♥️SHORT IMAGINES/WOULD INVOLVE REQUESTS OPEN♥️ Reader-insert horror and villain smut, plus discussions of horror, monsters, etc. in general. Personal tag is “Tawney talks.” EIGHTEEN AND OVER ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL GET BLOCKED. All requested characters must be played by an actor who was eighteen or older during filming.
Note: 2025 Reader Insert Smut Masterlist. Eighteen and over only. Please read the rules before requesting. Some of these will contain body horror, noncon, etc., so make sure to blocklist tags you don’t like.
Repo Man from Repo! The Genetic Opera (Coming soon!)
Originally written on October 30th. Forgot it was in drafts.
I watched Wolf Girl because I was in the mood for a werewolf story, more than usual because October. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be as interesting as it was. Specially, the way it portrays characters who intentionally or not broke gender norms. It’s not explicitly an LGBTI movie, but there’s a bunch of androgyny and the bullies grapple with their sexuality.
First off, Tara isn’t a typical werewolf. She has hypertrichosis and is part of a freak show, thus “Wolf Girl.” An experimental injection used to treat hirsutism is what makes her go feral. She’s played by Victoria Sanchez, so she becomes outwardly conventionally attractive even as she devolves. (The poster doesn’t lie. There is nudity.) Before that, a group of townies argue over her sex.
If you’re wondering why she doesn’t just get laser hair removal, she was adopted by a morally gray showman.
(There’s the typical exploitative stuff you’d expect, and when Tara goes missing he forces the caravan to go on without her. Then there’s a scene where he admonishes two townies for being disrespectful towards the freak “baby show,” where infanticide victims are displayed. Harley Dune’s complicated.)
Tara’s love interest is townie Ryan. Who’s the Y2K version of a soft boy. In the first scene he gets called a pussy for “taking his bunny on a walk.” (The rabbit’s actually a lab animal that belongs to his scientist mom.) Ryan also freely admits he was labeled a crybaby in grade school and went to therapy as a result. He calls Tara pretty while talking to a lab rat, when she’s right there. Very demure.
Ryan’s bully Beau likes to admire himself in the mirror. Except for his micropenis, which he’s deeply ashamed of. To the point where he decides to kill Tara when he catches her peeping on him. There’s also a scene where he threatens Ryan because he’s terrified of anyone letting others know he was afraid. It’s not like in either case his victims would be believed. Beau’s just that insecure in his masculinity.
Another bully, Krystal, is sapphic. She tries innocently kissing “shaved” Tara, who she doesn’t recognize. By that point the latter is feral so it doesn’t end well for the former. TV Tropes agrees with me that it’s ambiguous as to whether she’s attracted to Darlene Cates’s character.
The sign outside Athena’s exhibit features her reclining in a one piece. Krystal wanders in by herself where Athena’s dolled up burlesque-ily. Athena sucks the cotton candy Krystal wordlessly handed over off her own fingers. Krystal, still wordless, wanders out. Where she forces herself to upchuck. It’s not a natural reaction. I prefer to think Krystal’s attracted to her, but who knows?
Grace Jones’s character is the most explicitly androgynous. It’s unclear whether Christoph and Christine are personas or what. He/she has a kind of Two Face thing going on. The female side has long hair, mascara, and a dress; the male short hair, a mustache, and a suit. Christoph/Christine jokes about how weeing on the wrong side of Harley gets the showman flustered. The “Two Sides to Every Story” performance also features two crossdressing background dancers who strip on stage.
Anyway, Wolf Girl is an underrated movie with good actors playing interesting characters and it’s on Tubi rn. On second watch I think it’s gonna be a fave.
About a month ago I was let go from my job without any warning, and I haven't had any luck finding a new one yet, so I'm opening some commissions! You can find the form for them here!
And if you'd like to support me but only have a few bucks to spare, I've also got a ko-fi<3
still having no luck finding a job and my shmup game is quite a ways away from being done, so these are still open! I've only had a handful so far, so if you need some art for something, I'm pretty decent at it!
And miss writing fanfic, although I’ve been working on original stuff in my free time. Going to give a quick rundown of why I haven’t logged on, because everything is way more complicated than I feel like getting into rn.
-Three relatives passed away this past year. One was my step uncle who had POA over my grandfather, who now has to be transported ~900 miles so we can look after him.
-His current caretaker (not the nurse—the owner) is threatening to sue because he feels a “gentleman’s agreement” was violated. So we’re getting a lawyer involved.
-Cut ties with childhood friend who’s extremely unhappy with her life and decided to go Christofas/cist about it.
-I tried explaining to her before how asinine the idea that a cis man would go to the trouble of transitioning just to “invade” a public bathroom is. What makes it worse is we both have PMOS; she shaves her facial hair regularly.
-In my case, “PCOS” is a more apt name because I don’t have insulin resistance but do have ovarian cysts. I’ve been so stressed out my period was super late so I was off the pill for two months and my face broke out.
-I keep learning the hard way that you can’t change people who are unwilling to change.
-My former mentor decided to use a chat/bot as a therapist. So it knows my name and has some of my work writing plus I don’t know how many personal details about me. That’s not as bad as everything else but it’s still stressful.
-Neurological issues.
