Ao3, with a few minor grammar corrections)

[maniccraftyfangirl]

Good For You

I have really been enjoying all of the great stories that have been written for @lycanthra and the Creature!Perpetua month. I have been in awe of all of the great writers, and I really wanted to play too. Somehow I managed to write a whole fic of my own, so here it is, my first finished Ghost fic, and honestly, the first fanfiction I have finished at all since probably 2009. And my first explicit smut, first gender neutral reader, and a lot of other firsts for me, so maybe keep that in mind and take it easy on me. This will be posted to my Ao3 after I have gotten some sleep, but I wanted to post here before the month was officially over. So right at the last minute, here it is:

Papa V Perpetua x gn!reader

6.8k words

penetration, knotting, undressing an unconscious person, bad past relationship. No beta.

You had your eyes closed, your head resting on the cold plane of car window. In this self imposed blindness, you listened to the hushed passing of the world outside. The engine thrummed, the wheels churning down the road, the song on the radio barely a burble after you had turned it nearly all the way down. Your breath, in and out, and that of your boyfriend’s as he drove, in, and out. You were out of sync you noticed, the two of you, and you wondered if that was a weird observation. But a fittingly poetic one, perhaps. You and Adam had only been dating six months, but already it felt like the two of you were out of sync, on so many things.

Adam had been the one invited to the party. They were his friends, the people he was always ditching you to spend time with. But this time Adam had wanted you to come along, and you’d actually been excited to go, despite not having met most of the other people attending, and how you weren’t a fan of big raucous parties in general. But it had felt to you like Adam had finally wanted to include you, wanted to introduce you to his friends, and hopefully they would like you and want to be your friends, too.

Breathe in, breathe out. Try not to wince. Even breathing made the hammering ache in your head throb all the worse.

You wished the chill of the window could seep into your skull and numb the echoes of music with too much screaming in it, and the shitty beers you’d consumed for lack of anything better to do. The volume of the stereo made conversation an impossibility. You told yourself that that was the only reason no one had bothered to talk to you. You’d thought Adam would have introduced you around to his friends, but he had disappeared almost immediately, leaving you to navigate through the icebergs of people and their stares as you made your way to the table covered sparsely in snacks and liberally with beer cans, and awkwardly parked yourself there.

Then you waited. For what, you weren’t sure. Something to happen. Someone to talk to. For the music to get better. For the beer you were nursing to taste like something appealing instead of warm and sweaty. For Adam to come back and explain to you why he’d even brought you here if he didn’t even want to spend time with you, while you stood here feeling lonely and stupid and with an increasing, stabbing headache building behind your eyes and in your temples and down your jaw, painfully throbbing in time with the music’s baseline, and…

You felt like everyone else was looking at you too, wondering why you were here. Like you were an anomaly, a vaguely interesting bug, but not interesting enough to go and investigate. The room was too warm and too humid, and the music was doing its very best to exceed the volume and level capabilities of the speakers. You’d thought maybe Adam was just off saying hi to some of the other people in the house- as best you could tell, the party was continuing in nearly every room- and then you thought maybe he’d just got caught up in conversation. But a few minutes turned into several minutes, turned into half an hour. More people arrived, were greeted enthusiastically at the door, immediately disseminating into some group or other, crowding the room further. You ought to go looking for your boyfriend, but part of you was afraid to move, afraid to draw more looks your way, to remind everyone here that you’d been brought and immediately abandoned. You got another drink instead.

Half an hour stretched like taffy into an hour, into more, and finally you gave up. You still felt stupid and pathetic, but now you were also mad and in pain and you didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore, you just  wanted to go home. That was enough to drive you from your corner and into the depths of the house, pushing your way past or even through groups of chatting people, muttering a quick “’scuse me,” only about half of the time.

Adam was in the basement-converted-game room, in the middle of what turned out to be an impromptu billiards tournament. Adam spotted you as you came down the stairs, managing only a “Hey babe, where you been?” before you announced that you wanted to go home, NOW.

That had actually prompted a few jeers and wolf-whistles that did nothing for the state of your headache, as his friends misinterpreted your rage as lust, assuming you were dragging Adam away from the game because you couldn’t wait to get him somewhere private to fuck his brains out. Whatever. Let them think whatever they wanted- you had never spoken to any of them before, and after tonight, weren’t likely to in the future. Adam had laughed at your uncharacteristic ferocity too, entirely unfazed, and had let you drag him away from the party he’d been so insistent on bringing you to.

In the car, the cold was at least soothing, the quiet a gentle blanket you used to wrap around yourself while you nursed your misery. Adam had tried to talk, and you had shushed him. He’d turned on the radio, and you had lowered the volume immediately. Finally he seemed to get the hint, and drove you out into the night in quiet. You’d closed your eyes, sank low into the seat, and tried to block everything out. When you got home, you wanted to go to bed. No shower, no sex, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. You wanted sleep, and nothing else.

The wheels crunched briefly over gravel and the car pulled to a halt. The sound of the engine cut off, taking with it even the soft mumble of the music. You breathed a sigh of relief that the evening was finally over, and you could get that heavy hitting dose of oblivious unconsciousness that you and your headache were craving.

What you got was Adam’s hand on your knee, squeezing your thigh as it worked its way up. His hot moist breath on your cheek as he leaned over to kiss the edge of your jaw.

“Ugh,” you muttered, giving him a shove. “Stop it.” You blinked open your eyes, first to glare at him, then to take in what was outside the car windows. Not a lot, it turned out. The narrow two lane road was a long slash through a darkened forest, lit only by the moonlight, untouched by streetlights or the headlights of any other cars. Adam had pulled over onto a patch of gravel that grew like a canker off the road’s edge, and had apparently decided this was a great spot to start getting handsy.

As you stared at what looked to you to be the middle of nowhere- not your apartment, definitely not Adam’s, and no sign of civilization in any direction, your boyfriend took your silence as permission to keep going, crowding back into your space and pulling you as close to him as your seatbelt allowed, trying to press kisses on your face in the general direction of your mouth. You gave him another shove, harder this time.

“What the fuck,” you demanded.

“What?” Adam asked, blinking at you, stupidly and with the beginnings of irritation. “C’mon, babe. You pulled me out of a party, what was I supposed to think you wanted?”

“That I wanted to go home, like I told you,” you said, feeling the headache ramp up with the increasing volume of your voice. You took a deep breath, trying to settle it back down. Even glowering at Adam hurt your head, as much as he deserved to be glared at. “You brought me to a party, introduced me to nobody, and just left me alone while you went to shoot the shit with your friends.”

He shrugged. “You’re an adult, figured you could handle yourself. What, you needed me to hold your hand?”

That felt like a trap- either you had to admit you couldn’t handle yourself like he thought, or that you could and were therefore getting pissed at him for no reason. It felt like Adam was always making these little traps for you. You were sick of it, and you were sick of him. You felt just plain sick at the moment, and your head was pounding so hard you could almost hear the drumbeat, and that sleep you had promised yourself seemed a million miles away.

His hand had found its way back onto your knee, and you slapped it hard, like it was an insect you were hell bent on squishing. He yelped and yanked it back.

