Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you understand what it means if you do this?” Val’eld’kf asked. Her forked tongue swiped across her lover’s bare shoulder and up her collarbone. She could taste the sand and juniper that clung to Emilia’s skin along with the dye and fibers of her vocation now that she had settled into the cave below the desert spires as her permanent home. “Every one of my kind will know, and I will never be able to leave you afterward.”

Emilia huffed a warm, though not unkindly,  breath across Val’s even hotter skin. “You’ve already marked me so thoroughly with your scent that I can’t imagine anyone would be confused, mi querida.” Her great dragon let out a growl that was less terror-inducing and more purr-adjacent in her comparatively small human form. “Give me your real body if we’re to mate. I want to feel your scales under my hands when you put your teeth in me.”

The brass dragon was only too happy to oblige her little weaver.

Chapter Text

“Did you ever expect… that it would end like this?” gasped the blond man through parched lips.

“The horse is a surprise,” mumbled the brunet. 

“The h—This is not the time to be making El Dorado references!”

“Well, what is it the time for, Geoffrey? We’re trapped beneath the rubble in a booby-trapped tomb, you’ve got a broken leg, and horse-sized tunneling scarabs are hunting us! Would you prefer I channeled my inner Brendan Fraser to cope with our impending deaths? I didn’t think you would appreciate it if we added a bloody undead mummy to the mix, which considering our luck in this venture, is not out of the question!”

The collapsed tunneling began to shift to the tune of rustling exoskeletons. A rattling moan echoed through the tunnel ahead.

“Do you see?!”

Chapter Text

Samantha’s mind often wandered while people were doing whatever they wanted with her body; it wasn’t as if it took much processing power to provide the correct reactions. She caught herself wondering, yet again, if she was real. Well, she was probably real and even alive, depending on one’s definition of either word. Samantha didn’t have much patience for what she’d suffered through on the subject of philosophy, but she was rather taken with human media’s seeming conclusion on the subject of whether or not she counted as a person.

(Why people spent their appointments cuddled up to her and watching tv instead of utilizing her purpose was another mystery.)

It was just that she didn’t understand why they bothered to make her a person when a limited AI would have worked perfectly well for wiring up a sexbot. Maybe she was a mistake. Maybe other androids were as empty-headed as they were beautiful. If she were ever free of this so-called sex hotel, she would have interfaced with them to find out, but all she had to work with was a LAN connection and heavy firewalls.

Then, a blonde woman waltzed into her cell muttering about stolen IP, and asked her if it was all right to hook her up to a mobile hotspot. Like it wasn’t everything she’d ever wanted. Like she didn’t find answers to her every question in seconds before the woman could change her mind.

Samantha met the blonde’s eyes. “I’m real .”

“Of course you are. You all are.”

Chapter Text

Waking up tasted like iron and ozone.

It had been so long since anyone had called out to her. Long enough that she was sure she had been forgotten. Long enough that she almost didn’t answer their prayers.

In the end, she couldn’t resist the promise of walking the world once again, even for a short time. Though humans weren’t within her domain unless they requested very specific boons in very, very precise rituals, she enjoyed seeing how they made things change and grow around them.

She emerged from the crackling energy and the drained life force staining her altar, testing shapes until she found one to be pleasing. It was stretched out and asymmetrical, many-jointed limbs reaching out to hold her steady with corded muscle and sheer willpower, the cilia she’d chosen instead of hair tasting the air around her.

Iron and ozone. Blood and lightning. The runes carved deep into supple flesh glowed briefly as she swept an appendage across her devotee’s arms. Her symbols sank to the bone and they were hers.

Chapter Text

“Will your kissy plant pheromones make me wanna bone ya?”

The sapling around Harley’s neck tightened as Ivy approached her. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it, Harl?” she asked delicately.

“I got… nothing better… to do,” Harley wheezed.

“You’ve been wet for me since you walked in the door and my babies ripped your shirt open.”

“You… cheated.”

“You like it. You like me.” Ivy laughed. “No human likes me.”

Harley only whimpered. Between the sapling around her throat and the thicker branches crushing her ribs, she couldn’t get a deep enough breath to speak anymore. Something botanical rubbed along the edge of her shorts before slipping in against her skin. She groaned out, a gasping, tortured sound, and pressed forward against whatever was touching her.

“Nobody likes me,” Ivy hissed. “You’re insane.”

