adorned and adored
"For you know this touch, and that simple recognition was enough."
Wordcount: 4100~
pairing: shadow creature x reader characters notes:
reader: has a vulva and a vagina. has breasts.
shadow creature: currently defaults to presenting a body with a cock | author uses he/him
content notes:
smut: reader's restrained, piv sex, creampie, overstimulation, manhandling.
term use: cunt and cock
requests and asks are open! :D
author notes:
do not use, publish, reproduce or post anywhere without my explicit permission.
If you want to read the story with some Illustrations: PDF
Link is to Google Drive Illustration count: 4 + cover Reader: Blank Face — Plus-size body. Cover Preview:
Waking was summoned by a soft touch. A spell bestowed upon your bare shoulder, so light that consciousness almost missed its contact, but it did lose its chance to clasp in the sluggishness of sleep. For the moment was too short, so with rest as its lure and exhaustion as your ferry, sleep tried to tell you that at this moment, this was most necessary.
You've spent the last week so far from home, after all. Doing business. Doing your best. Determined to meet goals that were now successfully met. So you deserved this, this wonderful rest. Let your body sink into the bed, and let the bone-deep weariness have a chance to fade away. The world need not intrude. Not until you're ready.
You got time.
Not only that, you made sure that you were off work the next four days. That was one of the many reasons you even agreed to spend the last week working.
So rest. Sleep.
Let your mind be emptied of thoughts unneeded, and let dream cultivate wonders in the space that was freed. Waking was, at the moment, unimportant.
Waking was unneeded—
Waking—
—was summoned by another soft touch. Once more upon your bare shoulder, but this time tracing a path. Fingertips over the slope, then down your arm. This time, consciousness seized the chance through sensation, and when the touch disappeared, longing wanted it back.
For you know this touch, and that simple recognition was enough.
With a sigh, you followed its retreat, turning from your side to lie on your back, then waited. You knew it would come back, an inevitability proclaimed truth by memory. So, wait you did.
For him— —to follow through the weight of his gaze on you. —to leave his perch on the edge of your bed and move closer. —to hold you in the way you knew he wanted to, and the way you longed for.
For him to be with you. For you to be with him. For the two of you to be together.
And for him to please, please touch you.
He didn't. You whined. He chuckled.
And from that sound alone, warmth bloomed within you with mirth following its heels. They chased away exhaustion, and made sleep surrender its hold. You're fully awake now, and when he cupped your cheek, you're home.
"Gods, I missed you." You cupped his hand and pressed it even harder against your cheek. Then, you burrowed your face onto his palm. A deep breath in, then a shaky exhale. A kiss. "I missed you so much."
You felt his other hand against the side of your face, and you let him cradle your head, content for now to bask in his hovering presence. The puff of his breath on your face. The dip of the bed because of his weight. The press of his body to your side.
You clung to his wrists as you waited, eyes still closed.
Please.
He kissed your forehead, and with a gasp, the warmth within you turned to a burning. Your clinging fingers dug for purchase on his muscles, and your back arched slightly in offering. You heard him take another inhale, louder and longer. Acceptance. More kisses followed. Praise. Once more on your forehead, then on your eyelids, then on the apple of your cheeks, then on the tip of your nose, then on the corners of your lips, then on your jaw. There again, and again, and again, ending with a nip at your chin with sharp teeth.
You were already struggling to breathe when he pulled back, a whimper spilling from your lips as you opened your eyes.
"Welcome home," he said with a cocky smile and gleaming eyes. As if you didn't know the control he exerted in every kiss he gave you. As if you didn't feel the tension of his muscles beneath your hands, and the dark tendrils of his body that latched onto your skin at every chance. As if you weren't away for the past week, and you merely went out for a grocery run.
As if.
"You—you weren't here when I got home." You accused with a tug of his wrists and a pout. "You're a day early, dearest." "I called." You shifted and nipped at the pad of his thumb. "I texted." "Hmm." He pressed his thumb against your teeth even more, his gleaming eyes filled with expectation. "And I received them." You bit on his thumb a tad harder, delighted when his eyes fluttered closed. "Busy?"
