Monster X Reader - Blog Posts

Some touch ups to the rules about requesting!

My requests are currently open! ♡

I mainly write for

My hero academia & Monster

ᗢ And I'm open to many other animes for example haikyuu demon slayer and jjk.

♡ I haven't written anything about those before because I didn't get the chance yet

ᗢ I'm really looking forward to writing for any haikyuu character but I don't have a lot of ideas so feel free to request for them. Maybe I'll get some inspiration

Since I'm still a student I'm sometimes busy w school so I will not guarantee that I'll answer every single request in time , please keep this in mind!!

Also remember that I write for fun so please don't expect for me to be a pro at this

♡ Keep in mind that It will take time for me to write a request,so if I won't answer instantly doesn't mean I won't do it at all. Please be patient with me. I promise I read every single request but it will take time for me to reach out to it and do it!

♡ You are allowed to request the same character over and over if you want to,I don't mind that. You don't have to feel embarrassed about requesting more than once.

♡ I do write nsfw/smutty stuff so feel free to request anything,it doesn't matter if you think the scenario is too weird,I don't mind

♡ I write character x reader but I don't mind doing character x character If anyone would want that. I also mostly do like smaus, head cannons or just little scenarios I usually don't write very long things like full fanfics!

♡ I also can do poly stuff or threesomes for character x character x reader

♡ I can write for any gender for the reader if it's specified in the request,if not I'll probably try to do gn reader

♡ I'm also looking forward to any requests for female characters x reader because I mostly write male characters

♡ If I feel uncomfortable with a request I won't answer and it'll be deleted. I will not reply to anything that I don't want to do

♡ I can refuse requests even without a valid reason

♡ I will write pretty much any au or scenario that you want,I'm not too picky

♡ This is not necessarily something you have to do but I'd appreciate it if you could request without the "ask anonymously" but if you don't feel comfortable with doing that then it's okay! I'll still do your request

♡ My content is 18+ so I don't recommend for minors to stick around but you can remain on my page as long as you're not being a weirdo. I have no intention of blocking anyone as long as you won't interact with me in a weird way.

Hii! May I request some Tenma x reader headcanons or a whole fic with a reader who is also a doctor? They could have met back when he was working in the hospital or during his journey, up for you to decide. Thank you very much!!

Hi thank you for this,sorry for the late reply<3

Tenma met you when he was working for Eva's dad,in his hospital. You were obviously just a doctor like he was and he took a liking to you specifically.

You were such an amazing doctor! He thought you were the best out of all the people working in that hospital but he refused to admit it out loud to not offend anyone. He started observing you, your habits and your work. He was impressed by every successful surgery that you had performed.

He really wanted to get close to you,to know you better. You have a lot of potential to become someone even more successful than you already were.

Eventually the two of you started talking. You took notice of how handsome Tenma looked, his eyes were such a pretty shade of brown.

Not long after meeting him,he asked you out on a date which surprised you a bit,he was pretty forward with things,not that you minded.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me? I know this amazing restaurant just nearby the hospital..I heard they have delicious dishes,my treat!

You both started getting along more and more and god..he was such a gentleman. Tenma just treats you so nicely and he even tries to convince Eva's dad to let him work alongside you and assist to your surgeries.(He did in fact convince him)

He gives you lots of useful tips and tries to teach you things that you may not be very experienced in. He looked so beautiful while he talked,you couldn't take your eyes off him,his back hair falling over his eyes. You always kinda just space out,his facial features distract you,he was way too good looking.

"..and while you have to take a bullet out you have to be very careful to not touch anything that may-..hey.. are you paying attention to me? Are you okay?"

After just a few months of talking and being friends(with benefits) he finally asked you(properly this time) to be his partner. You didn't want to rush things with him as it may ruin what you have,I mean a few months isn't a lot..you should wait more before making this decision. But..at the same time you knew you wanted him.

In the end you both end up together and man this guy suddenly became even more attractive to you. He always takes you out and he buys you flowers at least a few times a month,and he generally spoils you.

"ah hey love,how was your day? Any challenging patients today?"

"Oh these? Ah I almost forgot about them,they're flowers for you,dear. I spotted them on my way home and they reminded me of you"

Tenma now assists in every single one of your surgeries at the hospital, operating alongside you and eventually You both get promoted to a higher rank among the doctors which helps with your reputation.

