was thinking about the Papas and their need for eye contact when they’re deep inside you.
one of Primo’s big hands cradling your face, surprisingly strong, but it’s not his touch that keeps you from looking away—it’s the intensity in his eyes. uncanny and ageless, unblinking as he looks down at you. you’re pinned to the spot, even as he moves, hips rocking with shallow thrusts as he works himself deeper and deeper into you. you’re writhing beneath him, panting like an animal, clenching around him as you adjust to his size—and he just gazes at you like you’re all that exists. “let me in,” he says on an undertone, voice thick and husky, “and let go.” and when he finally bottoms out, you arch, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. with the hand he’s been holding your face with, he taps your cheek—three quick taps—and you quickly look back at him. he sighs and says, “just like that, anima mia. keep your eyes on me.” and you do.
a calm, “look at me,” from Secondo, spoken low and controlled and hot. and it’s hard—it’s so hard—when he hasn’t stopped moving, when his fingers are biting into the meat of your thighs as he pins you open for him. he always looks at you like you’re a puzzle he needs to figure out, like he’s trying to develop the ability to read your mind, and it paralyzes you. it’s like everything disappears—the walls around you, the floor beneath you. you’re just floating in an abyss and all you know is how full you are. but you force yourself to keep your eyes on his, even as you feel your climax building in you, hotter and tighter. he watches. and his mouth quirks up at the corners, pleased. “bene.” a single word. you might have imagined it, but it’s enough to push you over the edge. and a rough hand finds your chin so he can keep you from hiding as you come.
Terzo has his fingers twisted into your hair, but not harshly—merely deliberate. he combs his fingers through your hair, tilting your head back up so you can blink up at him. “there you are,” he says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I want you to watch while I take you apart.” his other hand splays flat against your abdomen, pressing down like he wants to feel how deep he is. the pressure makes you whimper, but his grasp tightens in your hair just slightly—so you catch yourself before your eyes try to squeeze shut. his lips curl up into a satisfied grin. “tell me what you’re feeling, amore. let me hear it.” but as you open your mouth, he angles his next thrust and brushes the spot inside of you that makes your veins flood with electricity. all you can do is cry out his name—which he answers with a rasped out laugh, though the way his breath hitches tells you he’s not unaffected.
holding your hands in his, fingers laced with yours, Copia leans in to nuzzle you, bumping your nose with his, uttering a rasped little plea of, “'look at me… please.” and when you do, dragging your eyes open so you can meet his gaze, you see it. like a switch flipping. and his hips start snapping against yours faster, a vein in his neck popping, his face and chest flushed a delicious shade of red. he’s thanking you, telling you how perfect you are, how good you feel around him. your eyes flutter closed at the next ripple of pleasure, and he says your name like it hurts. your eyes pop open again. focus on him again. and he says, “sì, sì—you’re mine. All mine. my perfect—” his words cut off, turning into a deep groan as his rhythm falters and he comes unexpectedly, with no warning. but the night is young….
he’s not squeezing, but Perpetua’s hands rest against either side of your neck, thumbs pressed up under your jaw to keep your face tilted toward his. he’s in no hurry—his hips rolling slow and deep, his eyes locked on your face. the noises you make are very undignified, and it’s too much. he’s too much. but every time your eyes close to escape the hunger in his gaze that makes you feel raw and exposed, his thumbs press harder under your jawbone. “now, now…. stay with me, cuore mio.” and then he pushes in and holds himself there, watching your face as you struggle to maintain eye contact. a soft plea leaves you—not that you know what you’re begging for—and he sighs and says, “oh, i know, i know. just a little more.” it’s a lie. it’s a lot more. but at least he relents and lets you look away after your second orgasm.
Primo: He no longer gets the erections from his youth (he'll sometimes say he used them all up in the 70s and 80s if he's in the mood to joke about it) and frankly the idea of expending energy on seduction or lovemaking, or much human contact at all, feels like a waste of what precious time he has left. Not to say he's immune to the touch of a soft, young thing who takes interest. Once you've gotten past his grouchy exterior, he's more than happy to dust off the knowledge of decades in the worship of sin and prove that he still has what it takes to rock your world. As far as receiving goes, he's less likely to allow that unless he's quite sure you will not have your feelings hurt when does little more than swell in your eager hand. He enjoys the affection just the same, as long as you do. He might be convinced to try some sort of enhancement if you really wanted him to, but he's pretty old-fashioned and ultimately knowing that you're satisfied is his only concern.
Secondo: In spite of his advanced age, he still gets aggressive hard-ons when he wants to (and occasionally when he doesn't, though that's rarer nowadays). But a lifetime of focusing on training himself to go all night long has left him often to have to take drastic measures to be able to cum himself, even after you're spent and practically begging for mercy. Combine that with the occasional effects of whiskey-dick, and he can be...a lot of work. So as much as he has a reputation for being dominant, even consensually sadistic, his basic desires are actually pretty tame and he won't let himself get too close to you until he's sure you'll believe him when he tells you he doesn't need to finish to be satisfied, that you won't take it personally. He's not an uncrackable safe, though and the right lover will figure out the surefire ways to make him lose control even if he'd rather die than admit them.
Terzo: Charismatic and confident, he's a seducer of cheering throngs and would-be bed-fellows alike. A below-average height gentleman with perfectly average equipment, and arguably above average skill. No one who's enjoyed his company in the carnal sense has ever been left unsatisfied, or without wanting more. But deep-down he's a hopeless romantic, though that's a part of himself he rarely let's anyone see. If you seek to woo this Papa you're going to have to prove to him that you don't just want him for his body, or his image, for the fulfillment of sexual desires he promises (and will absolutely deliver on), or the prestige and bragging rights that would bring...but to stimulate each other's minds as much as your bodies. Nothing excites him more intellectually or sexually than someone who can take charge and take him out of his own head. The moral is...it's easier for him to share his bed than share his true self, and you're more likely to see his boner than his heart.
Copia: If you were to ask him...his erections are consistent and satisfying. No trouble getting it up. No trouble keeping it up. But in reality he does have a weakness (or at least, what he would consider a weakness). He will cum almost as soon as he's inside you. He'll try closing his eyes and thinking about video games, biting the inside of his mouth, pinching himself until he bleeds. He's even prayed to the Dark Lord and dabbled in a bit of ritual sacrifice in an attempt to gain a sense of control. But it makes no difference...you just feel TOO DAMN GOOD. You make his mind go totally blank of anything but your wet heat hugging tight around him. Consequently, he'll spend as much time as possible on foreplay, teasing you, edging you, making you cum over and over so that by the time he gets to what could be considered the main event, you're barely functional. And what he lacks in stamina he'll more than make up for in adoration, showering you with affection and making you feel like the only person in his world, like he would literally die without you.
Perpetua: Whether you think he's a full-on creature of the night or just a weird little guy, he's...huge. Not dangerously so, but definitely enough for a new partner to be intimidated and more than a little nervous. He's eager to learn, desperate to please you, but inexperienced himself and pretty self-conscious about it (mostly because more than one partner in the past has gotten as far as seeing him in all his glory and excused themselves rather unceremoniously), so he needs you to be patient with him. Go slow and give him lots of gentle instruction and enthusiastic praise, and he will move heaven, hell, and earth to leave you satisfied. In spite of his shaky confidence, he's not shy about communication and will ask you lots of questions...what you like, how it feels. You will never experience someone more loyal and devoted once you coax him out of his shell, once he knows you really do want him. And if you can physically handle him...he. will. ruin. you.