"Very." A single word that was the herald of more, delivered low. He took back his hand with a swipe on your lips. "I took every job at work that I could find and do. Helped with every backlog, struggling workmate, new hire. I even asked our cleaners if there's anything I can help them with. Anything. Just anything to make sure that I stay inside that building and not follow you. It'll be so easy. You know it. Step into the shadows and go to you."
You watched as he undressed, his shirt set aside and the dark cords of muscles, with the tendrils that rose and sank in the black of his form, revealed. The urge to touch him slammed against your ribs, and you curled your fingers to dig on your palms. Wait. Your heart hammered against its confines and disagreed.
"I kept telling myself," He crawled over the bed to you. His gaze a sensation you felt, as it devoured your form. "Just one more night, one more sleep. I can keep my word, because you asked. You told me your reasons, and I understood. I still understand. As much as I keep claiming that I am your shadow, and I will follow you wherever you go, but also—"
You parted your legs in invitation, and he moaned. His intentions immediately abandoned to instead partake of what you offered. He reached out and touched your feet, then up your legs, then your thighs. There it took hold, gripping, then digging, with his eyes—all of his eyes—riveted by the way your flesh yielded. As if he hadn't seen it before. As if he was making sure that you were indeed here and real.
"—I am your lover," A squeeze served as punctuation. "I am your lover, and I want you happy. So when you asked me that night, determined and ready to explain, ready to bargain, there was only one choice." "Do you regret agreeing to it?" You parted your legs even more and no longer wanting to wait, reached out for him. "No," He reached out in return, and met you halfway. Palm to palm. Fingers entwined. Kisses upon your knuckles, and gentleness that cannot be denied. "You were so excited to be recognized for your work. Every call, every text, I was so proud." "But?" You wrapped your legs around his hips, and pulled him to the cradle of your form. He succumbed, and both of you quivered when your clothed groins met.
He struggled to breathe, his nostrils flaring and his grip on your hands fluctuating in strength. An attempt to find a rhythm to use to return to composure. An attempt to keep the rest of his body unmoving. The latter failing and failing, with how the tendrils kept latching onto you more and more, then retreat, and then, repeat. You watched, fascination curling low in your belly at the sight. And with it, delight wanting you to catalog everything you can.
Love?
Love clawed its roots deeper to your marrows, because you understood what an honor it was to bear witness your beloved's battle with composure and control, while he's proclaiming his love to you through a ramble of almost complaints.
Want demanded more, so you squeezed his hands in return, there to meet his gaze when he focused once more. "But?" "But I wanted—" You squirmed against him. He growled, teeth bared. And oh, how your mouth just watered. Before you could tease him again, another growl. Lower, as he untangled his hands from yours. "Hands on the pillow, dearest." Your insides clenched. Around nothing. So empty. "Now." Trembling and licking your lips, you followed.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"I wanted you here," His hands held your sides, holding you down to the bed. Eyes heavy with thought and what you were sure were memories. "I wanted to be there with you."
"I wanted to touch you." He pushed his fingers under the hem of your top and played with the flesh of your belly. You gulped in a breath, and your lips stayed parted as you descended to panting. Higher those hands of his moved, brushing against the underside of your breasts, and you braced yourself for more. For the tingling of your nipples to be soothed, and the heaviness of your breasts be held. For his mouth to be on you, tasting— "And as lovely as those video calls were, they paled in comparison to this."
He brushed his fingers against your skin again, and suddenly, you wanted to weep. Because yes, the week away was a success and you too, didn't regret your decision, but—
"I wanted to ask you to fool around with me during those calls, at least once, but you always looked exhausted, so I didn't dare. Told myself I'll wait." Another brush of his fingers, lacking and maddening and— "Only to wake up in the middle of the night with a hard cock, humping on the bed and moaning your name." "Please." He moaned your name and rocked his hips forward. "Gods." Your breathing stuttered, legs tightening around his hips while yours bucked. Your cunt wet beneath the fabric of your clothes, and so damn empty. All the while, your mind supplied images to accompany the story just told, and lust generated fantasies that made you need to see it for real. "Yes." He moaned, clued in to the thoughts in your mind. "I was wrecked and left to fuck my hands, love. One moment, begging for you to come home, or that I be allowed to come to you. Then the next, viciously planning how I will welcome you home." "And is this part of the pl—ah!"
