Tag: noncon

Kinktober Day 11 – Gunplay/Object Insertion

uwansomeadamboi:

Title: Hair Trigger

Fandom: Borderlands, Tales From The Borderlands

Ship: Rhys/Hugo Vasquez

Tags: Trans Rhys, Rape/Non-Con, Gun Play, Object Insertion, Improper Use Of A Firearm

Summary: Rhys knelt on the scalding hot dirt floor below them, Vaughn nowhere in sight and Vasquez towering above him – a gun trained on his face as he craned his neck up to glare at his douche bag of a former co-worker, not saying a word to the older man even with the litany of insults that sat on his tongue.

He was thankful that Vaughn wasn’t there to see what Vasquez was probably going to do to him – he didn’t want to have to deal with the shame of his best friend seeing… whatever his weird punishment turned out to be. Jack wasn’t anywhere in sight either and that worried him terribly. He was sure that his only out would be if Jack decided to actually help him instead of doing what he usually did and mock him from the sidelines. The odds of that happening were incredibly dim, though.

((Read below the cut or check it out on Ao3))

Keep reading

@dasuberchicken

“Sequences of Flesh” Ch. 1

Jack had gotten his pistol out and aimed, only for the thing to knock it out of his hands like it was a cheap plastic gun. The next thing Jack knew, he was being hoisted up into the air by his wrists, suspended next to to Rhys as he kicked and struggled and snarled against the supple, strong embrace.

“No, god damn it, no, you weren’t supposed to get me too!” Jack roared at the creature’s eyeless face. A tentacle kissed his cheek in response, leaving a sticky trail of shiny purple slime spread across his skin. Rhys’ eyes bugged out in anger as he ground his cheek, jabbing an accusatory finger in Jack’s direction.

“You—you asshole, this is all your fault, isn’t it?” Rhys screeched, kicking out with his heeled boots only for his legs to be easily caught and held firmly apart by the beast’s tentacles. The air was thick with bizarre energy, smelling of musky alien pheromones that clung as tightly to the two men as the appendages did.

Started as a request from the kink bingo for ovi, now it’s progressed into something more. Warnings for nonconsensual tentacles, monster sex, and oviposition. 

Sometimes, even Jack’s best laid plans went awry.

It didn’t happen that often. After all, he was the smartest, most clever guy on the entire space station, nay, in the entire galaxy. But even geniuses like himself were bound to have a handful of off days—it was just probability, baby.

But he really hated that his plan to get Rhys fucked by one of R&D’s latest creations was the one out of a hundred to go bad, and fast.

The monster was supposed to grab Rhys as soon as Jack had nonchalantly lured him into the enclosure, and demonstrate its “breeding ritual,” ostensibly for scientific research, but mostly just because Jack was eager to see what exactly the thing would do with his boyfriend. He had a bit of a filthy voyeur thing going, and regular old humans didn’t really cut it anymore.

But the plan changed the moment the monster decided to grab at him too.

He’d gotten his pistol out and aimed, only for the thing to knock it out of his hands like it was a cheap plastic gun. The next thing Jack knew, he was being hoisted up into the air by his wrists, suspended next to to Rhys as he kicked and struggled and snarled against the supple, strong embrace.

“No, god damn it, no, you weren’t supposed to get me too!” Jack roared at the creature’s eyeless face. A tentacle kissed his cheek in response, leaving a sticky trail of shiny purple slime spread across his skin. Rhys’ eyes bugged out in anger as he ground his cheek, jabbing an accusatory finger in Jack’s direction.

“You—you asshole, this is all your fault, isn’t it?” Rhys screeched, kicking out with his heeled boots only for his legs to be easily caught and held firmly apart by the beast’s tentacles. The air was thick with bizarre energy, smelling of musky alien pheromones that clung as tightly to the two men as the appendages did.

“This—this thing better not doing anything to us, or I swear, I’m gonna—agh!” Rhys cried out as some of the tentacles wrapped around his hips, playing with his belt until it popped open, leaving his pants loose and easy to invade. Jack watched as the purple appendages pushed underneath Rhys’ waistband, squirming their way underneath the fabric. Rhys flushed, gritting his teeth against the sensation of the invading tentacle rubbing against his skin.

Oh damn it. This is exactly what Jack had wanted to happen, but given that he was also bound to be the recipient of similar treatment, he was far more focused on escaping than enjoying the sight. He twisted around in the tentacles grip, craning his neck to try to pinpoint the location of his gun, only to find—with dismay—that it lay a good ten feet below where he was suspended. Much too far to swing out and grab.

“K-Kiddo, why don’t you try to call someone on that fancy eye of you—“ Jack started as he turned back around, only to find that the tentacles had pushed Rhys into a new position, his arching back now parallel with the ground beneath them. The monster had held his legs up and open, knees slightly bent towards his chest and giving Jack a good view of Rhys’ now bare ass and crotch. The tentacles had yanked his pants down to his calves, tight net of fabric keeping his legs from kicking out. The appendages were clustered all around Rhys’ rear, but through the mass of squirming flesh he could see the young man’s cock, grown undeniably stiff and already bubbling with pearlescent cum, skin as pink there as his flushed face.

“Oh, you little creep,” Jack snarled at his boyfriend, still valiantly trying to fight off the tentacles, “you’re enjoying it!”

“N-not out of choice!” Rhys protested. “But, well, if I have to get fucked by a monster, I might as well try to enjoy it!”

“Idiot! That’s not how it works! You don’t just frikkin’ g-give up when tentacles are trying to have their way with you!” Jack insisted as he kicked at one particular daring appendage, landing a direct hit that still didn’t seem to do much damage. “Be a man, Rhysie!”

“T-This has nothing to do with masculinity, asshole—“ Rhys cut himself off with a moan as the tentacles slipped up between his cheeks, presumably teasing at his sensitive entrance. Jack could see little trails of slick fluid glistening on Rhys’ skin as the tentacles passed over, clustering between his asscheeks and towards the base of his cock. The muscles in Rhys’ rear and legs quivered and tensed as the tentacles explored his lower body extensively. Jack could tell the moment the first one planted deep inside of him as Rhys’ body suddenly jackknifed upwards, his head falling back with a cry.

Jack’s own struggling stilled for a moment as he watched the tentacles begin to violate his boyfriend, their plump, slick length squeezing begin his cheeks. Faint teal slime dripped in heavy sheets as they spread him open, smaller tentacles grasping like fingers against his cheeks, kneading them as they pulled them apart.