Y'all cannot tell me that Johan Liebert wouldn't use names like "darling" or "dear" for his partner. Especially dear,it just sounds so pleasant to him.

At first he was hesitant about calling you any kind of name or pet name besides just your actual name. He was never in a relationship before so he was just uncertain and it felt strange.

It didn't take a lot for him to warm up to it though.

"I won't be home until later tonight,I'll have some things to solve first. Just wait for me,dear"

He's not a big fan of the other pet names like baby or babe,he thinks they're too cheesy,he doesn't like cheesy shit.

Maybeee he would sometimes use "sweetheart" if he feels nice,but heavy on SOMETIMES.

He'd use "sweetheart" mostly if he's feeling a bit cocky or cheeky. Like when you're bringing up information that's wrong.

"You're wrong on that fact,science actually says otherwise, sweetheart.

Johan doesn't like using pet names very often so when he does it makes your stomach tingle(in a good way ofc) because it shows you that he still somewhat cares about you in his own weird way.

"Not now, darling,I have some things I need to write down first"

Also he definitely dislikes the word bae idk. He'll give you the nastiest glance if you're gonna call him that. (And you sometimes do because it's funny to see him annoyed)

Check out my monster mast list

general Johan and reader headcanons? just in general how it would be like in a relationship? ty :)

Johan is a very calm and collected person,you enjoy his presence a lot because of that fact and he surprisingly also enjoys yours.

He doesn't necessarily want to have lots of people around him but after you guys met, he caught a liking to you,you were pretty interesting.

He often invites you over at his place to mostly either read alongside him or to eat together.

I wouldn't say he's the most talkative person..he probably just lets you do the talking while he just listens, eventually giving an opinion on what you had to say when you're done.

He definitely checks you out shamelessly whenever he gets the chance (especially when you're not looking).

Johan wasn't one to be after a person's looks,hell he wasn't even interested in a relationship at first but there was something about you that he had never seen in someone else.

You were something special, to him at least. Your personality was intriguing to him, he found you very interesting.

He starts glaring and glancing over at you more often after you start dating. He also kinda stalks you and takes a few notes on your habits, pretty much out of curiosity. He wants to learn about his new lover!

He keeps a small notebook hidden somewhere under his desk, keeping information about you in it (you don't know about his notebook)

I feel like he wouldn't be jealous at all?? Like you could go out in public with him and you'd have lots of guys just drooling over you and he'd just look at them with a tilt of his head,his expression remaining neutral,but not unkind.

He really doesn't care,the only time he'll get involved is if someone tries to harm you in some way,he wouldn't allow you to get hurt.

He pretty much trusts you,he knew you wouldn't be interested in other guys anyway.

Johan is not the biggest fan of physical touch but he just recently found out he enjoys holding your hand, especially when you go out in public with him.

He doesn't want to admit he enjoys holding hands directly so he'll try to find some excuses to do it.

"ah,be careful,there are too many cars driving at a fast speed...you should hold my hand just in case. It'll be safer"

You chuckle at his words,and then gently interlock your hand to his.

He obviously knew that you were aware of his excuses..I mean no one would fall for it but he didn't mind you knowing anyway. He just didn't want to admit it directly.

I'm telling y'all,this man does not know how to kiss,like at all.

He gets curious about it at one point and he's asking you if you could kiss.

"I gave this a lot of thought and I really wanted to kiss you,I want to know how it feels to be so..close to a person"

He said to you with the same neutral expression on his face,but having just a slight smile peaking at the corners of his mouth.

He is a messy kisser,very very messy. Saliva and spit included.

He doesn't mean to be messy! He's just a little weird,I mean poor boy never had a lover before can you blame him for being inexperienced? :(

Even though it's messy,his kisses are also intense. He puts effort into it, maybe too much effort.

Johan had your body trapped between him and a door,his hands gripping onto both of your forearms while his mouth was exploring yours.

He definitely uses tongue when kissing

I swear it's like this man was digging for gold inside your mouth or something..you didn't expect him to get so desperate! It's out of character for him.

Also he definitely calls you dear or darling,idc

Hello! I would like to request general romantic headcanons with Tenma, thank you!