Your bastard of a lover cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples and squeezing. He watched unblinking as you responded. Salivating at how you lost control. Your hands tugging at the pillow. Your body lifting from the bed. Your thighs—he groaned—trying to bodily make him yield and get him to grind harder against your core. Again, again, he pinched your hardened nipples and peppered amid it, flicks, brushes, and taps.
"Not part of the plan, dearest." He didn't stop. "There's too little to constitute a plan." His thumbs rubbed circles on your nipples. "Too focused on not breaking my word." Lightning burned through your nerves. "So imagine when I saw your call and texts once I finished overtime." Kneading your breasts to give your nipples respite. "Imagine when I saw you here. Real. So fucking real. Asleep." Resistant to your grinding hips and any attempt to get him to please, move. "I had to leave the room and take a very cold shower. Then had to go outside because the moment I checked on you again…" His tongue slithered out of his mouth, wet and dark. It reminded you of all the ways and times that tongue brought you bliss. How you haven't felt that bliss in quite a damn while. "You needed your rest." "I need you." "Are you rested?"
"Just." You locked your legs around him and arched your body even more, knowing he was watching. Knowing what he's doing. Knowing him. "Fuck! Me!"
The smile left his expression, along with mischief that gave center stage to another. Your beloved's hands moved lower, abandoning your breasts for your sides, your waist, your hips, and there it stayed.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Are…" Unblinking eyes widened. Color-rimmed darkness, stared. All of them, on you. Parted mouth stretched into a maw and loomed. Guttural, "…you rested?"
Intent and meaning as layered as the otherworldly echo now freed in his voice. This exchange an iteration of so many others that came before. You knew this. You knew him. You knew the depths he would pull you under, and the precipice he's going to hurl you both over.
Breathe in. Moan it out. "Yes." Just like that. Again. "Yes." Beg. "Please… I need—I want—"
His finger brushed the tear that clung on the edge of your eyes. Then, he brought that same finger to his maw and licked it. Eyes fluttered close. A moan. Every bit of you, sustenance. Desperate for more, he kissed you. Gods, his lips against yours. Chaste, as he breathed you in. Pressing, as his lips started moving. And oh, you knew that he could spend hours like this, his fixation of you down to the granular. Something he had admitted. A torment that right now you couldn't take without going insane.
So you whined, shoved yourself to him, and opened your mouth. Your tongue licking at his lips and trying to push past its seam.
And control threatened to collapse with a shudder, and hunger waged a coup for the throne. Your mouth was filled with that tongue, thick and serpentine, wrapping around your own and muffling your moans. It rubbed against your teeth, following the edges and counting each pearly piece. You bit down, and you saw some of his eyes roll back, while the rest filled with glee. More and more, biting and slithering. He would pull back to give you both a moment, then dive back in and then repeat. Somewhere along the process he covered your ears until all you could hear was the sound of your kiss.
Your mind surrendered to bliss, a switch flicked quite easily because it's him. You wrapped your arms around him and ran your nails on his back, moaning as his body gave another quiver. Moaning some more when he tugged your tongue into his mouth to suck and nibble.
Drowning in the pleasure thrust into your mouth, you didn't notice his tendrils wrapping around you. When you did, it was when he broke the kiss to look.
"Beautiful. So…Beautiful." You, adorned in living darkness in swirls of ink that breathe and pulse, were a gift. One that's now back in his hold, and he's quite determined to unwrap.
And with reverence, he did. Agonizingly slow to the point that you gritted your teeth. All proper. Control in some level restored. He even folded your clothes, and you were sure he would've left the bed to bring it into the closet if you hadn't growled. He had done it before.
Sometimes he would call it a teasing.
Sometimes, punishment.