The pleasure fluttering over Rhys’ expression was fairly admirable in the face of such an alien violation, and if Jack wasn’t bound up in tentacles himself he’d be far more likely to enjoy the lewd display—especially when the initial tentacles retracted slightly, only for a thicker, less prehensile appendage to take their place as they occupied themselves elsewhere, either hold Rhys’ legs and ass open or curling around his stiff cock. The way Rhys’ eyes rolled and tongue lolled out of his mouth when the blunt head of the largest tentacle pushed its way into his ass was enough to get Jack’s cock twitching despite his terror and anger at the situation, but unfortunately even arousal wasn’t enough to stop him from panicking when the tentacles grasping him began to get similarly curious.

“No—no no no no, not me too, you know whose ass you’re about to put your prick in you—you prick!” Jack stammered, thrashing wildly as the tentacles fumbled with his pants, ripping open his belt and shoving down his zipper as they wormed inside. His heart seized with a mixture of panic and unwanted arousal brought about by the slick friction of the appendages against his heated skin.

“Ahh—oh god, something else is coming—“ Rhys moaned, his legs twitching in a futile attempt to close his thighs around the appendage. “I swear Jack I am going to fucking kill you after this is over—“

“Something—something else?” Jack balked, eyes following Rhys’ gaze and falling in horror down the shaft of the large tentacle buried inside of his boyfriend, where he could see a large bulge traveling along the length, squeezed by sharp muscle contractions within the tentacles. His jaw dropped as the bulge slowly traveled up to press against Rhys’ already filled hole, stretching it wider and wider as it forced its way through.

“Oh—“ Rhys tossed his head as the bulge finally disappeared inside of him.

“What the hell? What is that?” Jack cried, his distressed brain momentarily forgetting why exactly he’d organized this encounter between Rhys and the monster. Breeding…breeding.

“Mmmm, it’s putting things in…” Rhys moaned, though his voice sounded less distressed and more engrossed. Jack almost wished he could just lay back and enjoy this the way Rhys could, but anxiety and shame kept its vise-grip on his chest and he couldn’t stop himself from losing his mind as he watched more and more of the bulges start to travel up the appendages towards Rhys’ entrance.

“No. Hell no. that’s not gonna happen to me, no way,” Jack’s voice only grew louder, overcompensating from his complete immobility. But the monster couldn’t be stopped through volume alone, and even as Jack hollered his throat hoarse the smaller tentacles curled along the rim of his hole and pulled it open, wide enough for the head of the largest appendage to begin pushing inside him.

Jack wasn’t used to anything getting shoved up his ass. Rhys was pretty comfortable with their current arrangement, as was Jack, so he’d been pretty unwilling to experiment thus far in their relationship—part thanks to pride, part thanks to the fact that he couldn’t imagine that he’d find anything in his ass pleasurable.

Though the flesh of the tentacles turned out surprisingly soft and spongy, he still clenched down hard against the intrusion, a sick feeling battling with his arousal in the pit of his stomach. He shut his eyes tight as he felt the slim tips of the appendage work his ass open with more care than he expected them to—but even that couldn’t quell his discomfort and the burn in his tight muscle as the foreign tentacles pushed themselves inside.

It stung all the way up to his already wounded pride, and as the tentacles wiggled deeper Jack felt wet-hot embarrassment flare up in face, tangling with his already clenched anger. Try as he might to force the tentacle out of his body, tightening up his rear only made the painful stretch worse. Still, he tried, refusing to accept the inexorable push of the tentacle, only relaxing involuntarily when the tip of the appendage tickled against a particularly sensitive spot inside him.

His gritted teeth suddenly broke with a moan as unwanted arousal lanced through his nether regions. His eyes flew open, eyes swooping downwards to his cock, as if to warn it to not dare get hard from such humiliating violation.

He didn’t want to end up like Rhys, getting off on a monster’s freaky cock.

Speaking of.

With his eyes again open, Jack finally turned his head to see how Rhys was dealing with the objects the tentacles had pushed up into his body.

He could see his boyfriend’s belly was bloated, sticking out from where his shirt had ridden up like he’d just eaten an entire three course meal and ice cream for dessert, only his skin looked slightly lumpier from the little masses that had been pushed inside. His swollen belly pushed out above his cock, skin already painted with glistening cum, evidence of a pleasure Jack heartily rejected. The CEO’s eyes bugged out at the sight, and he swore, panic suddenly cranking back up to ten.

“A-Are you kidding me? Is—is that what’s going to happen to me?” He asked, horrified, to no one in particular, as Rhys looked pretty out of it and the monster screwing them didn’t care how Jack felt about the matter.

’N-No, I’m the hero, I can’t…it’s bad enough I have to have tentacles in my ass but no…I can’t do that!” The pleading tone in his voice disgusted him, but he couldn’t stop it. It’d been awhile since he’d felt so truly helpless.

The tentacles suddenly rotated his body, like a hunk of meat on a spit, until he was parallel to the ground like Rhys was, but facing downwards. He renewed his thrashing at the sudden change in position, struggling even harder when the smaller tentacles retreated from his hole and started to pry apart his cheeks. His heart leapt violently in his chest—he’d seen what had happened to Rhys, he knew it was coming, but he couldn’t accept the reality, couldn’t believe he was about to be stuffed with the creature’s offspring even when the much larger breeding tentacle pushed up against his hole.

Jack cringed as the thick appendage shoved deeper and deeper inside of him, forcing his insides to deform around its girth as it sought the further pit of his stomach it could reach. He gagged slightly as the tip pushed around inside of him, and he quickly stole he glance away when he caught the flesh of his stomach bulging out slightly below his belly button, knowing he might start to toss his cookies if he tried to watch. His ass clenched uselessly around the engorged base of the tentacle, instinctively trying to push it away even as it buried hopelessly deep inside of the CEO. Jack hung in the grasp of the monster’s tentacles, miserable and hot from the rough, frustratingly erotic treatment.

And that was before it’d started laying eggs in him.

The firm bulges pressed mercilessly against his sensitive tract as they squeezed by, sending more jolts of pleasure into Jack’s groin. He ground his teeth together, legs kicking out with the last of his fighting instinct as he boldly tried to resist the pleasure of being filled.

No. He didn’t want to be aroused by all this. That was fine for Rhys, if the little creep wanted to get off on being violated by a monster that was his own business, but Jack wasn’t going to let that happen to him. Even with the monsters eggs massaging his prostate as they rolled through his insides, he refused. His body was cowardly, giving in to the most basic kind of stimulation, but Jack wasn’t going to let it win him over. He gritted his teeth, straining against the need simmering deep within his swollen stomach. He denied the feeling of his cock twitching against the underside of his belly, the feeling of pre-cum trickling from its head every time the monster shoved another egg in. It wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be happening.