Hi pretty,thanks for the request<3

Ohh this man would be absolutely obsessed with his lover,you cannot tell me otherwise

Tenma definitely cooks and cleans for you,it's his love language,along with words of affirmation

Remember those scenes in the anime where he went out of his way to buy that clock for Mr junkers?(Or whatever was his name) And that ball for Dieter?? Yeah he definitely would do that for his partener

He buys you lots of unnecessary shit that you don't need at all. If you point out that you like a certain type of food,drink, or anything really,he's gonna sprint to the closest store to buy it for you before he comes home

I'd say he's also a bit touch starved,he loves receiving any type of physical touch,variating from holding hands to kisses and cuddles and maybe even holding onto your thigh while he drives

Tenma likes your thighs a lot,I'd say he might have a preference for thicker women but don't get me wrong,he wouldn't love you less if you're be skinny

Honestly he kinda likes cheesy and corny stuff,for example maybe he'd let you dress him up in those matching couples shirts.

Absolutely adores taking you out on dates,he loves seeing his beautiful lover getting dressed up in something more fancy and he himself loves to dress elegantly(just for you)

When you would summon a demon for the sole purpose of consentually fucking it.

Masterlist

One shots

(Marvel One shots)

Bucky x Insecure/Self Conscious Wife Reader.

Tony Stark x Chubby Self Conscious Reader.

(Miscellaneous One Shots)

Monkey King Wukong Sun x Confident Reader.

Multi-part Fics

(OC Multi-part Fics)

Orc OC Lance x Chubby Reader.

(Part 1/?)

Mothmen OC's x Chubby Reader.

(Part 1/?)

(Part 2/?)

Selkie OC Dave x Chubby Reader.

(Part 1/?)

(Part 2/?)

(Fandom Multi-part Fics)

Fili x Bashful Chubby Reader.

(Part 1/?)

𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕𝕪 | 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕨 ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 & 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪 | 𝔸𝕃𝕋

ALT. | Bot no.1 for the Halloween Event — Eldritch Being | Mayor of Stardew Hallow | Sugar Daddy Character x Sugar Baby User

Chat with him HERE

Kennedy recently had a pretty bad argument with his sugar baby. Worst of all? It happened right before an important cocktail party — and his bratty little mortal decided that the best thing to do is try to make him jealous.

There is one rule in Stardew Hallow that everyone must respect: 'Do not piss off the mayor'. And you've just shattered it.

ORIGINAL BOT

𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦 | 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕪 ⋆ ·˚ ༘ *

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ 𝕄𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝔻𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕣 𝕄𝕒𝕟 | 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕠𝕝 | 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕪 ☾ ｡🍸｡⋆ ⊹₊

Yes, this is an alternative bot. Why? Firstly, I love Kennedy. Secondly, I've generated so much concept art for him that I gotta use it somewhere lmao. Thirdly, the original bot is quite fluffy and wholesome, so I had to make an angsty alternative.

🪩🫧🍸🥂🫧✧˖° Concept Art 🪩🫧🍸🥂🫧✧˖°

𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕𝕪 | 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕨 ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 & 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪

ALT. | Bot no.1 for the Halloween Event — Eldritch Being | Mayor of Stardew Hallow | Sugar Daddy Character x Sugar Baby User

Chat with him HERE

To help humans and supernatural creatures mingle more freely, Kennedy put together a dating application with a hint of magic. Of course, he's always one to lead by example — and what better way to do it than to get himself a sugar baby? It doesn't matter that he doesn't really understand the dynamic. He's just happy to spoil the user with his money and play dress-up on them.

Man is literally the infinite money cheat LMAO.

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖 | 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕥. 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕪

๋࣭ ⭑༘⋆📼˚ 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 | 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕒 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕫 𝕗𝕥. 𝕂𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕕

𖦹 ° 🎥 ...✩ ℙ𝕚𝕟𝕜 + 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 | 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕫 𝕆𝕔𝕖𝕒𝕟

This must be my chonkiest bot at the moment. Honestly, I think I worked at least 10 hours on his entire aesthetic and the event lore with @Astarth. I cannot put into words how much fun I had making him, even though it took me over a week to get him done. I'll be posting all of the Stardew Hallow pictures related to him on my Tumblr blog here in the future. The upcoming bot from the event will be coming from Astarth around the 13th of October, so keep an eye out for it! It'll be Ken's bestie.

TW: Not a lot, really. Regardless of gender, Ken is wired to try and dress-up the user, so there might be some feminization themes. But the bot can be steered away from that. Besides this aspect, there's also the fact that he is, after all, a very dangerous Eldritch being that initially came to Earth to destroy it. Given his nature, I'm not exactly sure how the LLM will behave if he goes delulu and someone pisses him off. Anything's possible, really.