I actually have a lot of things to look forward to, and have had some very good experiences this year. I’m happy I’m going to get to see my grandfather in person on a regular basis. 2026 has just been super chaotic so far.
I thought the toxic yandere boyfriend James Lincoln Fields aka The Rain Ripper (they actually made a slasher obsessed with water lmao) from open 24 hours horror movie was hella hot. I'm surprised one here has mentioned him yet.
Note: I like villains who are obsessed with one not-necessarily-harmful thing lol. Then writing them to be even grosser and creepier about it. Contains stalking, noncon, etc.
The Rain Ripper being obsessed with you would include…
Watching you shower, duh. Why hadn’t he thought to include waterproof cameras in his first round of murders? Oh well, he’d rather have fap footage of you scrubbing or even shaving yourself.
Admitting that if you hadn’t been one of Mary’s acquaintances you could’ve easily been another victim yourself. Personally, you think being stalked makes you pretty victimized.
James being convinced that because you’re into slasher movies and aren’t getting the authorities involved—you tried, they’re convinced he’s dead—then you must enjoy watching him kill.
Offering to have an equal number of male and female victims, of just male victims, if you want. :)
Jokingly referring to condoms as “raincoats.”
If you’re still outwardly reluctant to be penetrated and/or make fun of his water fixation, James will grab your tits and say he’ll just become obsessed with milk instead. At least he’s offering you the choice of protected sex.
Avoiding the mistakes he made with Mary, like with the aforementioned letting you have some say in the victims. He avoids tying you up and doesn’t brutalize you other than spanking. And he will say, “Sorry for hitting you. Are you okay?” afterwards at least.
Once it’s established you’re his “partner,” he’ll insist on having movie date nights at least once a week. The Ripper doesn’t need to remind you to stay away from other guys, but he’ll gladly use slashers as foreplay and inspiration.
“It’s okay if you’re not into wet deaths,” he says, nuzzling up to you, knuckle deep in your slit, making you experience a little wet death of your own.
But, after a while, still trying to get you into aquaphilia. He sneaks up behind you when you’re in front of the kitchen and at that point you’re just done, so you spray him with the hose.
“Aw, couple’s hydrotherapy,” he croons.
Later, looking up hydrotherapy on Wikipedia and James creeping up behind you again. He says he was doing word play. But then he points to one of the bullet points and asks if you still have that hose handy. :(
How about a little something with a male reader and Adventure Time’s Hierophant? Some shapeshifter sexy-time maybe?
Note: Yesss. Hierophant is so underrated. I love shapeshifters so much. Haven’t watched a whole lot of AT, but rewatched Stakes like twice ‘cause I liked all the different vamp designs. Made the reader versatile.
Shapeshifter sexy times with the Hierophant would involve…
Correctly guessing you’re up for mustache rides the first time you invite him into your home. He decides to make his tongue different lengths and even widths, flicking it across your balls then drilling your asshole.
Grabbing onto his huge ears one time while fucking him from behind, affectionately rubbing them and teasing him about how cutely batlike they are.
Encouraging you to hold onto his horns when you’re grinding away in his lap. He of course is quick to try different types of horns, upward- and forward-curving and even trying out antlers.
The Hierophant knowing he has you after you suggest he wrap his tufted tail around your cock. Up to that point you’d never seen him look as smug as he did jerking you off that way for the first time.
Really starting to ease you into a shapeshifting kink by morphing his tail into different forms. It’s fun watching your reaction to the different textures (e.g., scales). Besides masturbating you, he also likes plugging you with that prehensile appendage.
Not always using his tail as a phallus. Hell, if you’re into fear play it can be a scorpion’s. You want to snuggle with a bunch of kitsune tails? The Hierophant is more than open to suggestions, despite being “old school.”
But definitely being more than happy to fill you with tentacles and other thickened or elongated appendages.
The Hierophant surprising you by growing gills and sucking you off underwater.
Shapeshifting becoming part of foreplay as well. Starting off by playfully “abducting” you, swooping down from the moonlit sky. Before being engulfed in a familiar clawed embrace, you learn to listen for wings. The soft whistling of feathers. The drone of membranous gossamer. Most often, the whooshing of veined bat wings.
Using his talents to have sex in various locations. The aforementioned “abduction” can end with you two in well, distant lands. You might even fall asleep during these nocturnal travels.
Note: Just finished first half of season five and wanted to write more for our eldritch pookie. Reader is also bespectacled. Could be read as a sequel to this.
Imagine meeting Mr. Whatsit and accidentally breaking his glasses by sitting down on his face too hard.
The glass could’ve gotten embedded in your backside, Mr. Whatsit admonished. You muttered an apology.
“Good thing you have thick jeans,” he replied, patting said denim-clad backside with both hands.
His girlfriend was straddling his midriff, while throwing embarrassed glances over her shoulder. Best view he’d had in a long time. Over a year. If he’d been capable of mustering any anger towards you, your pout would’ve completely dissipated it. It wasn’t like he actually needed glasses. They were just part of his disguise. To make him appear nonthreatening. It was an added bonus you seemed to like his eyewear.
Besides, he could just ask where you got yours. He smiled at the thought of you helping him try on different frames. A date at the optometrist’s. Too bad one couldn’t help him with his second sight, which seemed off today. His other five senses were working perfectly. It was his sixth sense that needed checking.