But not even the strongest denial could stave off the growing heaviness in his stomach. It felt like someone was inflating a balloon of lead deep inside of him, firmness pressing outwards with each pump of eggs through his ass. Gravity started to pull against his swelling belly, heaviness weighing against his spine and forcing it to bend downwards. Jack whimpered, dropping his head down towards his chest, watching helplessly as the tan skin of his stomach stretched fuller with each egg piled inside of him.

“Ugh….I’m gonna throw up…or explode….whichever comes first…” Jack coughed, the taste of something sticky and thick gathering in the back of his throat. The horrible fullness in his belly seemed to force everything up, pushing his organs around as the eggs took their former place. The foreign feeling failed to let up as the stream of offspring continued, packing him fuller and faster until he felt he might actually die before he even got a chance to come.

Fortunately—or not, Jack was too far gone to determine his luck any longer—one of the smaller tentacles took pity on him, snaking around the plump shaft of his cock and jerking it in facsimile of human fingers. At that point, the CEO was far too exhausted to resist, his hips rutting forward into the grasp of the tentacles, chasing long-denied arousal until it finally tightened sharply inside him and he came, staining the sticky teal slime trailed by the tentacle with his own pearly jizz.

The orgasm wiped the last of the strength from Jack’s body, and he soon hung limp in the tentacles grasp, whining and twitching softly as eggs continued to push into his body. Just as he was starting to tingle in oversensitivity, however, the flood of eggs trickled to a crawl, before finally halting with a final push of extra fluid. Jack shivered unpleasantly as the slime filled the remaining cracks between the eggs, tingling his insides like menthol toothpaste as his skin tightened to its breaking point.

The breeding tentacle drew out of him as quick as it’d plunged inside, girth withering like a desiccated root. Jack yelped, voice hoarse, as leftover fluid followed with it, dripping down his thighs and soaking into where the waistband of his pants bunched up around his knees. It was warm, like the clutch now firmly settled within his belly, but neither provided him much comfort. The only thing that truly had his heart leaping with joy was what happened next—the monster actually let him go.

The thing slunk off after depositing his and Rhys’ spent forms against the enclosure floor below, its existence now that it’d released them of little concern to either man.

Personally, Jack had never been so grateful to touch solid ground, and he’d been in outer space for hell’s sake. He could’ve leaned over and kissed the grass he laid upon, if not for the fact that his entire body throbbed with pain from the considerable amount of weight that’d been forced into it.

“Are…are you kidding me…” Jack moaned, laid flat on his back as trembling hands floated over the monumental swell of his stomach. It stuck up in the air like a desert mountain, flesh bloated in a firm, heavy curve from just below his sternum all the way to his now hidden groin. He could hardly stand to look at it, and yet couldn’t tear his eyes away from the morbid, lumpy mass his belly had been warped into. He looked like some surrealist freak’s idea of a pregnant woman—as did Rhys, though to Jack’s frustration it looked like Rhys’ belly, despite getting laid in first, had up swelled less than his. His eyebrows furrowed weakly, a moan that was really little more than a distressed puff of air panting past his lips.

The hell. What did he do to deserve this?

“Uh…” Rhys moaned from besides Jack, propping himself up weakly on his elbows. His lips fell into an unhappy pout as he reached down to tenderly cup the underside of his stomach. “The fuck, Jack…I’m never sleeping with you again after this…I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fuck properly anymore….ow…my poor ass…”

At least with the constant stimulation gone, Rhys seemed at least a fraction as miserable as Jack was. Good.

Not so good was the sudden nausea and dizziness that swarmed Jack’s consciousness the moment he tried to sit up too. He burped, tasting sour as his head spun and insides cramps violently.

“I…I think I’m gonna…”

Jack’s otherwise perfect track record of manliness took another unfortunate hit when he, overwhelmed by the shock of the situation and his own exhaustion, tipped back against the cool grass of the enclosure and conked out completely—Rhys’ hoarse, concerned cries the last thing he heard.

Mmmm idk if you’ve got one like this, buttt okay Rhys and Jack going to r&d, and Jack gets mad at a scientist, starts wringing their neck, Rhys wanders off and gets snatched by a ‘creature’ and 👀 things happen, and Jack finds Rhys in the aftermath, and is like welp lesgo, and aftercare, and then they realize creature laid eggs in Rhys bc tummy grows or sth, just! An! Idea! I’d be blessed if you wrote it 💛~

thethespacecoyote:

the egg laying kind of just happened during the fucking too woops

warnings for ovi/xeno/nonconsensual monster fucking

Rhys hated to say it, but he was starting to grow a little bored with Research and Development.

He didn’t know whether it was because they hadn’t been coming out with something interesting in awhile, or the fact that Jack enjoyed touring so often that the sights and sounds had become mundane. Regardless of the reason, Rhys tended to dread more than look forward to the tours Jack dragged him along to.

Today, Jack was ostensibly checking in on the progress of the latest bio-weapon. The researchers had been trying to combine the feral power of the threshers with explosive cells to create what Jack had described to Rhys as “living, screeching, bombs-on-legs.” They definitely lived up to the “screeching” part, though the explosives were fairly underwhelming, leaving the demonstration’s thresher flailing and scurrying around with its tail singed and smoking from the failed detonation.

Rhys sighed and pulled up some games on his ECHOeye as Jack flew into a rage, grabbing one of the scientist’s and shouting in their face. Rhys estimated he was about ten seconds away from throttling the guy unless he gave Jack an answer he wanted to hear. Rhys wrinkled his nose in disgust, not wanting to see Jack murder someone for a stupid reason when he was already annoyed at being dragged here. Jack seemed focused on his tirade, leaving Rhys an opportunity to slip away and find something more appealing to do to pass the time until Jack was done with his temper tantrum.

He wandered about, not sure if he’d find anything interesting. After all, he’d seen most of what R&D had to offer about a dozen times before. One could only see so many biological abominations before they grew a little tiresome. He hummed to himself, absently scanning things with his ECHOeye as he sauntered from one room to the next, hands clasped behind his back. He even let himself whistle a mindless tune, the sound echoing throughout the empty rooms. Most of the scientists had probably been summoned to endure Jack’s wrath.

Rhys rolled his eyes as he wandered towards a cluster of steel cage, analytical eye flitting about, looking for something interesting. Jack always needed to make a show of his anger, even for people who were already pants-pissingly terrified of him. It seemed like overkill to Rhys.