“No,” you told him firmly. “Do you understand that? I’m pissed and my head hurts and I am tired and I am pissed.” You were repeating yourself, and you didn’t care. “I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, driving me out here, but you can just start the car and take me the rest of the way home, because the sight of my backside going inside and shutting the door in your face is the only view of my ass you are getting tonight.”

Adam glared right back at you, lips thin and tight and his jaw obviously clenching so hard his teeth were probably creaking, but he turned the key in the ignition.

You relaxed fractionally, when Adam said flatly, “Get out.”

“I beg your finest pardon?” you asked. You knew what he’d said; you just couldn’t believe he’d really said it.

But he had. “Get out,” he repeated. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

You stared at him, but now he wouldn’t even look at you. His hands on the wheel were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. If Adam was going to have a tantrum about having to leave a stupid party and then not getting laid, then fine. You’d call an Uber.

“Fine. Fine.” You unbuckled the seatbelt, opening the car door, gravel crunching under your heels as you stepped out. You closed the door behind you and turned around to tell Adam that he could go fuck himself. But he stomped down on the accelerator and peeled out so fast that you were sprayed with flying gravel. You stumbled back, gawking at the taillights as the car sped away from you. With a huff, you flipped off your now-ex boyfriend, and reached into your pocket for your phone.

Which wasn’t there.

“What the fuck?” You tired the other pockets, then crouched and peered as best you could at the dark gravel, trying to see if you’d dropped the phone somewhere. You were almost certain you’d had the phone when you’d left home. When you couldn’t find it on the ground, you wondered with a sinking feeling if it might have fallen out in Adam’s car.

You looked down the road, to where Adam was already out of sight. Then back down the way you had come. You had no idea where you were, you had no phone, and you didn’t know if walking in the direction that Adam drove would bring you to civilization soon, or if it would be faster to turn around and go the other way, and hope even the assholes that didn’t give a shit about you at the party would at least give you some directions home. The only way this could be more like a bad movie plot was if it started raining.

As though on cue, thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. You glared up at the sky, earning a splash of rain right in the eye for your petulance. Around you, a soft patter of rain began to fall on the treetops and the gravel, dampening your mood as well as your clothes. Nothing for it but to pick a direction and start walking. Mostly because you didn’t want to feel like you were trailing after Adam like an abandoned puppy, you chose to try and make your way back to the party house. Maybe another car would come by, as much as you loathed attempting hitchhiking.

You started off walking alongside the road even though you didn’t like how close that put you to being in the lane. You were at least hoping for some traffic to come by and notice your plight, and because it was so dark, the road was less hazardous than blundering through the foliage, trying to make your way just by moonlight. Though the moonlight was getting weaker, as the clouds rolled in to swallow up what little light there was, and the rain began to fall more heavily, almost aggressively. Mother Nature was not above kicking you when you were down, it would seem. 

It did not take long before you were soaked to the bone. You had not dressed with the intention of a midnight stroll in the middle of nowhere, in a downpour. Your shirt was soon clinging like a second skin, as were your jeans, with the added misery of the chafing weight of sodden denim. Walking became trudging, as you wrapped your arms around yourself, head down and forcing yourself to take one lurching step after another. Your head was pounding again, you were uncomfortable all over, and worst of all, you were getting really, really cold. There were no other cars traveling this road, and you had nothing you could use as a jacket, umbrella, or blanket. You didn’t even know if you were going in the right direction. You don’t even have your phone to use as a flashlight, much less as a way to communicate to someone, anyone, the predicament you were in.

You were going to kill Adam, if you got out of this nonsense alive.

You didn’t know how long you were walking. Thirty minutes, an hour, more than that? However long it was, it felt like an eternity. The road seemed to just go on forever. It was slow going, and the rain didn’t show any signs of calling it quits. You had started shivering so hard you were trembling all over, and your jaw hurt from how hard you were clenching it to keep your teeth from chattering. All your thoughts were getting slow and hazy, just a pulsing ache of misery. And you were getting so tired. Your whole body felt so heavy, it was a wonder you were still upright, let alone moving. You knew that you were in trouble, but it was hard to care about that with much urgency.   

You were going to have to sit down, you decided. You couldn’t keep walking. You ached all over, in every muscle and joint. It felt like you were slogging through molasses. You stumbled and slid through the mud on the edge of the paved road, barely catching yourself on the trees, as you worked your way just into the edge of the woods. You’d just rest for a little bit, you decided, and you didn’t need to risk getting run over if any traffic did finally come by. Bit by bit, you lowered yourself to the ground, propping yourself up against the trunk of a tree, heedless of the fact that all the earth around you had essentially turned to mud. The canopy of leaves blocked the rain at least somewhat, at least.

You didn’t feel so cold, anymore. That was nice. But you were very, very tired.

You closed your eyes.

You didn’t intend to sleep. But the cold and the pain had enervated you so thoroughly, you must have passed out almost the moment you’d stopped moving. You were only aware now of how dangerously cold you must have been when you fell asleep, by comparison to how warm and comfortable you were as you drifted back to wakefulness.

You became aware of sensations a little at a time. The last thing you remembered was being cold and wet and miserable- sometime during unconsciousness, the world around you had changed dramatically.  Someone had a hand carded through your hair, and was lightly scratching at your scalp with their nails. And oh, that felt nice. Head scritches had always been a weakness of yours. If you weren’t already feeling so boneless, you might have melted.

Your mattress, as it turned out, seemed to be this unknown someone’s chest, solid and radiating heat, and their skin felt so soft against yours. Were they wearing a shirt? Were you? A bleary evaluation confirmed that no, apparently almost all your drenched garments had gone missing at some point. And your companion did not seem to be wearing any more than you were.

Your head was tucked in comfortably against this stranger’s clavicle, and every breath they took was accompanied by a gently rumbling vibration beneath your cheek. The purring was soothing away what had been such a brain-splitting headache, leaving you feeling relaxed and lazy, and also a little bit like you wanted to burrow into their chest and make a nest there. Let the rest of the world sort its own shit out- you lived here now.

This was weird, wasn’t it? This felt like it should feel weird. People this comfortable just did not exist, in your experience. This person wasn’t Adam- Adam couldn’t purr for one thing, and also you sort of remembered that you were mad at him right now, so cuddling with him mostly naked was off the table. As much as you hated to disturb the peace, you really ought to figure out who this was, where you were, and what the hell had happened to your clothes.

“Mmf,” you managed to say. Well, good try.

The hand combing through your hair stilled, but at your little whine, resumed almost immediately. 

“Hi,” your pillow finally said. Then, “Don’t freak out.” Hesitantly, like the owner of the voice couldn’t quite understand why you weren’t freaking out.

You should be freaking out, shouldn’t you? But your adrenal glands seemingly hadn’t gotten that memo, and were barely producing enough juice to rouse in you a mild suspicion.

Maybe it had to do with the way he smelled. The man- for they really did seem to be more man than mattress- smelled like campfire and petrichor, a little like the tang of salt on the wind as it swept over the ocean, and with a tiny bit, just a hint, of wet dog. He smelled like one of the best naps you ever had, on your family beach trip over a decade ago, with rain pattering on the walls of the tent, and the rushing of the ocean’s rising tide just over the ridge. He smelled like the memory of tranquility, and though you might not know how you got to be where you were, you weren’t quite ready to give up that tranquility to deal with the realities of your situation just yet.