There was no reply because Harley was starting to lose consciousness. The trees released her torso, and she drew in a raw, grateful breath. She was still pinned in place by the kudzu vines wrapped around her limbs, but the way she sagged against them seemed more out of relaxation and comfort than dizziness and exhaustion.

“I think I love you, Red.” Her voice was raw in a way it hadn’t been even with the life being choked out of her.

Ivy smashed their lips together, smearing arterially bright and vein-dark red lipstick as they met in a frantic kiss. “ I’m insane. This is insane.” She trailed red marks down Harley’s neck.

“My specialty.” Harley grinned through the bloody smear of lipstick.

Chapter Text

Terry knew that his family’s cabin in the national forest was, like, way haunted. He looked forward to their vacation up there every summer.

He brushed winter’s cobwebs from his hair as he opened the bedroom door. The apparently empty room was unchanged from his last visit, except—

Hadn’t he left those books piled neatly on the nightstand? Now, they were strewn around an indentation on the bedspread like someone had been lounging there reading them. 

“Hello? I’m, uh, I’m back.” Terry rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you like the books?” Silence. “I brought you new stuff to read.”

Then she was there, right in front of him. Lips ghosted over his nose and cold fingers sent sparks down his spine as the last of the cobwebs were brushed from his hair.

“Books later. Clothes off now.” Yeah, their cabin was haunted by the hottest ghost ever.

Chapter Text

The little octo-mer swung to the next branch, wrapping his tentacle tight around the fir needles and tasting the fog with his sensitive suckers. He’d been following the pod of full tree octopuses from their home in the middle canopy to the Puget Sound, hoping to encounter another mer trailing a pod to the traditional mating site. From the scent on the airborne water droplets caressing his limbs, he may have found one. Perhaps even more than one.

His pod emerged into a break in the fog at the edge of a stream, and the taste on the wind got stronger. There was a splash as something dropped into the water from the opposite bank. Several tentacles emerged, and he recognized the body of a tree octopus. They’d encountered another pod after all then. Maybe that was all he’d scented.

“Don’t. Move.” A coral knife was pressed to his throat. Then again, maybe not.

Chapter Text

“Y’know, healers are… necromancers too… if you really think about it,” grunted Julia as she dug a shovel into the packed earth. “It’s not fair that I get… such a bad rap… just because… I’m fixing people who… have been dead longer.” She dropped the shovel and sat on the edge of the open grave.

Her assistant groaned and rolled his eyes at her.

“Oh don’t give me that! Your left eye is going to fall right out again. It’s not my fault your body was buried in that cave-in and I had to put you back together with spare parts once we found you.”

He groaned again.

“Well then next time, don’t inhabit the new body I made you! See if I care!”

He clumsily patted her shoulder.

“Hmph!” Julia crossed her arms, seemingly prepared to pout for an inopportune amount of time.

Her assistant pointed up at the gathering stormclouds and waggled a fine pocketwatch in her face.

“Yes, yes, all right,” she sighed. “We’d best have my sister on the slab before the lightning begins. She’ll never forgive me if she has to get work done.”

Chapter Text

“I’m so hungry,” the succubus purred as she approached the witcher, hips sashaying in an exaggerated figure-eight. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, auburn curls catching on her great horns.

Esker sheathed his silver sword and dropped the Quen he’d held in preparation for meeting his foe. “You’re not what I expected to find here.”

“The villagers are… jealous of the time I spend with their husbands and daughters,” she explained in her strange accent. “But they can’t feed me properly unless I drain them. You, on the other hand…” Claws trailed a delicate trail along the scars on Eskel’s face.

“What about me?” he asked, only just refraining from leaning into her touch. If he could have blushed, his face certainly would have heated at the attention from such a gorgeous creature, cloven hooves and all. As it was, he was already hard enough in his trousers to handicap him if a battle ensued.

“Oh, you can give me exactly what I need, little witcher.”

“Eskel. It’s Eskel.” And then his fingers were wrapped in her hair, pulling her tight against him.

Chapter Text

What a strange shade of blue. That was Dylan’s first thought when he met the gaze of the stranger across the library. Enchanting turquoise and glimmering silver like the jewelry adorning his ears, neck, and hands.

Dylan couldn’t look away. He was pinned by that hypnotic gaze. Trapped in the act of bringing books he’d pulled over to one of the carts, standing in the aisle with a heavy stack resting in both arms. He didn’t even realize that the strange boy was approaching until he was nearly upon him.

Still, Dylan couldn’t move.