Always, a sign to even more.
And that more came with the press of his body down yours, and his return to the cradle of your thighs. In press of his lips, in the nipping of his teeth; kiss then a nip, kiss then a nip. More and more after, those sharp teeth of his following the shape only he could see. Harder, bites that lit pain and burned it into bliss.
"I can kiss you for hours." He murmured against your lips before sucking the lower one and scraping his teeth against its inner side. His hands clamping against your hips and stilling any squirming, and denying your want for friction. Nails digging just enough to be felt, but also with promise and with knowledge of what's to come next. "Let me."
"N—" A kiss muffled your answer, heavy and full of teeth, robbing your breath with the slide of tongues and the push of his chest. You growl, and he moaned in response, body shivering and the tendrils wrapped around you tightening. His want to push against you, into you, was palpable and familiar. You pushed back, gasping for breath at every chance and wanting, just as wanting as he was. Pulling him in, pulling, only to then remember what it was you were going to say. "No."
He stilled and watched as you caught your breath. Each movement followed, catalogued.
"We have days. I want—" Voice tapering to a whimper. "I need you." He ground his clothed, still clothed, cock against your cunt. The push. The friction. The way it nudged against your nub. "Now." You dig your nails into whatever of his body you held. "No long foreplay. You can kiss me for hours later. You can make me come through just my tits, through just whatever you want, damned later."
You pushed your hips up, giving him no choice but to yield, and against him, you rolled your hips. The neediness, as deliberate as his teasing.
He stilled. No, not stilled. Poised. The thrill of anticipation ran through your spine.
"Take me." Two words that derailed thoughts and ideas considered. Made priorities shift and arranged hierarchies.
The tendrils wrapped around you thickened and started moving. Up your arms. Down your legs. Into your mouth, guiding it open and tangling with your tongue. Your tits were squeezed, and your nipples pulled and flicked. Your thighs were pushed apart even further. A step beyond comfort, shy burning strain. It made your hips give a sharp twitch and your back to arch, as you succumbed to instinct, feeling and trust. Juices dripped from your slit, the same way drool did from your occupied mouth.
He returned his grip around your squirming hips and ground his crotch against yours. You gasped, eyes fluttering closed and body shuddering—naked cock, naked cock. Once. Twice. Pushing and parting your nether lips. Thrice. Hooking against your clit.
The fourth was a breaching that had you pause breathing, then crying at the rightness of it. The push. The stretch.
"Oh, love." He choked out the words, his forehead lowering to press against yours. Two words became a chant as he slowly moved. The both of you remembering how it was. Overwhelmed and relieved by how it still is. "Oh, love."
He kissed the tip of your nose, then your tear-stained cheeks, and then, the corners of your tendril-occupied lips. Almost chaste. His body shaking. His claws digging then retreating, digging then retreating, in time to the pulse of his being. Trying. Trying. Not to spill blood and deem it as marking. Not rip you open and sink into you, proclaiming it as becoming one. Not devour you, carry a piece of you ever with him, so you're never apart, and you're never truly gone.
A deep breath in.
A shuddering exhale choked out when you held him. An inhale sucked in when you licked his lips.
His whole body twitched when you nipped his jaw, hips pushing harder against yours and his cock hitting spots that made your eyes roll back. Before you could empty your lungs, he moved. Dragged his cock with maddening slowness even when your cunt clung and squeezed to keep it in. But he carried on moving away, chuckling when you whimpered around the tendrils filling your mouth. Grunting when you dug your nails and tried to pull him back, but failed. Purring when he disentangled himself, and you bit through the dark tendrils hard enough that they dissipated. That resulted to his strained huff, the sound full of amusement and praise.
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare." You moaned while scrambling to keep him there with you. Trying to bypass the way he held your hands, palm to palm, so you could press him back to you. While in halting thoughts, a part of you cursed your weaknesses, and another complained about your mortality, and another hissed at how, and why were you human? For he had greater strength, greater control, even just pure damn fucking stamina, he had more. And with all these, he toyed with you in so many delightful ways. "Not n—"
He slammed back into you to the hilt. A starting beat of a rhythm.