“Okay. Not freaking out- I think I can handle that,” you murmured quite reasonably into his collarbone. “You think you can handle answering some questions. Like who are you, where am I, why am I here, and why am I naked?” Despite the non-freaking-out that you had going on, you still felt a little stink-eye was warranted. It seemed to take an extraordinary effort to lift your head off its comfortable spot in order to level a glare at your stranger-companion.

Oh. He was pretty. Well that was just unfair. And oh sure, now your endocrine system is willing to rev up its engines. You could feel your heart rate increasing, and your tendencies for risk-avoidance taking a sharp downturn.

The most noticeable thing was the mask, of course. A half mask of gleaming silver, sculpted like the upper half of a skull. A strange look for a strange man to be sure, but it seemed to suit him so well, that part of you didn’t even question it. The area around his eyes had been darkened with facepaint, allowing the vibrancy of his strange eyes to shine even brighter. One green, not an emerald but like moss, something fresh and earthy, something the poets and romance authors would write about staring into dreamily during golden summer sunsets. But the other eye was almost alien, a glossy opaque white that almost matched the sclera perfectly, accented only with the darkness of the pupil with the faintest border of green encircling it. Taken together, it made him look half crazy. Something dangerous.

Something dangerous that should not be making your stomach swoop and drop in that deeply pleasant gut reaction of Want.

What else could be seen of his face under the mask was painted too, not detracting but enhancing his attractiveness. Mostly black, like around his eyes, which continued down his neck. Silver paint just hinted at the continuation of the skull to the mouth, with his lips and cupid’s bow accented with more black. He had an adorable little cleft right at the tip of his nose.

Held back by the straps of the mask was what looked like a thick riot of dark curly hair, and your fingers twitched involuntarily with how badly you wanted to touch it. He had his fingers running through your hair- surely it would be acceptable to return the favor?

“Perpetua,” said the strange, beautiful man.

You blinked rapidly, trying to bring your higher brain functions back online. “Huh?”

“Your first question, who am I,” he clarified, with a lopsided little grin. His lower teeth were just a little crooked and why couldn’t you stop staring at his mouth? “I’m Perpetua. But you can call me V.”

“How do you get a nickname like “V” from “Perpetua”?” you wondered.

He shrugged, which he couldn’t do without causing you to shift on top of him, making you immediately re-aware of how much of your bare skin was touching how much of his. “Names are weird where I’m from. Most of my friends are nameless.”

While you certainly had more questions now, those could wait until you had some of your first ones squared away. But you were naked and on top of him, and under such intimate conditions, it only seemed right that you return the gesture and offer your name, so you did. V inclined his head in acceptance of your introduction, but he had a sort of amused look on his face. Like he didn’t really believe you, or had a secret he wasn’t ready to share.

You decided to let him keep it. There were more pressing matters to press him about. No, don’t think about pressing him. Stay focused. “And my distinct lack of my clothing?” you asked, trying to sound arch but not sure if you’d succeeded. “What’s your explanation for that?”

His smile faded, and you sort of wished you hadn’t asked. “You were so cold when I found you,” he said solemnly. “I’d thought I was too late. It was such a relief when I heard your heart still beating. I had to get you out of your wet clothes and warmed up before you froze to death.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, though now that he mentioned it, you did remember how thoroughly drenched you’d been, how you’d barely been able to move with how cold and stiff you’d felt. And how very, very tired you’d been… “And you are also naked because…?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking- I didn’t have any other way to warm you!” V protested. “The Ministry was too far away. The closest dry place was the Den, and it doesn’t exactly have a heater.”

The Den, huh? For the first time, you lifted your head to peer around at the surroundings. To your surprise, you discovered that you were still in the woods. Sort of. The place you’d been brought looked like a sort of half-cabin. Three walls, with the fourth completely open to the elements outside. The floor was just tamped-down dirt, with a number of mismatched rugs tossed over it haphazardly. You could hear the rain still pattering on the roof, not as heavily as it had been earlier, but just as persistent. While you were mostly draped over Perpetua, the two of you were actually ensconced in what looked to be a nest of pillows and blankets. The only pieces of furniture you could see were a small chest of drawers shoved into the corner, and a big plastic cooler. The whole place was lit by three battery-powered camping lanterns that hung from hooks on the walls. As V had said, there was no heater or even a fireplace. Cute in its own way, but not remotely warm. You hadn’t even noticed, because V radiated heat like a furnace.

He watched you as you assessed the place, and you could feel his satisfaction as you had to reluctantly admit that he was probably right.

“I was trying to save your life. Sharing body heat was the best option,” he said. “It was not a time to be thinking about sex.”  

“Okay, okay,” you conceded with a laugh. He was cute when he was all offended. “You prevented me from dying and didn’t have a single naughty thought the whole time. Good for you. So, as I am no longer half frozen and in danger of leaving this mortal coil, why are we still naked?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” V said, perking up once more, offense already forgotten. “You’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re awake- now I can think about sex.”

He touched a finger to your chin, tilting it up just a little so he could look you fully in the eyes. He moved slowly, telegraphing his movements as he moved in closer, giving you all the room to say no, to stop him. But you didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to think about why you didn’t want to.

What you wanted was to know what those cutely crooked lower teeth tasted like. You wanted to find out if his lipstick would smear on your mouth. You wanted to put your hands in his hair and find out if it was as soft as it looked, and what sort of sound he’d make if you tugged on it. And really, it was about damned time you got something you wanted.

You met his lips with your own, letting out a soft exhale the moment they touched. So lightly, just enough to learn the shape of his mouth, to feel the way he smiled against you. He kissed you, feather light, full on the mouth, then the left corner of your lips. Faint kisses, almost too gentle to be called that, across the upper lip, over the philtrum ridges, to the right corner. Then taking the path back along the lower lip. You smiled, finding it cute. He mapped your lips with faint kisses, and you tried to quash the disappointment in the almost achingly sweet tenderness.

When he pulled back a little you smiled at him, ready to thank him for saving you but suggest that you get dressed now and maybe ask to borrow a phone. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, V crushed his lips to yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the startled cry you let out. But once you got over your surprise, you couldn’t help but grin into the kiss. This was more like it!

You gave into the urge to thread your fingers into those dark curls of his, closing your hand into a fist to tug, and lapping up the pleased growl he made.  His hands slid down your back in a caress that made your spine tingle, and his arms wrapped around you to hold your body tight to his own. The body heat that had saved your life now enfolded you like an inferno, and you basked in it. You could feel his body responding to your enthusiasm, the hardness trapped between your bodies, and you gave a little wiggle of delight that had him groaning. One of his hands migrated down to cup the curve of your ass, pressing you closer in to him, as if there were much more room to do so. You laughed, delighted.  

“Oh, you are a bad one, aren’t you?” you whispered against his mouth.

“Am I?” Perpetua asked, amused. Your lips were still so close to his, beckoning, that he couldn’t help but take more kisses from them like little sips of water, like he couldn’t get enough. “I can be good, if you want. For you, I could be very, very good.”  

“Show me, then,” you commanded, too pleading to be truly imperious. “Show me you can be good for me.”