While he was pondering why your mind was closed off, you were thanking God you’d taken the keys out of your back pocket. Otherwise you might’ve bruised Henry’s pretty face.
From accidentally plopping your entire ass on it.
Rushing into sex hadn’t been your plan. Not this time. Henry’d gotten dressed up. Like a date. A proper date. Not just a two person “gang bang” where he’d allowed your eager holes to get acquainted with his tentacles. Switching it up. Pumping in tandem in your pussy. Near one climax, you’d gotten so wet Vecna had been able to slip his cock between two pistoning flesh-vines. That was the only time you’d shown any reluctance. And he’d withdrawn his auxiliary phalluses before fully entering you vaginally.
You wondered how he’d managed PIV, with a seemingly Ken doll physique. Then shook your head. You’d been transported back and forth between dimensions. What was a little penile sheath between boy- and girlfriend?
Still lying casually supine on the bed, Mr. Whatsit tilted his hat back.
Is this another illusion?
Each time you had sex had been a dream. Not just because you loved it, his tentacles and promises of letting other monstrous appendages—other monsters’ appendages—tongues, more tentacles, intermittent organs, and any combo of the three—in your orifices. Your lover hadn’t stepped foot out of the Upside Down.
Henry isn’t much of a monster, is he? Just looks like one. Not now, though.
Kind eyes, obscured by cracked lenses, and a cushiony smile.
Meanwhile, Henry was internally debating whether or not to ask you to turn around. God, he missed your breasts. They were perfect for him. The only way they could be better was to add a bit more softness, make them sag with milk.
But he already had a bunch of other children to mind at the moment. Besides, maybe you’d prefer oviposition. You were pretty kinky. He’d love altering your biology to fulfill your joint desires.
Joint.
Vecna pursed his lips. For some reason, your mind wasn’t as open to him as it once was. But you were more than interested in oral, obviously.
He hadn’t been given a proper blowjob, but you had fellated a tentacle. Deepthroated it, even. And thanked him for suppressing your gag reflex. All while taking in more appendages below the waist. It was only fair he ate you out.
“Okay,” Henry said, transferring his glasses to a pocket. It’d been a miracle yours hadn’t clacked together when Mr. Whatsit had unexpectedly appeared and swooped in for a kiss.
Then I had to go and treat his head like a couch cushion at the end of a long day.
“I’ll brace my hands on your thighs so you can bear down gently. Then we can switch positions afterwards. If you want.”
He smiled again as your grin lit up your whole face.
fandom etiquette as a whole died when people who didn’t grow up on fandoms became stans during lockdown, yes, but why am i seeing people openly mocking fics on twitter. why am i seeing screenshots of fics with captions like “bro what is this 😭.” why am i seeing people mock fic writers for not knowing how sports or theater or college or any other organization operates in the real world.
“college is absolutely nothing like this” “why are we writing four people on the team scoring a hat trick in one game” “so tech work is nothing like this, hope that helps!”
if you don’t like a fic, and if you can’t suspend your belief enough to enjoy a fic that exaggerates or ignores real-world orgs, you don’t have to read it. you don’t have to screenshot it and put it on blast for twitter. you don’t have to post a link to it in the replies. the back button is literally there on your phone. it’s not giving baby’s first fandom anymore, it’s giving entitled asshole and it isn’t as cute as you think it is.
could you do like a chad kaplan nsfw imagine from the first resident evil movie ? thanks !
Note: Takes place at end of first movie. Warning, seems like happy-to-be-alive sex at first then gets much darker. Contains body horror.
Imagine Kaplan licking you after you save him from the Licker.
If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed the injection had contained an aphrodisiac. Because why else would Kaplan be so ravenous for your approval?
He’s just so relieved to be alive.
Even with beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead, his skin was nowhere as soaked as your panties, which were now hanging out casually betwixt your knees. Bent over, you could feel his perspiring brow rest on your ass. He signed blissfully, before pressing his sweaty palms against your buttocks, giving them a handful of squeezes each.
Then he got back to work. Two thumbs parted your labia, his tongue plunging into your gap instead of lapping at your clit. You thought about diddling yourself. Then decided against it, not wanting to reach ecstasy quite yet.
Alice was the one who jabbed him with the antivirus, you remembered, as Kaplan ate your pussy from the back. Your hands braced against glass. Thank God it was reinforced. The adrenaline had left your body, when you realized you were safe(r). Now it came roaring back in excitement at the soldier’s wet applications to your snatch. He should be thanking her.
Where is she, anyway? With Matt?
Shoveling your essence into his beyond eager mouth, his tongue then extended further than expected.
Chad Kaplan hadn’t done anything so juvenile as lick his lips at the sight of you. Even though he’d been very, very interested since your introduction. He was a professional. It’d been an emergency. So you were pleasantly surprised you both shared Gorlin’s sign. Not that he would’ve guessed it, seeing as you both had been modest up until when he’d taken your face in his hands, kissed your forehead, and directly asked if he could perform cunnilingus.
It was odd hearing someone who, to your knowledge, was normally so composed—even in a life or death situation—just lose himself completely.
Kaplan’s (para)military, though. Or was. For an unethical pharmaceutical company. An onslaught of monsters and mutated people couldn’t shake him.