Nihil: Nowadays he only has eyes for Sister Imperator. Plus he's dead, so I guess don't worry about it.
(no specific pronouns, but reader has female genitalia.)
Finally! My contribution for Creature Perpetua Month!
I had a lot of fun with this one, even if it fought me tooth and nail at some points. (Fitting for a creature, I suppose.)
extra special shout-out to @lycanthra for reading over my drafts and offering extra encouragement and validation during my writing process.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
With a groan, you let your head fall back into the headrest of the driver's seat and close your eyes, listening to the rain pelting the metal roof of your reliable Corolla.
Well, maybe not so reliable.
As soon as you’d heard the pop and felt your car lurch to the right, you’d known immediately that it was your tire.
Despite the sheets of rain and the oppressive dark of an old county route, you'd managed to keep yourself mostly on the road, at least long enough to limp your car into a gravel parking lot.
You feel better being off the road - at least you don’t have to worry about getting hit by a semi barreling through, Pet Sematary style - but you're not sure exactly where you are. You don't travel this way often enough to know what this parking lot belongs to.
You peer out of your windshield, trying to look through the rain, and see the dark shape of a large building not too far off. Too big to be a house. Not big enough to be a school. But judging from its high gabled roof and… some sort of fancy windows? Stained glass? It has to be a church.
Okay. You could be worse places than stranded in a church parking lot. At least it's a landmark, of sorts. Something concrete you can tell roadside assistance when they ask for your location.
You reach for your phone, unlocking the screen. You open your internet app and are greeted with a blank white screen.
No internet, a grey cartoon dinosaur informs you. You glance at the upper right corner of the screen.
No bars. No G's. No nothing.
“Fuck.”
Your mind starts racing. What now? You’re stranded in an unfamiliar town, alone, with no cell phone service.
You could try to change the flat yourself? No, that's stupid. You've never changed a tire before. You don't even know how - at least not beyond a basic knowledge of nuts, bolts, old one off, spare tire on. And besides that, it's still pouring. You're not about to try to change a tire for the first time in the dark, in the rain, with no YouTube tutorial to guide you.
You swear again, feeling the hot sting of frustrated tears building at the corner of your eyes.
No. No. You are not gonna do that. You are gonna figure this out.
You take a deep breath.
When it comes down to it, you have two options now. You can stay in the car, lock your doors and wait until morning to try to walk back to town and find some help. The night isn't so chilly that you think you'd freeze out here. And your car has some gas left. You could at least crank the heat for a bit to try to stay warm.
Or… you can see if that church is open.
Church doors are always open, right? Locking them would defeat the purpose of welcoming the community, of offering peace.and refuge. But this is 2026. Is there truly any place left that doesn't lock their doors?
You glance at your phone again for the time. It’s almost midnight, but someone might still be in there. Do priests, pastors, whatever - live at the church? Or maybe have a caretaker? You've never been a regular church attender. You don't know the ins and outs of how churches work.
But regardless of whether or not anyone is inside, there might be a working phone you could use to call roadside assistance. You wouldn't have to wait here all night. You could get your tire fixed and be on your way.
The thought is almost too good to be true.
But that's it - your mind's made up. You're going to try the church. Absolute worst case scenario, the doors are locked and you end up back in your car for the night anyway.
You glance back towards the church. It's not too far off, but it is far enough that you're going to be soggy by the time you get there.
You wish you had an umbrella. Or a hat. Or a hood.
Whatever. It's only water. You won't melt.
You shove your keys, wallet, and phone in your pockets. On second thought - you pull your phone back out. You may not have service, but you can use it as a flashlight. At least you'll be able to see where you're going.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. You can do this. You need to call for help.
It's just rain. You have a flashlight. There’s nothing scary about a church.
Flicking on your phone's flashlight mode, you start moving before you can convince yourself this is a bad idea.
You scramble out of your car, throwing the door shut behind you as you dart towards the building. The rain is icy cold as it pelts your exposed skin, saturates your clothes. You keep your head down, flashlight pointed at the ground so you can see where you're going. You move as fast as you dare, trying to watch your step so you don't fall. The gravel crunches beneath the rubber soles of your shoes as you jog across the parking lot towards the church.
You're there before you know it, climbing the few short steps to reach the entrance, sighing in relief as you step under the overhang that provides shelter from the pouring rain. It took you less than a minute to get from your car to where you stand now, but you’re completely drenched.
You use the flashlight to take a look around you. You can see now that the building is stone. Dark wooden double doors sit in the middle of the building, large rectangular stained glass windows sit above them stretching up towards the high gabled roof.
To the left of the door is a small sign - Chapel of St. Blaise, it reads.
You have no idea who St. Blaise is, but you hope he doesn't mind you taking refuge in his church.
You push on the heavy wooden door and, by some god’s providence, it gives. You open it just far enough to slip inside, wincing at the creak of the hinges.
If someone is here, they’ve definitely heard you now.
You ease the door shut before turning to inspect your surroundings, shining your flashlight around. It appears to be a decent-sized church. Where the exterior was smooth stone, the interior is entirely wood. Planks line the vaulted ceiling, supported by ornate wooden trusses.
You take a few steps in, your clothes dripping steadily on the floor. The place is gorgeous. Or was. It seems to have fallen into some disrepair. The red carpet running the length of the aisle is worn and stained. Everything is dusty. The pews are no longer aligned, several sit at odd angles, and one even looks broken. You wonder if local kids get in here and mess around.
At the far end of the aisle is an altar of sorts. A few half-melted candles. Above it is what looks to be a balcony, maybe for a choir? Another large, circular stained-glass window sits in the wall behind it, framed by the arches of the ceiling.
It's all quite pretty. No crosses, though. That strikes you as odd.
The moonlight coming in through the many windows is enough to see by and you pocket your phone in favor of rubbing your icy hands together, exhaling into your cupped palms in an attempt to warm your frozen fingers.
You start down the aisle, looking around for other rooms or doors, hoping to find an office or something - and that’s when you hear a creaking from the trusses above you.
You freeze. It could just be the wind. Could just be the storm. Doesn’t stop your heart from pounding. You look around, look up. You don’t see anything, but the room is half-shadowed. You stand in the middle of the aisle, waiting, listening.
This is silly. There's nothing in here. It's just an abandoned chapel. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. It has to be.
Or it's a bat. A bird. A squirrel. Some small animal making its home in here.
But goosebumps still rise on your skin, and not just from the cold.
You turn back the way you came, deciding it might not be so bad to just wait in your car after all, when you feel a gentle breeze. A slight gust of wind. Like something gliding - no, swooping down.
Oh, fuck no. No no no.
Without another thought, you’re running mindlessly towards the door, back up the aisle. It might just be a bat. It might just be a bird, but you've used up all your bravery for tonight. You don't need to come face to face with a wild animal.
Just as you’re about to cross from the sanctuary proper to the entryway, you hear - and feel - a thud behind you.
Large. Too heavy.
You scream.
Another gust and a shadow is in front of you, towering over you. You skid to a stop so suddenly that you fall to your ass, gaping up at the shape in front of you.