He pushed up, rolling the two of you in the nest of blankets so he could pin you beneath him. Those two seconds were clearly too long to be without kissing you, if the way V dove in to ravish your mouth again was any indication. You were enfolded in his scent, deeper and richer with the heat you had built between you. His hands skimmed you ribs, down your hips, nails scratching very faint red lines into the skin.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your underwear, the only thing he hadn’t removed when divesting you of your wet garments. He met your gaze, and you could almost swear those strange, mismatched eyes were glowing. He swallowed, then rasped out, “Yes?”

A rush swept through you, glacial ice melting rapidly beneath lava heat, at that one tiny question, so intense it actually caused you to shiver. You bit your lip, giving quick jerky nods, but Perpetua didn’t move until you croaked out your answering, “Yes.”

 He shoved the garment down, your legs caged briefly together by a tight tangle of fabric, when you heard a rip and the waistband snapped, a slight sting against your thigh. Perpetua seemed unperturbed by its demise, perhaps pleased even, and he flung the scrap away from him with finality, and went back to kissing you. You felt it only fair to return the favor, hands clutching what frankly felt like a truly superb ass, as you tried to shimmy his own underthings off of him. It took some doing, especially since you couldn’t take a break from the kissing, but with the two of you twisting and wriggling a bit, you managed to remove the last barrier between your bodies.    

When you were both well and truly naked, V seemed undecided as to whether he wanted to slow down, or devour you whole. His hands touched you everywhere, learning every your plane and curve, first gentle and reverent as he mapped your terrain, then his fingers would clench and curl and he’d drag his nails across your skin, drawing new streets and avenues across your body. With some reluctance he left off kissing your mouth, but consoled himself with kissing down your neck. You shivered, threading your hands back into his curls as he moved lower, now trekking across the pinkened paths he had drawn with his mouth, learning their taste as well as their shape. Down your chest, over your soft and quivering belly, detouring to your hip, and then far too slowly following the crease between the thigh and pelvis toward your center.   

When he touched you, first with his fingers, gently questing, and then with his mouth, you almost came apart right then and there. Every nerve felt drawn tight as a bowstring, vibrating and humming upward through your body with every kiss and lick. His fingertips found your entrance, and you felt him let out a heated sigh of pleasure against your most tender places. You parted your legs wider, encouragingly, wanting to feel everything he was willing to give you. V took that as the permission it was, bringing his hot mouth to where you needed it the most.

You cry echoed through the Den and out into the woods, your finger clenched in his hair for need of something to ground yourself. You swore you could hear him purring as he sucked and savored. His fingertips worked inside you, ever so gently, and the stretch and feeling of him added another layer of sensation that had your whole body trembling. You closed your eyes, head tilting back as you gasped up at the ceiling, some mix of his name and broken pleas for more.  

But when things started to tighten low in your gut, you knew you wanted something more than this. You put a hand to his shoulder, giving a little squeeze and a push. When he looked up at you, all you could manage was, “Please.”

Somehow he understood what you meant, the wonderful man, and he gave one last kiss to your core before moving back on top of you. You took his face in your hands, fingertips tracing over the smooth warm metal of the mask.

“Condom?” you whispered.

“Mmf,” he agreed, dragging himself away from you. But he didn’t go far, only pulling open the top drawer of the tucked-away dresser. A quick rummage produced both a condom and lube, and he quickly burrowed himself back into the nest and up against your body once he had claimed these prizes.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Prepared for this, aren’t we?”

Perpetua grinned at you with a little shrug. “It’s my friends’ Den. “

“The nameless ones?”

“The nameless ones,” he confirmed. “They have a Den back at the Ministry, but this one is for when they want some outside time. Hunting and orgies and stuff. They like nature.”

“Your friends sound… interesting,” you said.

Perpetua laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ll introduce you sometime. They’ll like you.” He tore open the foil condom packet, then blinked as you plucked it from his hand. Then he groaned, eyes clenching shut as you reached between his legs to touch him. “Fuck.”

Fuck indeed. V was hard, and he was big. You stroked his length, tracing the veins, finding the slickness at his tip and smearing it over the head. Perpetua huffed and bucked his hips, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you explored him. He seemed to approve of anything you did to him, so you let yourself play and wind him up for a few minutes more, before you got on with the task of sheathing him in the condom.

You heard the pop of the lube bottle’s cap, and then V’s slick fingers were between your legs once more, finding your entrance and sliding one long digit into you. You sighed, enjoying the slow slide and stretch as he made sure you were ready to take him. All you had to do was lay back and let him care for you, and you had to admit, it felt nice to be cared for. You felt cherished, dare you say, even loved. And ready. Oh, you were so ready for him.

“Please, V,” you whispered. “I want you.”

“Angel,” he breathed. He covered you completely, raining soft kisses over your face. “My angel.”

You took a breath as you felt the head of his cock nudge up against your entrance. You lifted your legs, bracketing his hips as he began to slide into you, bearing down on him with a groan as he filled you in one slick side. He whispered something into your neck in a language you didn’t understand, but were willing to bet was something truly obscene. Because that was how it felt, to have him buried to the hilt within you. Obscene, and beautiful, and perfect.

“Ohh, yes,” you groaned, rolling your hips and dragging a similar moan from him. “Oh, you feel good.”

“Told you I could be good for you,” V whispered.

“You did,” you agreed. “And you are. You are so, so good for me.”

He gave a full body shudder, and began to move. Dragging himself back before pushing home again, half thrusting, half grinding into your body, as if he couldn’t bear to part from your warmth for even a moment. You rocked your hips to meet him, breathing hard as the tension inside of you built back up. You’d never felt so incredible. You wanted it to last, but as the rhythm increased between you, you knew you didn’t have much time. Pleasure streaked through your body and set every nerve alight, until you felt like your very insides were sparkling with stars.   

In the weak glow of the camping lanterns, the Den’s strange shadows danced across Perpetua’s body, and you swore you could see things, impossible things. Tendrils of darkness that swam and danced beneath his pale skin. A fluttering wave of darkness like a cloak unfolded behind him, resolving into a pair of glossy black wings that clenched and fluttered with his every thrust. Were those horns that curved upward from the forehead of the mask? You blinked rapidly, shaking your head, but the visions didn’t cease, only slid in and out of your sight like oil over the waters of reality.

You met Perpetua’s gaze, searching for answers. But you only found more mysterious wonders, as his eyes seemed to glow, the right eye reflective green like a cat’s in the dark, with the white eye glowing bright as a miniature star. He slowed when he saw you staring, touching your cheek, asking silently if you were alright. How you knew that he was worried, you weren’t sure. But the apprehension was unnecessary- you weren’t frightened. You were awestruck. You had never seen something so beautiful. Was he a monster? A demon? An angel? Or something mankind had no words for?

“What are you?” you breathed.

“Yours.” He took your hand, pressing your open palm over his heart. You swore you could feel it thundering inside him. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” you said wonderingly. Then you gasped, as something inside you peaked and vibrated like a plucked bowstring. You cried out, body arching as you shoved down hard, all your muscles clenched and trembling as orgasm swept through you as inexorably as a tidal wave.

Perpetua snarled into your neck and thrust in deep. Something was swelling at the base of his cock, catching and stretching at your entrance, a few more rocking pushes, and it breaches you. You gasped at the unexpected new fullness, body shuddering through a wave of aftershocks nearly as intense as your first climax. You gaped at him, gasping and rocking against where you are joined as one. His body trembled in your arms as he came undone, pressing soft panting kisses against any bit of you he could reach. You breathed in tandem as you came down together, and Perpetua’s eyes glowing bright were the last thing you remembered, before sleep rose up to claim you.