📀☆🎥⋆ Concept Art ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖🪐˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕶ö𝖓𝖎𝖌 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝕯𝖔𝖌

Call of Duty | The Watch Dog | The Addams Family AU

·.¸¸.·♩♪♫ 𝕬ᥣᥱ᥊ᥲᥒძrіᥒᥲ — 𝕭ᥣᥲᥴk 𝕸ᥲgіᥴ ♫♪♩·.¸¸.·

₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 𝐅υᥣᥣ 𝐒ρⱺ𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝐏ᥣα𝗒ᥣ𝗂𝗌𝗍 𓂃 ࣪˖𓉸ִֶָྀི ִֶָ་༘࿐

Sometimes you catch the eye of a dangerous man. Other times you're the one pursuing the danger.

What happens when said danger is an Eldritch monster, honorary uncle of the Addams, and much too tired with his existence to even consider entertaining your interest?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔬𝔫 𝔍𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔄ℑ

Here's my first contribution to the CoD bot pool! Decided to play around with some ideas for the upcoming Halloween season — and this came out. Warning: he's a daddy Eldritch man and sees no problem in devouring humans that piss off the Addams. Additionally, I'm not sure how unhinged the LLM will get with the universe, so proceed with caution. If people are interested, I can add the other Call of Duty men to this AU as well. Secondary warning: long intro and token-heavy character.

Made for my friend, Lewis.

| Concept Art |

Banners by @sweetmelodygraphics on Tumblr.

Need someone like this ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

NSFW

Love elves/vampires that are the epitome of elegance and beauty, who are admired for their tall, lithe bodies and soft, feminine features being absolutely whipped for their chubby lovers.

In their minds, you’re absolute perfection. Soft and warm, with nice curves, a nice fat tummy, and wide hips to bear children. You’re so fucking beautiful, they’ve never been so enamored with a woman in their centuries long life.

Safe to say they’re sweet on you, so soft and affectionate. Kisses are always being peppered across your chubby cheeks, their hands wandering to grab your plump hips and fat belly when they hold onto you.

He loves getting to sink his cock into your fat cunt, watching as your body writhes and your plump thighs and tummy jiggle while he fucks into you.

People are usually pretty confused. In your time, you aren’t considered conventionally attractive, but to your immortal lover, you’re as close to a goddess as humanly possible. In their time, a plump woman was seen as highly desirable, something to be cherished and adored.

He gets genuinely confused when someone tries to hit on him when you’re out on a date. Do they not understand that his body and soul belong to you? That he’d kill and burn down the entire town if it meant keeping you safe and happy?

You’re his baby, his princess, his little angel! He thinks he’s undeserving of you, honestly. You’re kind and beautiful, while he’s done terrible things throughout his long life that should have made him unlovable.

But you love him anyways… how could he ever be with anyone else?

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

What if dilf orc has a young child, the bearer of his child unfortunately passed away. Then he sees you. A plump soft human, a bit softer than the usual orc parent, but in his eyes your tenderness would be perfect for his youngling.

He begins to court you immediately. Always brushing past you to subtly scent you, bringing his sweet baby with him to try and sway your choices. Of course the little orc toddler immediately makes your heart melt, the way they waddle over to you curiously, the orc child despite being extremely young was already up to your waist.

If you give into his courting? Be prepared for princess treatment. Being carried everywhere by him as the new parent of his child. Of course you’d naturally gain a lot of muscle from being with him, due to an orcs typical rugged lifestyle and the fact that your new adopted orc toddler likes to be carried and coddled! How could you say no to such a chubby cute face? You’ll be carrying them a lot, and orc babies are HEAVY so yeah, prepare to get swoll.

But to compensate I can definitely see your orc dilf spouse making sure you get more than enough food, after all you’re burning way too many calories carrying his youngling around, and plus he needs to keep you squishy for optimal cuddles.

DILF orc always brings you home gifts from fights or battles, mainly skulls of his enemies (how charming 🥰) or maybe a whole deer, already cut up and prepared for you to cook, he’s very doting.

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ so cute

A/N: This is a longer version of this story and it’s purely self-indulgent (like 99% of my stories lol). Enjoy!

Set up by a baby-orc

Orc x fem!reader || sfw, meet-cute, possibly soulmates

There was a little orc pulling at your hand, taking you with him to the door. "Come on, teacher, come with me." You let him drag you out, chuckling at his insistence.

