can you do a noncon story with mothman that has some predator/prey going on?
Mothman's Prey (mothman x fem reader)
TW: NSFW, MDNI, non-con, predator/prey, stalking, kidnapping, oral, P in V, hair pulling, biting/marking, degradation, fear play, size difference, orgasms, fluids.
You are hiking alone at night when you are captured by a Mothman... -------------------------------
The trail was dead. That was your first mistake—thinking you knew these woods.
Your second mistake was looking up.
The moon hung fat and luminous behind the treeline and shadows bled where they shouldn't. Branches snapped not from wind but from weight—something large shifting its mass from one limb to another, tracking you through the canopy without a single leaf rustling in sympathy.
You'd heard the stories. Everyone in your area knew them. But stories don't have six-foot wingspans that block out the stars when they stretch overhead. Stories don't have deep red eyes like blood.
You ran.
Your boots sank into mud, then hit gravel. The frantic pump of your blood echoed in your ears. The backpack slapped against your spine. A stitch clawed at your ribs. Behind you, above you—all around you—came that sound.
Not footsteps.
Clacking.
Like mandibles grinding together. Like plates flexing. A rhythmic clicking that reverberated off every tree trunk and wrapped around your skull until you couldn't tell which direction led back to your car.
"Please—" you gasped, not sure who you were begging.
The clicking stopped.
So did the wind. The insects.
And then he dropped from the sky.
Not fell. Dropped. Eight feet of dark fur and harder angles, huge wings folding into his back with a wet shff. His head cocked. The blood-red eyes narrowed.
"Hello, darling. My, my... you smell sweet," he said in a deep baritone. "Like honey mixed with fear... the fear makes it sharper."
You scrambled backward. "Stay away from me."
He stepped closer. One leg. Then the other. His feet were wrong; too many joints, too long, ending in claws that clicked against the exposed rock. "You came into my woods. You walked my trails after dark." His head tilted. "That's an invitation where I'm from."
"I didn't know—"
"You knew." The red eyes flared. "Everyone knows. And still you came. Still you ran... tempted me... invited the chase."
No. No! You'd just wanted to clear your head. Just wanted to see the stars away from the town's streetlights. Just wanted—
He advanced and you tried to bolt, but his hand caught your jacket collar and lifted. Your feet left the ground. The world spun. Then your back hit a tree trunk hard enough to punch the air from your lungs.
"Pretty little thing," he murmured, leaning in close. His scent was musky. "All trembly. All mine now."
You shoved at his chest. Your hands sank into soft fur, felt the hard muscle underneath, the impossible heat of him. He didn't budge.
"Let me go."
"No." His free hand came up, claws tracing your jawline with gentleness. "I caught you. That means I keep you."
"Keep me for what?"
He pressed closer. His body was all power and heat, that strange chitinous plating along his ribs grinding against your softer curves. You felt something hard nudge your thigh through his fur—not a limb, not a bone. Something that twitched and swelled as he breathed.
"Figure it out," he rasped.
Your stomach dropped. "No—"
"Yes." His mouth—not a human mouth, wider, fuller, with those clicking mandibles folded flush against his cheeks, brushed your ear. "Going to take you back to my nest. Going to spread you out on the soft moss where I sleep. And then I'm going to learn every sound you make."
The nest was a cave hidden behind a waterfall you never would have found on your own. He carried you there unbothered by your frantic wiggling and shouts. One arm was hooked under your knees, the other cradling your back. Water roared on both sides as he stepped through the curtain, and then—
Silence. Warmth. The smell of earth and flowers and him. His musk coated the back of your throat made tears gather in your eyes. He laid you down on something soft. Moss, like he'd said, thick and soft and surprisingly clean. The cave glowed faintly, candles casting everything in soft light.
"Don't," you whispered as he crouched over you.
His hands found the hem of your shirt. "Don't what? Don't touch you? Don't taste you?" The fabric ripped like paper under his claws. Your bra followed a heartbeat later. "Too late for don't."
Cool air hit your breasts. Your nipples peaked instantly, and you hated them for it, hated how your body responded to the exposure, to his gaze. He stared at your chest like he had never seen anything like it.
One claw-tipped finger traced your sternum "Soft here," he said. "Softer than I thought." The pad of his finger circled your areola. The texture was strange. Gritty.
You bit your lip to keep from making a sound.
He noticed.
"No," he rasped, teasing harder. "I want to hear."
His thumb rolled over your nipple. Once. Twice. The friction made you gasp, a shameful "ahhn" that echoed off the cave walls. He rumbled approval and did it again.