Keep reading

Mmmm idk if you’ve got one like this, buttt okay Rhys and Jack going to r&d, and Jack gets mad at a scientist, starts wringing their neck, Rhys wanders off and gets snatched by a ‘creature’ and 👀 things happen, and Jack finds Rhys in the aftermath, and is like welp lesgo, and aftercare, and then they realize creature laid eggs in Rhys bc tummy grows or sth, just! An! Idea! I’d be blessed if you wrote it 💛~

the egg laying kind of just happened during the fucking too woops

warnings for ovi/xeno/nonconsensual monster fucking

Rhys hated to say it, but he was starting to grow a little bored with Research and Development.

He didn’t know whether it was because they hadn’t been coming out with something interesting in awhile, or the fact that Jack enjoyed touring so often that the sights and sounds had become mundane. Regardless of the reason, Rhys tended to dread more than look forward to the tours Jack dragged him along to.

Today, Jack was ostensibly checking in on the progress of the latest bio-weapon. The researchers had been trying to combine the feral power of the threshers with explosive cells to create what Jack had described to Rhys as “living, screeching, bombs-on-legs.” They definitely lived up to the “screeching” part, though the explosives were fairly underwhelming, leaving the demonstration’s thresher flailing and scurrying around with its tail singed and smoking from the failed detonation.

Rhys sighed and pulled up some games on his ECHOeye as Jack flew into a rage, grabbing one of the scientist’s and shouting in their face. Rhys estimated he was about ten seconds away from throttling the guy unless he gave Jack an answer he wanted to hear. Rhys wrinkled his nose in disgust, not wanting to see Jack murder someone for a stupid reason when he was already annoyed at being dragged here. Jack seemed focused on his tirade, leaving Rhys an opportunity to slip away and find something more appealing to do to pass the time until Jack was done with his temper tantrum.

He wandered about, not sure if he’d find anything interesting. After all, he’d seen most of what R&D had to offer about a dozen times before. One could only see so many biological abominations before they grew a little tiresome. He hummed to himself, absently scanning things with his ECHOeye as he sauntered from one room to the next, hands clasped behind his back. He even let himself whistle a mindless tune, the sound echoing throughout the empty rooms. Most of the scientists had probably been summoned to endure Jack’s wrath.

Rhys rolled his eyes as he wandered towards a cluster of steel cages, analytical eye flitting about, looking for something interesting. Jack always needed to make a show of his anger, even for people who were already pants-pissingly terrified of him. It seemed like overkill to Rhys.

He peered around one of the cages, frowning at its empty exterior. It was huge, with meat and bones strewn at the bottom that his eye informed him had belonged to a tork. He wrinkled his nose at the foul-smelling remains, ready to turn and head back to see if Jack had finished with his tirade—

His ECHOeye flashed a warning a moment too late, as something large and heavy immediately tackled him off of his feet.

Rhys cried out as he hit the floor, his legs flying up just as something heavy and hot shoved between them. He threw up his hands in front of his face as hot breath blasted against him, splattering his cheeks with flecks of drool.

Rhys had never seen a creature like this in any of the R&D enclosures before. It had a craggy, dragon like head and a mouth full of acid-green, irregular fangs. Four eyes glared down at him, a mix of neon green and blue and scarred with slitted pupils. Scraps of grey and brown fur sprouted up from a smooth, scaly skull, flanked by sharply pointed ears and a crown of thorny horns.

That was about all Rhys could see of the creature pinning him down, especially when it seized him by the waist and flipped him over onto his belly. He cried as his cheek smashed against the ground, his body moved and pushed by the monster as claws raked over his pants, ripping deep tears into the fabric and nicking his skin. He hissed as he felt blood spring from the scratches, the feeling of sticky fluid trailing down his legs only adding to the horrible discomfort he was suffering through.

“Jack! H-Help me!” He cried desperately as the creature made short work of his pants and boxers, a second pair of sharp claws holding open his asscheeks as the first kept his shoulders down against the department’s floor.

His heart leapt, thumping against his chest like crazy as the creature’s intentions became abundantly, horribly clear—he redoubled his efforts to escape, thrashing about and clawing at the fleshy paws holding down his torso as something thick and slimy rubbed up between his asscheeks. He cringed, hips pressing as hard against the floor as he could in a futile bid to get away from the beast’s—well, whatever it actually was, it didn’t mean good things for Rhys.

He whined in fear, clawing at the floor as the creature abruptly rammed inside of him, penetrating up to the hilt right away. He gagged, nearly throwing up down the front of his shirt as the head of the beast’s cock pushed his guts around. He shut his eyes tight, terrified something inside of him would rip and kill him. God, he didn’t want to die like this, not lying in shreds of his own clothes with a monster’s cock jammed deep inside of him.  

It felt too big to be pleasurable, if Rhys could find a scrap of pleasure within the idea of being pinned down and fucked by some stupid experiment. Probably something Jack ordered them to make he thought bitterly as the creature started to thrust in an out of him, the horrible squelch and squish making him feel sicker than he already did.

And that was before it started laying eggs in him.

At least, Rhys assumed they were eggs. He was a lot better at identifying things with his eyes than with his ass, after all.

He panted, one hand flying down to cradle his stomach, shocked at the sudden distention. He could feel the lumps beneath his hands that’d been forced into his ass by the creature. They were settled into his stomach, clustering together and bulging out against his skin.

“Why me…” Rhys whimpered as the creature thrusted more and more of those little, egg-shaped orbs into his ass. He hissed at the stretch, the size making the cock inside of him even more unbearable—and yet there it was, as each shape rolled over his prostate, that traitorous twinge of arousal that cut through the pain and discomfort rolling into his belly.

He felt his cock stiffen in the remains of his pants, no matter how hard he tried to focus against it, no matter how scandalized he felt at getting hard over some mutated beast’s dick. He couldn’t help his body’s reaction, no matter how disgusted it made him feel.

“I…I’m…gonna…kill him…” Rhys gasped in between more thrusts, more eggs pushed inside of him. He sobbed breathlessly, all air fucked out of his lungs by the monster pinning him down, natural inhalation hampered by the growing mass in his stomach pushing his guts upwards.

And yet, his cock still bobbed and swung between his legs. He could see it if he pushed himself up on his elbows, watching the cum dribble from the head and fleck onto the stained floor.

God. I’m sick.

Soon enough, however, even the arousal couldn’t mask the pain of the eggs packing into his middle. Rhys cringed, gritting his teeth as the pressure danced on the edge of unbearable, forcing him to think about what might happen if the monster didn’t bother to stop, or didn’t care if he survived the ordeal. He lifted his head, forcing himself up as he opened his mouth, ready to scream one more time for help—

—When suddenly a gunshot echoed through the room, followed by a flash of bright blue electricity that rattled through the creature’s body in frantic vibrations. Rhys screeched as its cock sharply jerked inside of him, before yanking its still egg-filled bulk back and out of his abused hole.