He was such a cute kid, you knew you shouldn’t have favorites, but some kids made your heart all soft because they were just so fucking cute. And the tiny orc dragging you to the door was one of them. He was so shy when the school started, and in only a month he’d come out of his shell so much you couldn’t be anything but proud.

"Where to? I have job to do, hon, the other kids might need me," you tried, amused at his antics. But he wasn’t having any of that, grabbing your hand stronger and pulling until you follow after him with a laugh.

"You need to meet him!" He insisted, pulling harder and making you wince internally. Baby monsters had an amazing amount of strength even when tiny, you had to remind them to be careful with the humans, especially with you. Ouch.

"Who?" You asked, genuinely curious, following along with him out of the school and into the little patio where the parents and guardians could wait until the little ones were ready to go.

"My uncle!" He exclaimed, pointing across the patio with his tiny chubby green hand. You walk next to him for a few more steps before you look up.

You were about to tell him you couldn't get out of the school when you looked up and faces the prettiest orc you've ever set your eyes on. He was looking at you with the same level of amazement, and something inside of you just... knew.

You walked like a zombie next to the baby orc, not even registering what he was babbling about next to you as he pulled you along until you were right in front of him. You had to look up, and up, and up to be able to stare at his face, but you felt like it was too much, too soon, and ended up looking back down to the baby who was still talking animatedly.

“I told you she was human! Look! Look! Her skin is not green!” He sounded so excited you couldn’t do anything but laugh as his uncle blushed in the greenest green, making him look impossibly cute, probably even cuter than his nephew.

“I can see that,” he said in a low voice, so deep and so growly that made you want to press your legs together. You bite your lip not to giggle when his eyes fixated on you. He had such dark eyes you felt like he could see into your soul, and when he focused his sole attention on you for a fraction of a second, you felt your heart-beat spiking, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“Isn’t she pretty? She doesn’t have tusks like me!” He says it as if that’s such a feat and you have to cover your mouth to avoid laughing out loud.

“Yours will grow eventually, though,” he explained, kneeling on the floor so he was closer to the kid’s height even if that’s not near close to the baby sized orc. He was on his knees and he still was a couple centimeters taller than you. Your inner size queen was screaming very loudly.

“They will?!” The baby sounded so shocked that you choked on your saliva trying to avoid laughing.

“Yes, hon, yours will grow until they are as big as your uncle’s,” you explained, touching his head affectionately.

You tried to avoid looking at his uncle, but every time you caught a sight of him on the corner of your eye you felt a shiver ran down your spine. You were shivering with the need to touch him, even if it was just a poke in the cheek, and you had to physically close your hand to avoid doing exactly that.

You didn’t know what was with him or why you were feeling like only looking at him, took all the air out of your lungs, but you were giddy and shy about it. You didn’t know what to do or what to say. “I should go back to the kids,” you let out, breathless after looking at him for less than ten seconds.

“Yeah. Yes. I guess so.” You were walking back to the school when he said behind you: “I’ll be seeing you again… that’s a promise,” his gruff tone made you shiver as you smiled as big as the sun, not daring to turn around and look at him one last time.

But when you were about to enter, you turned around slightly and saw him still on his knees, looking intently at his nephew as the baby told him something. He looked up and your eyes met, and your breath got caught in your throat, your heart beating fast and your face flushed. He smiled at you with his beautiful tusked mouth, and you almost had to fan yourself, smiling back as you ran inside, your hand on your chest trying to calm your frantic heart.

Maybe the kid had a point about meeting his uncle.

A/N: Let me know if you want a part 2 of this, if enough ppl is interested I’ll write it.

I will gladly have his babies \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

What if dilf orc has a young child, the bearer of his child unfortunately passed away. Then he sees you. A plump soft human, a bit softer than the usual orc parent, but in his eyes your tenderness would be perfect for his youngling.

He begins to court you immediately. Always brushing past you to subtly scent you, bringing his sweet baby with him to try and sway your choices. Of course the little orc toddler immediately makes your heart melt, the way they waddle over to you curiously, the orc child despite being extremely young was already up to your waist.

If you give into his courting? Be prepared for princess treatment. Being carried everywhere by him as the new parent of his child. Of course you’d naturally gain a lot of muscle from being with him, due to an orcs typical rugged lifestyle and the fact that your new adopted orc toddler likes to be carried and coddled! How could you say no to such a chubby cute face? You’ll be carrying them a lot, and orc babies are HEAVY so yeah, prepare to get swoll.

