#monster ar

[nn-ee-zz]

Would you accept a present from them? 

#angel art #biblical angel #character design #fantasy art #monster ar #body horror

[dark-kanova]

Asmodeus - Harborer of otherworldly arts and tempter with hidden knowledge 

#Dark-kanova #demon #oc #original character #digitalart #artists on tumblr #ars goetia #terato #monster #finally got around to designing him

[akunoniwa]

Doctor's Note

Synopsis: In which you get diagnosed and treated by your local Dr. Demon

Pairing: Gaap (Ars Goetia) x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, essentially just... demon fucking...

WC: ~4.5k

He’d already know your body too well, exactly where to touch and how, seeing as he’s a seasoned doctor. It didn’t matter that you’d only visited him just this once, he knew exactly what ailed you. 

An excuse.

You’d read all about him, as you’d heard he takes phenomenal care of his patients, but an unusual sense of pride kept you from submitting to your curiosity. Until now.

“It’s strange…” He began, his voice buoyant despite its density. He’d done all of the typical procedures, asking about your medical history, taking your blood pressure, but he feigned ignorance of your real intent. He wanted to entertain your coyness, as it’s nothing new… But you seemed particularly delectable, as he recognized you’re not one easily swayed.

His wanting to change the subject naturally had you alert, waiting for him to continue with suspended brows.

“You’d made this appointment with an air of reasoning as if I’d find something wrong?” His eyes did not raise, as his gaze was focused on his pen lacing ink into quick, ornate letters on the report. The sound of the dextrous and hasty ballpoint imprinting strings of words onto the page somehow spoke of his personality to you… It was oddly fascinating to watch.

You were skeptical of this remark, as you’d made no obvious note of this being your motive, it’s merely a regular physical, “I just haven’t been keeping up with my health, and you were recommended to me…”

He gently huffed out what almost seemed to be a smug scoff, setting his clipboard on the counter behind him. You still sat propped up on the observation table, feeling almost infantilized by the way your feet barely reached the step-down.

“There’s just one last step, I need to check your lungs and heart…” You noted that he didn’t keep the stethoscope around his neck but rather it was hung on the wall. 

Within your reading up on him, you were quickly put on to why he was so ‘renowned’. Yes, he was genuinely an accomplished scholar, particularly in women’s health, but… Men and women alike would rave about how he’d ‘take care of them’ like no one else… You couldn’t snuff these thoughts out as he neared you from the side.

“If I may pry, who recommended me?” He hesitated to place the diaphragm against you. You felt disgusted by the way you were becoming increasingly aware of his proximity. 

“Just a coworker, we were chatting about how negligent I am when it comes to my doctor visits… I know I need to pay more attention.” You gave an earnest response, trying to dilute any suggestive thoughts, though they were growing unbearably potent.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a considering pout, carrying on with checking your upper back, the cold of the bell piece cutting through your blouse, “Deep breath in…” He guided, almost lifting you with his voice

“And despite having a previous physician, you chose me?” He paused, “Breathe out.” He repositioned the diaphragm slowly against your back. He noticed your breath was tense instantly, trying to stifle any satisfaction in this. Your heart rate undeniably went up as he neared questionable territory with his interrogating.

“I was intrigued, my last doctor was not the most compassionate.” Your reasoning was quick, perhaps justified, but he liked the way your breath hitched as he moved around your back.

“One last breath in…” His voice rose as if he was holding the same breath, “And out.”

He rounded to your front, standing before you, “Just breathe as you normally would here.” He placed the piece in the center of your chest as you tried to avoid looking directly at his face. He was so close, you were in his sphere of scent, a delicately botanic, smoky kind.

“I said to breathe normally.” He asserted again with a small grin, “You just cannot seem to relax…”

“A doctor’s office isn’t particularly comforting.” Your eyes shot as far away from seeing his expression as possible, your cheeks tarnished with faint embarrassment.

“Is that what it is? Your blood pressure was entirely normal earlier… Perhaps there is something amiss with you…” His words dragged and coiled around you, reminiscent of his handwriting, aptly stringing you along.

You’ve been caught, pressing your lips together in a bashful attempt to not say something ridiculous, “And what might that be.” You maintained a level tone as best as you could.

He still held the scope in place, enjoying how you writhed, your breaths smaller, not so much frantic, but unsteady. He was surely staring at your face from his elevated angle, you could feel his gaze on you as if you were an ant under a magnifying glass.

His prior facade of professionalism dropped elegantly like a theater curtain, heavy as he leaned into you, his lips inches from your ear, “You know exactly why you came here, how long would you like to continue rehearsing this scene?”

Your frenzied heart rate was enough to drive him wild, but he knew how to keep tempo.

“... I…,” You were at a loss, not wanting to hear much more of your meek voice. His heat radiated over your whole body, voice seeping into you.

“I’ll show you compassion just this once,” His words were bowed with an audible grin, “Only if you can report to me what exactly brought you here. Truly.” He finally hung the scope to idle around his neck, wanting to hear your every syllable, even if they wavered.

Your words certainly didn’t come easily, “I was curious why you’d received such appraise… And I wanted to find out for myself.”

“You know what I am and what I do, and still sit here as if I have to evaluate you to find out your pitiful deficiencies.” You hadn’t noticed your legs instinctually parted to allow him closer, “You want me to assess your body, in more ways than one.”

“Is this not malpractice, you acting this way, doctor?” Your voice had surely withered under the weight of anticipation.

He was more moved by your calling him ‘doctor’ than he should have been, as it’s something he hears all the time… Your voice, strained and borderline needy, rearranged the word in his mind, “I’ll give you any version of malpractice you prefer, darling.” He finally distanced his face to align with yours, seeing your slipping guise from inches away.

“What would you prescribe to someone with my so-called pitiful deficiencies?” You playfully continued the bit, you both intertwined in the teasing like strands of a rope.

“Hmm… I may need a closer look, after all, just to ensure… May I?” You were caught off guard by his genuine concern about touching you.

“I can’t just go home untreated, can I? Whatever you need to do to cure me of these deficiencies, please…” You realized you’d properly left your decency and pride tied to a light post outside of the clinic.

He took in a breath himself, overwhelmed by your eager presence… No demon should have this much power without checks and balances… He salivated at the thought of ravaging you, tipped by your trailed ‘please’.

His hand, gloved in blue latex, rose to rest against your cheek as he showed you a doting look, “Stand up for me…”

You managed to still have a tinge of reservation, hesitating for barely a second. But, you both knew why you were here, there were no secrets to hang onto. You obliged as his hand fell, he stepped back allowing you some room. You had to admit, you were susceptible to his towering height as he scanned over you, somehow the silence served more to tension than awkwardness.

“To ascertain accurate results… These lovely clothes just won’t do, I regret to say…” He continued his character pretending to be upset by this. He stepped into you once again, an index finger pulling at your belt to undo the buckle, snaking it off of you through the loops. Even the mere sensation of this in tandem with your anticipation was starting to gnaw at you.

Along with the stethoscope, he hung your belt around his neck, “Perhaps this could be useful… Go ahead and strip for me darling, this could serve my research well.”

You committed to this energy, removing everything that clouded your bare form as he watched, head cocked observingly as he leaned back against the counter. Only the sound of clothes slipping against skin flooded the space. His eyes swayed and lingered over every detail, his hands anchored to the counter’s edge at either side of him, looking nonchalantly imposing.

“Any prognosis?” You called to him as he had to tear his eyes from your body.

“Oh, it’s severe, seeing as you just willingly stripped naked for someone of my ilk.” He closed in on you again, unable to resist playing with you.

His rubbery hands reached to entrap you, starting from your ribcage, thumbs briefly brushing over your nipples. He spared no specific attention to any one thing, sliding down over your waist, to your hips. He watched his hands as you watched his faded eyes, even his blinks were languid as he felt you observing him.

“Turn around.” It was an order, but his voice still floated above your head as you obeyed, turning in his grasp.

He hummed, pleased as his touch rose to your shoulders, then dragged torturously to your ass. Although you were not instructed, it felt as if you were once again holding onto a breath, releasing as composed as you could manage as his hands groped your flesh, “These are quite nice… Typically they look better in a red… Or maybe…” His words wandered off to somewhere unknown, a hand rising to push at your upper back, forcing you to bend forward.

“You’re very compliant, darling.” You felt an acidic wave of lust roll through you at his thoughtless praise.

By the silence, you judged he was certainly made aware of your most deficient parts, your cunt probably more obviously intrigued than anything else.

“Hmm… This is most likely where your problem lies…” A latex-clad finger made faint contact with your clit, causing your thighs to twitch at the attention, to which he chuckled through his nose, “Severe indeed.” His hand pushed you down further causing you to be on maximum display as his feather-light touch grazed up to find your glistening hole. You bit your lip, but harder on a groan you attempted to constrict.

“Don’t hold back, I need you to communicate with me so I can know what’s wrong.” You were still caught up by how nice his fanned hand forcing you down onto the observation table made you feel, let alone his meandering touch. You could envision how lewd it looked, the image making you falter.

His index finger still lingered around your hole in no particular manner, as if he was genuinely taking note of your anatomy, “Surely you’re aware… Typically when your cunt is this soaked…” His upper half leaned over your folded form, wringing you out with his heady demeanor, “It means you desire something desperately.”

Your head inadvertently raised to try and close any gap between you, craning up in aroused dejection. You could feel him pressed against you, he was undoubtedly having his fun.

“Does this align with your symptoms?” A hand wound under your left arm, snaking to wrap underneath your jaw, forcing you closer to his voice, “Tell me.”

“Yes, doctor.” You choked out, noticing his eyes bloom when you called him that earlier, you decided to use your own trump card.