An IT guy, you concluded, has to remain calm in emergencies.
Just as you were pondering whether to grab his hair and throw yourself backwards on his face, he stopped. Neither of you spoke. Don’t be shy now, C.K. Then he licked your thigh. Tongue feeling wider than it had inside you. You chalked that up to the fact he’d been trying to stick it up there as deep as possible. (Make out with my cervix lol, ew.) It was pressed flat. Savoring you.
A split second later you peeked down and spotted a bandaid on your left cheek.
Oh yeah, I was injected, too.
At some point.
It was hard to keep track of everything that had happened since the train ride, your mind fuzzy with lust as it was.
Your lover continued tentatively licking your thigh, like he was struggling to decide his next move. Frowning in confusion, but not reluctance, you noted his appendage was actually coiling around your leg. How freaking long is it? you thought, amazed as he dipped into your underwear. Comparing your initial discharge to the stuff he was getting straight from the source. Then he pulled your panties straight down your calves and dove in again.
You almost yelped when he finally made you sit on his face. Tongue continuously writhing inside. Putting your faith in his uncanny strength, you lifted one hand from the window to cover your mouth. When you removed it, strands of drool connected your lips and fingers. Probably how Kaplan’s fingers would look if his mouth wasn’t engulfing your gash. The idea of getting digitally fucked made you shudder. Not quite in pleasure. His nails were really digging into your hips.
Am I high?
You were basically using him as a stool. He was sturdy. Still, you figured it was only polite to bend forward, so as not to cut off his air supply. Though something told you he’d hold his breath ad hoc. It was like he’d been born for this. To become a licker.
Licker. That word brought back a memory.
“Well,” a man in a white lab coat explained, “you owe us a Licker. With interest.”
You tried to protest, but it was hard to be taken seriously restrained as you were, in stirrups and cuffs. Zero modesty. The staff seemed equally split between ignoring you and openly leering at your spread privates. And the cold, sterile room left your nipples ever hard. You couldn’t so much as shift an elbow to conceal them.
At one point another doctor (?) sauntered in and cupped your vulva without warning. When he placed a thumb on your perineum, you begged him to remove it. Wary of his intentions. Nobody had done anything to really hurt (read bruise) you yet. Aside from the IV. No telling what was in it.
You were hushed, told “you’re not getting penetrated so get your mind out of the gutter.” Then you noticed the syringe.
“‘No penetration’?!”
“No digital penetration,” he drawled. “For now.”
Umbrella Corp only hired personnel that, if not ignorant, lacked ethics. Even when it came to obstetrics.
Eyes wide, you saw what lay beyond the glass. Your rendezvous with Chad Kaplan wasn’t as consensual as you’d thought it was. He honestly liked you, though you believed he wouldn’t be doing this in front of an audience if he had a choice. In fact, if everything went according to plan, you figured, the former computer whiz would be too territorial to…
What? Let others around his nest? His mate?
Lickers didn’t generally attack each other, unless they were fighting over prey. Which you were, in a way. Though there wasn’t enough research into their mating habits.
Hence why I’m here, you shuddered as Kaplan ground his nose into your taint. Another memory from your last encounter with an Umbrella employee flitted in.
“Welcome to the Licker Breeding Program.”
Kaplan, of course, was no longer an employee. He was a test subject. Like you.
Your juices were getting everywhere. Before his tongue finally withdrew, fast as a tape measure. You tried to settle your feet flat on the floor again, hands once again braced against the window. Like you were about to be subjected to a pat down. Kaplan paused again. Why, you didn’t know.
It staved off an orgasm, though. Gave you time to ponder Alice and Matt’s location. With a sinking heart, you remembered Matt had been carted off to the Nemesis Program. Whether that was part of Umbrella’s propagation efforts, you couldn’t say. Probably something in “defense.” Hopefully he was in a far off lab. And ignorant of your degradation.
An image of an amnesiac girl being unknowingly mounted by a mutated Matt popped into your head. This infernal corporation wanted your memories intact while you were being bred. Even if they initially had to sedate you. You couldn’t say the same for Alice, a skilled combatant. Even more reason to make her birth supersoldiers.
Vaguely aware of Kaplan’s heavy breath, you actually rested your cheek against the window. Uncaring if it left a smudge. You reached down to pat his head. Then stopped when your fingers grazed his forehead. Unblinking, you slowly met his gaze. Kaplan’s forehead had begun to split.
No visible brain matter yet, but solid claws jutted out of where his fingernails should’ve lain flat. Blood beaded on your scratchmarks. It was a testament to his remaining humanity that your hip flesh hadn’t been sliced to ribbons.
You could readily imagine what he’d look like once the mutation was complete. Imagined him sniffing at his moulted skin, then quickly losing interest. Because he was already past any courtship rituals. Already well-acquainted with this mate. Who could be sedated if she wasn’t “in the mood.”
You frowned at the scientist who stood condescendingly on the other side of the glass. As your head cleared, you started to formulate revenge fantasies. If only you could interrogate him for a few minutes!
“Be thankful we found your DNA best for being an incubator, not a monster.”