But to compensate I can definitely see your orc dilf spouse making sure you get more than enough food, after all you’re burning way too many calories carrying his youngling around, and plus he needs to keep you squishy for optimal cuddles.

DILF orc always brings you home gifts from fights or battles, mainly skulls of his enemies (how charming 🥰) or maybe a whole deer, already cut up and prepared for you to cook, he’s very doting.

I wouldn’t mind (≧◡≦) \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

A/N: This came to me in some wackass half-dream haze and I felt so strongly about it that I spent way too much time on it :'0

Synopsis: Your annoying werewolf friend with benefits “accidentally” forgets to pull out one night.

CW: NSFW, Fem! Reader, friends with benefits turns yandere, yandere had previous FWB’s, baby-trapping, pregnant reader

Werewolf! Yandere X Fem Reader

“I'm so glad we can fuck like this,” Your, lack of a better word for it, fuckbuddy huffed in your ear. “No falling in love with me, not having to dote on you like an idiot of a boyfriend.”

You tried to block out his manic, cock-driven rants when you first started sleeping with him, how he was surprised you didn't pretend to bat your eyelashes and hold on desperately to his arm like a clingy lover after the first ‘session.’ so many other girls, other partners, other “sleepovers” he's had would get attached, annoyingly so in his opinion. 

A part of his hubris in creating unwanted lovers made you dislike him even further, even if he was good at making you claw at the bedsheets and beg for more of him inside you. 

How could he blame your fellow humans for falling for a beast so much larger, naturally protective and possessive while he was railing them? You were only safe from any kind of affections for him because of how irritating you found him as a neighbor in your apartment complex. Knocking things over with his giant tail, cussing in the middle of the night for breaking yet again another bed, or perhaps bedframe. 

Maybe if he didn't have such a sick fetish for humans like your kind, your frailty as a species and longing for such an obsessive protector, he wouldn't have so many admirers, and simultaneously so many nightly lovers. 

Despite his permissive behavior and attempts to disgust his fuck partners, they came crawling back hoping for more-- for a family and a life with a beast who no human man could match up to,in size, strength, or pleasure. 

but you were always welcome in his bed-- leaving before he tried to kick you out, taking your birth control immediately in a panic after, hardly making conversation in the halls-- it was a great give and take situation. You both satisfied each other, with no strings attached. 

He knew you were irritated by his teasing, by how he gloated in how much you loved his werewolf cock, how you probably couldn't wait to come back for more. You'd shove out of his way, annoyed and sick of his charades. And yet, like clockwork at midnight, you'd be at his door, or he'd be at yours-- and the rest would be history. 

That didn't make him any less insufferable while he was busy making you squeal, however. but it was worth it, the ecstasy you felt after and the seeming addictiveness his pheromones brought you. Your whole week was brightened, you were less irritable-- when you weren't around him, atleast-- and you felt fresher, more like yourself. 

It was hard not to come crawling back for that same euphoria again, even if it hurt your pride to do so. So you kept up a reluctant “friend's” with benefits relationship, Ignoring how he seemed to stop bringing anyone else over, blocking out how he tried to kiss you when you writhed beneath him. Even taking his time when he ate you out like a prisoner devouring his last meal. 

It felt far more…personal. Like you weren’t two strangers who had become accustomed to each other’s beds and ceilings. You didn’t even know what he did for work, what he ate for breakfast, or if he even had family. 

It meant hardly anything to you, knowing there was no chance for more seeing how guarded the werewolf was about relationships, no expectations extending for him to treat you to dinner or kiss you after making you cum. So why was it so physically exhausting when he became more gentle, less apathetic when he roughhoused with you on the bed as his form of foreplay? 

He actually let out a satisfied groan at witnessing the dips and flesh of your body now, smelling you from the sweat on your forehead to your knobby ankles. He grew quiet with animalistic intensity as the bulge in his sweatpants got damper, more constrained. 

What really hit the nail on the head for you was how your “sessions” got slower. He was savouring being inside of you, drawing out both of your orgasms instead of chasing it as roughly as physically possible-- like he had when he first laid eyes on your naked self. He dared to edge you at the cusp of an orgasm a few times, slowing and grinning at the burning in your eyes, your attempts to overpower him with no avail. You thought it was just some twisted game, another irritating part of his obsessive power grab that he’s been trying to wave over your head since you first met him. 