He groaned above you, his voice blanketing you, “There’s only one thing I know of to treat cases like yours…” He pushed his hips ever so slightly into your backside causing your eyes to flicker, “But you self-diagnosed before you even came to my clinic… Dirty little thing.”

He lifted himself to straighten, “It’s phenomenal, this human form… But it seems you are more excited by my barbaric, obscene interior…” A pair of fingers played at your hole once again, barely pushing into you, “You can’t be satiated by just a human… You want something more. Something diabolic.” Slowly, his fingers progressed as he continued to whirl on, driving you mad with his words.

He could feel that you were clenching, smiling with amusement, “Is this true? You’d prefer to be fucked by a beast like myself?”

How you’d answer that outright, you were initially unsure, but his fingers curled down, adeptly pushing into a perfect spot, “I-I… Yes, I would.” You loved the idea of him fucking you with his latex gloves, something about how sterilizing and surgical it felt.

“You’d like that?” He pressed, establishing a crawling pace with his hand.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Your cunt is so hot and wet, darling, you may just melt these gloves off…” He mused, basking in your pleasure.

You couldn’t help but let your body sway into his fingers, meeting his pace. Your whole being was throbbing, letting your satisfaction leave you as pants. You were growing more desperate to cum, wanting to coat his fingers with your release, though he pulled his hand away.

“Stand and turn for me, darling,” You did so, though slowly so as to not underestimate your delirium, forced to make eyes with him as he tasted you, “Utterly divine, you taste so sweet…”

You couldn’t help but feel scorn towards him, being made to watch him clean your juices thoroughly from his fingers, “Jesus…” He looked gorgeous, just like that.

“Not quite.” He jested, his fingertips reaching to play at your bottom lip until you allowed access, taking his lithe fingers in your mouth. He watched you intently, beyond himself as it set in that such a pretty little human would stoop so eagerly down to his level.

He gradually pulled his hand away, watching the way your lips wrapped so nicely until the heat of your mouth was but a ghost. He painted a trail of your saliva down your chin, making a mess of you, “Your breasts are lovely too, I must say.” 

He stretched his gloves off, exposing skin with markings that resembled black, veiny cracks. You were not repulsed, quite the contrary, his skin looked like a glass mosaic, his bare hands cupping your breasts. Feeling the rough texture of his skin against yours only amplified his effect.

“Your reactions are too much for me, it’s making it hard for me to keep composure…” He played at your nipples between his thumb and index, making you squirm.

“I didn’t come here for your composure.” You placed your hands on his kintsugi skin, hoping to urge him on.

“I am… well aware, darling.” His hands left you, shouldering off his lab coat, setting your belt to still be within reach, “You’ll need to be fucked back into health.”

As he continued to remove his work attire, he continued to reveal his increasingly onyx skin, the closer to his chest, the more dense the black. It was incredible, you couldn’t help but gawk, to which he smirked almost sheepishly, “Why don’t you sit pretty for me back on the table…”

You were balancing on his every command at this point, loving the feeling that embraced your body in this moment. You hopped back up on the table to face him, spreading your legs to taunt him. He moved routinely to his lower half, adoring how you watched as his trousers fell for him to push aside along with his shoes. You wouldn’t say you were shocked, but his cock was surely not human, three knots that staggered in increasing size from his tip to the base. Immediately, the irresistible thought of him pushing you open, feeling those crevices move your insides… You didn’t think you could grow any wetter.

“I love that expression you’re wearing… The only thing I’ll allow.” His hand wrapped around himself, pumping his bulbous length. You had a paradoxically innocent urge to simply stroke him, of course never having seen this before. You felt sordid for being turned on at the sight of him touching himself right before you.

You took it upon yourself to let a hand find your clit, seeing if this would induce any reaction from him. It most certainly did, an inferno sparked in his chest, let alone his cock, as he watched you play with yourself so deviantly. He was debating… Should he keep dragging you around with his antics… Or are you in such a grave state that you must be cured right this instant? His own heart raved at the possibilities, mind flooded with a mirage of your pretty body doing such horrific things for him.

“What’s on your mind…?” He asked, his hand still cycling in a fluid motion in a stalemate.

“You.” You grinned, “What’s this cure you spoke of?”

Your being direct stoked him, causing him to chuckle deep from his chest, “I think I need to cure you until you’re properly bedridden, darling.”

You pushed your middle and ring finger into your beckoning cunt as you propped a leg up on the table, causing his eyes to immediately shoot to yours, almost in warning, “Please, doctor, I’m at your mercy.”

He let out an undeniable scoff this time, taking a few steps to near you as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away, “I fucking hate how you call me that.” He aligned the tip of his alien-looking cock with your hole, that being enough to send shockwaves through you, “Keep doing it.” 

He decided to channel his teasing into you, only pushing his girthy tip inside at a molasses pace, finally coaxing out the most beautiful sounds from you. You both had unanimous thoughts of how good the other felt, your pussy was impossibly soft and plush, his length surprisingly velvety as he angled himself to hit that same delicious spot. You felt your hole stretch around his first, modest knot as he’d continuously remove himself completely to shove himself back inside you.

“Do you think you need more? How do you feel, darling?” His hand gripped your thigh that still rested on the table, squeezing out your reply.

“It feels so good, doctor, but…”

He was awed by the fact you could still be embarrassed to express your needs, he found it almost endearing, “But…?” He pulled out to admire his tip glistening with your creamy slick, waiting for you.

He was going to make you say it, regardless. Even just the sight of his shaft that curved upward so enticingly made you quiver, “I need more.” God, you sounded so whiny and small.

His strong grip on your thigh was alarming, but not unexpected as his first knot slid in with ease once more, though the second demanded more of you. Paired with the stretch, he was starting to push fairly deep into you, finally starting to reorganize your insides as you imagined. You couldn’t tie down a labored ‘fuck’ as he began to thrust at a steady pace. Every time he pushed back into you, an indescribably foreign feeling of being perfectly spread by each knot exploded inside you. You decided to place your hands on his shoulders to keep balance as he hunched over your starved form.

Your moans were of a heavenly timbre he’d never know otherwise as he experimented with pace and angle to see which would make you sing. Your wetness coated the very beginning of his final, large knot as he thrust into you, but you couldn’t imagine it actually managing to fit. Because of its shape, his cock accentuated the squelches from your cunt, the crude sounds seeming to bounce off the walls.

He found another spot deep inside you, concocting a burn, itch, smolder… Every sensation was being triggered as he sheathed into you repeatedly, knowing he had found your sweetest spot, “You can’t even cry… How adorable…” His hand found your cheek once more as his eyes seemed to reach into you, cradling your gaze.

He wasn’t unfazed, in fact, your broken moans were like shards of glassy pleasure in his lower abdomen, he felt deific as he took you. And you took him so well… He’d almost plead to the gods himself if it meant that you’d clench onto him like this eternally. For a demon, he was quite considerate, as he’d never force you, but he wanted so desperately for you to absorb all he had, his final knot prodding at your cunt.

His hands slid to your knees, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso, lifting you as soon as you followed. Gravity lent itself to the intensity as you were slammed down onto him, his hands spread on either side of your ass. While you found yourself nearly unable to make a sound, finally he seemed to begin to crack, his deep moans touching a whole new kind of place inside you.

“You look so cute, your wasted expression…” He held you with one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand playing with your lips, “I wonder how sweet you look when you cum…?”

You could only give him an imploring look, your body being split open.

“My sick little darling…” You felt his final knot manage to slip in a bit further, causing you to cry out in pleasure, “Cum on my cock…” His voice wavered in time with his thrusts.

If you were to refer to any orgasm as explosive, this could be the only one, having never been spread that wide. Luckily he could easily support your form as you convulsed and shattered around him. You could almost immediately be thrown over again as his last knot slipped entirely inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, darling–” He stammered, his face contorted with frustration as he tried not to cum just yet wanting to prolong this moment. You felt so complete as he held you, your head resting on his void for a chest, warming his knots. You wanted to feel his searing load paint your insides, but he merely held your hips in place as you felt his cock tremble inside you.

He managed to move, setting you back down on the table letting you lay back.

“How do you feel…?” His words sounded as if they were squashed and dragged under a shoe, so incredibly tense as he gave your gleaming body a once… or twice over.

You couldn’t control how your cunt continued to squeeze, “So good…”

He wanted more. More of your voice, more of your touch. He decided to pull out, painstakingly slow, somehow, much to his surprise, managing not to implode. You both shared a groan of delight as the sliding friction tore at each other. A ring of your creamy sweet decorated the base of his cock, he watched as your wetness seemed to pour from you as he vacated your hole.

You wanted him to feel good… You had a fiery urge to ensure he was satisfied, almost to a point of not being able to recognize your own mind’s voice.

“Can you stand up one last time… for me?” He sounded pathetic… No human had ever obliterated his senses like this before, he didn’t think it was possible. He found humans to be amusing little toys… Not that you weren’t, but…

You obliged without question, watching as he turned away briefly to grab your belt. Of course his body was chiseled, something he knew appealed to mortal toys like yourself, you got another chance to study him until he faced you again.

He grabbed your wrists, binding them with your belt, and raised them above your head in one hand. He turned you with his other, walking you to the landscape window in his third-story office, having always wanted to do something like this. A foot or two away, he stopped, pressing your top half forward at your wrists, the side of your face and breasts pressed against the freezing glass. You felt so shameless… And so empty as you waited for him to fill you.

“Do you like being humiliated?” His familiar tip danced at your used hole, “Answer.” His domineering words ignited you.

“By you.” You answered candidly, words slightly distorted from your face being held against the window.