“How did you find me?”

It was probably hours later when you woke. The strange knot at the base of V’s cock has gone down, and you could part again. You felt a little bereft as he left the nest, only to return with a bottle of water from the cooler and a washcloth from the chest of drawers. He wet the cloth with some of the water, before handing you the bottle. You drank it down gratefully.

“The moon told me to seek you out,” Perpetua said, as he carefully cleaned the sweat and stickiness and smears of his facepaint from your body. “The trees parted to show me the path to you. The wind whispered to me your true name.”

You laughed, but after what you had seen in the shadows, you weren’t sure if he was only being poetic. “Did it now? Well then, what is my true name?”

He chewed at his lower lip, now mostly free of lipstick. Then he leaned in, and whispered something into your ear. It was a sound like wind in the treetops, the glitter of stars spread from one horizon to the other, the moment of breathless wonder of standing on the edge of the cliff, with the endless sea bowing at your feet. You shivered as that sound reached something deep inside you, nestling inside your chest like a lost creature come home.

“I…” You swallowed, deciding to ask. “Earlier… what I saw. Was that real?”

“I don’t know,” V said. “What did you see?”

“Wings, I think? Horns? Sort of a… iridescent darkness in your skin,” you said. “What are you?”

“For you,” he said with a smile, eyes taking on that supernatural gleam you saw before, “I could be very, very good.”   

[theirsatanicwiles]

It's Bloody and Raw, But I Swear It's Sweet

You stand in the oppressive darkness of the woods, panting. You are leaning against a tree, trying to breathe quietly. You feel the warm, cooling presence of blood dripping down your arm where a branch had caught you. You weren’t sure if you’d lost the thing that was chasing you, straining to listen for it. No branches rustled or cracked, but still the hair stood up on the back of your neck. This tells you that the creature is still close. How had things come to this? You wonder.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Perpetua / AFAB Female Reader Notes and Tags: Monsterfucking, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Knotting, Fucking in a Forest, Primal Play Wordcount: 5,956 Read it on AO3 or below the cut

You and your friends were having a bonfire party, hosted by Anton, as it always was. He loved having all his friends in one place, and it was easy to go to the parties he threw. He always provided loads of food and some booze. People usually brought even more, and thus there was always an abundance of alcohol.

Tonight’s bonfire location was one of the parks at the edge of the forest. It had a big ass fire pit, grills, and picnic tables. And the forest was mere steps away, so anyone who wanted a bit of privacy had a spot to retreat to.

You’d been at the party for a few hours now. The sun had set long ago, and everyone was getting by, by the plentiful light of the fire. You are perched on a log listening to a story you’d heard a dozen times before, sipping from your brightly colored disposable cup.

“And I had to walk to my car without any shoes! It was nuts,” your friend finishes. You throw back the last few sips of your drink.

“Gonna go piss,” you announce, handing your empty cup off, “Watch this for me.”

Several recitations of ‘go piss girl’ met your declaration, everyone (including yourself) having a bit of a giggle over your group’s shared meme.

The park bathrooms were locked at sunset, so there were two options for bathroom at the bonfire: portapotty, or woods. You opted for woods. If you wandered into the woods, you could take a moment to yourself without all the noise and heat, and presumably without scrutinization.

So once you’d finished your business, you wander over to where you could just see the light of the fire and just hear the murmuring of the party. You lean against the tree you’d chosen, closed your eyes, and sighed.

Should’ve stopped one drink ago, you thought to yourself. You could feel the existential dread creeping in, as it so often did these days. You’d hoped that the alcohol would keep it at bay, but tonight it seemed to only make it stronger.

“You good?” a familiar voice broke the pleasant absence of others, and your eyes shot open as every muscle in your body tensed.

“I’m fine, Scott. Just needed a minute,” You snap.

Scott, your ex, scoffs. The noise makes you want to punch him in the throat. This man had not been good to you, but never with witnesses. When the two of you broke up, you’d told all your friends in common you ‘would never make them choose’, and you regretted it. You wish you’d made everyone choose, and you wished none of them would have chosen Scott, so this pathetic loser of a man was left all alone.

“We both know how you get when you’ve been drinking. How many have you had, 3? 4?” He said condescendingly.

“What are you, watching me?” You try to put all your disgust into your tone so that he gets the hint to fuck off.

Instead, he takes a step closer to you and reaches out to caress the side of your face. You feel sick to your stomach at his touch, and consider vomiting on his shoes. “I’m just worried about you, baby.”

Get your fucking hands off of me and go die in a hole, you think and briefly consider saying out loud.

Before you can make up your mind about if it’s an inside thought or an outside thought, something in the atmosphere shifts. The forest is suddenly darker, as if something has blocked the view of the bonfire. Your heart rate spikes and the small hairs on your body all stand up, flesh dimpling, as if you had walked past an air conditioner on full blast.

“What-” you start to say, interrupted by the splattering of something hot and wet across your face. As the smell of iron hits your nose, you realize Scott is no longer touching you. In fact, Scott is completely gone.

Panic sinks in. You are alone in the woods now, but it no longer feels like the reprieve you had initially sought.

A wet thud, and something seems to fall out of the canopy of trees in front of you. You stare in shock at the distinctly Scott-shaped form now laying on the ground several feet ahead of you, unmoving, a dark pool slowly spreading out underneath it.

A being made of shadow materializes next to the corpse. Your mind struggles to make out its features despite there being enough light left that you should be able to (you can make out the unnatural way Scott’s arm is bent and see the writing on the back of his band tee). Glowing eyes peer at you from the almost-human shaped darkness. You’d say it was a person in silhouette, but the details aren’t quite right. The limbs are too long, the fingers come to pointed tips and there’s something off about the shape of the face. Cold light catches on the creatures face, illuminating it just enough for you to make out the shape of a skull, glinting as if made out of metal. His hands – what you would call hands on a human – have something wet dripping off of them.

Your mind tells you to stay still. To not breathe. To not think. To not exist. That maybe it will go away, and leave you alone. That if you’re still enough it won’t see you – as if it isn’t staring right at you.

When it lifts its dripping claws to its mouth, a long and pointed tongue coming out to lick droplets of Scott’s blood away, something inside you snaps. You start running. Later you will realize you should have run towards the bonfire, to people and safety, but in the moment all you could think was that you needed to put distance between yourself and this thing. All your mind was screaming was “away”.

As you’re running, you feel as if a wind is blowing against you, as if tendrils of air are climbing up your spine. It culminates in a tingling feeling between your shoulder blades, and a pressure at the back of your head. It feels as if you are being watched. The sensation spurs you forward, your instincts telling you that stopping will only lead to something bad happening. Tree branches are whipping at your face and limbs, and you’re not sure if any have scratched you deep enough to bleed.

Eventually – inevitably – you trip on a tree root. The light has dimmed enough that you can only barely make out shapes. The moon light trickles down from above the canopy, creating small pockets where it’s easier to see, but even there everything is in that blue-grey-silver monotone it gets in the moonlight. There is no more warm light.

Your palms sting as you scramble up to continue running. You dare a glance behind you and see-

Nothing.