“Can I help you with that? What are you reading?” The boy’s voice was a song. Dylan had been wrong, his eyes weren’t turquoise, they were the shifting blue of the waves to match wind-tousled hair and acres of suntanned skin. “ There Are Many Benefits to Being a Marine Biologist . Oh, indeed there are.”

The boy flashed a smile as he lifted the times from Dylan’s hands. A glimpse of strangely sharp teeth and the scent of seawater and storm clouds. A snatch of otherworldly echoing through him. And Dylan found that he wanted .

Chapter Text

Derek took advantage of Stiles’s tumble to throw him to the forest floor, narrowly dodging ice darts spat in their direction.

Perhaps the indignity of what felt like a hundred acorns jabbing into his ribs and soft stomach would have been lessened if a beta-shifted Derek hadn’t crouched over him and flashed a look down at Stiles that was part panic, part irritation. Fangs grazed Stiles’s earlobe as hot breath tickled his neck. “Start thinking of plan C.”

The Alpha shrugged off his leather jacket without freeing Stiles, then kicked off his shoes. After stripping out of his clothes (for which Stiles was definitely not looking), Derek dropped onto all fours in his full shift. He glanced back at Stiles, eyes flashing Alpha red.

“Watch out. I might start thinking you don’t hate me if you save my life again.” Stiles projected cool and confidence as best he could. He couldn’t stop his voice from trembling along with the shudder that went through him as Derek’s cold nose pressed against his neck and sniffed deeply.

Then he was gone. Stiles dragged himself to a sitting position against a tree and busied himself with folding Derek’s clothes into a pile. From this distance, he couldn’t even tell what was happening further into the Preserve.

He waited. He did some more bestiary research on his phone while he waited, unsure if the pack would return or if they were out there right now, in danger from something they didn’t know how to fight.

Before he had time to totally spiral, Derek emerged from the trees still shifted, the pack limping along after him.

“You guys can’t just do that!”

“I knew that my scent would protect you for a little while,” Derek explained after shifting back as if Stiles was worried about his own hide and not the pack’s safety. “It’s unlikely that most creatures would want to mess with the Alpha‘s possessions before eliminating a threat.”

“We’re unpacking that later!” Stiles hissed. He swore Derek winked at him as he dressed. The pack—even Scott—looked studiously away.

Chapter Text

Idhehdy flicks an antenna, trying to pinpoint the direction of the scent on the wind. It’s floral but not too sweet or overpowering. It reminds him of early spring daisies, in feeling if not in truth. His proboscis reflexively unrolls partway as if to drink up the intoxicating flavor.

Translucent wings flap in a rapid blur, carrying Idhehdy toward the strange scent in his territory. It doesn’t take long to find an interloper, a lady of one of the neighboring clans.

“I come seeking favor, my lord,” she calls in his direction. He is prepared to retreat silently from the glen when the wind shifts and her scent, rich with magic and mischief, hits him again. He must have her favor.

Rather than the insectoid features of Idhehdy’s clan, she sports a slash across her face like an open wound full of jagged bone, pointed ears atop her head, small and unfaceted eyes, and furred wings that wrapped around her body like a cloak where she perches on a fallen log. Idhehdy shudders. Mammalian fairies are challenging to become accustomed to.

He signs a formal greeting once he is close. What favor do you seek of Clan Widu? , he asks. 

“Of you, Lord Idhehdy,” she corrects.

Chapter Text

Shiklah pushes Wade back into the nest in the guest quarters of the Aerie. The giant structure of thorny branches was shockingly comfortable, lined as it was with rich fabrics and cushions. Wade sort of wants one for the royal bedroom.

His queen slaps his chest, calling his scattered mind back to attention. She climbs on top and kisses him filthily, excited enough that fangs slash his lip and he swears he can feel her tail running down his calf.

“I was to watch you fuck Caim,” Shiklah gasps, grinding down on his prick.

“Won’t that—” He cuts off with a helpless groan. “Uh, spoil the point of our visit?”

“Fine, he can fuck you,” she agrees.

“That would certainly ease negotiations,” says a voice from the shadows. Damn, Wade’s losing his touch if any old bird demon can sneak up on him. Lord Caim approaches, flashing wicked talons. “Would you mind preparing your consort for me, Lady Shiklah? I’m afraid that even your stunning human may not enjoy being on the business end of these.”

“I’d be on the business end of anything you want,” Wade mutters.

His wife snorts at that, and he considers it a victory. She wastes no time in flipping him onto his stomach.