Rhys gasped at the sudden loss of horrible pressure, scrambling up on trembling legs as he immediately tried to put space between himself and his mutated assailant.

The creature twitched on its side besides him, drool still warm and pooling from its fang. It’s eyes blinked rapidly, pupils still fixed on Rhys. A growl rumbled from its mouth but its legs only twitched slightly in response, muscles paralyzed and heavy. Rhys shakily turned around to the sound of heavy footsteps only to see an irate Jack marching towards him. The head research cowered behind him, holstering a stun gun into his belt.  

“J-Jack, I—“ Rhys started as his boyfriend swept to his side, rage radiating off of his body.

“I thought I told you to keep this thing under wraps!” Jack roared as he hauled Rhys up to his feet, steadying the poor young man as he swayed and nearly fell. “If you thought I was mad before, just you wait until I get my hands on you no—“

“Jack,” Rhys gasped, drooling dumbly against Jack’s shoulder as his fingers clenched into his shirt. “Can we please just leave. I want to go home.”

“In a minute, kiddo, in a minute, just lemme—“ Jack opened his mouth and raised his finger in the direction of the scientist’s, but Rhys—already weary of yet another ten-minute long tirade—snapped and shook Jack by the front of his sweater. He brought their faces close, teeth gritted furiously as he hissed.

“Jack. You. Idiot. I have eggs in my stomach and I hate this place. I want to go.”

“Uh…okay, sure, sugar. Let’s go.” Jack held Rhys close, keeping his arms loose around his tender middle. He turned to glare at the cowering scientists, stabbing his finger in their direction.

“You freaks really lucked out today. When I come in that thing better be locked up. And those exploding stalkers better frikkin’ work!” He shouted after them as he led Rhys away, supporting the young man’s added weight as they quickly left R&D behind. Rhys sighed heavily, all muscles below the waist smarting with each step. His distended stomach shifted, the eggs inside clicking their shells together and sending unpleasant vibrations up his spine.  

“Rhys…” He lifted his eyes from his stomach to glance blearily at Jack’s solemn expression.

“…Yeah?”

To his displeasure, Jack’s lips quirked up in amusement as he pointed to Rhys’ crotch.

“Is…is that a boner.”  

“Forbidden Fruit” Ch. 1

A couple of lights flash outside the tank, and before Tim can cry out further something blue and neon enough to shine through the fuzzy amber of the stasis liquid funnels down the tube to fill into the mask. He clamps his mouth shut but in his panic forgets to hold his nose, anxious breaths unconsciously sucking in a cool gas that smells faintly of mint.

Instantly Tim feels it numb his throat as he sucks the mist into his lungs, like some tingling analgesic. It doesn’t take long for the substance to spread throughout his body, carried on his panicked blood as his thrashing somehow slows even more. His body floats like it’s half asleep, but his mind remains painfully aware that he’s getting rendered insensate by his captors.

The strange faces that look back up at him from outside the tank seems almost human, but off enough to make him feel even more unsettled than he already does—whether that’s reality or merely a distortion through the fluid and tube, he has no way of knowing, and as soon as something starts to squish and move in the liquid beneath his feet, he really doesn’t care about anything going on outside.

This was just a weird oviposition plot bunny that got out of hand. Basically Tim and Rhys get abducted by aliens and knocked up with eggs, and things spiral from there. The first bit is just some solo!Tim, though there’s preexisting Rhack also and Rhysothy/Rhackothy later on. 

Warnings for tentacles, nonconsensual ovi, and also a pretty claustrophobic environment in this one!

Tim already had already known his life was one parade of nightmares after the next.

If it had to pin it down, college would probably be where things had really gone down the drain—college had led to debt had to led to Jack had led to expensive and painful surgery had led to constant dangerous missions on exotic planets and more. He’d grown accustomed to the frenetic pace of his new lifestyle, though, so most things the universe tossed his way hardly phased him anymore.

But he has to admit—waking up in a tube of amber yellow liquid, unable to move—is a new one.

Thanks, universe.

Tim’s vision blurs, either by the fuzziness clouding his senses or the shimmering bubbles drifting up around him, he doesn’t know. He opens his mouth, trying to shout, only to find some kind of mask has been clamped around his lips and snapped tightly around his head. He follows the ribbed pipe attached to the mask all the way up, but loses it in the flat cap of the tube above him.

Tim can move, but only barely, whatever fluid he’s bathing in hampering his movements to a snail’s pace. He can see the tips of his right hand out of the corner of his eyes as he tries to lift it, but no matter how far he reaches he can’t touch any part of the tube’s glassy walls. The liquid clings to him like a heavy jelly, weighing him down as he tries to move his arms around to shield his body out of instinct. He’s still clothed, but he’s never felt more naked.

Floating without purchase starts to make him panic, the mask artificially pushing air in and out of his lungs not helping things. Tim thrashes as best as he can, trying to pull the mask from his face, but it clamps on tight like some kind of alien creature suckered onto him. The muffled sound of his own struggling cries sound distant to him, as if he’s hearing them shouted through the walls of another room.

As Tim writhes, shapes from beyond the bounds of the tube start to swim into view. They stay fuzzy, making indistinct and bizarre movements like abstract strokes of paint as they cluster around the front of the tank. Tim shouts, trying to form words he hopes would reach them, as if his bizarre captors can be convinced to let him go.

A couple of lights flash outside the tank, and before Tim can cry out further something blue and neon enough to shine through the fuzzy amber of the stasis liquid funnels down the tube to fill into the mask. He clamps his mouth shut but in his panic forgets to hold his nose, anxious breaths unconsciously sucking in a cool gas that smells faintly of mint.

Instantly Tim feels it numb his throat as he sucks the mist into his lungs, like some tingling analgesic. It doesn’t take long for the substance to spread throughout his body, carried on his panicked blood as his thrashing somehow slows even more. His body floats like it’s half asleep, but his mind remains painfully aware that he’s getting rendered insensate by his captors.

The strange faces that look back up at him from outside the tank seems almost human, but off enough to make him feel even more unsettled than he already does—whether that’s reality or merely a distortion through the fluid and tube, he has no way of knowing, and as soon as something starts to squish and move in the liquid beneath his feet, he really doesn’t care about anything going on outside.

Tim can hear some faint, mechanical whirr through the muffled density of the fluid, but before he can detect what direction it’s coming from something touches his foot and he’s screaming into the mask covering his face.