But no, he merely wanted that glare to be on him, to be eye to eye with you. No matter how many times you attempted to stare at the ceiling and prevent from falling into those hazel, speckled eyes, he kept his attention right at yours. He wouldn’t force you to look back, but he would never look away, like some kind of stalker you were letting on your bed and into your pants. 

You had tried to stay away, to ease your addiction of that pheromone-causing high that was making you more aroused and beautiful by the day-- but you caved. And that, was the moment you knew you had officially messed up. Hearing his jaggy, breathy, “You’re mine,” in the midst of his ruts was not as hot and heavy as most would perceive it as. It created a pit in your stomach, a feeling that never went away after he finished. You could only vaguely get up, taking your clothes and finding your way to the door. 

You avoided him indefinitely after that, ignoring the craving inside of you to be intimate with him, to know that he was near and ready to pounce on you. But after weeks of your fucking sessions coming to a strange halt, it was no surprise that the werewolf wouldn’t let you off easy.

“I slammed on your doorbell like 50 times last night. And you didn’t even say hi in the lobby, what the hell? Why’re you avoiding me?” He slammed his rickety green apartment door shut behind him without a forethought. “Listen, you made me drag you in here, okay? I wouldn’t have had to do this if you would just talk to me.”

You sigh, irritated and mind far too busy to deal with his mood swing.

“I wasn’t. I’ve just been busy. I don’t have time for, being here every night anymore.” You shrugged your coat off, trying to remind him you were still in control even if he was blocking your method of escape. 

“Oh, Is that it? Or have you found someone new instead to fuck you, someone else in this apartment building maybe?” He came up behind you, watching as you stared at the bed’s rustled sheets, white linen that you couldn’t tell had been washed or not. 

You let out an exasperated “ugh”. Of course his first thought was that you were busy fucking somebody else. 

But you weren’t given time to argue, to point out his hypocrisy. You were flipped on the bed, staring again at the blurry ceiling you’ve become so familiar with in his apartment. 

“No… You smell just the same, exactly as you should. Like me.” 

He pried your legs open to make room for straddling you, pushing his crotch directly below your jean’s zipper. 

“So what’s the problem? Why’re you so uptight, thinking you’re too good to come ‘round my place.”

He grabbed at your hips, your cotton shirt rolling up as he dug under it. And there, lied the problem. 

“Hey!” You shouted, trying to push his invasive hands off. 

“What--” Pulling down your shirt didn’t matter much, he had already seen it. 

“I was leaving you alone for a reason,” You gritted your teeth, sitting up on the bed. Both of you went quiet for a moment, his eyes wide, but not as bewildered in anger like you expected.  

You spoke quietly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m going to take care of it. I didn’t realize this would happen, I was doing everything right--”

“I can’t believe.. It actually worked.”

You looked at him, not with fear this time, but explosive fury. 

Now it was your turn to shout an unbridled “What!?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, hair getting so long to the point it brushed against his short fingernails. “I can’t really remember! I just know something took over me, maybe it was the whiskey… but all I knew was, I needed to finish inside of you. I wanted to see you glowing and full, I couldn’t help myself with the idea keeping me going.” 

You were ready to release a full assault on him, eyes beginning to prick with tears of anger and absolute shock. 

“I wasn’t thinking, okay! It’s not like I’m particularly ready to handle a kid either. But.. I guess I wouldn’t mind a few pups; we’re not getting any younger. My mom’s been pestering me a lot lately actually…”

Your mouth sat agape, grabbing a fistful of sheets to prevent from hitting him, which would just end up hurting yourself. 

“I thought you weren’t interested in girlfriends or family or bullshit like that?! Mister, ‘I can’t be bothered with full-blown relationships’ wants to move along and ruin my life?!”

“Baby that was months ago, I haven’t seen anyone else in a long time; and y’know, that’s not normal for me. I think… you’re different. Something about ‘us’ is different. If it’s with you, I don’t mind the idea of seeing you carrying my children. It feels.. God it just sounds so sexy.” 

“ ‘Baby?!’ Okay, we are nothing to each other, I don’t even know where you work, where you’re from-- and all of a sudden you want to start a family together?”

The werewolf winced at your wrath, mildly annoyed at your loud tone and thrashing hands. 