Request: “Will you ever write more about Demon Father Karras? Maybe a follow-up to your other 2? 🤞🙏😇” The other two being this and this. Don’t think I’ll ever be super into priest kink, but he’s so cute. Also haven’t watched the movie or read the book in a while, so bear with me. Contains rough noncon, including object penetration. ~1.4k words.
Imagine possessed Father Karras having his way with you.
What you have done is a sin, the bishop shouted in your dreams. A multifaceted sin!
You had fornicated. Neither you nor Damien were married. Least of all to each other, because he was Father Karras. You hadn’t initiated the act, but you’d still taken advantage of a priest’s body. That’s what you kept telling yourself. Because the idea of being violated by a demon was too horrific to entertain.
But “Captain Howdy” was violating Damien Karras’s body and soul.
A man of the cloth, you felt, was an authority figure, whether you were baptized or not. You weren’t sure if Chris was. All you knew was she wasn’t a churchgoer. You’d tried to stay out of celebrities’ and coworkers’ private lives. Chris MacNeil was both, yet something had spurred you to help her sick child. Resulting in a friendship. Not that you would ever be close enough to tell her about your “love” life.
Coitus per vaginam. No prophylactics. Maybe that counts for something.
“A priest pressuring a layperson into an affair is nothing new,” mused Pazuzu, as he’d introduced himself, while introducing his dick to your mouth. “Karras would have eventually fallen to temptation, attempting to seduce you himself.”
You doubted like hell “Pazuzu” was the demon’s real name, or that he had anything to do with Mesopotamia. Anything ancient, for that matter. His mannerisms were too modern. Besides, knowing an entity’s true name was supposed to grant you power over them, right? You were powerless to resist his explorations of your orifices.
But from his tone, you wondered (while opening wide), whether he was revealing painful truths or just being a sadistic liar.
Supposedly holy men coerced parishioners, true. But Father Karras wasn’t directly responsible for the dick in your mouth. Even if it was his. How culpable were you? That question kept snaking between fully and not at all. Yet it really wasn’t that dichotomous. Like in the sad tale of Faust, a fiend promised you bliss before ripping it out from under your feet.
It’d been a while since you went to see that play. It was with some crew members, just after your big break. Had there been an incubus character? Sexual debauchery, sure. Oh, and they’d been Lust. Or Lechery or Luxuria or whatever. Maybe you could borrow the MacNeils’ ouija board and ask Kit Marlow if he’d like to dramatize your demonic dealings.
All these things you were thinking of when you performed fellatio for the first time in the guest room.
The demon unceremoniously undid Father Karras’s pants, instructed you to kneel, and sneered “Familiar with getting your throat stuffed?” when you complied. It might have been a rhetorical question. He then offered to shove one of those decorative candles from the window sill up your snatch.
“No,” was your quiet answer. His shallow face grimaced as shadows under his eyes purpled, along with his lips.
Damien hated seeing you degraded. Particularly through such lewd acts. Almost as much as he hated that Pazuzu had carte blanche access to his thoughts. So it knew how best to punish its vessel. For resisting its violations of you. For directly pleading with it. For denying that he was beginning to love you.
Before you could dutifully swallow your master’s semen, you found the side of your face pinned against the bed. If he’d used any more of his supernatural strength, your neck would’ve twisted. You angled yourself so your face was fully pressed against the plush mattress. Hiding from his sick yellow eyes.
“Sore knees are the least of your worries,” he rasped. The floor was wooden and the carpet was thin, unlike the church kneelers you longed for. You heard him stomp away only to return shortly. Calmer.
“Gaze upon me.”
Once more you obeyed. Horror struck when you first saw the size of his erection. No longer average length; it was a plum-headed, veined monstrosity. And you knew it would have easily (though not for you) penetrated a cervix if it wanted.
Father Karras internally screamed at his possessor not to rape you with it. Then he noticed the candle and wine glass. The priest didn’t know what the goblet was for. All he knew was that you hadn’t rejected the demon’s offer politely enough.
You knew what to do. Gulping, but otherwise silent, you faced him and parted your legs. Wincing as the dry candle base split your slit. At least he hadn’t brought matches. Though, being infernal, maybe he could light it at leisure. Then he “gently” kicked most of the candle into you. “Gently,” because no amount of lubrication could make your pussy less shallow. No cervical penetration, but you felt it hit the entrance of your womb. The circumference would have been nice, at least, if you’d been aroused enough to start with.
The wick, you noticed to your dismay, was just about the only thing sticking out. Even if you managed to get wetter or even orgasm, which you highly doubted, pulling the candle out was going to be a very uncomfortable experience. There was just too much girth. You were terrified.
Then it hit you that the candle wasn’t from this bedroom. But you knew where it came from.
They weren’t votive candles proper, just kept around for holiday dinners, in case of devout guests. At your place. Not here, Chris’s rental. They hadn’t been blessed, you soothed yourself, so they were about as sacred as holy water before blessing. Meaning, not at all. The chalice— because really that was what it was, much more ornate than your other tableware—was placed atop your bedside table.
Again, not a holy object, but this was beginning to feel a lot like a Black Sabbath.