"That's it," he said. "That's the sound."
His other hand found your other breast, and he worked both at once—squeezing, kneading, pinching your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they ached and throbbed and you couldn't stop the little whines leaking from your throat. "Nnnh... nnnh... please..."
"Please what?" He leaned down, and his too-wide mouth closed over one nipple.
The sensation short-circuited your brain. His tongue wasn't like a human tongue. It was longer, narrower, with a rough texture and it wrapped around your nipple while he sucked. The mandibles at the corners of his mouth vibrated against your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.
"Ahhhnn—fuck—"
He pulled off with a wet shllk. "That's what I intend to do."
Before you could respond, his hands were at your waistband. Your pants came off in strips. He didn't bother with buttons or zippers, just shredded the fabric. Your panties followed. And then you were naked underneath him, spread out on his moss, while he knelt between your legs and looked.
"Spread yourself," he said.
"What?"
"Your legs. Open them. Show me what I caught."
You shook your head, squeezing your thighs together. "I won't."
He laughed. Then his hands clamped onto your knees and pulled. Your legs opened wide. This time, air hit your pussy, and you felt yourself clench around nothing, felt the wetness you couldn't control.
"Wetter than I expected," he observed. One claw traced up your inner thigh, stopping just before it reached your folds. "Scared... but excited. Your body knows what it needs even if your head hasn't caught up."
"It's not—that's not—"
"Shhh." His thumb pressed against your clit. Just pressed. Just the flat of his thumb, gritty and warm, grinding against that bundle of nerves until your hips bucked without permission. "There. See?"
He pushed your legs back farther, opening you completely. His red eyes fixed on your pussy, your outer lips, flushed darker than your skin, on the way your inner lips peeked out slick and swollen.
"Pretty," he drawled "Going to remember how you look right now. Going to remember every fucking detail."
Moving too fast, he lowered his head between your legs. The first lick was long. You jerked, choked on a cry. He tasted you again. From the bottom of your pussy to the top, his rough tongue dragging through your folds. He gathered your wetness, an obscene shllk shllk shllk echoing.
"Taste better than honey," he growled against your flesh.
His mouth closed over your clit, and he sucked.
Your back arched off the moss. "Oh god—"
His tongue flicked—fast, precise, that rough texture catching your clit with every pass. Your hands fisted in the moss. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head. He held you open like it was nothing, like your struggles meant less than nothing, and he ate you like you were his last meal.
"Ahhnn... ahhnn... ahhnn..." The sounds punched out of you with every breath. You couldn't supress them. Couldn't stop the way your hips rolled against his face, chasing his mouth, hating yourself for wanting it.
He noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Yes... grind on my face, darling," he groaned, the words vibrating through your clit. "Harder. Go ahead. Use me. You're already mine, might as well enjoy it."
"Fuck you—"
He bit down on your inner thigh, making you sob before his tongue soothed over the sting.
"That's not what I asked for," he said. "Try again."
Your eyes burned. "I don't—I can't—"
"Grind."
And you did. God help you, you did. You rolled your hips against his mouth, rubbing your clit across his tongue, his lower lip, his chin wet with you. Each drag sent sparks up your spine. Each circle of his tongue made your thighs shake harder.
"That's it," he growled against you. "That's my good little prey."
The orgasm built without permission. You felt it coiling low in your belly, felt your walls clenching around nothing, felt your breath coming in ragged "huh-huh-huh" gasps. You tried to push his head away. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the moss.
"You come when I say," he said.
"Please—unnnh...I can't—it's too much—"
"You can. And you will." His tongue flattened against your clit, relentless. "Come. NOW."
Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. You fell into oblivion, endless and helpless, while your core pulsed and your thighs clenched around his head and your mouth opened in a silent scream. He kept licking you through it, lapping up every drop of wetness your body released.
Shllk. Shllk. Shllk.
When you finally stopped trembling, he lifted his head. His chin glistened. His red eyes burned.
"Now," he said, crawling up your body until his weight pressed you into the moss, "I fuck you."
You felt his cock before you saw it.
He'd shifted his hips between your thighs, and something hard pressed against your pussy. Too bulky and too hot—not like a human cock. It was thicker at the base, tapered toward the tip, with ridges that caught against your folds as he rocked back and forth.
"What—"
"My kind don't fuck like yours." He gripped his shaft, dark gray, ridged all the way down, weeping something clear and slick from the pointed tip. "We claim."
He positioned himself at your entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your opening, spreading your wetness around, not pushing in yet. Just... waiting.
"Last chance to say no," he said.