It doesn’t look human. Can’t be human. Wrong shape. Wrong size. Too big. Too broad.
The shadow takes a step towards you and you try to scuttle back in a half-ass attempt at a crabwalk, anything to keep distance between you and it.
It advances enough that it steps into a beam of moonlight and you can see it. Too clearly.
Your eyes widen, your breath catches, and you stare, unblinking, at this… creature.
You don’t know what else to call it, other than a creature.
Though it appears somewhat humanoid, walking on two legs, its body is an amalgamation of several nightmarish characteristics. Thick dark fur covers its back and shoulders, trailing down its broad chest until it tapers off around its narrow waist and hips. It has leathery wings that extend from its torso, anchoring at its shoulders and wrists. And claws. Long clawed feet and talons that extend past its fingertips. And a tail. You see it swish behind him.
Its face is… batlike. Elongated pointy ears frame either side of its face. A snout like a fruit bat, and a mouth with protruding fangs. More shaggy fur covers the top of its head, falling around its ears and into its eyes. Its eyes - they’re two different colors. One a bright green and the other pale as the moon.
You have no idea what the fuck this thing is.
And that fucking terrifies you.
You’re frozen, barely breathing, as the creature comes closer. You think maybe if you don't move it won't see you? Won't hurt you? Like in Jurassic Park? Or Cocaine Bear?
You hold your breath as it leans in, begins sniffing the air. Shit, it's smelling you. Fuck.
After several long moments, the creature pulls back, cocks its head, and bares its fangs…
You scream again, the noise leaving your mouth before your brain catches up - when suddenly something clamps over your mouth. A hand, you realize, too-long fingers spanning from one side of your jaw to the other.
The monster's hand.
The creature’s eyes dart over you as you continue screaming against its leathery palm until your breath gives out. You think maybe you should bite it. But would that just make it angry? Would it hurt you? Kill you?
You feel the panic taking over, your breath coming in short, sharp pulls through your nose. The scent of the creature smothers you, earthy and musky and animal.
Holy shit, this can’t be happening. You're going to die here. Going to be eaten by this thing. Will anyone even find your body? What will they tell your mom? No no no no no.
Over your hyperventilating and the pounding of blood in your ears, you hear a new sound. Rough and crackly, a rhythmic shushing sound.
And it's coming from the creature.
It dips its head, meeting your eyes. You squeeze yours shut, turning your face away from it.
The creature keeps making that noise. You wish it would stop. Why would it be doing this? Trying to calm you. It's just going to kill you. It's a monster, an animal. It's -
"O-okay?"
It speaks?! You eyes fly back open and you look at it, wide-eyed. It's head is still cocked, brow furrowed in what you swear would be concern on a human. But it's not. Not even close.
“Okay?” it repeats, voice rough and raspy.
No, this is not okay. There is no way this is okay, you want to say, but your mouth is still covered. You try to plead with your eyes, blinking back tears, but it doesn't understand you. Not that you really expect it to.
"Okay," it repeats, firmly.
You nod as best you can with your face in its hand, and the creature pulls away. You don’t scream, swallowing it down, staring up at this monster as it crouches over you.
It nods, as if pleased with you. You regard each other for a moment, you and the creature, before it reaches out with clawlike hands and sweeps you up in its arms.
You scream again, stiffening, struggling against its hold. But then it crouches and it launches itself up into the air, wings beating as it flies towards the ceiling. You shriek, closing your eyes and gripping its fur. You don't want to hold onto it, but you feel like you need to hold on to something.
The flight is mercifully short, lasting only a handful of seconds before the creature lands with a thud that jolts through your bones.
You crack open your eyes. It looks like it’s taken you up to the choir balcony. The space is cluttered, almost like someone has been squatting here.
You spot several plastic bags and scattered supplies. A box of granola bars and sticks of beef jerky. A multi-pack of water bottles, plastic already ripped open. Candles and a small kerosene lamp. In one corner you can see what appears to be a pile of blankets, a mass of various colors and fabrics. Seems odd that a creature would need these things. Did it kill whoever was here before? Is it going to kill you too?
The creature sets you down on your feet.
“Okay?” it murmurs, clawed hands extended, as if to catch you, were you to sway.
You step away quickly, wanting to put distance between you and it.
You and it. This creature, this monster.
Your throat is tight. You don't want to be here. Don't want to die tonight. You just want to go home, but no - you're here instead. In this weird-ass chapel with this weird-ass cryptid who may or may not eat you and kill you.
Everything suddenly catches up with you, overwhelming you. and you start to cry. Tears that silently slip down your cheeks quickly turn into sobs as you try to catch your breath. You slap your palms over your mouth, trying to be quiet, hoping not to anger the creature, but you just end up crying harder.
Beside you, the creature startles, shuffles back. It regards you cautiously, cocking its head at an unsettling angle, looking you up and down. For a moment, you're afraid it might lash at you, shriek, do something to try to shut you up, but it does none of those things.
It turns and skitters off into the shadows, leaving you alone.
Fuck, that's almost worse.
You try to keep your teary eyes on it, if only so it doesn't burst out and surprise you. From the scant amount of moonlight coming through the stained glass window, you can see the shape of it darting back and forth across the balcony, clawed feet tapping on the wooden floor. It chitters softly to itself as it moves.
You lose sight of it for a moment, but then - the unmistakable strike of a match. A gentle orange glow. And then another.
Candles. It’s lit candles. For you.
At least, you assume it's for you. It seems like it can see well enough in the dark, so the light must be for your weak, watery human eyes.
The creature crouches then, strikes another match, and lights the small kerosene lamp.
Satisfied with his work, the creature stands and beckons to you, waving an ungainly arm in your general direction.
"Come," it says, gently as possible for such a large creature. "Warm."
This is fucked up. This is so fucked up.
What is it planning? What is it doing?
If it wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t be giving you light.
If it wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.
Taking a shaky breath, you wipe the tears off your cheeks and slowly make your way over to it.
As you approach, the creature grabs one of your forearms and pulls, tugging your hand towards the lamp. Again, you stiffen, resisting more out of instinct than anything else, until you feel a gentle warmth and realize it’s not a lamp, but a small kerosene heater. Without prompting, you extend your other hand towards it.
"Warm," the creature repeats, letting go of your wrist.
"Y-yes. Thank you."
Why are you thanking it?
Satisfied, the creature scurries off into the darkness again, leaving you to warm your icy fingers. You'd forgotten you were so cold until there was heat to remind you.
This night is getting more and more bizarre. This creature doesn't seem to want to hurt you. If it did, it would have done so by now. But instead, it seems like it wants to take care of you.
Weird. So fucking weird.
The creature returns and as it steps back into the light, you see its arms are laden with blankets. It spreads them out close to the heater, meticulously pushing and scraping them into place. Into a nest, you think.
You shift towards the blanket nest, but the creature stops you, long clawed fingers encircling your wrist. You startle, snapping your gaze up to its face.
"No."
You frown and it reaches out, plucks at your wet clothes. "Wet."
"Yeah," you shiver. "It was raining."
It chitters, plucks again at the sleeve of your soggy sweatshirt. "Off."
You freeze. "What?"
"Off," it repeats, looking at you as if you're particularly slow. "Need warm. Wet off."
Oh. You see its reasoning here, but the last thing you want is to be naked in front of this creature. No way you're letting yourself be that vulnerable.