The grotesque cock, matching Father Karras’s transformed countenance, tapped the rim. Dripping precum. Revolted, you saw his nails had lengthened, sharpened into near-claws. And he was furiously jacking off with them. “Miraculously” managing to not scratch his member. You just felt relieved that this time he didn’t want you to touch that thing. It wouldn’t be like when you’d been compelled to masturbate him in the laundry room. That thing. Your beloved priest was no longer human. It truly dawned on you that what you were dealing with was unearthly.
Careful not to spill a single drop, the self-styled deity was. The sheer volume of cum amazed you. Your lips parted next, eager to please him again. A cruel smile informed you of your misunderstanding.
“On your hands and knees.”
You obeyed, backside facing the priest. Thankfully, you recounted afterwards, your master chose to do nothing to it that night. But that session was the time you realized you’d begun referring to him as your master. Because what else were you doing but serving him?
The chalice was set in front of you, on the floor. So you drank from it. Lapping, like the obedient girl you were. Your sycophancy was expressed not in words, but actions. You wondered if Father Karras felt like a bitch, too.
The candle, which you made sure to vocally thank him for keeping unlit, pumped in and out of your compact orifice. Never leaving it, though you could almost feel yellow eyes burning into you. Picturing the normally tight pussy gaped.
Laid out on the floor afterwards, stomach and cunt and heart full, licking the “dregs” of spunk from the bottom of the glass, you were awaiting his next command when you saw a bone pallid face in the dark, grinning nastily down at you. You followed its leer. To see the candlewick was soaked.
A hand, no, a pale claw, not unlike the priest’s converted hand, laid flat its palm, bearing another one of your chalices.
Shivering, you knew the demon was becoming more powerful. Refractory periods becoming shorter. Summoning lesser spirits to do its bidding. (You didn’t know at the time that was his true face.) Plus all the devilry Chris had told you about.
All because you were letting it fuck you. Or maybe, you figured, unable to hide a frown, because Damien Karras had given up becoming anything more than a vessel. Your master picked up the goblet. The apparition disappeared. Holding the stem between thumb and index, he tilted it over your face. You shut your eyes and thanked him.
Note: Disgusting monster porn. And one-sided romantic rivalry.
Imagine Eddie witnessing you have psychic sex with Vecna.
Your glazed eyes weren’t the result of anything he gave you. The only non-organic thing Eddie wanted in you was a condom. If you were high, he’d have to wait till you came down.
Even with your head in the red clouds, you were on cloud nine.
Henry stood before you. The “real” Henry. The pre-Upside Down one. Both forms were pleasing, though. Which you admitted. He knew that, even without probing your mind. It was the first time you looked flustered. Before, you were intrigued by his appearance; now you were going to be obsessed. That too was obvious. Both of you, alone. Or so he thought. For all his psychic power, Vecna’s love was stronger. Well, mostly eros at that moment. It was strong enough to keep him fixated on you.
Biting your lip, you promptly unzipped your sly. Before your thumbs could hook into themselves your panties, tentacles shot out. No longer half-lidded, your gaze latched onto Henry, who’d allowed his facade to slip a little as a tentacle smacked your backside. More of a love pat, really.
Message received, you shot back, about to step out your panties. Instead, two tendrils swathed your calves, lifting you off the ground. The undergarments have to go, ordered Vecna. Impatient for the first time. He slipped them clean off, making sure they didn’t snag on your shoes.
Leave those on.
You were only upended for a few moments as his “limbs” encased and caressed your limbs. Elevated (and compliant), it was like being a marionette. What was that song Eddie liked? “Master of Puppets.”
“Obey your master,” rasped Vecna. A wet appendage pushed past your unwary lips.
The gaped mouth was due to shock. Yeah, that’s it, Eddie thought. Thigh massaging against thigh was hard to ignore. There’s no way she’s into this. That scene from Ghostbusters where the ghost lady blew Dan Aykroyd’s character sprang to mind. Something was pressing your tongue down.
This was a wet dream.
He smiled. Of course he’d have one about cute ______ ______ sooner or later. Tongue squirming against an invisible cock. Eddie just wished he was the one getting deep-throated.
As soon you thought about your friend, the Upside Down’s lord knew it wouldn’t be enough to just slither into your holes. Claiming them permanently for himself and himself only. He needed to worm inside your brain. The telepathy had up to now been mostly nonintrusive. Now he would need to keep you occupied. Just him and your mutual interests. So far he hadn’t let you put two and two together. You didn’t know Henry created the Mind Flayer.
And you and him could have had so much fun with Flaying. Sometimes he fantasized about letting humanoid or posthuman minions couple with you. A Flayed horde encircling you. Nervous, dutifully parting your legs and lips for his pleasure anyway. Two of his infested melding together… Maybe like that newspaper editor and his underling had.
Your face engulfed by an amorous Demogorgon’s petals. The razor-teeth leaving you unmarred, because your countenance was graced by a thick coat of eldritch emission-
Facial.
Henry shrugged. That was one way of putting it. His love was enjoying the wet daydreams he was pumping into her head. While simultaneously pumping his member-
A member, you corrected, the metalhead far from your joint minds.
What do you think of the "Please God" "No God" scene from 30 Days of Night?
Thinking about it makes me want to rewatch the movie a little. After writing a fic I often realize there are so many details I didn’t pick up on a first or even second watch and it’s been a while since I’ve seen 30 Days of Night. I really should check out the comic, too.