“Such a good, slutty little patient you are.” He plunged the entirety of his cock back into you swiftly, obsessed with how his largest knot was absorbed so easily.

“I want you to cum inside me, doctor…” You whined impatiently, completely lost in him.

“I’m sure you fucking do.” His words were shredded between his teeth, “You’d love that. I wish someone could see how fucking bad you want my cum.”

“Please…” You urged him to move, still in disbelief that he buried himself so far.

He was nearly at his own wit’s end, thrusting himself up into you, his hips colliding forcefully against your ass. His free hand was soldered to your waist, ensuring you remain as a statue in this unpleasant pose, it being uncomfortable somehow adding to the storm surge brewing inside you.

“Are you going to cum again, darling?” Your eyes were squeezed shut, just nodding worthlessly against the glass as he cooed so sinfully. “I love seeing you dance so beautifully on my cock, give me all of you.”

His tactic of plunging his entire length into you repeatedly was something you were particularly susceptible to, his knots rolling effortlessly through you, “Fuck… Yes...” His voice was as smoky as his scent, fogging your mind. He slammed into you one final time, holding you tightly against him as you both reached your highs. His thick seed was so hot, coating your walls so deliciously, his pants raining down against your back. You felt strangely resolved like you had served a divine purpose by receiving his cum so impossibly deep.

He pulled your body close by your bound wrists, his chest flush with your back, potting sweet kisses from your neck to your shoulder. It felt as if you could nearly be bound to his pelvis from how tightly you were wound around his shaft. A hand dragged down, letting your arms finally rest as he delicately caressed your breasts, your head falling back against the top of his chest.

“I think you may need a follow-up evaluation,” He cracked softly near your ear, “Your case is particularly serious.”

#wrote this a while ago and tried putting it up on other past blogs... #gaap #ars goetia #monster fucker #monster smut #demon smut #demon x fem!reader #demon x reader #作文

[vcreatures]

It’s been a while since I’ve touched base with the lords of the Ars Goetia. Today we meet Forneus, a Great Marquis of Hell. With 29 legions under his rule he is the teacher of rhetoric, languages and can sway any enemy to friend. 

#forneus #leviathan #sea monster #demon #lesser key of solomon #key of solomon #ars goetia #goetia #conceptart #creaturedesign #mythology #devil #demonology #witchcraft #characterdesign #artoftheday #artistoninstagram #digitalart

[chimeride]

Vepar, the 241st Known One.

#demon #Ars Goetia #it sais they are venomous so stingray ! #sea creature #merfolk #bishop #the Known Ones #Vepar #monster #chimera #creature design #bestiary #ink #sting ray #shark #964 #aer 4 #octem 121

[theres-a-body-here]

Daemonology: Purson part 2

Male demon x Male!reader

Part one

Three full moons had passed since your last encounter with Purson, and now your next evocation had arrived. To his surprise, rather than requesting another kiss, you asked to become his acolyte for the remainder of the lunar cycle.

Purson couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your unexpected request. While serving as an a demon's acolyte might seem exciting at first glance, the reality was often mundane and tedious work.

Nevertheless, he agreed to your proposal.

Inside his study, Purson sat behind a massive desk designed to accommodate his towering stature. He pored over various temple proposals submitted by his devoted followers, occasionally mumbling to himself as he read through the documents. Meanwhile, you stood beside him, holding a large silver decanter filled with an herbal water meant to quench his thirst.

Though not particularly demanding work, it kept you close to him—close enough to observe the intricacies of his daily routine.

As Purson reviewed the documents before him, you couldn't help but admire his gold jewelry glinting in the candlelight, casting eerie shadows across his features. Every now and then, he would pause to dip his quill into an inkwell and jot down notes on parchment, lost in thought.

Purson reached for his golden goblet and tapped it with his clawed finger, signaling that he required a refill. Swiftly, you poured some herbal water from the decanter into his cup, watching intently as he brought it to his lips and took a long draught. His maw opens sightly with every gulp.

As he took a long swig of the drink, your gaze fell upon his imposing fangs—a sight that sent shivers down your spine, though not out of fear but arousal. With every swallow, you ogled the curve of his thick neck as it moved fluidly beneath his thick mane of fur.

After finishing his drink, Purson placed the empty cup aside and resumed reading through the proposals stacked before him. The silence in the room grew heavier with each passing minute, broken only by the scratching of quills on parchment and the occasional grumble from the demon King. Still, you didn't mind—simply being in his presence was reward enough for now.

After a while of meticulous note-taking and decision-making, Purson finally put down his quill and slouched back in his chair, running a hand over his face wearily. His fingers traced along his maw as he exhaled deeply, his red eyes betraying signs of exhaustion.

It seems even demons weren't immune to the boredom of office work.

You decide to break the awkward silence between you two. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" you ask timidly, unsure if offering assistance would be welcome or unwelcome.

Purson lifted his head slowly, turning towards you with curiosity etched onto his bestial features. For a moment, he studied you with those piercing red eyes before responding. "Actually, yes," he said gruffly. "There is one thing."

He pointed towards a stack of scrolls lying nearby. "Perhaps you could organize these scrolls by date? They seem to be in quite a mess."

Delighted at having something to do besides standing idly by, you nod before getting to work sorting through the ancient parchments.

~~~~~~~

Your legs and back ached from standing for so long as you carefully sorted through the scrolls. If you had to guess, two hours have passed.

Nonetheless, you refused to complain or show any sign of discomfort; demonstrating weakness in front of Purson would not do.

Determined to prove your worth as an acolyte, you silently bore the pain in your back and continued arranging the parchments diligently.

Unfortunately, you failed to notice that you were unconsciously shifting your weight from foot to foot until it was too late. You cringe as you hear his writing abruptly stop.

"Is there a problem, little one?" he asked, his deep voice resonating like distant thunder rolling across the plains.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head and attempted to smile despite the throbbing pain in your lower back. "No, sir. Just stretching my legs a bit."

Silence fills the air, thickening like a suffocating smoke. You avoid his gaze as it burns through you. You feel your heart begin to race anxiously beneath your ribcage.

"Don't lie to me," Purson growls, his tone sharpening dangerously as his claws drummed against the wooden surface of his desk. "If something troubles you, speak up."

Trying to remain calm, you reply softly, "I apologize, sir. My back was hurting from standing so long."

Purson regards you silently for several moments before letting out a resigned sigh. Without warning, he scooted his chair backward with a loud creak of wood against the floor.

Your eyes snap open in alarm, anticipating his wrath — but instead of reprimanding you, he pats his lap invitingly. Confused but willing to trust him, you cautiously climbed onto his lap and settled into the crook of his powerful arms.

"Do not attempt to deceive me," Purson murmurs softly, his deep voice resonating through your core. "I am a demon of truth, after all."

Feeling sheepish, you nod quietly and burrow deeper into his embrace, embarrassed for being afraid.

Purson's strong arms wrapped around you, drawing you closer to his broad chest as he spoke softly. "Perhaps we both require a break."

Nodding, you leaned into his embrace gratefully, allowing yourself to relax against his massive frame. His warmth seeped into your bones, filling you with comfort.

Feeling bold, you decided to take things a step further—leaning your cheek against his furry chest and inhaling deeply. The musky scent of his coat filled your nostrils, making your heart flutter with excitement.

Chuckling softly, Purson commented, "My dear acolyte, you seem quite eager today."

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pull away from his chest and apologize hastily. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, worried you may have crossed a line with your forward behavior.

Gently, Purson ran his claws over your back in a soothing manner. "I do not mind," he whispered reassuringly.

Seemingly lost in thought, he began stroking his chin contemplatively, as if remembering something.

Leaning closer, Purson's hot breath tickles your face as he whispers in a conspiratorial tone, "To be honest, little one, I have been thinking about your last evocation."

A shiver raced down your spine at his proximity, his words stirring feelings deep within you.

Purson's clawed hands rested on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze while his sharp claws pricked your clothes. "If it had been anyone else," he said softly, "I wouldn't have indulged them. But you…you are truly devoted, aren't you?"

His crimson eyes gleamed with admiration as he regarded you fondly. "One of the most devout followers I've encountered."

Flustered by his compliment, heat rose to your cheeks as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

"And then you requested to become my acolyte," Purson continued with amusement in his voice, his hands wandering lower across your body. "That makes me think there is something more you seek beyond just a simple kiss."

Unable to gather the courage to confess your true intentions aloud, you remained silent while Purson considered his options thoughtfully.

At last, he spoke again: "Perhaps there's a way we can enjoy ourselves while working."

~~~~~~~~

Whimpering softly, you nestled against Purson's chest as he held you close, your back pressed firmly against his solid torso.

"Don't squirm so much, little one," he groaned softly into your ear as he struggled to maintain composure.

You could only whimper helplessly as his member throbbed within you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hands trembled violently as you clutched the scrolls tightly, desperate to focus on your task.

Purson's hands roamed downwards to gently rub the bulging evidence of his impressive size pressing against your belly. "You don't have to work anymore," he assured you softly.

Obeying his command, you nodded and carefully placed the scrolls onto the desk, hands trembling.

Leaning back against his broad chest, you felt his cock pulsing steadily inside your body as he resumed his scribing duties. Occasionally, he would pause to plant a tender kiss upon your head, making your heart skip a beat every time.

As you writhed on his lap, your hard cock jerked excitedly with each subtle movement made by Purson. His powerful thighs spread wider apart, allowing you to sink even deeper onto his length.

"Lord Purson," you whined softly, unable to resist squirming on him as desire burned within you.

He released a ragged groan and held you still, fighting for control. "Please, little one, have patience. I'm almost done," he panted heavily.