But the pressure is still there, the tingling between your shoulder blades getting more pronounced. So you keep moving. Slower this time, trying not to trip again.

Eventually your adrenaline drops low enough that your limbs don’t want to keep going. You look behind you again and again you see nothing, just shadows and forest and moonlight. Your legs are aching  and your breath burns in your throat, yet still you’re gulping air down greedily. You find a tree that is wide enough to hide your shape and lean against it, heart pounding. You try to quiet yourself, and mostly succeed. The moonlight ebbs and flows, as it would any other night, but the forest still doesn’t feel right. You’ve spent a lot of time among these trees, you know them (and they know you). It’s too quiet, as if the trees are holding their breath. The shadows are wrong and you don’t know why.

You stood in the oppressive darkness of the woods, panting. You were leaning against a tree, trying to breathe quietly. You felt the warm, cooling presence of blood dripping down your arm where a branch had caught you. You weren’t sure if you’d lost the thing that was chasing you, straining to listen for it. No branches rustled or cracked, but still the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

This tells you that the creature is still close.

How had things come to this? You wonder.

And that is when you see the shadows shifting, about four trees away from you. You’ve never seen shadows move like liquid before. The shadow near the fourth furthest tree from you shrinks as the one near the third grows. As if pouring wine from one vessel to another. You can’t take your eyes off of it, following it as it gets closer and closer to you.

And then he’s standing right before you, not close enough to touch but close enough you can see his metallic-skull face, and see that it’s not his face but that he’s wearing a mask. His hair is dark and curly, swept back and held down by the straps of the mask. His face is dual-toned, silver and black, and on anyone else you would think it’s makeup but something tells you it’s not painted on. He is wearing a shining black shirt and fitted black pants.

 A creature with style, you think and have to stifle a semi-hysterical laugh.

“What are you?” You find yourself whispering, barely able to speak, your heart still pounding in your throat and your chest still aching.

He laughs, and the noise envelopes you like the fluttering of wings. The image of an unkindness of ravens fills your mind.

“You called to me. I came,” he says in his best non-answer, taking a slow step towards you. It strikes you as the way you would approach a skittish cat. Cautious, but relaxed.

“I called you?” You ask, not in doubt, but because your mind is moving slow. You remember being alone with Scott, you remember when he leaned in, and how sick you’d felt, and the rage that came bubbling up when he touched you. How you’d wished him dead.

The Creature was within reach now, just barely. He was close enough you could see his eyes, and that they were mismatched: one green and one white. Why was he the only thing in the forest which was still in color?

Your mind, finally, caught up and realized that the Creature had helped you.

You knew that no help comes free. You’ve been leaving cream and honey out for the Brownies since you were 7. Whatever this creature is before you, there is a price to pay for what it did at your behest. It does not matter that you did not consciously ask.

Knowing this somehow makes you feel calmer. Your shoulders uncurl themselves, dropping down from where they’d been hanging out up by your eyes. And you look into those otherworldly, glowing eyes. Whatever happens next is inevitable, and though you wonder if it is death, or if it will be painful, the inescapability of fate washes your fear away.

The Creature continues his slow approach. He is closer to you now and you can feel energy pulsating off of him, in a way you would feel heat if a human were this close. The energy is cold and almost electric. It crawls over your skin, feeling alive, tentatively brushing against your being.

The two of you stand in silence, looking at one another. You feel brave enough to break eye contact and take in the entirety of its form for the first time. In the light, the edges of the shadow that make up this creature had been much less defined. But here in the dark, there is a surprising starkness between where his shadows end and the shadows of the surrounding forest begin. And he’s shockingly…. Human shaped. Your gaze continues to wander and you find yourself noting the strong legs and thick thighs, and exactly how tight his well-fitted pants are. A warmth awakens at your core, gently pulsing, wiping some of the fatigue from your limbs. When your gaze falls back to its face, he is looking at you with what can only be deemed a satisfied smugness, causing your whole face to burn hot in embarrassment.

“And the price?” You finally ask, as if to distract from the fact that you were caught checking the Creature out. It pushes towards you again so there is hardly any space between the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath as every nerve seems to come alive in your body, an almost painful and overwhelming sensation.

“I need to feed,” he responds.

“Blood?” You ask, and he laughs.

“Energy,” he reaches up and brushes back some of the strands of hair that had fallen into your face, “Your fear would have been… sufficient. But this? This is much better.”

Your mind is still struggling to reconcile how your body is responding to him when he leans in towards you, the side of his face pressed against yours. He takes a long inhale, followed by a decidedly satisfied sigh. The sound stokes the warmth growing at your core into a small fire.

The rapidly shrinking part of your brain that had been afraid mere moments ago screams that this should scare you further. Instead, you find yourself wondering what he would do if you pulled him close and how he would feel between your legs.

Your eyes are glued to the Creature as it pulls away from you, just enough space that it can look at you, and you at it. You find yourself reaching out to cup its face. Its skin is warm, not the cool you’d expected, in direct contrast with the cold of the metallic mask. For a moment you swear it looks surprised, but the smug satisfaction is so quickly back in place that you could have imagined it.

“Energy.” You repeat.

He shifts his face, leaning into your hand, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. For a moment you think he will place a kiss in your palm, and your stomach flutters at the thought. Instead, that pointed tongue slides out and he licks the scrapes on your palm. It leaves an almost-burning, tingling sensation over your wounds. And an electric pulse through your groin.

“Energy. Life energy, fear, anger, or-” He says, the hand gripping your wrist tightening as he pulls you forward so your bodies are flush to one another, and you gasp before you can stop yourself. “Arousal. Sexual energy.”

“So you do drink blood,” you say, mind focusing on exactly the wrong thing and the Creature laughs its unearthly laugh again.

“Yes,” he says, and brings your other bleeding hand up to his mouth, “Though this would be terribly insufficient.”

Doesn’t stop him from licking up the droplets that have begun to coagulate on your palm. As he does so, you can feel his hardness growing against you. Human enough for that, then, whatever he was. Your bodies are too flush but you do wonder how visible it would be in his attire.

“So, I can give you my- sexual… energy. To pay my debt,” you answer, trying to clear your mind of the fog of arousal that was building, trying to be clear on the terms of this agreement you’d accidentally found yourself in. Struggling to think that anything else is even what you want in this moment.

Unearthly, mismatched eyes sparkle in the dark as they look to you, amusement and something darker burning in them, “Yes.”

Well, that’s that then. You grind your hips against his, causing him to groan. A thrill runs through you as it lets go of your wrists, hands shifting to your hips, claws digging into soft flesh as it holds you against it, not breaking eye contact for one second. The heat at your core burns hotter.

“How much will you need?” You ask, your voice thick with the growing desire you can feel building in the both of you.

“More than this,” is all he answers, leaning into you, its mouth a mere whisper from your own.

You’re the one to close the distance, and somehow it feels as if he can’t. His lips are surprisingly soft, though the kiss is anything but gentle. Ravaging, as if he were starved and you were what fed him. As if you were life itself for him. Your hands delve into the thicket of curls tucked under his mask’s strap as his mouth devours yours.

Your mind is filled with sensation: Soft, claiming mouth. Silken curls in your hands. The feeling of claws retreating away from your tender flesh, yet fingers still left gripping your hips. The harsh bark of the tree against your back. The way your legs still shake, spent from running.