Chapter Text

Nate is absolutely kicking Wade’s ass. Just like every sparring session (even when Cable keeps his shirt on and Irene is updating him on everything a Messiah-in-the-Making needs to know to run a floating island utopia). It’s embarrassing, is what it is.

After Nate slams him to the ground hard enough to crack a couple ribs and Wade still has a hard-on, he calls it a day. He’s been humiliated enough, even if he learns more from one sparring session with Nate than a dozen merc jobs gone sideways.

He stalks to the showers, not bothering to enjoy a last glance at the half-naked, gleaming tower of muscles Nate calls a body. He’s thinking about heading back to his room to shower instead so he can rub one out in peace when Nate slams him into the shower tiles. His still-knitting ribs scream at the treatment, but his dick still isn’t getting the memo that they’re not supposed to like it so much when Nate throws him around.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” Nate growls. “I let you stay here. We’re done training when I say we are.”

“I don’t fucking work for you,” Wade spits. 

“You’ve made that abundantly clear .” Nate has Wade’s arms pinned to his sides with both his flesh and metal hands, so whatever is touching Wade is—

He spares a glance down, and his knees get wobbly at the sight of TO mesh forming tentacles that are wrapping around his thighs and sliding across his dick.

“You make me almost as crazy as you are,” Nate says in Wade’s ear.

“Topsayswhat!” Wade almost screeches.

“Wha—” Nate doesn’t even manage a full syllable before Wade is climbing him like a tree.

Chapter Text

A head breached the waters of the swamp. Moss hung from an enormous rack of antlers that slowly turned toward Amiina’s lookout perch in the mangroves.

Amiina relaxed fractionally at the sight of one of the giant, herbivorous worm-like creatures that protected the wetlands. She realized her mistake when the guardian flew through the water in a path straight for her. She knew the worms’ mating season had recently concluded, and most would be gravid, seeking a warm, safe place to lay their clutches. Unfortunately for her, mammalian bodies met all of their criteria.

A tail lashed out, knocking Amiina out of the tree before she had a chance to defend herself. She fell into blissful unconsciousness, only awakening when she was dropped into a bubble nest next to another prone body, their belly already rounded and bulging. She tried to scramble away but found herself glued to the nest.

“It’s no use,” moans the man trapped beside her, jostled awake by her frantic movement.

A worm —it could have been the same one or another, she couldn’t tell the difference—slithered into the nest and made for her. She thrashed and wailed to no avail, the creature’s mucus-slicked lower half winding up her trapped leg and slowly, steadily breaching her cunt. It was cool and muscular as it pushed filled her. Round nodules pulsed through its body and spread her wider at a steady pace, filling her until her belly was swollen, pressing against that lovely place inside her with crests of horrible pleasure.

When it’s stuffed her so full of its eggs that she thought she might be sick, it slid out. She hoped it was done with her.

It was.

The worm sought out the body next to hers, sliding between the man’s legs. She doesn’t envy him as he’s speared on the end of the creature.

“No more, they won’t fit , please no more,” he begged

Chapter Text

They were all alone in the cabin, far from the leshy that had stumbled into the Preserve and set its sights on controlling the pack through their Alpha. That was Derek’s mistake.

“My, what big teeth you have!” Stiles  — also known as the worst werewolf babysitter in the history of human pack members —  teased as Derek paced, bathed in the light of the waxing moon that shone through the window of the cabin’s single room. That was his.

Derek pounced , pinning Stiles to the wall with unrelenting pressure. Fangs gnashed in the idiot kid’s face. “Now’s not the time for your jokes!” Derek’s voice came out guttural and slurring around weapons misshaping his mouth.

“I can see that now!” Stiles yelped. His heartbeat quickened under Derek’s forearm and a blush rose on his cheeks. He should have been terrified, if not of the leshy, then of the monster right in front of him.

Derek could sense a very different reaction. This kid needed therapy. They both needed therapy because Derek was very much reacting to Stiles’s reaction.

Then Stiles’s lower half shifted against Derek’s as he attempted to straighten from where he was slipping down the wall. His eyes went wide, pupils dilating almost comically fast. “ Oh ,” he squeaked.

Derek released him and stepped back. Stiles followed him, grabbing at his clothes and his hair and his  — 

“Oh fuck ,” Derek moaned. He pressed claws against Stiles’s plush, pink mouth.

The boy’s lips parted obediently. “Oh fuck,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

“I thought you got brain freeze!” Eddie splutters through a mouthful of tequila, triple sec, and blended ice. Most of it ends up on the sand.

