Gaga for the Gargoyle (Fated Dates)

by Settle Myer

I need to be dicked. I need to be fucked so hard, my cunt is sore for days.

Going to bars at age forty while single? I think I’d rather yeet myself into the ocean while on my period and make friends with hungry sharks.

Fuck, she’s tiny. I’m going to destroy her.

If you don’t stop being a brat then you’ll definitely be on your knees praying for penance.

And it won’t be God’s name you’re calling.

She proceeds to make a noise that is anything but a growl. It was like a kitten attempting a frightening roar. It was freaking adorable.

“You will never be ‘just’ anything. Never underestimate yourself, Evangeline. Not in your beauty, your career, or your life.”

“Oh, Kitten. You are not, and never will be, a waste. And if you keep doubting yourself around me, I will have my soldiers find the fucker who convinced you that you’re not worthy. I’ll rip their spine out of their body and feed their flesh to the hellhounds that prowl at the gate between Hell and Earth’s realm.”

He’s scared of cats. I remind him he’s a six-foot three, three-hundred-pound gargoyle, but I can never convince him he’s safe from being killed by a cat. The odds are low, but never zero, he’d say.

“Oh, Kitten, I’m going to enjoy showing you what you’ve been missing.”

“Are you going to ask me questions this entire trip? Because I will launch myself out of the car into traffic.”

This cock is going to destroy me.

“You are the best thing to happen to me in all of my 999 years. You are the sun that doesn’t turn me to stone. You own my heart.

sky sex.

“Um…

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️