But it does have a point, much as you hate to admit it. Your Converse are soaked. The denim of your jeans clings uncomfortably to your skin. Your sweatshirt has stopped dripping, at least, but it is heavy and damp.
You really don't want to do this… but it's better than getting sick.
"Fine,” you sigh. “But don't watch me.”
The creature's ears twitch, but it doesn't move.
“Turn around,” you motion with your finger. “I mean it.”
Catching on, the creature dutifully turns its back to you. Once you're sure it's settled and it isn't going to sneak a peek, you begin removing your clothes, letting them land on the floor with thick wet slaps. It takes some effort to wriggle out of the wet fabrics, but you peel off everything, including your bra and underwear. They're also soaked through, too. No use keeping them on.
The chill of the room on your naked skin has you hurriedly grabbing a blanket from the nest pile. You quickly wrap it around yourself, both to ward off the chill and to cover yourself before the creature changes its mind and turns back.
"Okay," you say, once you're properly covered up.
The creature turns back around, taking in the sight of you, and it looks pleased.
"Okay!" it chirps.
It crosses to your wet things, carefully picking them up and hanging them over the balcony railing to dry. When it catches you staring, it offers what you might consider a smile, if it weren't for the myriad of sharp teeth it bares.
Ok, this is not an ordinary creature.
There's something more there, something beyond instinct. It possesses intelligence, intent, reasoning beyond that of an animal. It's definitely not quite human, that much you're sure of, but you have no idea what he is.
For the first time, you don't think of the creature as an it.
You settle in the nest of blankets on the floor, scooting close to the heater. The creature finishes his task with your clothes and pads back across the room. He sits down beside you, folding up his wings and gawky limbs to make himself comfortable.
You sit stiffly. This isn't weird at all. In an abandoned chapel, naked, with a cryptid of unknown origin.
After several moments, you feel a sharp poke at your shoulder. You turn, looking up at the creature. God, his face is unsettling.
"Y-yes?"
"Name."
"Name? You want to know my name?"
He nods.
You tell him. He chitters, then repeats it. It's weird to hear your name come out of this creature's mouth.
"And you? Do you have one?"
The creature pins you with a look, one that feels almost too human, and you duck your head a little, reproached.
"Sorry, I... that was stupid of me. So what is it? Your name."
"Vee."
"Vee?" you repeat.
He trills in delight.
“How… how here?” Vee asks.
Fucking bizarre night. You're making conversation with a creature.
“My car. I have a flat tire,” you explain, hoping he knows what that means. Does he even know what a car is?
“Broken?”
Ok, he does understand. Wild.
“Yeah. I couldn't call for help either. My phone doesn't have a signal here. I was hoping to find one in here.”
Vee shakes his head, tousling his wild locks of hair. “No phone.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so… but, with no way to leave or call for help, it seems like I’m stuck here until morning.”
Your stomach takes this as a cue to let out a growl. Vee's head snaps over to you just as you clap your hand over your stomach.
“Sorry. Guess I'm hungry.”
“Oh!” he scampers to his feet, skittering across the room. Fuck, it's unnerving to watch him move.
When Vee returns to your side, he holds out a Slim Jim and a bottle of water.
“Food.”
“For me?”
Vee nods.
Carefully, you take the offerings, mindful of his claws. You rip open the plastic packaging and take a bit of the jerky, chewing slowly. It's not great, but it will take the edge off. Having something in your stomach always helps.
You finish the snack, and down half the water bottle before setting it aside. You feel better, now that basic needs have been met. You're still not relaxed by any means, but you no longer expect to be killed at every moment.
You let out a yawn, fatigue making itself known. It is well after midnight, by this point, and you've been up all day. You're not looking forward to staying up until sunrise, but you're not sure you feel comfortable enough to sleep. Sure, Vee seems nice enough now, but you still know what he's capable of, with those teeth and those claws.
Soon as that thought enters your mind, a clawed hand comes to rest atop your head. You tense, body taut with anticipation, but then his fingers move through your hair, claws gently combing the wet strands as he shushes you, that half-purr, half-hum emanating from his throat.
He - Vee isn't trying to hurt you, you remind yourself. You don't know what he wants from you, if anything, but at least he isn't treating you like prey. If he were going to eat you, why go through the trouble of making you warm? Why nest you in blankets and pet your hair?
You shiver as his claws graze your scalp, feeling like the soft scritch of human nails.
"Warm?" he asks.
"Getting there.”
The creature nods, hums. Then, scoots closer to you.
"I... warm?"
"What?"
Vee leans into you, his furry bulk pressing against your shoulder.
"I... warm you."
You blink stupidly. It takes you a moment to parse out what he is asking.
"You want to warm me up?"
“Yes!” he chirps, nodding enthusiastically.
You regard him carefully, looking him in his bright eyes, the verdant green and pale white otherworldly, but not the crazed look of an animal.
If he wanted to hurt you, he would already have done so, you remind yourself.
He knows he understands boundaries and the importance of asking for consent. He's shown that. And you're sure he's warm. And soft, judging by the fur you curled your fingers into earlier, during the impromptu flight.
Shit. Your mind's made up, isn't it?
"Okay..."
Vee trills happily and shuffles his large body until he is lying on side, furry belly exposed. He's clearly trying to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. He pats the floor with a monstrous hand, encouraging you to lie down alongside him.
Keeping the blanket tight around your body, you maneuver yourself down into the blankets, carefully resting your head on his outstretched arm before scooting up close to him.
You let Vee pull you back against his chest as if you're his little spoon. And you have to admit. It is warmer here, with the solid weight of him against your back, the fur of his arm beneath your cheek.
But it's still weird. How will you ever explain this to anyone? That you willingly spent a night cuddled up in a cryptid's arms.
“Warm?” Vee asks.
“Yes,” you nod. “I'm warmer now.”
He chirps in delight and purrs, the sound noof it rumbling in his chest. You feel it against your back. It’s… nice.
Despite yourself, you can feel your eyes grow heavy. It's been a long day. You know you shouldn't let your guard down, but you’re warm and (relatively) safe. You’re pretty certain Vee doesn’t want to hurt you, not with the way he’s behaving. He’s fed you, given you water, done his best to make you comfortable and warm.
Yeah, this might be ok.
Besides, it's not like this strange night couldn’t possibly get any stranger, you think.
^ ^ ^ ^
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you wake, it’s to Vee snuffling in your hair. He has his nose pressed to the back of your neck, breath warm on your skin as he inhales, exhales.
Wrapped up in both his creature warmth and the blanket, you're snug and cozy. The light of the heater gives everything a hazy, orangeish glow. It feels dreamlike, almost.
Vee rubs his snout on the back of your neck, making you shiver. It feels good. Without realizing, you give a little wiggle and press back into his solid warmth.
And then you feel it.
IT.
Through the blanket, against your ass. He's hard. Hard and huge and you're suddenly fully awake, eyes popping open.
All at once, everything makes sense. That has to be why he brought you in, gave you food and water, has been treating you so kindly.
It’s creature mating season or whatever.
And he’s horny.
Oh no, no, no.
The moment you start scrambling to get away, Vee snaps into action, a long arm locking around your waist to keep your body pressed against his.
“W-wait…” he rasps.
"Let me go!" you thrash, grabbing at his arm, pounding it with your fist. "Vee, I said let me GO!"