He mashes his chin to his chest in a desperate attempt to look down but he can barely adjust his body well enough to get a proper glance at what can possibly be below him. But he can feel it—oh god, oh god—he can feel it as it winds its way up his legs like some bizarre, spongy plant except its flexing like blood pumping through an artery and it sends sick fear spinning up into Timothy’s stomach. He kicks out numbly—more a jerk of reflex than anything—panicking as the appendages continue to wrap around him, undaunted and uncaring for his struggles.

The tip of the thickest tentacle pops his fly open as deftly as a hand, slipping inside and immediately diving underneath Timothy’s taint and back towards his ass. The double’s thighs shake, desperately trying to clench together and push the appendage away even as it shoves its way up between his asscheeks and towards his tight hole.

Tim has never taken anything up the ass without a healthy dose of lube, and even the spongy texture of the appendage doesn’t help ease the way as it pushes itself inside of his body. He grinds his teeth, spine twitching painfully in a last ditch attempt to push away from the thing inside of him, but with the syrupy fluid weighing him down and with nowhere to go, it proves futile.

The appendage pushes further up inside of him and he feels like throwing up, mind dizzy with shock as it struggles to process the fact that he’s being fucked and he can’t even see what’s doing the fucking or tell it no or even fight back. All he can do is hang there, suspended in this tube, letting whatever is below him violate his body.

The inside of the oxygen mask fogs as Tim pants faster and faster, breathing strained as the tentacle inside of him suddenly shudders, writhing so violently that Tim fears his insides might rip. This lasts for only a second, and briefly relief washes over Tim, only for the tentacle to start to swell to an unthinkable size right outside of his hole—and worse, push into him.

Tim’s hands squeeze into the fluid in a desperate grab for purchase as a round bulb pops inside of him and pushes along the length of the tentacle, working its way up into him through a nightmarish contraction of muscles that undulate against Tim’s sensitive insides. He can feel his cock harden in his pants, sensitive head bathed in the warm liquid as it pokes out from between the teeth of his open fly.

Fluid shoots out against his insides, the flesh of the tentacle porous as a sponge as it contracts in a wild peristalsis. He feels the tip of the appendage burst inside of him, pushing whatever’d been traveling along it out into stomach cavity.  His abdomen twitches, twisting around the foreign object now rolling around inside of him. Tim gazes down at his stomach, eyes wide as if he has any hope to see what exactly is going on within his body as more of the orbs start to press inside of him.  

Soon Tim can feel his middle start to strain as if he’s eaten a large meal, but instead of satisfaction he feels only a sick sense of arousal as the tentacles pulses against his insides, continuing its steady rhythm of brief swelling and sudden contraction. He wants so badly to just pass out, to hope this was nothing more than a sick dream, but the oxygen flooding the mask and the arousal swimming in his loins keeps him painfully awake and aware of the increasing pressure in his ass and stomach as this thing unloads whatever horrible shit its got into him.

Tim can see his stomach start to push out against his sweater, bloating rounder as the tentacle continues to pulse its load inside of him. His insides strain, clenching around the sudden mass, trying to drive it out and adapt to its presence at the same time, leaving Tim in a sick quandary as he stares helplessly down at his steadily swelling form.

The bulbs continue to press inside of him, so many that they start to build up in his ass, pressing up against his prostate and keeping his cock almost painfully stiff. He pants harder into the mask, tongue hanging out of his mouth as the appendage thrashes suddenly inside of him, trying to jostle the bottleneck of eggs forward. Spittle flies from Tim’s lips as he cries out, body unbearably hot and uncomfortable and aroused as his hips jerk forward, cock spasming with an orgasm as the rest of the bulbs suddenly shove all the way into his stomach with a last gush of thick, hot fluid.

Strands of his own cum, oddly suspended like beads of oil in water, are the last thing he sees before he blacks out completely.

“Deflowered”

thethespacecoyote:

“Shame. Things would have been much easier if you’d simply used your words…I’ve got to say, your rudeness was a little upsetting.” Jack tuts, his horns reflecting veins of rough pewter in the red of the setting sky. The sun has finally dipped below the crowns of the trees at the west side of the clearing, its dying rays casting an eerie kaleidoscope over the demon’s bulk as he shifts, something long and jagged and black appearing in his hand.

The nymph cries out, spine arching upwards as Jack thrusts the first iron spike through his hand, driving through the meat of the palm and into the earth below.

I forget why exactly I started writing this, but here it is. Demon!Jack and nymph!Rhys flower gore. Big warning for guro, noncon, and quasi-woundfucking, so don’t read this if that kind of stuff is too disturbing. 

Keep reading

“Deflowered”

thethespacecoyote:

“Shame. Things would have been much easier if you’d simply used your words…I’ve got to say, your rudeness was a little upsetting.” Jack tuts, his horns reflecting veins of rough pewter in the red of the setting sky. The sun has finally dipped below the crowns of the trees at the west side of the clearing, its dying rays casting an eerie kaleidoscope over the demon’s bulk as he shifts, something long and jagged and black appearing in his hand.

The nymph cries out, spine arching upwards as Jack thrusts the first iron spike through his hand, driving through the meat of the palm and into the earth below.

I forget why exactly I started writing this, but here it is. Demon!Jack and nymph!Rhys flower gore. Big warning for guro, noncon, and quasi-woundfucking, so don’t read this if that kind of stuff is too disturbing. 

Keep reading

“Deflowered”

“Shame. Things would have been much easier if you’d simply used your words…I’ve got to say, your rudeness was a little upsetting.” Jack tuts, his horns reflecting veins of rough pewter in the red of the setting sky. The sun has finally dipped below the crowns of the trees at the west side of the clearing, its dying rays casting an eerie kaleidoscope over the demon’s bulk as he shifts, something long and jagged and black appearing in his hand.

The nymph cries out, spine arching upwards as Jack thrusts the first iron spike through his hand, driving through the meat of the palm and into the earth below.

I forget why exactly I started writing this, but here it is. Demon!Jack and nymph!Rhys flower gore. Big warning for guro, noncon, and quasi-woundfucking, so don’t read this if that kind of stuff is too disturbing. 

Catching a nymph was no small task.

Jack had spent most of the daylight hours sniffing through the lowland woods, trying to narrow down the scent of natural magic. Jack’s determination had grown more hurried as the sun had begun to sink in the sky, casting shadows around the glow of the coming sunset. If catching a nymph was hard, finding one in the shadows of night was near impossible, even for a demon who thrived in the power of darkness and death.

But just as the sun had begun to touch the very tops of the distant trees, luck decided to shine upon Jack. He’d been trundling through a roughly hewn path, the grass trampled by the tracks he was following, when a sudden flash of movement had caught his eye and sent him bounding after his flighty prey. He’d lunged out from behind the trees, leaping out into the clearing as his claws seized around the waist of his catch. Jack’s bulk and momentum had flung his prey to the ground, a terrified squeal breaking the afternoon air as Jack’s voice had twisted in a triumphant caw.