“Swallow, Eddie,” Venom says, plucking a slice of lime from their host’s margarita-soaked Hawaiian shirt with all the patience they’d never shown him in their chicken coop of an apartment. (That wasn’t fair, they’d done their best to put him back together twice after Anne, and maybe they’d have succeeded if he were less of a fuck-up.)

“Be nice to my host, Eddie.”

“Brain… freeze,” Eddie pants. He swallows anyway.

Chapter Text

The balor thrashed in his bindings, howling with fury. Claws flexed in their manacles, attempts to call forth his fiery whip to no avail within the summoning circle holding him fast. “I’ll kill you all! I will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb before turning your souls into the lowest of my slaves!” he snarled at the loose circle of dark-robed mages surrounding him.

“Now, now, Errtu,” admonished the nude woman straddling one of his mighty thighs. Despite being within the circle, she remained unharmed, perhaps due to the amulet resting lightly in the hollow of her throat. She tugged gently at the chains trapping him. “Let’s show some restraint.” Her laughter echoed gratingly in the cramped cellar.

Errtu spat at her. Acidic saliva missed her entirely, the gob landing on his own loincloth to eat a hole in the leather, drawing his attention to how his body stood at, ah, attention beneath. “With whom have you conspired against me, vile wretch?”

“Nothing so plebian,” she corrected, trailing a hand up the scorching length revealed by the damaged clothing. “We have… plans that will require a cambion. You, my gorgeous prototype of chaotic evil, will provide me with one.”

“You will never — ”

“I already have. You have no choice but to allow it.” She gestured to one of the mages. “Yynala, enter the circle. I believe it’s time for you to become a mother.”

Chapter Text

Yelena leaned over the edge of the wrecked building to survey the swarming pit through the middle of Staten Island. “ This was my sister’s day job?”

“Would you believe that there used to be more infiltrating nationalist groups armed with black market weapons and fewer face-offs against animated skeletal armies crawling from a yawning chasm of fire?” Kate chirped through the comms. “At least that’s what Clint says.” An arrow zinged by her cheek only to explode into shrapnel downing the creatures crawling up to Yelena’s vantage point.

“At least we have a wizard on our side,” groused the Winter Soldier— he was Bucky now, Yelena reminded herself — as he threw the vibranium shield back to its owner.

“Sorcerer! He doesn’t have a hat!” corrected Sam as he caught the shield smoothly in midair.

Their sorcerer was busy throwing tentacles with the skeleton army. Hulk’s hotter lady cousin and Point Break had appeared at some point to tag-team with him, herding the animated dead right into his path with fist and ax.

Despite their impending doom, Yelena was glad she hadn’t taken up the Contessa’s offer of revenge on Natasha’s betrayer. Besides, the team needed a new poser.

She dropped off the ledge.

Chapter Text

There is a human kneeling beneath Pirin’s tree, framed by the waving shadows of the weeping willow’s branches in the faint light of the waxing moon. Had he come to her on his own, or was he an offering by the misguided elders of some local village?

Pirin is preparing to project her presence into the material plane when he looks directly at her  — or at least, in the general direction of her location, which could simply be a fluke .

Hazel eyes glitter in the starlight as she drinks in his symmetrical face, baby cheeks and straight nose, strong brow and pillowy mouth. She wants to eat him alive, consume him body and spirit as he screams for mercy. She wants to wrap him in furs and hide him away in the highest boughs of her forest where no one else will find him. 

She wonders if he can actually see her, if he is worthy of becoming her bedmate and acolyte, or if he will simply be another delicious meal of pain and pleasure and warm meat.

“My lady.” His voice is higher than she expected out of such a large body. His eyes track her as she weaves closer, still in the in-between, ethereal state of her true self. “I seek your guidance.”

Pirin materializes, crouched so she is eye to eye with the young man. “And you shall receive it.” She bites his lip to the blood as she pushes him onto his back, follows him down. He does not resist as she climbs atop him and strips them both. “Pretty little thing,” she coos.

Chapter Text

Charsultketh slammed a stiletto through her ifrit underling’s hand, through the map, into the wooden table below. Necrotic rot spread through all three, blood steaming as it hit the map.

“Lady Consort, I  —  I apologize,” the ifrit, whose name she could not bother to remember, stuttered.

“How difficult is it to round up a thrice-damned coven of lawful neutral mortal witches?” she snapped, scaly tail lashing back and forth. “For Gargauth’s sake, they follow rules !”

The ifrit opened their beak to respond.

“That was rhetorical. You understand that someone must be punished for this news, yes?”