"Wait, please. Help. Hurts."
He whines your name, pleading, pressing his hips against your ass and whimpering.
“Vee, please. I can't. I… ”
“Can help,” he insists, sounding strained. “Can. Please.”
Fuck, he sounds so pathetic, grinding slowly against your ass, like if he moves gently, he might not scare you.
"Please... please..."
You don't know what to do. There's no way you can let him do what he's asking. What you're 99% sure he's asking.
But he's been gentle since you arrived.
He’s been kind, even.
And you know he knows the word no.
No, stop it. You shouldn't even be entertaining this idea. He’s a monster, a creature. He’s not human, for fuck’s sake.
But…
Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe he'll simply rut against you and get his monster rocks off and that will be that. No harm done. Not really. It’ll be weird as hell, but it won’t hurt anything, right?
So it's fine.
Right?
You sigh deeply. You don't know what it says about you that you're going to let this happen. You'll figure that out later.
"Okay."
The word has barely left your lips when Vee moves with inhuman speed, rolling you to your back, pinning you to the floor with his weight.
Oh, no. This isn't going to be as simple as you thought.
Vee settles above you, limbs caging you in. He chitters excitedly, starting to paw at the blanket keeping you from him.
Shit. This is moving too fast.
"W-wait! Wait!"
Vee stops, his mismatched eyes snapping up to your wide ones. You feel the wiry muscles in his arms and chest tremble with the strain of holding back, proving his willpower is greater than his animal instincts.
"We need to establish some rules here," you say shakily.
He cocks his head slightly, listening attentively, waiting for you to continue. Your mind spins with the implications of what you're saying, of what you're about to do, let him do.
"Okay. If we're gonna do this, I need you to be gentle. Careful."
He nods. "Careful."
"Great. And if I say ‘stop,’ for any reason..."
"I stop," he says firmly. The clearest he has spoken all evening. "I stop."
For a moment, you're caught off guard by him, the earnestness in his eyes. There's a softness, something… you could almost call human.
You quickly put a stop to that train of thought.
“Right,” you nod, confirming for him as much as yourself. “If I say stop, you stop.”
He noses at your temple, placing what you assume to be kisses there (though they might just be tiny kitten licks). Either way, you can tell he's trying his best to be sweet, to soothe you.
“Good boy,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Vee's a good boy.”
You relax, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. “Oh really? And who told you that?”
Vee doesn't answer, just trails kisses and nips and kitten licks down your cheek, along your jaw, to your neck. He lingers there, inhaling deeply. You shiver, but not in fear, and let your hands drift up to his shoulders. The fur that covers him is soft and thick and you sink your fingers in.
He rumbles what you assume is a good noise, because he presses his hips to yours, seeking friction. He still feels huge, but you can’t deny it feels good to have the weight of him pressing against you. He ruts his hips against yours, his cock rubbing over your cunt, and you let out a short, sharp cry.
Oh, it’s been a long time since anything other than your own hand got between your legs.
Vee ticks his head to the side, curiosity in his eyes. He repeats the motion of his hips and you gasp, shuddering again. His eyes gleam and he chitters happily.
“Are you… teasing me?” you ask, a little bit incredulous.
Vee grins, letting out a cackle that sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes.”
“Oh? I thought you said you were a good boy.”
Vee hears the challenge in your voice and narrows his eyes. For a moment, you're not sure what he's going to do.
“Off,” he grumbles, pushing aside the blanket that separates your body from his.
You shiver as his eyes rake over you, taking your naked form in for the first time. For a just a moment, you worry he won't like what he sees. It's a silly, human fear, but real nonetheless.
“Pretty…” he murmurs, then he leans down and licks a long stripe across your collarbone, dragging his thick tongue down between your breasts. He pauses there, snout pressed to your sternum, before turning and his face to take one of your nipples in his mouth.
The noise that rips from your throat is loud and shocking to your ears. Vee doesn't seem to pay you any mind, gently taking your nipple between his sharp teeth and tugging, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core.
You moan and grip him tight, exhaling shakily. Fuck, he shouldn't know how to do this. How does he know how to do this?
Before you can question it further, he releases your breast and resumes licking his way down your body, over your stomach, dipping into your navel.
He slides still further down, the fur on his chest scraping against your belly and thighs as he settles between them, using his hulking frame to shoulder his way between your legs. His tail wraps around your calf, holding you open for him as he leans in. You can feel the heat of his breath on you and you shudder, fighting to keep your hips still.
The anticipation is maddening. You're about to be devoured by a monster, for fuck's sake. You shouldn't be this turned on. And yet, you can feel how you're nearly dripping at the perversity of it all.
You feel Vee spread you with his thumbs, mindful of his claws as inspects the soft folds of your cunt, breathes you in.
He's down there for long enough that you raise yourself up on your elbows to see what he's doing. But before you can open your mouth, his descends.
You let out a noise you're sure can't be human.
The first touch of his tongue feels like nothing you've felt before. Hot and wet and thick and rough, swirling around your folds as he laps at you.
"What the fuck?" you pant, gripping the shaggy locks of hair at the top of his head. "What the fuck?"
The noises he makes are obscene, as he eats you with an untamed hunger. You can only rock your hips into his face, muttering obscenities as he sucks on your clit and groans into you.
You feel yourself get wetter, either by your slick or his spit, you don't know, don't care.
But when he lifts his head - training his mismatched, predator eyes on you - you can see his maw is covered with your slick.
“Wet,” he rumbles, licking your inner thigh.
“Fucking shit,” you let your head fall back with a thunk.
He chitters happily and dives back into your cunt, dipping his tongue inside you. You sob as he thrusts it in and out. It feels like molten silk against your insides. Nothing has ever felt this good.
His fangs scrape at you as he pushes his face in deeper, tugging one of your legs over his shoulder so he can get closer. His nose presses against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue.
“Holy s-shit…” you manage, struggling to breathe, your lungs working overtime. For a moment, you think you might die like this, from pleasure, overstimulation.
You feel it now, how close you are to coming, all the muscles in your legs growing taut as the coil in your belly tightens.
Vee growls into you, his tail constricting around your leg, keeping you still. The restraint, coupled with the pinpoint pricks of his claws as he holds you open, licking, sucking, devouring - it's enough to send you hurtling over the edge into an orgasm.
Every sensation melds together in an overwhelming mess as your climax rushes over you, euphoria pulsing through your body and singing in your veins.
When you come back to yourself, Vee is nuzzling at the crease of your hip and thigh.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” you nod, voice cracking from your dry throat. “Yeah, fucking hell, yeah. Good boy, Vee.”
You pat at him awkwardly, giving back some of the affection he just lavished on you.
He purrs, and as he drags his body back up, you can feel it rumble from his chest to yours. Vee bumps your nose with his and you smile.
“This is weird. This is so weird.” You cover your face with your hands, unable to stop a laugh from escaping. But it’s weird in the best fucking way.
Vee sits back on his heels and reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face.
“No hide,” he says, eyes soft as he looks at you, giving you a lopsided grin that still manages to look horrifying, thanks to all the teeth. But he's not unpleasant to look at, especially with his hair wild from where you pulled it.
You watch, in a kind of daze, as he takes one of your hands and pulls it towards his cock.
You glance down, taking in the sight of his erection for the first time. He's fully hard, huge, and intimidating.