Disappointed tears welled up in your eyes as you surrendered to his gentle restraint, feeling consumed by the heat spreading throughout your body. Inside you, his swollen cock throbbed relentlessly, filling you with a searing heat.

Eventually, Purson finished his task and set his quill aside. Grasping your hips firmly, he lifted you off his engorged length, causing both of you to moan as his slippery member slid free from your depths accompanied by a wet squelching sound.

Before you could react, Purson swiftly stood up and swept you off your feet, cradling you effortlessly in one arm while using the other hand to wrap your pants around his throbbing erection. With determined strides, he carried you out of his study and headed towards what appeared to be his bedroom chambers.

Silently, you laid limply his strong embrace as he strode down the hallways until reaching his chamber doors. As soon as they closed behind him, he laid you gently upon his massive bed, your body quivering with anticipation. Already, you could sense his rising heat thrumming through him like a storm about to break loose.

Without uttering a word, Purson began tugging at the hem of your shirt, prompting you to raise your arms above your head.

Once freed from its constraints, your pale skin was revealed, leaving him transfixed by the sight of your nakedness. His fingers twitched with eagerness as he took in the vision before him.

Inhaling deeply, Purson leaned closer to drink in your scent as his hands traced along your abdomen, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Though you heard a low rumbling purr emanating from deep within his chest, shyness kept you from commenting on it.

Instead, you focused on the sensation of his sharp claws gently scratching your sensitive skin.

Slowly, Purson traced a single line with his claw along the length of your neglected cock, eliciting a high-pitched whine from your lips.

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" Purson growled in satisfaction, his voice resonating like the thunderous roar of a stampeding herd.

Your head bobbed eagerly in agreement as Purson's clawed finger probed your mouth, tracing along your velvety tongue.

"Use your words, cub," he commanded in a husky whisper.

"Yes sir," you moaned submissively before his finger retracted from your mouth. Gripping your hips tightly, Purson pulled you closer until his engorged member pressed against yours, clearly showing that his size vastly surpassed yours in comparison.

His thick veiny length seemed ready to burst as precum oozed freely from the tip, dripping down into your pelvis.

Slowly, Purson rubbed his engorged cock against yours, causing you to whimper in excitement as your hands grasped the sheets tightly.

Without warning, he pushed the tip of his member into your quivering hole, causing you to gasp sharply at the sudden invasion. To provide some comfort, his hand reached out and wrapped around yours lovingly

As he pressed deeper, stretching you open further with every thrust, you couldn't help but let out muffled moans as you clasped your free hand over your mouth.

Gently prying your hand away from your mouth, Purson interlocked his fingers with yours and purred softly, "I want to hear you, little one." At that moment, he drove his cock deeper into you with a sharp thrust, eliciting a strangled cry from your lips.

Your fingers curled around his as you struggled to adjust to his massive girth stretching you apart. Yet despite the discomfort, a growing warmth spread throughout your core at feeling so filled by him.

Slowly but deliberately, Purson continued to thrust inside you, his pelvis smacking loudly against your bottom with each powerful stroke.

Clutching onto his toned arms, you held onto his fur for support as he relentlessly filled you up. Seeing you so needy, Purson increased his pace, driving himself deeper and harder into your body.

A deep groan escaped Purson's lips as he leaned closer, pressing his broad chest against yours while continuing his relentless assault on your entrance.

"Fuucghnn -" he caught himself just in time before he could swear. A demon as dignified as him shouldn't use such vocabulary. However, you made it difficult for him to maintain composure with your tight heat clenching around his cock.

Determined not to embarrass himself further, Purson claimed your mouth with his own in a fierce kiss, devouring it hungrily as if he were a ravenous lion feasting on its prey.

His tongue invaded your mouth, leaving you breathless and desperate for air. His claws dug into your shoulder blades, leaving red marks in their wake.

A shrill whine escaped your lips and Purson picked up his pace, causing him to bury himself deeper into you with each forceful thrust.

Lifting your hips higher with his legs, he angled himself perfectly to strike that sweet spot inside you, making your cock swing wildly with each impact. Precum splattered across your stomach and chest with each jarring slap.

Unlike Purson, you were only human.

You cried out in ecstasy as Purson continued his assault on your body. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls.

"You shouldn't say such words," Purson admonished you playfully, his voice dripping with amusement before lowering his head to lap up the precum covering your trembling chest. The feel of his barbs dragging across your skin sent shivers coursing through your veins.

Eventually, unable to contain yourself any longer, you erupted in a torrent of hot seed that splashed across your trembling stomach as you let out a warbled sob.

Witnessing your release seemed to ignite something primal within Purson, forcing him to lift your ass higher and resume his relentless pounding with renewed vigor. His balls slapped loudly against your rear as he drove into you with unfettered abandon, cooing softly in your ear as he sought his own release.

"So good…so perfect…" he murmured between deep thrusts, his voice laced with satisfaction at witnessing your orgasm.

With a low groan, he buried himself fully within you one final time before emptying his load deep inside your quivering body.

Panting heavily, Purson collapsed beside you, his satisfied purrs resonating through your entire body. After withdrawing from your warm hole, he pulled you close for a tender embrace. He was purring loudly, your body shaking from it.

"Sleep now, little one," he whispered affectionately into your ear before nestling his face into the crook of your neck.

Exhaustion quickly overtook both of you as sleep descended upon you like a warm blanket, wrapping itself around your spent bodies.

#demon x reader #demon x human #demon #ars goetia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster breeding #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster #monster x reader #size difference #teratophillia #tetraphilia #terato #terato writing #exophilia #male reader #male!reader #monster fluff #c0ckwarming #fluff #monster smut #demon smut

[shanastoryteller]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your Gods and Monsters series but I had a question: have you already written the piece where Aphrodite and Hephaestus fall in love? Bc I could have sworn there was one about that, but I Cannot find it so now I'm wondering if that's one of the things that isn't written/posted yet. No pressure either way, I just wanted to check!

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love and beauty by Hera, the queen of the gods herself, and is given a gleaming throne of pristine ivory in the pantheon.

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love, and many take that as an invitation.

She understands quickly that Hera has not only dictated her domain, but also offered Aphrodite her protection, however oblique. Hera’s power on her tempers greedy hands and greedy eyes, making them ask for what in other circumstances they might simply take, and she resents that it’s something she should be grateful for.

The sea that bore her isn’t even an option anymore. She feels Poseidon’s gaze on her like a snail crawling across her skin, leaving oozing evidence of all the places it’s been. She thinks that her mother would help her, but she does not know.

Amphitrite made her and left her and sent her to the pantheon, full of danger that she does not understand.

She’s known the sea and the sky but worries about venturing from Mount Olympus, where distance from Hera’s influence might embolden some of her suitors.

She is a daughter of Zeus and Amphitrite. Power comes to her as easily as breathing, but she has no wish to test that power against gods with far more experience than she.

Hestia’s fire is always warm and soft and no one dares approach her while she’s in its light. Aphrodite forces herself to stay in the oppressive heat far past the point of comfort, staying closer to the flame than anyone besides the hearth goddess herself.

“So you’re who everyone is talking about.”

She startles, turning, and is first faced with a broad, tanned chest, then lifts her gaze further to look into a face with dark amber eyes and hair as long as her own. There’s blood splatter along his neck and unease curls within her stomach.

“I can’t stay,” he continues, looking her over. She appreciates that he doesn’t linger too long in certain areas and looks her in the eye after. It’s a low bar, perhaps, but many fail to clear it. “You impressed my mother, which isn’t easy.”

“Lord Ares,” she greets. Hera only has one child – well, two, but only one that ever ventures onto Olympus.

She should have guessed sooner. He looks so much like Zeus, except for Hera’s eyes clear in his face.

He waves dismissively. “None of that. We’re equals, aren’t we?”

Not really. The beloved child of the king and queen of the gods, the god of war, someone who does not even sweat in the heat of Hestia’s flame. And her.

“I suppose,” she answers. “How can I help you, Ares?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says. “Rumor has it that you haven’t left Olympus. You may be a goddess of the pantheon on my mother’s word, but you have to cultivate worshippers just the same. They know you, but they do not what you will do.”

Neither does she.

“Can I go with you?” she asks impulsively.

It’s a stupid request. If Ares wants to overpower her, he will, and there won’t be anything she can do about it.

But he’s Hera’s son. That has to mean something.

“A battlefield isn’t a place for love,” he says, which isn’t a refusal.

“Of course it is,” she says, taken aback. “Otherwise what are they fighting for?”

Ares stares at her for a long moment. She refuses to do anything besides meet his gaze.

Finally, he says, “I can’t tell if you’re naïve or I’m cynical.”

“Love starts wars, but it ends them too,” she says. Maybe she is naïve, when she’s never even met a mortal herself, but with power over a domain comes knowledge of it too. “If not for love, why do men so desperately want peace?”

“Love means peace then?” he asks.

There is something heavy in that question, something she doesn’t understand, and it causes her to hesitate. But in the end she says, “Yes,” because it’s the only answer that can be true and she wants to be truthful to someone.

Ares holds her gaze then says, “You can come with me, if you want. It won’t be pretty.”

“Then perhaps they can use a goddess of beauty,” she says, excitement pulling her lips into a grin.

He shakes his head, but offers her his hand, and she takes it.

~

Under Ares’s protection, she feels as if she can finally breathe.

Aphrodite doesn’t know if Ares is aware that he is protecting her, since it’s less something he does and more something that is achieved through him existing, but she doubts the son of Hera is a dull man. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that the queen would tolerate.