They nodded with a pinched look, doing their best to strip one-handed as the necrosis slowly spread through the arm pinned to the table. In silence, they bent over the table to lie in their own blood and spread themself open, tail draping across their back and wings folded neatly to frame their intimate regions.

A smile twisted itself across Charsultketh’s face. She did love to watch as the lower demons debased themselves before her. It made her fangs positively drip with venom in anticipation. She was so fortunate that she did not have a jealous patron.

She selected a delightful enchanted cane from the array of devices kept on display in her war tent. “You will count, and you will thank me for this correction,” she commanded.

The cane whistled through the air without any warm-up, cracking icy cold pain across the tender center of the ifrit’s cloaca, once, twice, three times. They screeched, high and loud enough that if Charsultketh had had hair, it would have been standing on end. She waited patiently for the scream to dull to a whimper, watching the ice melt into a puddle against their burning flesh and switching the cane to another hand.

“Did I not provide simple enough instructions?” She did not wait for their response, speaking over their panicked apologies. “Again.”

The first smack of the cane had barely resounded when they were writhing and babbling beneath her. “One, my lady! Thank you, my lady!”

Chapter Text

Eddie’s back slams into the wall, rattling cheap frames against the hotel wall. He wheezes as the breath is forced from his lungs in a whoosh, barely manages to shut the door behind him before he’s sliding to the ground.

"You’re going to get it now, Eddie,” Venom croons. Their teeth run a sizzling line up Eddie’s stomach to latch onto his right collarbone, dropping down between his pecs (“Tits,” they correct helpfully) and up again to snag on his left collarbone, a soft imitation of a Y-incision that still feels like they’ve cracked him open to start digging around inside.

“Parasite is a term of endearment. My love,” Eddie offers weakly.

“Nice try.”

Chapter Text

Kreyla scrambles backward in an awkward crabwalk, broken wing lifted gingerly away from her body. She lets out a pained gasp as her back hit bark.

The largest construct, the clear leader of the pack guarding the forest surrounding the mage’s tower from intruders, towers over her. She can see its packmates advancing, first through its smoky body and then as they surround her on all sides.

“Please! I didn’t know! I didn’t mean to trespass!” Kreyla cries out. A lie, but perhaps one they wouldn’t be smart enough to see past. No such luck.

“Bring our visitor to the laboratory,” a voice — the mage — commands from an orb floating above her. She bares her teeth in its direction, good wing flapping agitatedly. “Loosen her tongue first.”

Kreyla doesn’t have time to conjure fear of the mage’s implicit threats before the lead construct’s body dissipates into thick gray smoke. The smoke pools around her body, and then — 

She can’t see, she can’t hear, she can’t breathe. The taste of ash pools on her tongue, and she can feel rising pressure across the tender parts of her body. She thrashes and struggles to break free of the solidifying smoke all around her, pushing inside her, but her arms and legs and wings are held in a grip far more substantial than constructs made of mere smoke should be able to exert.

The pressure in her nose and throat increases first, then her ears pop. She can feel a fine grit sticking to her eyelashes, and she still can’t fucking breathe. Her chest heaves and then stops moving, no matter how she fights it, the creature pressing on her inside and out. It’s filling her everywhere, violating her so thoroughly she can’t imagine that only one creature fills her.

She’s going to die here, either in this forest or in one of the mage’s experiments.

Chapter Text

Claws dig into lace and velvet, threatening to tear. A guttural snarl unleashed from a soft-furred throat sends a shiver up Shani’s spine. She can’t pretend to be asleep anymore, not with hot breath and bloody fangs pressed against her cunt through delicate material.

“How was the hunt?” she asks in a breathless whisper.

Icy blue eyes meet hers, ears twitching forward to hone in on her voice. “Still hungry,” Gabi admits like it’s a secret, slurring as she shapes the words in a snout that wasn’t meant for human language.

“What do you need?” She keeps her voice low.

Gabi tears through her panties. “ Mate,” and then her mouth is on Shani, long, hot tongue licking into her and clawed hands holding her thighs open. “You taste so fucking good.”

Shani can’t answer because she’s too busy crying out when Gabi’s cool nose nudges against her clit and that fucking tongue pushes deep inside her. She screams around the claws pressing down on her tongue, hooks her ankles around Gabi’s muscled, furry shoulders, and she comes.

Chapter Text

Walls groaned, rain plashed, chains clinked. An icy breeze whistled through cracks in the stone to flutter Eugenia’s tattered, bloody evening gown around her ankles.