On instinct, you flinch, try to pull back, resist what he’s guiding you to do, but his grip is firm. Not vicious, but insistent nonetheless.
“Please,” he grits out, rumbling your name. “Please.”
You relent, letting him place your hand on his cock. It doesn’t feel all that different from a human penis. Smooth and hard and long - longer than you’ve ever taken before. And he's so thick. When you wrap your fingers around him, you can’t make them touch.
You shudder, not in fear, but with the debauched thrill of knowing he's going to put that inside you.
What the fuck is wrong with you? You decide you don't care.
Cautiously, you stroke him a few times, tip to base and back up again, catching your thumb on the underside of the head. He trembles in pleasure.
Vee kneels between your spread thighs, smooths his palms over your hips, claws just trailing over the sensitive skin there. You whine, biting your lip, arching up. You almost hate how desperate you are to be fucked by this creature.
Almost. But not enough to stop.
He lines himself up, the head of his cock notching into place, and then he spits. Right on your cunt. A thick glob of monster drool.
You should be disgusted.
You've never been more turned on.
You drag your eyes up from where he spat to his face. He's looking at you intently, his pale eye nearly glowing.
“Okay?” he asks.
You nod. “Okay.”
With a grunt, he moves.
He doesn't slam into you the way you half-expected, but he does bury himself all the way to the hilt in one long, slow push.
The stretch burns. It's overwhelming, the width of his cock, the drag of it against your walls - and you're gasping, squirming, trying to back up, to take a second, to breathe - but he slips his hands under you, curling his long fingers around your shoulders so he can hold you still, pull you onto him.
Despite your own blood pounding in your ears, you can hear the now-familiar shush rumbling from his throat again, though it's higher, strained this time. You realize he's trying to soothe you through this, even as he makes you take it, take him.
That shouldn't be so endearing.
His shushing hum distracts you enough that you can relax a little, take a few deep breaths, and let him sink the last bit of himself into you.
Fuck.
Now, fully seated inside you, Vee pauses, trembling, panting.
"Warm," he groans.
“I bet,” you huff, breath still half-stolen by the weight of his hips on yours, by the way he presses inside you.
You smooth your hands down over his broad, furred shoulders, trying to calm him the same way he did for you. He arches into the drag of your nails on his back, pulling away just enough to give you a glimpse of the place where you're joined.
Holy shit, you can't believe you're doing this. You swear you can see the bulge in your lower belly. The sight makes you clench down and he hisses, hips jerking.
“Fuck,” you breathe. “Go easy. Be a good boy.”
“Good boy,” Vee echoes, beginning to move.
Fucking hell, he's so big. You can feel him in places you didn't know existed. God, you're going to be sore tomorrow, but right now, it feels so good.
After a few experimental thrusts, he's slick enough to slide right through your folds, to slip in and out of you as if this isn't the first time you've done this, like he fits you, like you were made to take him.
The way he holds your hips up has his cock hitting your front wall with every thrust. Your reach down between your bodies so you can rub your own clit in time with his thrusts.
“Fuck!” you nearly shout with how good that feels.
That was it, the missing piece you needed. Oh, it feels like it's all coming together. You dig your heels into his back to keep him close, your legs trembling where they're wrapped around his knobby hips. Your breath hitches as your second orgasm looms. You feel it building, deep and devastating.
He can either see it on your face or feel it in the tightening of your cunt, because Vee grins, teeth sharp and feral as he looms over you.
"Come," the creature commands, and, god help you, you do.
It crashes over you and you wail, lost to everything but the pleasure. Vee fucks you through it - all your clawing and gasping and crying out.
“Good,” he growls. “Good.”
You shudder against him, moaning at the praise of a monster. You're still pulsing around him when he slips out of you. His cock grazes your thigh and you're surprised to feel that he's STILL hard.
“What the fuck…?” you mumble dazedly. “How have you not finished yet?”
Vee doesn't answer, intent on only one thing now.
“Please… please,” he rumbles, sounding desperate and debauched as he noses along your collarbone, your jaw, your neck, inhaling deeply.
Before you can ask “please what?”, he rolls you over and yanks you into position on all fours.
“Oh! Okay, right… Got it. Got it.”
You let your head hang forward. You can barely hold yourself upright anymore, your legs are jelly at this point, but he doesn't seem to notice. Holding your hips in his hands, he leans down and gives you one long, obscene lick from your clit to your quivering hole.
“Wet,” he rasps.
“Yeah, yes. Thank you-oooh-OH!”
He slides back inside before you're quite ready, making you squeal.
If you were overwhelmed before, you're completely ruined now. He feels impossibly large like this, you don't know where he's going, how all of him FITS.
“Fuck,” you gasp, breath stolen every time he thrusts into you. Like a fuckin’ battering ram…
You squirm against him, arching your back, trying to make the angle more comfortable when he snarls, digging his claws into your hips. You hiss, stilling at the sting.
“Vee…” you whine, pleading.
Your kind creature hears you. He slows to a grind, trailing the pads of his fingers up from your hips, smoothing over your back and shoulders, leaning into it as he covers your body with his, his long arms bracketing yours. He buries his snout in your neck, inhaling deeply, before he bites at the join of your neck and shoulder.
You shiver, involuntarily pressing back against him and moaning when it shoves his cock deeper inside you. Vee huffs against your neck but manages to stay in control, letting his fangs graze your skin without piercing.
He could rip your throat out if he wanted to. That shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.
Vee picks up a rhythm again, albeit slower now. You think he has to be getting close, with the way he's grunting, panting with every thrust.
“Please…” he begs as he rolls his hips in long, smooth strokes. “Please. Yes…? Mate? Mate?"
Your mind is half-gone, drunk on the pleasure of your previous orgasms and the one that's steadily building. You're not sure what he's babbling about, and you don't really understand, but he seems to be holding back, waiting on your answer.
At this point, you're not sure you care. You're rapidly approaching the point where it feel like if he takes his hands off you, if stops fucking you, you'll lose your mind.
So you acquiesce.
"Yeah, ok, yeah. Yes. Yes, whatever you want. Yes."
"Yes,” Vee growls, speeding up his thrusts. “Yes, yes, YES!"
You cry out, fisting your hands in the blanket below you. He's fully slamming into you now, rutting into you exactly the way you expect a creature would - hard and fast, without any reservation.
Despite everything - or because of everything - you feel the familiar stirrings of yet another climax. You lean into the feeling, chasing one last high. Resting your weight on one elbow, you reach down to your clit, rolling it between your fingers, stroking just how you like.
Vee, for his part, hasn't stopped. He's still slamming into you, hard enough that you can feel his heavy balls slapping against you. It's so fucking hot… how are you ever going to be satisfied by normal sex after this? Doesn't matter. A problem for future you.
"Almost... there..." you manage through gritted teeth. You feel yourself tightening, feel as your walls flutter around him, trying to grip his cock. Maybe it's just how you clench down on him, but you swear he feels thicker than before.
There's an insistent burning at your entrance, but you don't have time to dwell on it. You have to come. You're so close now and all you can think about is how good it's going to feel as you come around him one more time, this time making Vee come with you too.
The initial sparks of heat begin to lick up your spine and you use the last remaining strength in your legs to shove yourself back to meet his thrust, hard.