He must have noticed your legs as well, because the next thing you know you’re being lifted up off the ground. Your instinct is to wrap your legs around the Creature’s torso, and you don’t fight it. When you lock them, you feel the Creature sigh into your mouth, content to be nestled between your thighs, happy to have your ass cupped in its hands.

You pull away, and it doesn’t look too pleased about it at first, but the petulance of denial melts away when your hands move to its chest and you hum delightedly at the feeling of silk against strong pectoral muscles. He laughs as he dips his head down towards you again, trailing kisses from your jaw down your neck. He nips at your pulse point and you gasp, fingers grasping the soft material of his shirt, an electric thrill running straight from his teeth on your neck to your groin. It nuzzles into your neck, sighing another satisfied sigh, and it is as if your arousal is scented, seeping out of your skin.

And for all you know, for this creature, it is.

You find your hands in its hair again, pulling its face back up to yours, want leaving your lips feeling untended. As you greedily take its mouth, it pushes you further against the tree, grinding hips to hips. You whimper into its mouth, and that only makes it grind more avariciously.

When he pulls his mouth from yours, you find yourself feeling bereft. Is this all he needed? Is his hunger filled? You try and tell yourself perhaps it is better things don’t go further. You know this is a lie you will hold to yourself if this is all you get.

“Is this sufficient?” You ask, your walls already coming up, preparing for the rejection you expect.

“No. I need more,” is his firm answer. Relief floods you as he pulls you away from the tree, laying you amongst the roots where a surprisingly soft bed of moss and leaves lay. You wonder if somehow he summoned it for you.

You waste no time and begin pulling your shirt off, exposing your breasts to the cold night air. You always loved how blue they looked in the moonlight, as if you were yourself something more than human.

Slowly he moves down your body, mouth brushing exposed skin, nuzzling at neck and then collarbone until finally he nestles himself between your breasts. He does another of his deep inhales, only this time instead of sighing he lets out a deep purr. You feel as much as hear the vibrations of it against your skin, goose pimples rising all along your breasts, nipples pulling taut.

It nuzzles into the tender flesh of your right breast, and when those mismatched eyes look up to you, you can feel your heart race faster in your chest. One hand comes up to gently cup your left breast, and you see that its fingers have changed from the long-claws you had seen earlier. They are now shorter, closer to human length, and the claws are softer, more rounded – as if they had been shifted to be less lethal.

His pointed tongue flicks out and over your nipple, and you find yourself gasping and arching up into the sensation. As the inhuman tongue wraps around your bud, you feel electricity running along your nerves, every sensation suddenly much more intense, and all of it feeding back into your growing arousal.

You look down at the Creature lavishing attention upon your breasts, and the sight of such a thing brings the flame of your arousal into a roaring blaze. Its eyes are closed, as if it is savoring the taste of you with its unnaturally long tongue, circling and engulfing. You grasp its curls in your hands, as if you could hold it to you forever.

He swaps to your other breast, as if it would be a crime not to give proper attention to both beauties. As he does his work, other parts of you long for attention, and you find yourself whimpering and seeking out any friction, trying to grind your hips against his. But the pressure and weight of him is so much you can barely move beneath it.

“Needy little thing,” it purrs against your skin, a smile on its face and a multitude in its voice.

You respond by whining and wiggling underneath him, which only causes his lascivious grin to grow. He shifts, pulling back so you have just enough space to move beneath him. Your instantly grinding against him, seeking that precious friction. He watches you with eyes alight with an internal fire, and you can feel just how affected he has been by your activities, grinding against the length of hardness you feel on him, aching for-

“More,” You demand.

“More.” He agrees, nimble fingers undoing the button on your jeans, and your hands join his to pull the cursed things off of you.

He looks at you, nearly naked and desperately wanting, and lets out a deep sound of appreciation. You feel your cheeks heat up at being appraised so, and also it makes you want him even more.

It brings a hand up to your panties and applies pressure with just one knuckle, slowly moving it up and down. With its other hand it holds you down so you can’t buck your hips as you so long to do, wanting more pressure, more speed, wanting more.

Humming softly in appreciation, its mismatched eyes flick up to your face as it adds what you’re craving. More pressure, more speed. The tension at your core builds and still your sex aches to be filled. The Creature removes its hands and for a moment you feel emptier than you ever have before, but it is brief, as hands descend back onto you, the sharp, deadly claws back as it shreds your panties off of you, exposing your wet pussy to the cold night air.

You watch as, before your eyes, the fingers shift once again to their softer, more tender form before reaching for you. Gently, it parts your lips, taking in the sight of how wet you are for it. You can see the smug satisfaction on its face as one finger gently works to spread your juices up to your clit, slowly circling it and watching as your hips buck up into its touch.

“Such a beautiful mess you’ve become,” it purrs as it plunges one of its ethereally-long fingers into you.

“Fuck,” you whine, cunt alight with the pleasure of penetration. The Creature slowly curls its finger, applying pressure onto just the right spot to make you whimper, all words failing you now.

He slips another finger in alongside the first, and slowly moves them in and out of you, watching as you come apart in his grasp. He slides a third finger in alongside the other two, stroking your insides with deft hands. You cling to him, moving your hips to match his rhythm, and together the two of you build at the tension in your core. Your eyes are locked with his as he rubs at that aching, wonderful, torturous spot inside you.

“Don’t look away, vitto mia,” he whispers, voice thick with desire, working your clit with his thumb, feeling your cunt clench around his fingers as you whimper beneath him.

Looking into those mismatched eyes, his fingers deftly working at your core, the tension quickly approaching release: it’s as if you can both feel your impeding climax. His smug look has transformed to that of concentration, as if he were solving a particularly interesting puzzle. Power and lust smolder off of him, like heat off of pavement in summer.

His fingers inside you, his thumb swirling around your clit, move together in exactly the ways you need them to. You’re fighting the urge to look away from him, to hide behind closed eyes as your orgasm approaches, but the intensity of his gaze does not let you.

“I’m going to –”

“I know,” he answers, “Come apart for me, prediletta.”

And you do. The pleasure peaking and cresting, crashing through you, your cunt clenching around his fingers. Your pleasure screamed, intensity to match intensity. The orgasm lasts what feels an eternity, yet not long enough. You watch as the Creature pulls its fingers out of you, purring happily as he laps up your slick.

You sit there, panting beneath him, and realize you don’t want to be done.

“More?” You ask, and the Creature’s eyes flash greedily down at you.

“More.” It responds.

Having gotten a taste of you, the Creature wants more. He crouches down over you and hooks his arms under your legs, pulling you up as he moves down, so he is face-to-face with your bare cunt. He lets out a trill of glee, eyes fully glued to your pussy.

“Fuck,” you say out loud, eyes wide as you watch his preternaturally long tongue slide out of his mouth, the barely quenched fire within you roaring back to life.

He locks eyes with you as he runs his tongue along your slit, reveling in the way your legs shake. You whimper softly when that dexterous muscle swirls around your clit, whining when you feel the vibrations of his laughter against your sex. In the wake of your orgasm, every sensation is heightened, and even just the feel of his hands digging into your thighs is enough to drive you wild.