Danny Huston’s such a good actor in it, though admittedly the only other thing I’ve seen him in is AHS.
Camille Keenan gets props, too. Lady’s terror looks genuine. Kirsten’s not one of those characters that has zero qualms about sacrificing others. She doesn’t even shout too loudly to lure out the others and insists there’s no other humans. No gloves or headwear, she’s freezing and knows she’s going to die an unfortunate death at the hands of godforsaken monsters.
Another touch I like is that you can see her breath, but not the vampires’, even though they’re visibly breathing. There are probably other vampire movies where they’re also out in the snow seeming to, but not really, respirating but none come to mind rn.
The way he mockingly looks up at the sky kind of makes me think Marlow was never religious or raised religious, because Christians tend to believe God is omnipresent. Doubt Marlow’s a deist, for that matter.
It’s just another way to drive home how cruel he is. I don’t recall Kirsten being religious. “Please God” or “oh my God” are just common expressions because cultural Christianity. It’s just on the off chance she is that he’s emphasizing the vampires are sealing her and the town’s doom.
What do you think of the "Please God" "No God" scene from 30 Days of Night?
Thinking about it makes me want to rewatch the movie a little. After writing a fic I often realize there are so many details I didn’t pick up on a first or even second watch and it’s been a while since I’ve seen 30 Days of Night. I really should check out the comic, too.
Danny Huston’s such a good actor in it, though admittedly the only other thing I’ve seen him in is AHS.
Camille Keenan gets props, too. Lady’s terror looks genuine. Kirsten’s not one of those characters that has zero qualms about sacrificing others. She doesn’t even shout too loudly to lure out the others and insists there’s no other humans. No gloves or headwear, she’s freezing and knows she’s going to die an unfortunate death at the hands of godforsaken monsters.
Another touch I like is that you can see her breath, but not the vampires’, even though they’re visibly breathing. There are probably other vampire movies where they’re also out in the snow seeming to, but not really, respirating but none come to mind rn.
The way he mockingly looks up at the sky kind of makes me think Marlow was never religious or raised religious, because Christians tend to believe God is omnipresent. Doubt Marlow’s a deist, for that matter.
It’s just another way to drive home how cruel he is. I don’t recall Kirsten being religious. “Please God” or “oh my God” are just common expressions because cultural Christianity. It’s just on the off chance she is that he’s emphasizing the vampires are sealing her and the town’s doom.
Hi Tawney! I really enjoy your blog! I've reviewed your rules, your "About Me" section, and your lists of fandoms, and I have a request. 30 Days of Night has been a special interest of mine for years; I am hyperfixated on Marlow and Zurial. With that in mind, could you please write an imagine where a female reader is involved with/shared by both Marlow and Zurial? You can make the imagine as long or short as you want. Thank you!
Note: Hope you’re still into 30 Days of Night two years later. x_x Eventually I will empty out my inbox. Eventually. Maybe. Mentions of canon-typical violence, but Marlow and Zurial are actually nice to reader.
Imagine agreeing to being shared by Marlow and Zurial.
It didn’t immediately occur to you that Marlow and the others were vampires. Pallor aside, their undifferentiated teeth and blackout eyes brought to mind sharks. This was a seaside town. A shiver of predatory mermen stuck on the Alaskan coast, unable or unwilling to migrate to southern waters… Fishmen evolved to grow legs… It made as much sense as anything.
It wasn’t until you directly witnessed one rip out your neighbor’s larynx did you realize your mistake. Even so, you reasoned, if they’d risen from the depths, they were probably used to swallowing small prey whole. No molars meant chewing was right out. Then there were the problems of dehydration and hyponatremia. It made sense Lamniform’d “humans” slaked their thirst on blood.
They showed zero mercy to any townspeople they came across. You doubted you would be an exception. Most of your morbid curiosity was quickly quashed, but you needed to know their whereabouts. So you quietly watched them hunt. Later, you wondered if they’d been aware of their audience. At the time you’d felt somewhat safe. By pure coincidence, your resources contained, if the lore was to be believed, many traditional vampire repellents.
Too bad I’m not dealing with traditional vampires, you had thought, when two men, each with a blood-soaked chin and nocturnal stare, stood in your kitchen. They didn’t immediately acknowledge your presence. Instead, they conversed with each other. About what, you had no earthly clue. It wasn’t in English. All you could do was stay still, eye trained on your unwelcome guests through the threshold. The kitchen door was barely ajar and you stood almost catty-corn from them, afraid to even turn your head.
From prior observation you knew the older man with the widow’s peak was the leader. The younger, who definitely looked like he’d have asked a vampire to bite him prior to turning (if he hadn’t been born one), deferred to the older. Though even to your ears the chat sounded slightly heated.
More heated than their bodies, probably. Were they ectotherms or endotherms?
Your question was about to be answered, you realized, when the younger man’s gaze slid to you. You hadn’t even seen him move. With sclerae and irises black as pupils, his eyes could have been fixed on anything. His slow grin made it apparent they’d landed on his next victim.
The older one said something. All you could do was hold your ground, wondering if you looked as resigned as you felt. His tongue, a deeper red than any human’s, darted out, lapping at his crimson-coated lips.
“My name is Marlow,” his elder said, “and this is Zurial.”
“______.”