Gods and nymphs and other manner of creatures still approach her, but all it takes is for her to hurry back to Ares’s side for them to abandon their pursuit. She’s not sure if it’s his parentage, his domain, or just the striking figure he makes on the battlefield, but they don’t follow her when she goes to him.

But she is not always with him.

Athena corners her on the city path. Aphrodite meets the goddess’s grey eyed gaze squarely. “You’re causing too much trouble.”

She’d seemed nice when Aphrodite first met her in the pantheon, but after Hera gifted her her domain, that kindness hasn’t resurfaced. She doesn’t take it personally, although she does wonder at its absence.

Athena, like Aphrodite, is a daughter of Zeus that has escaped Hera’s wrath through the virtue of being motherless.

Aphrodite is not motherless, precisely, but no one can know of her connection to Amphitrite, and it’s not like her mother stuck around long after bringing her into this world anyway.

“Ares said he doesn’t mind,” she says.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she sneers, looking her up and down derisively. “Everyone is talking about you and pursing you and nothing else is getting done.”

She draws her shoulders back. “That’s not my fault.”

Athena shrugs, not willing to say it is outright but clearly comfortable with implying it.

“What do you want me to do about it?” she asks, and knows it’s a mistake as soon as it leaves her mouth.

Athena doesn’t miss a beat. “Put everyone out of their misery and get married. They’ll cool off and get back to work if you’re ineligible, even if only in name.”

She’s not a goddess of loyalty, but the implication still stings. She’s been going through all this effort to avoid either bedding or offending everyone, after all. “I can’t just marry someone.”

“Why not? Hera will probably even officiate it, considering the interest she’s taken in you,” she says.

Before Aphrodite can respond, Ares appears at her side, slipping out of air as easily as taking a step. He’s covered in viscera and for a moment she puzzles over his newly red hair before realizing it’s soaked in blood. She doesn’t even want to know how that happened.

“Hello Athena,” he says brightly. “It’s so rare to see you outside of a library, we should really catch up-”

She disappears mid eyeroll.

Ares grins. “What did you do to her?”

“Thank you,” she says first, then, “I have no idea. She’s so angry. Is she not well liked in the pantheon?”

He shrugs. “Depends what you mean by liked. She makes a lot of enemies, but she’s not that bad. She gets frustrated a lot because she thinks she’s smarter than everyone around her.”

“Is she?” Aphrodite asks.

“Usually, yeah,” he looks around then bends down to whisper in her ear, careful to angle his filthy body away from her, “Hestia says that when she sprung from Father’s head, she took all his intelligence with her. Mom says that’s giving him too much credit.”

She laughs before she can think not to, then claps her hand over her mouth, as if Zeus is standing around the corner ready to smite her for mocking him. He is the king of the gods. Maybe he is always watching.

“It’s alright,” he says warmly, “just don’t repeat it where he can hear it. Or Athena. She’d throw a fit at the implication that her intelligence is anything but her own.”

If she ever decides to invite trouble rather than avoiding it, that seems like an excellent way to do it. “Are you okay? That looks messy.”

“Battle’s won, for now,” he says casually, rolling back his shoulders and wincing at the motion. “I’ve got some time before another one calls me there. I could use a good soak. Want to meet my brother?”

“Which one?” she asks even though she already know the answer. Of all his siblings, Ares claims only one of them.

“You don’t have to play dumb when we’re alone,” he says, which is suitably stunning that when he holds out his filthy hand, she doesn’t think to clean it before taking it. She hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “Come on.”

There’s the strange rushing sensation of being pulled along rather than moving herself. They’re in someplace dark, compared to the outside, and it takes her several seconds to adjust to the low lighting.

Everything glitters.

There’s shining metal twisted into exquisite shapes and liquid gold dripping like fondue and even the walls themselves shimmer in the light of the magma, the mica flickering silver.

There is a man with deep, dark skin and narrowed amber eyes. He has broad shoulders and a tapered waist and as her gaze drops even further, she sees the golden legs supporting him below the knee, as delicate and beautiful as all strange things scattered around his workshop.

“I hope that’s not yours,” the man says.

He has a nice voice. It’s low and yet it almost echoes around them. It takes her a moment to process what he’s said, and her confusion lasts only until Ares’s lips twist into a not quite smile and he replies, “It never is,” and she realizes he’s talking about the blood and worse covering Ares.

She wonders at her place here, what to do or how to act around this man surrounded by beautiful things who doesn’t even look at her.

Ares pulls his hair from its braid and blood splatters on the floor. “I’m going for a dip. This is Aphrodite. Be nice. Aphrodite, this is my brother, Hephaestus.”

“Goddess,” Hephaestus murmurs, inclining his head.

She returns the gesture, trying to untangle the strange frown and the look in his eye. It’s not like Athena’s anger but it doesn’t exactly seem friendly either. She’s still pondering it when Ares’s words catch up with her. “Take a dip where? There’s no-”

She turns to see Ares slipping into a vat of lava, fully clothed. The blood and dirt and everything else is burned away, along with every stitch of clothing he’d been wearing. He tilts his head back into the magma to give his hair the same scouring treatment.

“Water,” she finishes faintly.

“It never gets any less disconcerting,” Hephaestus says. The strange tone is gone and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

He has a nice smile.

“What are you making?” she asks. “Are you the god of creation?”

She’s said the wrong thing again and she’s aware of it as soon as his amusement dims. She desperately wants to take it back, to say something different, but it’s too late. “I am the god of nothing.”

“People pray to you,” she says. “I have seen them.”

Her temples are all still being constructed but several of his already exist.

“Mortals pray to lots of things,” he answers, going back to tinkering. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yet,” she says. He survived being thrown from Olympus and being raised in the underworld and now he makes things he still hasn’t told her about. “When they pray to you, what do they pray for?”

“Same thing they pray to every god for,” he answers. She doesn’t say anything and he sighs. “It’s not exciting. Hotter ovens. Faster chariots. Sharper spears. My brother’s a better candidate for that one.”

Aphrodite turns to Ares, but finds him curled against the edge of the crevice, the lava lapping at his shoulders as he sleeps with his head tipped back.

“Heat always knocks him out. Hestia used to hold him as she sat it front of her fire.”

This time she knows it’s the wrong thing to say before she says it, but she can’t stop herself from asking, “How do you know? I thought that you didn’t come to Olympus.”

“Didn’t,” he echoes, “is a soft way to put it, when it’s can’t.”

Even nymphs sneak their way up the mountain. A god with temples, even a minor one, should be able to walk freely across Olympus. Then again, Hera insured he wouldn’t walk freely anywhere.

Or tried to. His shimmering gold calves are in defiance to that.

He clears his throat then says, “She told me. Ares badgered me into setting up a hearth in the center of the volcano, even though arguably the whole thing is a hearth, but,” he pauses. “She visits it, sometimes.”

Aphrodite is impressed. “I thought she never left her own hearth.”

“Any hearth is her hearth,” he says, shrugging.

He’s sidestepping her, but she’s brought up enough sensitive topics for now. “What are you making?”

“Nothing useful,” he says ruefully, looking around his workshop. “If I wanted to get more followers, I’d focus on making things people can use. A lot of these are godly tools – only we can use them effectively.”

“Will you show me?” she insists. “They’re beautiful.”

His lips part, his dark eyes catching hers, and there’s a breathless moment where neither of them move. Then he turns and says, “Sure, come with me,” and she follows behind him, watching the smooth gait of his handcrafted legs.

~

Next time she’s on Olympus, she goes to Hera to ask her advice.

Aphrodite is currently under both her and her son’s protection. This isn’t a decision it’s politically smart of her to make on her own.

She waits until Zeus has left. His absence tends to put Hera in a foul mood, considering what he’s likely to be doing out of her sight, but it’s worth that to make sure that they’re not overheard. Aphrodite doesn’t think that any advice Zeus gives will be in her self interest.

Hera’s might not be either, but so far whatever she’s doing for her own self interest has been beneficial to Aphrodite, and that’s enough for her.

She bows and offers her a bouquet of lilies that she’d picked herself, each one a bright orange reddish hue and perfectly in bloom. Hera reaches out to touch a petal, but pulls back and says, “Weave them into my hair while we speak.”

Aphrodite can’t help herself from being touched. Hera always does her own hair, not even allowing her servants to touch it. She delicately combs out Hera’s curls, giving her hair waves to match the curve of the lilies’ petals. Aphrodite tells her what Athena said to her, then waits.

“She’s right,” Hera says. “As the goddess of love and beauty, you’re inherently desirable. Until you make your own desires known, others can decide what they are, and decide that they qualify. Marriage at least sets your standards.”

Aphrodite frowns. “So you think I should marry?”

She shrugs. “Gods like to pretend that beauty is cheap and love is something bought.” Suddenly, Hera’s appointment of her domain makes a little more sense. “But if that were true, they wouldn’t be pursuing you so ardently. Marriage won’t change that. What it does is give you a tool that you can use.”

“That’s not very romantic,” she says, put out.

Hera laughs, tossing her head with the motion, and Aphrodite has to pull back to keep from crushing the flowers. “Is that what you value?”

“Yes,” she answers, but it comes out more like a question.

“Then that’s what you should marry for – romance. Apollo will likely come ahead on that scale.” She moves back in place so Aphrodite can continue. “There is a reason that as the goddess of marriage, love does not fall within my domain. Marriage is about getting what you want. Some want love, or beauty, and so that’s what they marry for. Other for money, for power, for protection. Decide what it is that you want and then marry the person who can give it to you. That’s why your marriage will be a deterrent to others. It will tell them what you value.”

Hera did not marry for love. Aphrodite doesn’t need to be a goddess of it to know that. “Do you think I should marry your son?”