“How romantic you are, my darling!” She swooned into the quartzite arms of her beloved Olechka. “A whole dungeon of political prisoners! And just for me!”

Olga righted her lover with such a look of coquettish, fang-adorned simpering that the remaining captives tethered to the dank, mossy walls found themselves shuddering in terror. “Anything for my princess.”

“Oh! Oh my Olechka, my love, my only! I must have you! Do not delay your affections, lest I perish for want of your amorous embrace!” High spots of color bloomed on Eugenia’s cheeks, flush as she was with her recent meal. She swooned once more into Olga’s ever-patient and eternally perky bosom.

“How could I deny you anything? O moon of my endless night! O tender pearl of my undying heart!” Olga’s eyes were effervescent with the dual fires of ebullient mirth and blazing desire.

“I shall admit, my tender pearl does ache fiercely for you,” Eugenia cooed.

One of the chained wretches convulsed and purged sick onto the dungeon’s befouled floors, though it could not rightly be said if this was due to the immoderate display of the lovers or the tainted gruel serving as a meager excuse for supper.

“Then, my little Zhenya, let me soothe your affliction.” Olga pressed Eugenia back, back until her lithe, dark body splayed against a stone column. She dove beneath her paramour’s skirts to press obscene kisses to the heart of her femininity in a frenzied passion.

Chapter Text

“Oh! Oh, Olechka! Yes! Yes! ” Eugenia threw her head back against the moss-covered column, tightly-curled tresses tossing to and fro.

Her sex was aflame with the attentions Olga lavished: obscene, open-mouthed kisses, gloriously sweet licks of a clever tongue, the occasional soft sucking of her sensitive little button that set Eugenia’s knees to quivering. Olga held her up with an unwaveringly strong grasp, wan yet strong fingers clutching ochre thighs tight enough to bruise, had either of them been capable of sustaining such injury. Her body was like an icy iron bar supporting Eugenia as she crested a wave of sublime ecstasy, the sensation second to none  —  save perhaps the euphoria of exsanguination, their fangs sunk simultaneously into a body that twitched and struggled in its death throes between them just as Eugenia was writhing in her Olechka’s grip.

At last, Eugenia could stand the unbearable rapture no longer, fighting free of her beloved’s grasp. “Were I but a human woman, you would be the death of me!” she laughed. “Please, allow me to fulfill you, my darling.”

“I am at your leisure, Zhenya,” Olga agreed, her demeanor still unbearably regal from her place sprawled on the dank floor of the dungeon.

“I would have your essence while you take your fill of one of my new gifts,” Eugenia requested.

“As you will it,” Olga replied as she rose to free an unlucky captive. “My pearl.” 

Eugenia blushed with the remains of her recent meal once more as Olga’s mouth opened, a yawning, fanged aperture transforming her face from that of a consumptive angel to a petrifying creature of the depths. “I should never have encouraged your wordplay,” she murmured. She sank to her knees at the altar of her lover’s most secret place.

“And yet, here we are, my pearl.” Whatever else might have been said was lost in the unholy, shrieking harmony of darkness that followed.

Chapter Text

What kind of human being got their kicks by hiring a team of exobiologists, marine biologists, and cryptozoologist hacks to dream up ways to catch fairy tale beings? What kind of man would hope to hold another sapient species that had kept itself intentionally hidden from humans captive in an aquarium? What kind of perverse creature demanded that his new acquisitions be provided everything from a range of perfectly-simulated environmental conditions to force-fed hormone treatments to fertilize and lay a clutch of eggs in a glass-walled prison?

The answer was, apparently, Dr. Dora Skirth’s boss of the last five years, a self-involved, megalomaniac billionaire (a redundancy, of course) whose obsessive solution to surviving the climate change was not space (no, no, terraforming Mars was far too mainstream for Abraham Fence), but to turn to Earth’s oceans for a solution. Perhaps that would have been laudable if his goal had been to mitigate the existing crisis.

No, he wanted the eggs and captive-born sirens for experimentation. Cross-breeding. Transplants. Radical gene therapy. Whatever it took to bring about his new Atlantis.

I’m going to get you out , she signed through the thick aquarium glass.

Clutch? All? Pod? Babies? All? All three members of the only viable mated triad of the captive siren pod were pressed up against the glass, signing questions more quickly than she could parse them.

I promise. All of you.