"That doesn't make sense—you're not giving me a choice—"
"I'm giving you the chance." His red eyes locked onto yours. "Not the choice. Just the chance to say the word so I can ignore it."
"That's not—"
"Say no."
You opened your mouth.
He thrust inside you.
You whimpered.
He kissed you, tongue plunging into your mouth as he sank inside you. Inch by inch. The stretch was impossible. Those ridges caught at your entrance, dragged through your walls, made you feel him in ways human anatomy hadn't prepared you for. And because he devoured your mouth, a sound came out of you that wasn't quite a scream and wasn't quite a moan.
"Tight," he gritted out. "So fucking tight around me. Squeezing like you want to keep me."
You couldn't answer. Couldn't think. He kissed you, swallowed your moans and filled you so completely you felt him in your throat, in your ribs, in your heart. His hips pressed flush against yours, and the base of his cock—thicker there, almost flared—stretched your opening even wider.
"Aghnnn..."
"Breathe, darling," he whispered, his tongue licking your lower lip.
You sucked in air.
He pulled back. The ridges dragged in reverse, catching on every sensitive spot inside you, and you felt each one—ridge... ridge... ridge—until only the head remained. Then he pushed forward again. Slower this time. Again and again.
Shllk. Shllk. Shllk.
"Better," he murmured. "You're getting softer... wetter." His thumb found your clit again, pressing in time with his thrusts. "Your cunt likes me. Even if your mouth won't admit it."
"Fuck... you..."
"You already are." To prove his point, he snapped his hips harder, driving deeper, and the new angle made you see stars. "And you're going to come again. On my cock. While I fill you up."
"No—I can't—not again—"
"Oh, but you can." His mouth brushed your ear, those mandibles clicking softly against your temple. "You will. And you're going to thank me for it."
His pace increased.
Each thrust pushed the air from your lungs, made your breasts bounce. The motion seemed to mesmerize him because he focused his attention on them, nursing the hard nipples, marking them with little nibbles and sucks.
Soon, a second orgasm was building. This one started from somewhere deep inside you.
"There," he growled, feeling you tighten around him. "There it is. Give it to me."
You shook your head, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. "I can't—it's too much—too much—"
His hand closed around your throat. Not choking, just holding. Feeling your pulse hammer against his palm. "You can. You will. Come.For.Me."
The orgasm crested and kept cresting, making you rock like crazy. Your walls spasmed around his cock and your legs locked around his waist and your mouth fell open on a mewl that went on and on and on.
"Aahhhmmmnnn—"
"Fuck," he snarled, and you felt his cock pulse inside you.
Hot. So hot it almost burned. He pumped into you with short, jerky thrusts, his whole body going rigid, a sound tearing from his chest that was a raw and monstrous clicking roar. His cum filled you. You felt it spilling around his cock, dripping down onto the moss, wrong and right all at once.
And after he was done, he stayed inside you. His weight pressed you into the moss, and for one terrible second, you almost felt safe. Then he squelched out.
You whimpered, felt empty. You felt his seed leaking from you, a warm trickle down your perineum, and you clenched instinctively.
He knelt between your legs, watching. His cock was still half-hard, glistening with both of you, the ridges catching the dim candlelight.
"Again," he said.
You stared at him. "What?"
"Again." He gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach before you could argue. Your cheek pressed into the moss. Your ass rose in the air. He knelt behind you, and you felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance again—slick with his release, with yours.
"I'm not done with you yet," he said, and impaled you to the hilt.
You whimpered, grabbed fistfuls of the moss. This angle was different. Deeper. He hit something that made stars burst behind your eyes.
He moaned. "Good. That's good. Make those sounds for me, darling. Make all of them."
Claws digging into your hips, he held you in place as he fucked you. No gentleness now. No pauses. Just the relentless shllk shllk shllk of his ridged cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt, his grunts and the occasional click-click-click of his mandibles opening and closing in pleasure.
"You're mine now," he said, each word punctuated by a thrust. "This cunt is mine. These sounds are mine. Every orgasm you have from now until I get bored—MINE."
You couldn't answer. Could only take it, only feel it, only exist in the space between his hips and the moss and the endless drag of those ridges inside you. You shattered again and he followed with a snarl, pumping more of that hot seed into your already-full womb. He pulled out and collapsed beside you, one heavy arm thrown over your back, pinning you to the moss.
"Sleep," he said. "We start again at dawn."
You didn't have the strength to argue.
The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was his red gaze, still watching, still hungry, still yours in all the worst and best ways.
"It's done. My prey has finally stopped running. She's where she belongs. With her predator."