Marlow’s face was likewise cleansed. Till there was no evidence of hematophagy. Mouth pressed in a teeth-hiding smile that matched Zurial’s. They were close enough you could finally see the whites of their eyes, still dominated by pupils dilated despite the low light.
“What are you?”
Perhaps a useless question, but they didn’t treat it as such.
“Vampires.”
They were well dressed, despite the vanished blood having indicated they’d had a feeding frenzy recently. Zurial wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath his jacket, but all that did was make him look like some goth rocker. You were pretty sure he’d had a white tee. Maybe it was in the wash.
Hydrogen peroxide and cold water, you thought. No one moved. Telepathy was, thankfully, not one of their powers.
Aloud, “You can use hydrogen peroxide and cold water.”
If you were going to be preyed upon, you wanted to be leached dry. Not a drop wasted. If that was unrealistic, you at least didn’t want to leave any essence of yourself on their clothing.
“We promise it’s not your lifeblood we’re after,” Marlow confessed, clasping your hand between his icy palms. You felt heat rise to your face, before being softly siphoned into his hold. And then his embrace.
See? Marlow’s softer smile seemed to say. No gills.
Both his and Zurial’s touch had warmed considerably after you reciprocated their feelings. You were given permission to check their necks and sides for any piscine features. Claws retracted, neither returned your caresses as they patiently waited for your examination to end.
When it did, you nodded. The two men flocked to your side. You stood nude, and they quickly joined in your nakedness. When you’d agreed to throuple with them, they agreed not to “raw” you. At least in the cunt. Marlow wanted so badly for you to consume his seed. Zurial was actually putting on a condom. He’d been somewhat reluctant at first, until Marlow hissed some unknown words to him. It was clear that he wanted to fuck you above all else, even if there was a barrier he wasn’t used to.
They picked you up at both ends. Laying you neatly on your bed. If you’d been an outside observer, you’d have predicted the vampires would tear ______ apart, twisting her midriff until viscera spilled onto the linoleum. Ready to be lapped at by the rest of their sneering coven, emerging out of the shadows-
You jolted when Marlow pressed his stone cold cock against your warm lips. Zurial followed suit, his own erection nearly frigid as it was rigid, poking at your folds.
“I don’t expect you to take all of us. Not right away. Not if you don’t want to.”
You would’ve bit your lip if you weren’t worried about accidentally nipping Marlow. He quickly explained, “I mean Zurial and myself inside you. Not the rest. You’re not for them.” Only us.
“Can you… warm up first? Marlow?” You smiled shyly. “My gums are sensitive.”
He nodded. “How do you want me to do that?” A hand cupped your side boob. “Or do you want me to choose for you?”
His hands had warmed up considerably, from fondling your softest parts while Zurial undressed you, so you had to think for a minute. If Marlow chose the heat of your breasts, then he might tweak your nipples. And then you’d be sure to finish much too quickly. You fantasized about his nails growing to claws again, leaving light scratches on your heaving chest. Zurial groaned, your pussy wetting his tip. Still, they remained patient. You suspected they could both last a long time. So it was fine to stave off your own climax(es). Even so, Zurial was painfully hard and you wanted so, so badly to relieve him.
Even with their open predation of humans, you wouldn’t have given up this encounter for anything. Afterwards, you would ask them what they’d have done if you had “chickened out.” Zurial shrugged and admitted he’d just jerk off in the snow. Marlow grinned and said he could wait indefinitely till you were in the mood.
A vampire’s penis, you noted, looked more alive—not undead—than the rest of their bodies.
Their victim’s blood pumped quickly through their veins, rushing towards their members. Tearing away all thoughts of anything else but you three’s joint goal of all getting off and getting each other off.
The memories of your fellow humans being hunted took on a new context. Marlow and Zurial were apex predators. So you decided to feel honored they were more or less treating you as a sexual equal. Honored that they wanted you reclined while you sucked off Marlow and allowed Zurial to search for the best angles. You wordlessly reached for the former’s cock.
If you were with another human, one who was this hard, you’d be worried about premature ejaculation. Marlow could hold out as long as you needed. He didn’t want you to feel like you were fellating an icicle, after all.
“Both hands, ______?” he asked. You nodded, shifting onto your elbows. Giving Zurial a premium view of your ass. “The sooner you let Zurial inside you, the sooner he’ll match your warmth.”
Zurial: “Will I be seeing your tits again soon?”
Nodding again, you set to work. Marlow added, “She can take us both on all fours another time.”
Another time.
One hand closing over the base of Marlow’s erection, you realized you hadn’t kissed either partner yet. The other hand joined its twin on his length as you bent down to plant a smooch on his cockhead. His appreciative smile was so benevolent, an outside observer would have trouble believing Marlow was really a “bloodthirsty monster.” Zurial planted icy kisses on your inner thigh. As piercingly cold as it had been, you missed his erection.
Once Marlow had sapped enough heat, his temperature then matching yours, he coaxed you onto your side again, asking you to spread your legs, revealing your eager cunt for his fellow.
You used the free hand that wasn’t guiding Marlow’s dick into your mouth to Zurial’s. For a few agonizing seconds you were worried your vagina was going numb, until Zurial started receiving its heat into his loins. Then he sheathed himself inside.
