A nerve in his jaw twitches as he loosens his axes.
“Where are they coming from?” General Grandsteel demands, reaching for his weapon, a hammer the size of a blood elf and half as pretty.
“We think it’s a portal, sir,” the scout says, and looks over her shoulder, at the open door.
If he listens, Brigihlen thinks he can hear the sounds of combat from somewhere outside. He thinks immediately of his locked desk drawer, of the cold stone therein.
But is it cold? he thinks, and has to shut the thought away before it can take root.
No god would be so cruel, no fate so unkind.
Because you have lived a life worthy of a god’s notice, a darker voice mocks. The closest you’ve been to holiness wasn’t through prayer.
Henchmate - Nefarian | Blackwing x Fem!Reader (omegaverse)
His hand settles into a loose cuff, thumb pressed to the knob of your spine. Each of his rings feels like a tiny metal brand against your neck.
Your own rings clink as your hands clench. It’s unnaturally loud in your ears, every prey response telling you to be quiet and still.
And this is why you don’t usually wear half your body weight in jewelry; it’s just too loud. Heck, you wouldn’t be wearing this much if it wasn’t a gift—
A gift from Nefarian—
A gift from Nefarian, who is a dragon—
“Yes, courting,” he all but purrs as several pieces of information collide in your brain at once.
You don’t even resist as he spins you around, jaw clicking loosely, to face his burning gaze.
“You see,” he says to your dazed expression, “the silliest little omega wandered into my den, and she’s been driving me to the brink of madness for the better part of a month.”
The ABOs of Azeroth - Succubus/Reader/Doomguard (omegaverse)
If she’s going to reduce you to an omega stereotype, you think, she’s damn well going to see it through.
The first syllable of her True Name hardly passes your lips before something heavy hits the cushions a whisper from your head. You freeze, eyes wide on the pattern in front of you.
“Let me make the rules of our game, hm?” Her voice is closer than you expect, the threat soft but implicit. “Now why don’t you use your tongue while I’m using mine?”
That’s more than agreeable, but when you meekly lift your head, you see that it’s not reciprocation that she wants from you.
“What?” You ask, eyes level with the thick spine of your summoning tome. Then your spell-and-sex-addled brain catches up to her meaning. “Oh, no. Not happening.”
The fact that she doesn’t lose her mind at the n-o word means that she thinks she’s already won.
Darxia tap-tap-taps her fingers along your ass.
“If you want my help—which you do—and if you want an orgasm—which you most certainly do—” She tuts at your grimace, gleefully unsympathetic. “—then you’re going to do as I say. And I say you should boost our combined power by coming in my mouth.”
“While I summon another demon.”
“Yes, obviously while you summon another demon.”
Your eyes flick between her and the book, your neck twisted at an angle.
“Is this a jealousy thing?” you ask, mystified and not at all less horny. Her questing fingers aren’t helping matters.
She sneers. “It’s a power thing.”
“Like a power boost thing or a power play thing, because—ow!” You rub yourself where her latest disapproving tail lash has left a welt. “Stars, that was mean.”
“Should I leave, or are you going to stop wasting my time?”
You’d point out that she’s the one who showed up and inserted herself unannounced, but the fear that she’ll follow through is too great. Pettiness is one of Darxia’s most endearing qualities.
The ABOs of Azeroth - Succubus/Fem!Reader/Doomguard (omegaverse)
“Just because I’m learning to summon another demon doesn’t mean you’re getting replaced,” you say with a sigh. “We’ve been over this—”
“Tell that to Ebrak.”
A sharp sting on your arm makes you jump.
“Did you just tail whip me?!” You snatch said tail in one hand, ignoring her loud, suggestive moan when you squeeze it. “No, don’t do that, we’re—we’re not doing that right now.” You ignore the heat where your bodies connect, and the way Darxia’s wriggling has woken up parts of you that are better left sleeping. “And I still summon Ebrak! I summoned him just last week!”
“Yes, to light your hearth. I heard.” Her lip wobbles, and if it wasn’t for the fingers still crawling up your thighs, you might believe the mistiness in her inhuman eyes. “Poor little fire imp, abandoned by his mistress. I hear he can barely throw a spark, so dried up and deprived of your sympathetic magic—”
“And yet he nearly combusted my favorite reading chair when I asked him to light the candles,” you say, dry as kindling. “I’d say he’s doing fine.”
“Well I am not!” Her palms slap your thighs with enough force to make you wince. “I agreed to this contract because I wanted a needy little slut, and you—are—not—delivering!” She emphasizes each word with another resounding thwap, and if she thinks you don’t notice the way she’s shifting around until she’s hitting the meat of your ass, you definitely do.
“Sorry,” you lie. “I’m an academic first, and omega… um. Probably fourth. After tea connoisseur and third rate tailor.”
The demonic screech you get in response is less than sexy.