The nymph is a handsome little thing, even more so as it struggles against Jack’s strong hands. It’s long in the legs and torso, the blue tattoos on its lithe muscles stretching out in its chest and arms as it pushes up against Jack’s iron grip on its wrists. Its hair is tousled, burgundy waves fanning out from its head as it looks up at Jack with eyes like the meet of the shore and the stream. Its cheeks are tinged pink from the chase, its chest rapidly rising and falling in short, panicked breath. Jack rubs his clawed thumbs against the nymph’s wrists, feeling its fearful pulse. It sends a shuddering thrill down to the demon’s vile loins.

The nymph writhes and ripples like a landed fish, skin flashing weak and silvery in the dying light of the sun. Its mouth opens and closes breathlessly, ringed with pretty, clamshell-pink lips that Jack just wants to bite and rip. The demon straddles across his prey’s slim hips, bulk weighing it down and making escape impossible.

The cornflower blue tattoos on the nymph’s arms and chest swirl like a storm, summoned to protect their master from the demon’s unwanted advance. They lapped against his tight grasp on the nymph’s wrists like water building up against a dam. Jack’s fingers prickled slightly but he held firm, snickering coarsely at the futile attempts to ward him off.  

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for someone like you?” Jack croons, musky vapor rolling from between his teeth. The nymph tenses, unwittingly exposing more of his tender neck as it tilts his jaw up to break sight with Jack.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy. Let ol’ Jack hear that pretty little voice of yours.” The demon rubs his ebon claws against the pulse in the nymph’s wrists, feeling the fearful sprout of blood throb against his fingers.

“You can start off by telling me your name.”

Tiny, nubby fangs dig stubbornly into the nymphs lower lip, a meager flash of danger that Jack finds cute.

“No?” The nymph shakes its head.

“Hmm. Suppose we’ll have to use the hard way, then.” Jack shrugs his shoulders. “Your choice, sweetheart.”

Jack clubs one claw across the nymph’s face, red bruising popping up at its cheeks. It is a glancing blow that sends the creature snarling, but the pain is secondary to the distraction it provides. Before the nymph can take advantage of one released wrist, Jack’s clawed hand comes to hover above its torso, palm suddenly glowing with red magic.

The nymph’s spine jerks upwards as its skin suddenly shifts with the movement of Jack’s hand, the ink fluttering over its flesh suddenly seizing and struggling as Jack’s power summons it to his bidding. The nymph screeches as Jack forces the tattoos against the bind of its skin, dragging them like hot knives into the truth the demon seeks. Now burnt blue, they wriggle helplessly, like snakes sizzling on the forge as Jack draws his hand down the nymph’s sternum, forcing them to etch through unwilling flesh. Jack’s prey grits its teeth, neck arching forward as the ink bleeds down and pools into four letters spaced between its pert nipples.

“R-H-Y-S,” Jack sounds out, clicking his tongue. Rhys flinches as a bit of saliva hits his skin.

“Shame. Things would have been much easier if you’d simply used your words…I’ve got to say, your rudeness was a little upsetting.” Jack tuts, his horns reflecting veins of rough pewter in the red of the setting sky. The sun has finally dipped below the crowns of the trees at the west side of the clearing, its dying rays casting an eerie kaleidoscope over the demon’s bulk as he shifts, something long and jagged and black appearing in his hand.

The nymph cries out, spine arching upwards as Jack thrusts the first iron spike through his hand, driving through the meat of the palm and into the earth below.

Golden blood follows the lines in the nymphs hands, spilling out over the grass and weighing heavy on each blade like molten beads of dew. The tattoos chase up from the nymph’s wrists, as if they can stop the flow of blood from the wound. His fingers twitch like the legs of an impaled beetle, drawing Jack’s eyes to the tantalizing blood now spilling from the nymph’s body, but even with his desires beginning to spill out before him, he has no desire to collect and let his prey go just yet.

With the evening approaching, will-o-wisps begin to flutter between the trees like spiritual voyeurs, light flickering behind each shielding trunk scattered around the clearing where the demon has pinned the nymph to the yielding forest floor. Jack’s attention draws from his prey for a brief moment as one foolish sprite strays too far, drifting on the wind or its own curiosity towards the sordid display. The demon lets out a rusty growl and lashes out, clawed fingers yanking the wisp towards him as if he’s grasping current in the water. He hears the nymph below him cry out in shock as he opens his maw, jaws clenching down around the sprite’s momentary form.

It clings to his teeth like candy floss for a moment before he licks it back into his mouth with a vicious grin. The nymph’s eyes widen and he shouts louder as Jack’s fiendish face leers in close, the last bit of ephemeral light vanishing from between his fangs and into the greedy pit of his stomach.

“Y-You’re a monster,” the nymph seethes, tattoos squirming in horror. Jack laughs at him, licking the tips of his fingers before he arches back over the nymph. The second iron spike flicks into his other hand, and before his captive can cry out once more he pushes it clean through the nymph’s left palm, forcing him to choke on his wail.

“Looks like you finally found your voice, huh? And just in time,” Jack growls, breath heavy and moist as a wolf’s as he catches on Rhys’ face, “I bet your blood is even tastier when you’re screaming and begging me to stop.”  The nymph twitches, groaning as Jack leans in and licks a thick, weighty stripe up his cheek. Jack smacks his lips, forked tongue flickering like a wisp of smoke.

“I can’t wait.”

Jack trails his tapered fingers over Rhys’ torso, a couple errant tattoos nipping at his claw, even as the rest flee from the demon’s touch, already laying down their arms as they cower near the nymph’s shoulders. He is soft all over much to Jack’s delight, flesh shrouded in velvety skin—skin soft as birchbark, and just as easy to peel.

He presses his finger in just below the nymph’s sternum, his flesh giving up little fight underneath the demon’s razor sharp claws. Jack pushes, the tip of his finger slicing gradually into the nymph as he starts to squirm, chest fluttering like a captured hummingbird as molten gold begins to flow from underneath the demon’s claw.

Jack’s mouth waters at the reveal of more blood, intoxicating scent of fresh earth and flowers drifting up into the demon’s nostrils as he digs his claw in deeper. Rhys moans, flesh clenching around Jack’s finger as it curls further into his body.

The nymph’s innards begin to bubble and writhe around Jack’s claw as he slices it down his torso. Almost immediately, jade-green tendrils begin to unfurl up from the slit, sprouting like springtime up from the jagged wound. Jack’s infernal eyes widen at the sight as flora begins to spill out of the nymph alongside the torrent of liquid gold, nascent stems sticky with his blood.