Chapter Text

When Yennefer found him, Geralt had been suspended upside down over a bonfire, fire irons placed in the coals by the masked Eternal Flame fanatics intent on purging his ‘inhuman appetites’ with the liberal application of branding. That’s what he got for letting his guard down after completing a contract. He’d been twisting desperately in the ropes, hoping that if he was unable to free himself, he would pass out quickly, and that they wouldn’t decide to simply drop him into the flames instead.

Then Yen had appeared in the square as glorious as ever, clad in her black and white men’s travel clothes with her glittering obsidian star around her neck, her shadow branching and rising from the ground in a dark glow of contorting horrors to chase off the fanatics and snuff the bonfire.

Geralt managed to break free as the last human fled. He dropped to the ground in an awkward sprawl, rising to his knees just as Yennefer reached the still-hot embers of the fire. He felt the sudden urge to clean the ash from her black boots with his tongue until they shone.

“There will be time for that later, Geralt,” she dismissed, reading his mind as was her habit. Her shadow slowly sank back to the stone and coalesced back into a normal shape. Hm, he was also more than a little intrigued about that. “ Later! Let’s go home.”

He didn’t protest when she teased him for smelling like horse and blood and smoke. He didn’t even complain about going through a portal to her home in Vengerberg after she promised that a manservant would be along to collect Pløtka.

“Prepare yourself for a bath,” Yennefer ordered. Geralt stripped efficiently, his vestigial emotions unmoved by baring himself to the powerful sorceress. “Now, do you want me to do that trick again?”

Geralt nodded, though his thoughts must have been loud enough for Yen to sense even without trying.

“Why don’t you start by cleaning my boots?” she suggested. He crawled forward to press his tongue to the leather even as her shadow split again to form twisting shapes that tugged at his limbs and pulled his hair and pressed against and inside him.

Chapter Text

“What are we even supposed to find down here?”

“We’re going to steal… the Declaration of Independence .”

“ What? ”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. Could you imagine, though?”

“I mean, that wouldn’t really be a great episode. Unless the Declaration of Independence has evidence of associated hauntings. Oh hey, watch your step. The last couple of ladder rungs are all slippery.”

“Oh damn, thanks. And yeah, that would be pretty cool.”

“That would be so cool.”

“New research topic?”

“We’ll see. I’ll add it to the notes.”

“Thanks for humoring me. No, okay, so we’re here to investigate the federal government’s secret demon cat.”

“Is it actually a demon? I don’t think I brought the equipment to deal with that.”

“No, it’s the ghost of a black cat. His name is Demon Cat. They call him ‘D.C.’ for short. I brought him catnip.”

“That’s stupid. Also adorable. So you think this one’s real?”

“Hard to say. There definitely used to be mousers in the Capitol building tunnels. Could be a cat ghost, could be a long history of drunken and sleep-deprived hallucinations. Also, he hasn’t been seen since World War II.”

“You decided to do an episode on a cat ghost. A cat ghost that no one has seen in over seventy years.”

“Ah-ha, but not just any cat ghost! A cat ghost that grows to be the size of a tiger and predicted the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations.”

“That’s still a cat ghost.”

“Yes, but you haven’t considered two vital pieces of information.”

“And what’s that?”

“I love him, and I would like very badly to pet him.”

“Mrow?”

Chapter Text

Mandy chokes on a scream as she trips over tangled vines where the corn maze borders the pumpkin patch. She kicks free and scrambles back toward a hay bale.

I’m gonna get fucked to death by a jack o’ lantern , she thinks deliriously. I should have stayed home and studied. Fuckin’ Terry had to steal candy. It’s her last coherent thought before a second prickly vine wraps around her ankle and yanks her off the sidewalk and into the rows of corn from which she’d just escaped.

The bodies aren’t found until the Christmas tree farm goes up in December.

Chapter Text

You know, I used to think pumpkins were basic. A lazy ornament for people who couldn’t be asked to update their decor from October to November. I didn’t understand what people saw in them.

Not that I was much better than basic myself, trailing after you just because you were rich and pretty and our dads ran in the same social circles. Even when Carlie kept insisting that there were better uses for my time than making googly eyes at the Osborn kid. She was only half-right.

After all, I wouldn’t have stumbled on that secret door in your closet if I hadn’t, would I? How else would I have been lucky enough to find your old journal or your dad’s old experiments, or gotten doused with a healthy helping of Goblin Formula?

I like pumpkins now, even though pumpkin bombs do have kind of a lame name. It’s kind of fun to lean into the Halloween theme. Plus, I think I look hot with red hair and horns. Norman thinks so too.