Ares is the most obvious answer. She’s spent the most time with him, and he’s kind to her, and he protects her. He’s not especially romantic, but he cares for her. No one else pursuing her knows her enough to care for her.

“If he’ll give you what you want,” she says. Aphrodite finishes affixing the last lily to her hair, and she turns to face her, her amber eyes bright with an emotion Aphrodite can’t name. “Choose your spouse. We’ll hold the wedding on Olympus and I’ll marry you myself. No one will question it after that.”

“Thank you, Queen Hera,” she says.

When Hera walks away, it’s with fire weaved into her hair.  

~

Ares is silent for a long time when Aphrodite tells him that she’s looking to marry. She thinks he’s about to offer, and the ball of dread in her stomach is both surprising and informative. She loves Ares. She does not want to marry him.

This is an inopportune time for her to realize that.

“If we were to marry, would I find peace?” he asks. “Everything is so loud sometimes.”

Her heart clenches. In this moment she hates for the first time. Zeus did this to Ares and that makes Zeus her enemy.

“When you find love, you will find peace,” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I can’t be your peace. If that’s what I was, you would know by now. But when you do find that person, that loudness will fade.”

There’s a pressure around them and centered in her head, giving her a searing headache, and then it’s gone and its only Ares’s hands on her elbows that keep her upright as she staggers, suddenly exhausted.

 “Your first blessing,” Ares says, smiling as she blinks up at him, dazed. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she says fuzzily.

He laughs. “You’re a goddess of the pantheon. There’s very little you can’t do. You’ll discover that in time.”

She thinks he’s trying to be comforting, but the idea that her abilities are beyond her own knowledge is terrifying. There’s a reason most gods have to earn their domains rather than be assigned them.

The problem is if not Ares, then who? It would be easier to narrow her options if she knew what she wanted, like Hera told her to do, but she doesn’t. She wants people to leave her alone. She wants to learn how to be a proper goddess. She wants to claw Ares away from Zeus’s grasp with her bare hands.

None of that is anything a husband can give her.

“Say that you’re willing to be courted and see what they offer,” Ares says. “Maybe you’ll know what you want when you see it.”

“But what if I don’t want any of it?” she asks. “Then I have to choose someone I don’t want.”

He hums, then says, “I’ll ask for your hand too, and offer more than anyone else. Then, if you don’t find someone you like, you can just pick me and we won’t marry. Mom will understand if I tell her.”

The thought of getting on Hera’s bad side is chilling, but if anyone can soothe her temper, it’s her son, so she agrees.

The news travels quickly, gods from all over climbing up to Olympus’s peak to ask for her. It’s spread to the point that she thinks some of them that are here don’t even want her, that it’s just a big show about what they’re able to offer. Which, of course, makes her choice even more difficult.

Ares, Apollo, and Hermes offer her the most, of course. They’re gods of the pantheon and have more influence and power at their disposal. But the minor gods still make a good show of it, stepping forward to off her castles and servants and land, nymphs even offering to grow a her a living manor from the forest and perfectly plump fruit every day of her life.

In one way or another, they all off her protection, luxury, and beauty. She struggles to find any of it of value.

She’s resigned herself to picking Ares just to get it all to stop when a hush falls over the crowd that’s then replaced with frantic whispering. They part like a wave retreating from shore and her breath catches in her throat when she sees who’s walking towards her.

Hephaestus is on Olympus for the first time since he’s been thrown from it.

He’s gilded gold as he passes by everyone else, his eyes on her alone, from his legs to the way the sun illuminates his amber eyes to the chiton wrapped snug around his waist with a golden belt. He could have worn a long robe to hide his legs. She likes that he didn’t.

He stops in front of her and she tries to think of something to say, but her throat is too dry.

“Goddess,” he murmurs, then pulls a single copper rose from thin air and offers it to her. “For you.”

She takes it, her fingers brushing his, and his hands are still warm like he’s just pulled them from the forge.

He came to the place where the worst thing that ever happened to him occurred. He’s given her a gift with no strings. He’s offering her only this – the skill of his hands and the bravery of his heart.

What she wants is someone who will take her as she is and grow with her, who will explain the world patiently and know her well enough to make her something beautiful.

She is the goddess of love and beauty. She cannot be bought with castles.

“Yes,” she says, holding the rose between their bodies as she pushes herself up to kiss Hephaestus in front of all of Olympus.  

 There are shouts of protests, people yelling in anger or betrayal, and Ares’s bright, warm laughter over it all.

~

Aphrodite expects Hera to be furious.

Instead the goddess says nothing of her choice, only holds the wedding as she promised. Zeus won’t even look at Hephaestus, but Hera stands in front of them and recites the vows for them to repeat back to each other as if it’s all normal, as if Hephaestus is just like any other god to her.

She has that same look in her eye that she had before while she does it, but Aphrodite barely notices it before her husband pulls her attention back to him, his promises of love and loyalty more worthy of her attention than anything going on in Hera’s mind.

She and Hephaestus walk down Olympus, hand in hand, husband and wife.

#this wasn't written as a prompt but i'm taking it as one #gods and monsters series #ares #aphrodite #hephaestus #hera

[tvshow-enthusiast]

#percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #camp halfblood #rick riordan #uncle rick #greek mythology #leah sava jeffries #ares god of war #walker scobell #season 2 #pjo season 2 #sea of monsters

[ars-daemonum]

Full reference for Eureka the Chameleos!

#ars's characters #mun scribbles #monster hunter #chameleos #I love these little guys so much #Chameleos my beloved.......

[thatmoththoth]

The Raven.

Jonathan sims in this Au has big kaiju monster form. Do I have a genuinely good excuse for it? No. Will I blame it on dream logic and them being in an au? Yes. Will I also give Martin and maybe Annabelle one? Most-likely. This is his monster form at its biggest but it can change size. He also has some moderate shapeshifting abilities with it beyond the size changing. His mouth also opens up kinda like a demegorgon .

I’ll probably add to his design later but I can’t quite figure out a way to add moth wings without ruining the silhouette. His government assigned animal is a raven because I mean think about it, it fits. And I gave him moth antenna for purely self indulgent reasons.

#the magnus archives #tma #art #artists on tumblr #artwork #jarchivist #jonathan sims #thothdraws #monster!jon #moth!jon? #kaiju looking mofo #tma au #Horrors and Murders #really need to find a more fitting name for this au #yes there are horrors and yes there ar murders but like #it’s not really the focus of the story. #tw: eyes #tw: scopophobia #horrors and murders au

[darkstarknight03]

I wonder if they’re still going to give Clarisse a ship from the Confederate army. Not because Dior is a woc, but because it would be a very questionable thing to do in the current political climate, which was much less of a concern when Rick wrote it in 2006. I bet it’ll be the British navy or something like that.

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson tv series #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #ares pjo #the sea of monsters #sea of monsters #SoM #Percy Jackson and the sea of monsters

[rashidartt]

PJO SEASON TWO GUYS LETS GOOOOO

#this the season of my daughter clarisse #and my boi tyson #cant wait to cry all over again #love them so much #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #clarisse la rue #tyson #ares pjo

[akunoniwa]

Purgatory

AN: life has been life-ing and ive been a wee bit uninspired, but this idea struck me so please accept this curse

I guess this is becoming somewhat of a 'series' of mine, so maybe expect more of these in addition to Gaap and Dantalion, we shall see.

Synopsis: In which your local voyeuristic demon gets a little too close, driving you mad from the inside out

Pairing: Dantalion (Ars Goetia) x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, a local demon gets in your head and teases u to his hellish desire

WC: ~3.5k

You’d not initially notice his presence, as goes with any entity akin to him, though he had his means of showing himself. Or rather exposing you to himself.

Truth be told, he’d not often indulge in something so menial, and often tedious, as lust and desire, preferring to adorn his mind with more ‘technical’ ideas… However, the more he realized his natural tendency to abstain, the more curious he became about this part of himself… Sex is inherently science. Methodical yet, at face value, requires almost no attention to what one may consider scholarly. Many of his fiendish acquaintances take utmost and sole pride in such helpless dallying, even despite their grandiose roles in Hell, you’d think lesser demons would be more prone to indulge. It’s those very demons, even further down in the gallows, that aren’t allowed to frisk around even with the scum on Earth, only leaving such privileges to demonic ‘royalty’. Not until they learn to bullshit their way to the top of the bottom.

Above all, he recently learned that he loved to toy with your mind.

How you were chosen as the victim was truly random… He likes to tell himself this. Countless humans think they can withstand the allure of ascending, or descending, beyond their plane of existence, you being one of them. Merely speaking oneself into alignment, simply taking interest in a certain demon’s name can tickle the hairs in their pointed ears.

Your mind wandered endlessly for a few consecutive nights, hooked on a filthy idea you’d read in a sleazy novel, but somehow his name kept appearing. This was your own invasive mind, at first, your readings colliding into a cesspool of blatant pornography and mindless, esoteric interests. Though, he heard his name, damn near right against both his sensitive ear and aching abdomen, and was immediately intrigued.

He can manipulate one's thoughts, usually used in the context where a conjurer can wield it for the sake of their own, contractually-bound means, but this time… He decided to stray, readily addicted as if he’d been restraining himself for centuries.

He ensured these thoughts were as vivid and as piercing as looking into the sun, these lewd images that you’d cycle through, invading your mind, gradually possessing you. When you’d finally set whatever mindless thing you were doing aside for the night, your lamp would click off. Your mind settled into the grooves in the asphalt once more, hands lingering too low for too long to be earnest. All remotely as he’d write down his fantasies by way of an ornate fountain pen into his journal at his desk, engraving them into your psyche, into your pliable body.