The nymph’s eyes widen in horror, chin glued to his chest as he watches Jack split him down the middle. Pain twists in his lips, dainty little teeth digging in as he struggles. Impaled palms yank against the rusty stakes as Jack’s claw begins to cut into the softness of his stomach, skin splitting like the flesh of a swollen gourd. A scream cuts from between the nymph’s lips as more dusty green flora spills from his massive wound. Tendrils curl upwards and outwards from the furrow across the blanched soil of Rhys’ skin. New leaves flourish from the stems, tender and paper thin. The nymph’s tattoos wriggle like cut worms, frantically writhing underneath the weight of blood and sprouting plant-life.  

The tender green buds finally swell and burst in a flurry of bright blue petals before Jack’s spellbound eyes

He drags his claw slowly down the nymph’s belly, like a hunter gutting a prized kill. Rhys gasps, body twitching helplessly as his flesh parts around the demon’s hand, more and more blood spilling down his flanks as flowers continue to bloom from the gaping wound. Jack watches, transfixed by the blossoming display as stems and leaves and buds continue to twist and wind out of the nymphs’ exposed innards, their petals unfurling softly as if to hide the grotesque wounds from the demon’s lustful stare. Bright blue crocuses crowned with golden stamen flower forth, covering Rhys’ body in a shroud of flora even as Jack rips it apart.

Up in the smoky crest of the mountains where his castle is carved arrogantly into the stone there is no sight as beautiful as this. Jack’s days are filled with torment and violence and yet there is little pleasure in ripping apart ugly little sycophants throwing themselves prostrate at his feet. Jack had long grown bored of mutilating anyone who wanted it, who would give him little more show than a nasty, gurgling death.

Sparkling tears collect in the nymph’s eyes, pain etched across his expression even as he continues to try to glare up at Jack. Weak fingers fist around the spikes driven through his palm, slippery with his own blood. Tendrils coil feebly about the rusty stake, as if they had any hope of pushing them out.

Jack pulls his claw out from Rhys’ blossoming stomach as he reaches the nymph’s pelvis, licking the gold from his fingers. It’s sweet as nectar, tinged with metallic earth. He sucks his claws dry, smirking at the helpless nymph as he procures three stained vials. Blood continues to pour from Rhys’ gutted body, easily filling each glass even as more flowers continue to grow out from his wounds.

Jack and temptation twine together so often it feels daft to say he falls victim to it, rather he embraces it wholly each time a fresh, twisted idea worms into his infernal brain, flourishing in the black and barren soil raked with sin. As he watches more and more flowers pour from Rhys’ body, petals virgin and whole despite the violent nature of their birth, one such idea cracks forth.

Jack’s claws sink into the mass of flora, feeling the soft caress of the leaves and petals between his fingers. They tickle against his tough flesh, nubile little touches sending shivers through his body down to his shaggy loins. He squeezes a fistful of blossoms, earning a guttural cry from Rhys that has his swollen cock popping out of its sheath. Ivory cum beads at the tip, already eagerly spilling down his fattened length.

Every twirling tendril, every wispy petal invites him, and as a being born from such deep, dark lust he finds no reason to restrain himself from the need poisoning his cruel brains and splashing hot blood into his groin. He leaves one claw sunk into the clump of twisting plants, tugging it forward like the oily hair of the demon whores he screws from boredom up on his mountain. His other claw grabs at Rhys’ waist, tips digging into the nymph’s injured flesh as the head of his cock smears into the bundle of flowers.

Jack pushes harshly as the plants stiffen, tropism binding them to one another as, like the tattoos, they rush to defend their host. But Jack’s living, vicious libido bests the nymph’s dying throes, and with a sick laugh he shoves his way through the trembling verdure.

Every stem, every leaf is like a nerve to the nymph, exposed to the hellish stretch of the demon’s cock as it forces its way through the unfurling bundles of leaves and stems and petals that continue to sprout up from Rhys’ organs. The nymph’s pained cries come on each grunt of breath, his eyes rolling up towards his brows but not yet giving him the grace of unconsciousness.

Pollen shimmers like powdered blood over the flowers as they continue to sprout from Rhys’ body, choking his wounds full, unabated despite the hellish cock forging its way into the visceral underbrush. The vines twist, forced to welcome Jack as he fucks into the flowering mass, the buds blossoming around the hot shaft of his cock.

Tendrils lap weakly at the demon’s furry hips, their tips fisting into clumps of hair—for purchase or for defense, it matters little to Jack as he feels the rising peak of his orgasm erupt upwards.

The dying sky blooms red behind Jack as he ruts against the twisting morass, cock ripping through the tender flowers and sending their tattered petals back against Rhys’ heaving body. The nymph drools mindlessly, his eyes wide and distant as he stares at Jack, his own golden blood flecked against his lips and teeth.

Jack comes violently, burning seed withering all the flowers and leaves in its path as it scours the fertile earth of Rhys’ insides. The nymph cries out in agony, blood trickling from where he’d bit into his lips as Jack’s cum burns its way through the thicket of his spilling flora. Tears crawl down his face, begging Jack to stop what had already been done.

When he pulls his cock out, it’s streaked with the nymph’s blood and speckled with pollen, as if he had dipped his groin into a pool of molten gold. He imagines his statues, soon to be rid of their tainted hue and sheathed in the glimmering paint born of Rhys’ body. Slowly, the flowers from inside of him stop growing, seared at their roots by Jack’s hellish seed.

The nymph lays listless, eyelids fluttering weakly. Jack smirks. He slides his talon right underneath Rhys’ nose, feeling the wheeze of breath against his finger. Nymphs, even with mortal wounds, would stay alive until every last sprout from their body was razed to the ground. A couple of flowers still sway in Rhys’ open wounds, no longer spilling out of him but spared from Jack’s destructive touch.

He pulls his cloak from around his neck, wrapping the heavy, velvety cloth around the nymph’s body. It smells of smoke and ore and musk, smothering the feeble, flowery scent. He lifts Rhys up into his arms, the nymph’s head lolling over his shoulder as he rises to his feet.

Rhys says something, but it’s muffled in the thick gold blood still coating his mouth. Jack kisses him, forked tongue working open his slack lips as he drinks from the bleeding font.

Catching the nymph had been difficult. He doesn’t want to have to do it again.

He hears the forest rustle with hidden creatures, animals and sprites alike watching as Jack carries the nymph back through the trees, away from the clearing and towards the peaks cresting up into the rapidly darkening sky.

Perhaps, with the nymph at hand, he could paint his entire mountain gold.