You hear him roar, and you feel something new push inside you, stretch against your walls. It's too fucking much and too fucking perfect and you scream, giving in to every primal instinct and letting yourself feel it all.
You're out of your mind, out of body as your climax rushes through you, white-hot pleasure flooding your senses.
You absolutely howl as you feel Vee shudder against you, his release painting your insides at last - hot and wet and thick.
Vee grinds to a stop, panting heavily, groaning in your ear - and it almost feels like he is swelling rather than getting softer.
It feels weird.
But not bad weird.
You feel full - full of monster cock and cum - and yet, that was probably the best sex of your life.
You've never felt so thoroughly fucked, so sated, so fucking good.
As you come back to yourself, you feel how shaky your limbs are. You just want to lie down, let Vee cuddle you close and soothe you once more in his wonderfully weird creature way.
You move to pull away, and find you can't.
“What the fuck…?”
Vee hisses, immediately grabbing your hips to still your movement.
“S-stop,” he moans. “Stop… please.”
“Vee? What’s happened…?"
“Kn-knot,” he manages. “Mate… knot.”
“Oh…” your mushy brain turns his words over for a moment longer than necessary before you gain understanding. “Oh.”
You slump a little, overwhelmed with what this means. Did he just breed you? Do you need to worry about little creature hybrids? What the fuck…?
You assume he hears the way your heart speeds up, because Vee is once again shushing, soothing, calming.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Shhh. Okay.”
Given that you're still locked together by his knot, he guides you down to your sides, wrapping his arms around you, wings sheltering you like a leathery blanket.
Vee nuzzles your neck, licking the sweat at your nape, his rumbles morphing into full-on purring -
“Good… good mate. Sleep now. Sleep…”
For the second time that night, cuddled close to a monster's chest, you do as you're told and fall into sleep.
^ ^ ^ ^
You wake to a beam of sunlight coming through the stained glass window, making the floor a rainbow.
You stretch experimentally and find you're sore, more than you anticipated. But then again, you did let a creature have its way with you.
And you liked it.
A lot.
You sit up carefully, dragging a blanket with you as you glance around the little loft. The space looks much the same as it did last night, except there, on the floor. Your clothes - now dry and folded - sit in a neat pile just beyond the blanket nest.
Speaking of said creature… he's no longer curled up at your back. You miss his warmth, his solid frame. You miss him, crazy as that sounds.
So he was here. Recently. But where…
“Please don’t scream,” a voice startles you and you whip your head around, seeking its source.
There, emerging from a doorway is man. A normal, human man. He's dressed in a black cassock with a purple sash, a gleaming silver skull half-mask on his face. He looks like Halloween come early, if not for his hands, upheld in a calming gesture.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he continues, speaking quickly. “I saw your car in the parking lot and came in to see who was here. Imagine my surprise when I found you.”
You blink at him stupidly. He cocks his head slightly, the gesture oddly familiar.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah… yeah,” you say, clutching the blanket tight around you. “I just, uh… h-how long have you been here?”
“Just got here.”
“And, uh… why are you here?”
“I should be asking you that,” he laughs a little. When you don't laugh back, he continues, “Believe it or not, this is my church.”
“Your church?” you reply, dazedly.
“Well, more or less,” he shrugs, lowering his arms. “No one really comes here anymore, but I pop in sometimes. Make sure the place is still standing.”
The man draws closer, crouching to be on your eye level.
“Huh… yeah…”
“You sure you're not hurt? You look… spooked.”
“I mean, I was just woken up by a stranger in a mask…” you say.
The man laughs again, shaking his head a little, his raven curls falling around his shoulders. Something about him, his nature, feels so familiar.
He raises his head again and you finally get a good look at him.
You gasp.
His eyes are two different colors - one green, one white.
He locks eyes with you, and an understanding passes between you.
☞ 680 words, x gn!reader, fluff, mostly, because i am trying to find his voice <3
Nothing but the empty highway ahead. The night sky is a thing of indigo, purple and a blue-ish black. You glance past the curtain of the narrow window, passing far-away cities that twinkle like constellations, open landscapes that stretch to the horizon, now pale in the moonlight.
V has settled between your legs, his cheek resting on your belly. These long hours on the road have made the sounds a comforting white noise, the movement of the bus lulling you into a half-sleep. Your fingers are woven into his dark curls, his hums urging you not to stop the gentle press against his scalp. He’s spoiled and he knows it.
“Have you thought about it again?” you whisper, tugging at the lingering thread of an earlier conversation.
“You know he wouldn’t want it.”
“Well, what if he does?”
He’s dismissing the words as they come. It’s not because he knows better, it’s because he cannot entertain the chance that they’re true. It’s easy enough, you suppose, to hide away in this new world of rock and glamour, the adoration of the masses and the quiet moments in between, a reality entirely removed from the rest of his inheritance.
“He might be just as scared as you are.”
“I’m not scared, baby.”
“Hesitant, then.”
He scoffs, nuzzles into the softness of you. “They say he doesn’t like me. Why bother?”
“He’ll grow to like you,” you suggest. “I did.”
“Oh, you like me?”
You wrap a coil of hair around your finger and tug, prompting a delighted hum and a flash of teeth. His gaze flicks up, those uncanny contrasting eyes, narrowed just enough to suggest some defiance. He’s beautiful bare, when you can see the lines on his face, the stubbly shadows on his chin. Every fraction of him is secret knowledge.
“Enough of my brother,” he says with a playful snarl and there is not a lot of space but he somehow manages to crawl on top of you unhurt.
You hit your elbow trying to wrap your arms around him. He chuckles, settling between your legs with the secure knowledge that he’s reclaimed his power. And it’s true, when you stare up at him the world outside the window blurs for a long, precious minute. He leans in with that cocky confidence plastered all over his face but you’re not quite done with him yet.
“What will you do once we’re back?” you ask just before he meets you. “Ignore him as well?”
He groans, trapping your lip between his teeth, pulls at it. “I’ll send you to him, since you’re so eager to be in his presence.”
“I just think you could be good for each other,” you whisper, flicking your nose against his.
V considers this for a fraction of a second, clucks his tongue and regards you with some displeasure. It’s unfair that you can judge, actually knowing his twin, and you’d stop nudging if you weren’t so sure that he’s desperate to know him, too.
“All I’m saying is he’s just one call away,” you finish, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Stop. Talking. About. Him,” he complains, then, with a final groan of frustration, buries his face at your neck. You wonder if he’s yearning for his mask, in that moment, to hide the soft blush you know has spread on his cheeks. “Fuck, baby, I was trying to do something here.”
“I’m pretty sure that would count as indecency.”
“I wasn’t going to fuck you,” he grumbles. “Regrettably. But you’ve ruined the mood anyway.”
You huff a laugh and resume the gentle strokes through his hair, this time with the soft tickle of his breath against your skin. He’s so solid, in that moment, so real. Sometimes, when he’s on stage, it feels like he’s slipping from your grasp, like the Morningstar chose him to shine on the likes of you from somewhere just out of reach. But with the humming of the bus, black-shimmering skies above you, the sensation is concrete, and you think, in time, he’ll realise it as well.
short fic collection ⛧ masterlist ⛧ graphic credit
cw: pussy drunk perpetua, oral (f receiving), mentions of ovulation, fingering, he keeps the mask AND gloves on
wc: 951 (short n sweet)
The sound he makes as the flat of his tongue meets your quivering hole is pornographic, his eyelids already beginning to droop. Perpetua has waited hours for this, practically salivating since he woke up this morning to the sweet scent of your slick in the air. You’re ovulating, you poor thing. He listened to you whimper in your sleep for a moment before a ghoul came pounding away at the door, telling him he was late for rehearsal and they’re tired of waiting. Damn his obligations, the smell refused to leave his mind. By the time he’s slipping back into your shared quarters, his cock is so hard that it hurts but he just has to taste you first.