He’d started by simply guiding your hands in a fashion where you’d not likely notice, able to feel the murky heat through your hands on his own. You were beautifully bare, though he’d only see through the eyes that were your palms as he’d coax you through subtle incantations to feel up every inch of you. Your skin was so incredibly soft, your delicate, silk sheets paling in comparison as you writhed beneath what appeared to be your own movements. Almost reminiscent of clouds that’d slowly morph as they crossed the sky, gradually groping yourself into oblivion as you swam in pleasure. Your breasts were scalding, plush, and hypnotizing as he made you squeeze them, making sure to pinch and roll your rosy, pointed nipples between your fingers. He learned that a part of you would promptly shut down should he linger there too long, keeping that information close.

You’d begin to whine and moan, all alone in your darkened room, he swore he felt your voice resonate through his cock, wishing he could present you as the true fallen gift that you were to the entirety of Heaven, Hell, and all between. He was starting to have trouble penning all this down as the sensations were transcribed into his body. What if you called to him just once…? Would you wonder where that name came from? Surely you’d not be able to tell, and perhaps you’re too aroused to care… Just once? Being a demon, he wasn’t accustomed to the cold sweats that overcame him at this thought.

He forced his name into your mind as you were nearing a point of no rational return, sure to maintain the buzz as he made you tease yourself. You started this, though, right? You were the one thinking about the cheap scene of getting fucked in some fictional library that you’d read about, fucked by some human no doubt. You were the one who was too curious for her own good… He needed to hear your small whine, taut with lust, blotted with his name.

“Dantalion…” Synchronized, you sang this as he had you push your hand down the gentle hills of your front, simply pressing a fingertip onto your clit.

“My…” He’d stopped writing, overwhelmed with how delicious that sounded, the need to touch himself growing extremely hard to resist, though he’d not be able to continue lacing your demise legibly. He began to long for you unlike anything else, your pretty body… The lovely cunt that beckoned for him, and so easily at that.

He made you chant it once more, your voice a phantom hand of its own, like a delicate ribbon decorating the length of his susceptible cock, pulling and constricting him. His lines became skewed as he noticed the evident smile in your tone, enjoying every little depraved moment of this.

You managed to gain just enough control of your limbs to push a pair of fingers into your sopping hole, “God…” You complained to the alleged heavens, exasperated. You chose to hold them there to serve simply as a means to fill you, something to clench onto as your other hand traced around your clit.

Of course, you’d plead to a God by default, but he wanted nothing to do with that, he wanted your swollen lips to serve him and him alone. 

What if he tried just…

Your groans of utter delight indicated that his curling of your fingers inside you was the right move, fluttering up against your sweetest spot. Hooked to ensure your disintegration, he made you repeatedly, though slowly, pull your fingers up to assault your delectable little cunt. Perfect. Your face began to bleed with heat as you were catching on to your lack of obvious control, fear encircling you as it was merely an inkling of fantasy at first. It was certain now, as he pushed you to maintain this motion beyond where you would’ve chosen to edge yourself before it became too much.

“So wet…” He allowed this thought to be delivered to your vacant mind in his voice, “You’re putting on such a darling show for me, love.”

Your reflex trumped his possession briefly, covering your mouth as the sensation was becoming too much to bear as he increased the speed. Anxiety battled with absolute pleasure inside you as you were trying to convince yourself that this was still a part of your own consciousness. A voice you’d never heard before, crooning so perfectly from inside you… You were losing your grip as your fingers stammered inside, wetness coating your palm.

“That’s it, my pretty little thing… Playing with yourself exactly as you should, as if it’s all you’ll ever need.” His pen shook in his hand, he wanted to eternally curse himself for how foolish he must appear right now. Alone in his study, using his boundless abilities to bestow filthy, empty nothings to some human… But gods and demons be damned alike, he couldn’t fucking stop.

You couldn’t speak easily beyond what he willed, though your thoughts were still somehow intact alongside his own, completely exposed to him. How your mind ducked and swayed between blinding arousal and numbing concern, they somehow mixed into the perfect concoction of adrenaline. How he wanted to materialize and defile you by way of his own body, however you wanted him to appear, he’d give anything you’d want. Man or woman, human or beast, whatever you wish… He could give you anything you desire, and he’d quickly find out by probing your cute little head.

“With your sweet voice…” He thankfully, for your sanity’s sake, slowed his pace, your hand making hardly any wake, “Share with me what’s lending your body to me in such a delectable manner… How do you need to be taken, my love?”

Confusion, rightfully so, asphyxiated you now that you could process beyond the blaze between your sticky thighs, “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Breathless, you realized you’d barely taken a breath beyond what’s necessary, “I feel like I’m hallucinating…”

“Perhaps I’ll guide your mind, too… Where you left off.” Genuinely inside you, his vast voice couldn’t get any closer, each consonant panging through every nerve, “How you couldn’t contain yourself as you read those mindless words, imagining some faceless figure bending you at his will. Fucking you mercilessly right at the very table you were reading at in the library. It was as if the silence itself was ogling you…”

Forgoing any further questioning, you were committed to reaching the orgasm that seemed to be right around the corner of your bed, “...So I was reading smut… Whatever you are… What’s the problem?”

“No, darling, that’s a lovely hobby, allowing yourself to become so starved for touch, you feel yourself growing wet as your eyes hungrily require more words to feed on. Desperate… Needing cock so frantically at that point, you don’t mind the oversaturated plot and poor dialogue anymore, you just want the sensations to finish the story… I’d never blame you for reviewing just how little it takes to drive you insane.”

He took you through your memories from earlier that day, how you truly couldn’t care less about how this author chose to depict this shallow sex scene. It simply served to remind you how depraved you’d felt recently, not recognizing what the cause could be.

“Are you some… What are you?” You were finding it hard to keep your eyes focused as your own, uncontrollable fingers still caressed inside your infinitely wet hole.

“I’m anything you want, darling. How are you envisioning me? Whose fingers do you want inside you most? Whose lips do you need against your porcelain skin, sucking, biting, whatever you require…?”

Your eyes finally shut, and heavily at that, overwhelmed by these words, “Fuck…” You could feel this everywhere, even your heart bursting at the seams with viscous, yet undefined, warmth.

He grinned an unseen grin, though you could hear it through his relaying, “Precisely,” Your left hand was made to dote on your curves elsewhere, pacing itself all over you in a way you’d not be able to manage, “How would you like me to please you…?”

‘Do whatever you want.’ He heard in your mind, finally peeling you away, one thought at a time, one you couldn’t bear to speak into fruition, “Is that so?”

“I see nowhere is safe…” You panted as your hands crowded you by way of his lead, “Whatever you are, however you look, I wish you’d just…” You still couldn’t air them, you were still too conscious to let yourself go, to revoke yourself and surrender. That made him dizzy with pure need for you. The need for you to break.

“You’ve got control, darling, and I know how badly you need this, judging how you considered touching yourself in your car in the parking lot earlier. Dirty thing.” His tone was playfully poking at your brain, “Just speak it and I will give everything to you.”

Blushed, your cheeks were braised by the thought of him somehow seeing you like that, your breath quickening, “You would’ve loved to have seen that, I would guess…”

“Oh, my love, how I could’ve made you do such a thing but decided to wait and savor you all for myself like this instead.” His pen ought to have rolled right out of his office at this point, now relying on his mind to maintain ample connection as he gripped himself through his work robes. Perhaps you’d prefer his true form…? How that prospect made him reel like nothing else.

He psychologically choked you, the thought too diabolic to simply accept, “Dantalion, the name you had me call…”

“Mm, you must keep saying it, all flustered and needy as you are.” He need not mind your awareness of his identity, besides, not even most of his ‘colleagues’ can ascertain his true appearance.

“Please, then… You already have me at your mercy.” You squeaked out, the overwhelming, foreign feeling pressing on your chest making it hard to serve your mind to him.

“You can’t be shy, I’ll give you a hint… It may have something to do with the pool of wetness dripping so elegantly from your cunt.” He also ought to just laugh right in your face, though he kept himself in check, not allowing his cock to kiss the air just beyond his slacks before he finally took you as he was meant to.

You whined that salacious little noise of defeat, “Take me, then, more than you already have… Fuck me until you’ve properly possessed me, Dantalion…”

As you imagined when you were reading that trashy novel earlier, he truly growled as you’d read the verb, not guttural, though. It had a tinge of ironic soul from his center as he basked in your pleas to be overridden by him in whichever context he saw fit.

“Yes, finally you’re coming to terms with yourself, darling…” He forced your hands to your sides, depriving you of any stimulation that wasn’t from his physical being alone, “Though you must tell me first what you wish to see.”

Brows pushed inward, you were perplexed but think you understood enough to give him free rein, “However you need to present yourself, please… Your words have done enough so far, come as you are.”

“My love,” His pet names berated you at every opportunity, he just couldn’t resist, “You’ve realized, surely, I’m not a familiar being, I am not human. Though I can be that if you so wish.”

“What difference does it make?” You tried to imagine some otherworldly being, but generic images of a commercialized devil were all you could manage. You needed that tingling feeling to be addressed once more.

“That’s fine with me…” He gave you no further warning, though he chose one of his frequented masks, as he didn’t have one true embodiment. Wanting to fuck with your limits, he chose the most unfamiliar while still having the physical ability to fuck you like you so desperately deserve. Over your planked form that lay in adorable wait, he began to materialize, immediately you were aware of his broad frame as he caged you. He was… Limitless, it seemed, the dark not providing much of a vantage for gauging his height. He wasn’t uncannily huge, per se, though his hands were almost twice the fanned circumference of yours, fingers of one hand able to span the plain of your stomach. You knew his face was close, soon feeling a long tongue paint the right side of your neck as he was finally able to breathe you in.