"—Ah!" Your exclamation a starting note to accompany it.
Then he went and made you sing.
"Fuck. Yes. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me." You panted and squirmed, while he looked down on you with a grin. His hips settling into a rhythm, while you descended into relying on instinct. Hips meeting his. Your cunt squeezing with every deep thrust that filled you. A note pulled from your throat with every retreat. Wanting the friction. Wanting the fill. Digging your feet to the mattress as you tried to maneuver, tried to chase, only to moan loud when he slammed his cock deeper back in. Again and again, this verse continued, defined even more by his grin set on his face, your relief, and the sounds of meeting flesh.
You didn't know how long this part went, didn't care. The climb to the zenith focused on the apex between your legs. Pleasure in doses that to your deprived self was enough. Because you're now allowed to reach release and would take it whatever way it comes.
And oh, it came fast and sudden, breaking through the rhythm that it seized all of your attention, and you could only feel. Your legs kicking out, toes curling. Your body thrashing in convulsions. Lips parting to let free a crescendo as the shadows hurled you to the abyss of little death.
Finally.
Finally.
But before you reached the ground where the bliss of an afterglow awaits, he snatched you back to debauchery's path and into greed's embrace.
"Wait! I just—" Through the haze pleasure cast upon your gaze you saw him. "I'm still—cum—ming!" "More." The grin gone from his face. His eyes, and the others that opened on his body, all on you. "More."
A new verse, heralded by new limbs growing from his back and how they took hold of your twitching legs. Whatever words you had warped into moans, for you could only watch and appreciate his manhandling. Tilting your hips. Almost folding you completely in half. Leaving you with no choice but to feel his cock press down even more and make pleasure crawl up your spine, then muffle the little logic left in mind.
"Good?" "…Go—ood!" The only thread of logic and awareness you could still hold onto. Enough for you to marvel as your beloved's form started to reflect the true unraveling of his control. "Good." Growled through a mouth now bearing and baring too many teeth. Saliva like ink dripping and staining your body. Through a throat with an anatomy for a language you could only dare to butcher. A language that spilled echoing after, delivered lower, rougher. "Gods. Please."
His tendrils continued the halted ministrations of the previous verse. Tightening around your nipples. Flicking your clit. Coaxing new notes and higher pitches from your lips. A part of you thought it was him easing you in, a greater part knew and screeched when he restarted the thrusting of his hips. Just as heavy and as intense, but with everything else in addition—
"—?" He goaded you in a growl of words in his native tongue, and you couldn't even think of any response. Only that—only that— "Wait—" You tried to push the words out. "Cock—getting bigger!" Bigger. Bigger. "—Too much!" You thrashed against his hold, only to be drilled back into the bed. "Please!" "Mmmore?" He fucking had the audacity to chuckle, however strained. Bigger.
This verse featured your aroused and fuck-drunk screams, and whatever palatable humanity of his getting lost to give way to the uncontained creature that he is.
"More."
How many verses your maestro coaxed you to sing with him, you've lost track. How many climaxes reached, alone or shared, you've stopped counting after the second one. Only that near its ending, your screams were voiceless, your throat was raw, and he was roaring. Your womb was overflowing with his seed, and your sticky cunt, plugged by his too big of a cock, leaked.
Freed and boneless, you laid on your bed beneath him. Unseeing. Just feeling. That delicious ache, and how much you're now a mess. His gaze on you, and you alone.
"…with me?" Broke through the haze and made you blink, focus returning. "Ye—es." You croaked with a hum. "You?" He smiled. "With you."
You reached out for him, and he met you halfway, flipping your positions so you settled over his form. Moaning when everything in you shifted and made you tremble, while he chuckled and nuzzled his face to the side of yours.
"Few minutes before cleanup?" "More minutes." "Then more fucking later?" "Hngh." "…Or tomorrow?"
You lightly smacked your hand over his mouth to shut him up and settled in. "You promised." Another mouth somewhere on his body, just as easily summoned as his plenty of eyes.
You growled.
FIN