He doesn’t expect the first taste to render him so thoughtless, melting into the mattress as his gloved hands wrench your thighs further apart. Your cunt glistens even in the dim light of his bedroom, a mixture of your own slick and his spit coating the surface of it when he pulls back. He watches transfixed as your hole clenches around nothing, the level of observation causing you to whine from slight embarrassment.
The feeling fades fast, however, as one gloved finger comes to graze your opening. The leather is surprisingly smooth, but wonderfully foreign as he pushes it past the first knuckle in. He can’t help himself, your body is just screaming with desire and what kind of Papa would he be if he didn’t indulge you? You have a feeling it’s slightly for himself though as he ruts his hips down into the mattress. Whether he’s being selfish or not, you don’t mind when he surges forward, tracing the tip of his tongue around your pulsing bud. It’s teasing and gentle, but just enough to have you keening, a soft whimper escaping your lips.
He pushes his finger the rest of the way in, groaning in delight as your hand comes up to guide him by the straps of his mask. His warm tongue covers you completely, licking a long stripe upwards that starts where his finger moves obscenely within you and ends at your clit. He sucks it into his mouth then, curling his tongue around it.
You love when he gets like this, where he’s positively drooling just to taste you. With the second half of the tour coming up, it won’t be long before he’s whisked away for multiple months, away from your touch and your smell and you. It drives him crazy with want already, like he has to spend every moment until he leaves between your legs just to get his fill.
Perpetua curls his finger, pushing it against the ridged patch of your inner walls that has you gasping, gripping the leather straps until your knuckles turn white. He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan, but the sound is muffled when your hips twitch, grinding down into his finger.
He takes you mercy on your helplessness and shoves another inside, curling them back and forth as his tongue speeds up against your clit. By now, you can feel the tendrils of orgasm sneaking up on you, your belly clenching as you press against his face. This is your favorite version of him - the one that’s so desperate to please because seeing you cum fuels something primal in him. He lays his tongue against your clit and moves his head up and down, collecting the slick that escapes onto his glove. The added moisture has your back arching against his plush bed, moaning pathetically when he sucks you back into his mouth.
He can smell how close you are, can taste it as he laps at your clit desperately, driving his hips down into the mattress. By now, there’s a small wet patch forming in his boxers where his tip grazes the soft fabric, spilling precum. Each little twitch you make, and every sound fuels him closer to some finish himself. The taste of you has overwhelmed him, coating his chin and smearing his face paint as he whimpers some plea against your heated skin.
“Come for me sister,” He pants, letting his tongue fall forward to lick another long stripe up. His fingers never stop moving when he continues, “be a good girl and let your papa take care of you.”
His voice is deep with want, but picks up at the end in an almost whine that has you clenching around his fingers. He’s begging you to let go, his tongue resuming its soft but urgent lapping as you start to convulse. Your entire body arches with each wave of pleasure as Perpetua groans against you. He doesn’t try to fight against you, content to let you shove his face as deeply into your dripping pussy as you need to.
He’s whispering little “yes’s” that send bursts of cool air against your clit, the feel of it so good in contrast to his hot tongue. His eyes never leave yours as his fingers slow, reluctantly detaching his mouth from your bud when you whine from the overstimulation.
Being on stage and performing to thousands of adoring fans was wonderful, of course, but these are the moments that Perpetua selfishly lives for. When you’re lying boneless in his bed, all hazy from an orgasm staring at him like he put the sun in the sky. When he finally pulls his finger from your hole, you whine at the loss but the gentle press of his lips against it, the trail of slick that follows it is enough to leave you quiet again.
He pulls back just enough for the trail to break, before his quiet, murky voices whispers, “Nema.”
CW for unintentional (sort of) voyeurism (fucking/masturbation whilst Frater's on a phonecall)
MDNI!
He's fucking you over his desk in the middle of the day, when the phone rings. It's still during his office hours, so of course he has to answer it. Unfortunately, this means he has to slide out of your warmth, and reach across his desk just so.
The angle is deliberate enough for his length to slide against the cleft of your thighs, oh-so-close to where he left you bereft. Placating kisses pour over the flutter of your pulse, murmured apologies spilling into your ear.
Only managing to sound slightly breathless, he answers, only to groan inwardly at the sound of the shrill voice on the other end of the line. This was going to take longer than he thought.
Fortunately for both of you, you'd planned ahead for just such an eventuality. Reaching for his desk drawer, you slide it open to extract the secret you'd hidden there. Thick eyebrows knit together in confusion, before spotting your prize.
His eyes land on the dildo, then flicker to where you still clench around nothing, whimpering through bitten lips at the loss of him. Moss green and moon white eyes blow wide, sharp teeth pressing into his lower lip as he swallows hard.
Planting a foot on each arm of his chair, you tease the toy against your soaked cunt, gasping every time it catches against your entrance. He's barely stringing together coherent sentences, his free hand falling to stroke himself languidly as he watches from under lidded eyes.
You're so far gone, you barely register his murmured instruction, easily mistaking it for part of his one-way conversation.
'Go on...' he breathes, barely moving the mouthpiece away from his lips, 'you gonna keep yourself warm for me, honey?'
That's all it takes for you to fuck the toy into yourself in one motion, pleasure knocking you back onto an elbow. He matches you stroke for stroke, lust clouding your thoughts as the conversation fades into an unintelligible buzz.
In one motion, he tugs you over the surface of the desk and stands over you, a wide palm spreading your legs further apart. He remains frozen in place for a moment, enraptured by your defilement.
The phone is still at his ear; the conversation is less than one-sided now as thick fingers curl in-between yours, guiding the slick motion of the toy. A surprised squeak tears from your throat as his mouth curls into a wicked smile.
That's it, my love... he mouths, let go. Ruin me.
Pleasure short-circuits your mind as his other hand lowers, the pad of his thumb rubbing frantic circles over your clit. Almost in vain, your hand flies to your mouth as your voice rises into a cry of ecstasy.
But it's too little too late as a well-angled thrust has you screaming out his name. Stars twinkle behind your eyes as you feel the white hot ache within you explode. Your release floods over his hands, soaking his cock, and dripping obscenely onto the floor.
So powerful is your orgasm, he has to scramble to catch the toy before it's sent flying across the floor of his office. Setting it aside, he grins wolfishly down at you, the voice at his ear now seemingly shocked into silence.
'I'm sorry, something's, ah, come up,' he smirks unrepentantly, winking slyly at you, 'I'll call you back later.'
You cover your burning face with your hands he leans over you to replace the receiver without waiting for a response. Gently, he peels them away as soft reassuring kisses follow light nibbles up your quivering body.
Eager yet gentle hands curl around your hips, tugging you against the cushion of his stomach and the hardness of his still-aching cock. You whine as he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against the hollow of your throat.