What threw you, though, was what felt like… A snake-like sensation that meandered between your lower thighs, almost independently with a mind of its own. It was as if you could feel the grin on his face like a knife at your throat as he waited for you to acknowledge it, something he knew would make you quiver with more than apprehension. He knew you would adapt at record speed, learn to need his tentacle-like cock as your desire for completion nearly oozed from your very pores, let alone your eager hole.

Its tip rolled up towards the peak of your thighs, he could adeptly sense the way your muscles twitched, even slightly, how your breath lost its bearing, “It makes no difference at all, darling, as I’d love to take you like this. How I know you’ve never been fucked, surely not by any human I’ve ever seen.”

He was taken aback by the strange competition he felt for your bodily approval, not having validation for why he sought this from you. You bewitched him, somehow, and as he hovered so heavily above you, he didn’t care to understand why.

You came to terms with what he meant, not able to imagine what his slithering cock might even feel like inside you, but fuck were you infinitely curious as his tongue lapped at your upper neck now, your earlobe added to the rotation. His teeth were sharp, though he wagered them against your skin with care so as to not outright injure you… Without you asking for it, that is.

“I want to taste you…” A hand lingered with clear intent to your overflowing cunt only to swipe up your arousal for himself with his middle finger paging through your folds. Your room was quiet enough to hear when his long finger popped back out of his mouth, only to find that same soaked finger forcing its way into your mouth. 

You gave him a moan of delight as he was at last inside you in some capacity, earning yourself a noise of satisfaction from him in return, “Savory, sweet…” He lolled on, “You taste so good, my darling… Too good, almost.”

You continued to lather his finger eagerly with your spit, “You need this so badly, I can smell the relief emanating from you.”

What was odd, is that truly you had the upper hand in this situation, though were you to discover how to use it, he may never return to his rightful, hellish gallows. Touching you… Rousing your shakes and quivers, the velvet of your tongue painting his finger. The desperation and greed in humans pale when juxtaposed with that of a demon, the comparison being a laughable prospect at best. He would brutally devour you, absorb you, though he’d never be able to indulge in your physicalities like this… A contract he’s finding he’d never agree upon. Though you didn’t need to be privy to that, the salty fear he tasted from you was phenomenal.

Your expression was one he’d need to be framed in his office, swept with lust as your tiny hand gripped his wrist for more control. He put his hand into a rhythm of movement, fucking your soft lips, his eyes nailed to your face. He wasn’t expecting, however, your audacious move to lead his hand to a halt, licking a scalding streak to his palm, moving to his index. Though he didn’t allow your control for long, grabbing your chin as his tongue left your neck to face you head-on.

“You absolute fiend…” You could hardly make out his facial features, but his eyes had a slight glow of amethyst to them, his pupils a dilated diamond as he made you observe them. His curious cock danced between your thighs, teasing as the tip continued to run from your inner knee to the very top of your thigh. It had a viscous slick of its own, leaving a cooling sensation in its wake, not completely unlike a novocaine as it almost seemed to numb. At the same time, your senses were heightened, feeling his movements tenfold as your muscles twitched, to your abashed dismay.

“I trust you feel me, feeling you, darling…” His tongue lunged to taste your slack lips, yours meeting his adventurously, winding and mingling, “I wish I could take you in that library… That seemed to make you ravenous. How, even when you’d pretend to try to stay quiet, I’d make sure everyone could hear your body slam into mine… Your sloppy little cunt weeping for me as I tear your soul to shreds.”

Your face contorted, lost in the foggy woods that were his words, “You seemed to enjoy just peeping into my thoughts.”

The tentacle that you still couldn’t size up managed to wrap beneath your left knee, lifting your leg to spread you for him, air slashing your most delicate part, “You seem to take pleasure in knowing I heard them.” A second identical feeling joined, making you jolt as it slithered up your right thigh as its greeting, “Mm, I can damn near bite into your excitement, how badly your body is telling me it needs to be filled with something… But as much as I love that, I’d rather you tell me in that pretty whine of yours.”

The tentacle around your knee tightened, forcing your leg further upward, though this served as more tension for him as he needed some kind of friction to keep himself at a reasonable bay. The other blunted tip was set on reaching your clit, inching closer and closer…

Though not until your word would he allow you that privilege.

#really he just taunts u #so not really... monsterfucking... but monsterteasing #仕方ない #dantalion #ars goetia #monster fucker #monster smut #demon x fem!reader #demon x reader #demon smut #also really trying to not just give in to the urge to write more dottore or astarion...............................................

[ophanimgold]

My Buer pins are now finally up on my shop! The Great President of Hell himself could be in the palm of your hands!

🦁 link 🦁

#demonology #rainbow Demonology #ars goetia #occult #buer #demon #demon pin #enamel pin #pin #mythology #artists on tumblr #demons #monster #monster boy #terato #ophanimart #monsters #i apologize for the long wait #my brain has not been kind to me

[sharlsainz]

just finished the sea of monster book and i think charlie bushnell is gonna kill it playing the villain!luke. the arguments scene and his duel with percy, i really hope we'll get it on season 2 it'll be epic! and clarisse going on the quest ofc, i can also see dior giving it all there!

#he just has that villain face that to me and i feel like he will do good there #dior is honestly a perfect casting for clarisse really she got that tough and badass energy that's so very ares kid #i feel like getting ahead of myself while rereading the books but well yk might as well #bc it is here so it's possible for us to get more #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #dior goodjohn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #the sea of monsters

[theres-a-body-here]

Daemonology: Purson

Male demon x Male!reader

Part 2

Purson sighed deeply as he tapped his claws on his throne. He liked to think of himself as a patient demon, but sometimes, he swore his followers were stupid.

You stood before him, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You stand before me to ask for…a kiss?" Purson asked, his deep voice resonating like a rumbling thunder.

"Yes, sir," you said meekly, unable to meet his fiery eyes.

Purson pinched the top of his muzzle, eyes shut as he contemplated. "I fell from heaven for this," he muttered under his breath.

Evocations don't happen often, and when they do, the devotee usually asks for riches, power, or some other vain thing. Purson was actually stumped you would waste such an event for a simple kiss.

He looked at the paper he held in his other hand, reviewing your profile. It seemed you were a devoted follower, which was certainly in your favor. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if it was worth the trouble of granting your request. After all, demons didn't just bestow their affections on anyone who asked.

But then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to indulge you once. His red eyes finally met yours.

"Alright," Purson's deep voice boomed across the chamber as he made up his mind. "Come here, little one," he commanded, gesturing for you to step closer.

With apprehension, you approached him, feeling the heat radiating off his form as you neared his throne. He patted his lap invitingly, indicating where he wanted you to sit. Your heart raced as you climbed onto his lap.

As you settled onto his lap, Purson wrapped an arm around your waist, his sharp claws digging gently into your flesh. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his warmth envelop you, both physically and metaphorically. He sets your profile on the desk besides the throne before focusing his attention on you.

Slowly, Purson cupped your chin in his large hand, careful not to prick you with his claws. His hot breath tickled your face as he raised your head towards his own. Gods, he truly was massive—his size alone enough to send a wave of trepidation through you. Yet despite your anxiety, there was also an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins.

He leaned in close until his lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes boring into yours. "Do you still wish for my kiss?"

"Yes," you whispered, feeling moths flutter in your stomach.

With a sudden motion, Purson leaned in and planted a quick peck on your lips. When he pulled back, he observed how your eyes were closed in bliss and your lips were parted ever so slightly, expectantly waiting for more. You opened one eye curiously, wondering why the kiss had been so brief.

"Were you expecting more?" Purson asked, feigning disdain to tease you, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed.

"No," you stammered, trying not to sound ungrateful. "It was perfect." Although it was clear that you desired more than just a brief encounter.

"I was just teasing," Purson admitted with a low rumble, patting your waist affectionately.

Once more, Purson cupped your chin tenderly in his palm and brought his lips to yours. This time, instead of pulling away quickly, he pressed his lips firmly against yours, allowing you to savor the contact. You closed your eyes as the warmth spread throughout your body, losing yourself in the moment.

As you surrendered to the kiss, you felt his rough lion tongue tentatively test your lips, seeking permission to deepen the embrace further. Without thinking twice, you eagerly parted your lips in acceptance, welcoming his probing tongue within your mouth.

His hot breath filled your senses as he explored every corner of your mouth, the taste of sulfur lingering on his tongue sending shivers down your spine. It wasn't unpleasant though—far from it—and soon you found yourself matching his fervor, eagerly returning each stroke of his tongue with one of your own.

As the kiss came to an end, Purson gave your waist a gentle squeeze before pulling away. "Was that to your liking?" he rumbled with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nodded vigorously, causing him to chuckle deeply. The vibrations of his laughter sent pleasant shivers through your entire body.

"Good," Purson declared with satisfaction as he released you from his lap. Standing up shakily, your knees threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to maintain your balance.

"Make sure to send in the next person on your way out," he instructed, already focusing on another devotee's profile.

With a dazed expression on your face, you nodded obediently and began to make your way out of the temple, the memory of his kiss still fresh on your lips.

Maybe you might find the courage to ask for another kiss at the next evocation—but for now, you knew better than to push your luck too far.

After all, even demons had their limits.

#monster fucker #demon x reader #demon fucker #exophilia #tetraphilia #male!reader #male reader #size difference #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster fluff #monster imagine #monster headcanons #demon x human #monster x human #terato writing #monsterfucker #demon #ars goetia