The Creature seems to get lost in its lingual exploration of you. For the first time in this encounter, things seem to be about what it enjoys and not just what will please you. It’s tongue thoroughly licks every bit of your folds, swirling and darting in ways you don’t think are possible for a human. Then, it dips its tongue ever-so-shallowly into your entrance. You gasp, grabbing those dark curls as if you could pull it any closer than it already is.

Glowing, mismatched eyes lift up to your face, an intense look of hunger burning there. He pushes his tongue deeper into you, watching as you come apart. For a moment, he stills and seems to just revel in the feeling of being in you in this way, in being able to taste and feel you so intimately. You tug on his hair lightly to encourage him to continue, and again his laughter vibrates against your sensitive parts. He obliges, writhing his tongue inside you.

Your encouragement seems to spur him into a frenzy, and he buries himself in your pussy and dedicates his entire attention to it. His enthusiasm – along with his physical attributes – translate into the most intense head you’ve ever had. You not only feel the physical pleasure of having such a prehensile appendage within you, but also you feel his desire for you as if it were a physical heat, as if only you could satiate this being’s need.

The Creature pulled away from you and turns its head to the side, placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh. It looks up at you from between your legs, mismatched eyes eerily glowing, lust upon their features.

“I want to feel you come on my face,” it growls, voice thick with ardor.

You lick your lips and all you can do is nod in agreement, words failing you.

He nips your thigh before shifting his focus back to the organ at the apex of your thighs, greedily devouring you again. Cries of pleasure escape from your throat, and you can feel your orgasm building faster than it had before. You laugh softly as your core tightens, tension reaching a peak. You hadn’t thought he had just been fucking around before, but now that he seems to mean business you can see how leisurely he was taking it previously. You feel like an instrument being plucked by expert hands, playing a masterpiece you didn’t even know you had in you.

It is in fast order that you can feel the familiar signs of impending orgasm. Your hips move with the Creature and its deft tongue. Your entire body tenses as you cry out as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

You collapse back onto the forest floor, your whole body shaking in the aftershocks. After a while, you dare to glance down at the Creature resting happily between your thighs. Laughter burbles up out of you as you see the cockiest expression you’ve ever seen on anyone before: He’s clearly pleased with himself.

Feeling bold, you grab the Creature by the shirt and pull it back up to you. You can feel its smile against your mouth as you hungrily devour it in a kiss, tasting your essence on its lips. At this point, all thoughts of debt and payment are gone.

Your hands begin to wander down the Creature’s body, tugging at his shirt, which he obediently removes for you. Your hands explore the now-exposed flesh, mesmerized by the sight, pausing to appreciate the firmness of his chest yet the softness of his belly. Your hands continue lower, reaching your goal, that hard length you’ve only just barely encountered. When your hand grasps it through the soft cloth of its pants, the Creature growls into your mouth, a sound you more feel than hear.

You reluctantly pull away from your kiss with the Creature in order to undo the laces of its pants. As soon as they are loosened, the Creature is swiftly out of them. The two of you now stand naked before one another, on as equal footing as you’ll ever be. Your gaze is captivated by the Creature’s phallus. You weren’t sure what it was going to look like. Up until now it had felt more or less like the human versions you had encountered. And it…mostly looks like the penises you were familiar with (well, all the uncut ones). However, at the base of this one, was a bulge, the thought of which sends a thrill up your spine as you imagine yourself stretching around him, being filled by him.

You reach your hand out to grasp the Creature’s cock, savoring the silk-over-steel feeling. You are pleased by the deep noise which erupts from the Creature at your touch. Your gaze lifts to its face, the heat at your core awakening again at the sight of such intense eyes boring into you. Slowly, you start stroking his cock, the feel of it in your hand sending pulses of electric satisfaction through you. Low growls of pleasure emanate from the Creature, further spurring your re-kindled arousal. He starts to match your rhythm, hips rolling sinfully, in such a way as could only be described as fucking your hand. It makes you want him in you so desperately, your empty cunt aching to be filled again. You shift so you two are aligned for such a thing, releasing your grasp on his member, looking into those burning white-and-green eyes, silently begging him to understand what you want.

The Creature smirks, and shifts so his cock rubs up and down your dripping slit, lining it up with your entrance. He looks into your eyes as he stays there, completely still, pinning you down so you can’t so much as shift an inch – no matter how much you want to, and every nerve in your body is screaming for this.

“Beg for it,” he growls at you, spurring shivers of pleasure throughout your being.

“Please,” you whisper back, voice cracking after so much use. “Fuck me. Now.”

He doesn’t move, and you whine, trying to shift, but the pressure he has on you only gets heavier, keeping you pinned in place.

“Please,” you whimper, pouring all of your heady need into the word.

That’s when he gives in, slowly pushing in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of your heat wrapping around him. Enjoying the view of you coming undone beneath him. He pauses again when he’s deep enough that the bulge at his base is resting against your entrance. This part he takes even slower, letting your delicate tissues slowly stretch to accommodate the girth of him. It hurts, just a little, but the pain only seems to feed into the pleasure. Finally, when he is fully in you, you hear him sigh contentedly. You feel stretched by him, at the absolute limits of what you could possible take, and it feels amazing, pleasure pulsing at your core, cascading throughout your body.

Then it rolls its hips, pulling out and plunging mercilessly back into you. You moan shamelessly, a low and throaty sound. It rolls its hips again, and again, panting as it feels the heat and wet of you engulf it.

You reach around and grab the Creature by his ass, urging him on, rolling your hips in matched rhythm with his. The coil at your center is tight again, tension building, as you’re watching this unfathomably powerful creature lose itself in you. He speeds up, flesh slapping against flesh, moans melting into moans, the two of you creating a beautiful cacophony of lust.

After a time of this danse erotic, you see something shift in his face, and his strokes get more frenzied. You cling to him, as he fucks you into the ground. You are yourself on the precipice when you feel him stiffen above you and a warmth fills your cunt, but suddenly there’s more pressure inside you, and it sends you over the edge, your pleasure strummed higher and higher, and the waves of an orgasm are quickly crashing around you.  Your cry of pleasure is barely out of your lips before the Creature’s mouth is upon yours, as if it could, too, devour this sound.

The two of you lay there, panting, in the wake of your activities, still interlocked. Its body is heavy over you, the weight and presence of it a comfort.

“More?” you ask, voice crackling and hardly there. He laughs, and the many layers of sound in the laugh wrap around you and make you smile. It turns its head in order to be able to lay a kiss on your temple.

“Perhaps another time.”

[mcgibbykins]

This is my contribution as a non-writer for Creature Perpetua Month 2026.

We need shirts, y'all!

[anamelessfool]

There! There, Wolf

Ch 3 Up now! On AO3!

My F Werewolf! Reader x Perpetua fic inspired by #Creature Perpetua Month 2026 and @lycanthra

Read the update here!

[sleepy-ghuleh]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost (Sweden Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: creature perpetua/reader Characters: Papa V Perpetua Additional Tags: Monsterfucking | Teratophilia, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Domestic Violence, Character Death, Knotting Summary:

The creature has always been a constant in your life, an unlikely friend. He finds you crying one night.

My second (and brand new!) contribution to @lycanthra ‘s Creature Perpetua Month 2026!

Vee’s creature design is inspired by this mofo who definitely did not awaken anything in me as a kid.