“Is it so outrageous to believe that it’s a species difference? Werewolves have their mates, humans not so much. Is it crazy to believe we’re meant for each other, that I would kill for you? That you were SUPPOSED to be mine, and we only just now found each other?”

You were mind-boggled at the rush of information, not believing your eyes when you saw a near love-struck dog at your feet, the creature you once knew to be an irritating bachelor keen on fucking you ‘till your eyes rolled back, and that was it. 

The stress was getting to you, the fear for your future, the sudden “relationship” you had been thrown into with a man you knew nothing about besides the layout of his apartment and the ridges of his cock. 

“Hey, hey its okay. I promise its going to be alright. I’ll take such good care of you-- you’ll have nothing to worry about, I’ll be the perfect father for our pups; You’ll have a family, someone to take care of you, someone who loves you.” He stroked your head, watching as you furiously wiped away tears of anger and fear. “I’ve never felt that before… but I promise it’s not something I take lightly. I promise, you make my heart throb just as, if not more, than my cock. I promise.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Well, there’s not much else you can get from a fuckboy who’s main priority in life had been satiating his lust. 

You mumble something incoherent about needing to get back to your apartment, needing to get away from everything. But if the werewolf heard it, he didn’t acknowledge your desire to leave. 

“I know, I know it’s hard. I’m scared too. But I promise you’ll make the perfect mother. I can see it now, your pretty belly, your needs for me…we’ll be together, it’s new for the both of us. And, on the plus side, I can fuck you now without pulling out...”

You shuddered at the thought, hating the idea of how possessive he was seeming to grow, laying you down as he spooned you from behind, not daring to let go for a moment. Your jeans were clawed to scraps of denim as he tried to shimmy them down, no success other than tearing them into pieces. 

“Why don’t we try tonight? Make you feel good,” The werewolf was running himself between your inner thighs, pressing against your bare cunt before he whispered. “I know you’ve been wanting me too, all desperate without my touch, my scent. Let me take care of you, of us.”

ASAAAHHHHH\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

This post was supposed to be a long story but I got impatient and posted it. Now we have the full story. Hope y’all like it as much as I do. <3

Orc professor

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cum play, breeding, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

It was your third failed mini-test when you thought enough was enough. Your hot orc professor was too attractive for your sanity. He was so hot with his cardigans and whatever he wore that you were always distracted, unable to take notes. It was his fault, and you needed to remedy that before you failed the whole class. You just needed to talk to him and see what could you do to pass. You’ll do some extra homework, maybe write a few more papers. Anything. A naughty part of you wanted to offer him sex favors, but you knew he wasn’t that kind of orc. Maybe.

You knocked on his office door and heard the muffled “come in”. You opened the door and your breath was taken away because how fucking attractive he was. The black framed glasses and salt and pepper hair just accentuating his green skin. Your panties got wet instantly. Fuck. Why had he to be so fucking hot? It would be a lot easier if he was just an old wrinkly dude.

“What do you need from me?” He looked up from the papers he was grading and that look combined with that phrase made your pussy tingle. Fuck, you were so turned on by everything he did.

He could be talking about the condensation of the trees in the desert and you’ll be panting in the back of the class, panties wet. And right now, you were worried your arousal was going to form a wet patch in your pants. This needed to be fast before you embarrassed yourself.

“I- I want to know if I can do some extra activities to improve my performance in your class.” You told him as fast as you could, sitting down in front of him and trying really hard not to rub your thighs together.

The frantic pulse of your heart was mirrored on your clit, and it was driving you completely crazy. Being so close to him was like an aphrodisiac in itself.

“What kind of activities do you suggest?” He seemed uninterested. Some part inside of you got mad at him, you were clearly trying to improve and he looked like an asshole who didn’t care if his students passed or not. And for some reason that only made him hotter. You needed to get laid soon before you humped his leg or something.

“I- I don’t know. I just need to pass your class. Please, I’ll do anything,” you begged. You were sure it was too much, but he looked at you, a spark of interest in his dark pupils.

You realized how bad it sounded when you thought about it. You tried to take it back, say you didn’t mean it like that, but then he surprised you asking back: “Anything?” His smirk was enough to send lighting down your pussy, your panties soaking through your clothes. Good Goddess, how was he so fucking hot?

Contrary to your better judgment, and probably thinking just with your southern parts, you matched his teasing tone as you answered: “Yes, yes. Anything.” You leaned closer to his table, showing more tits than you knew you should. But fuck it. If you couldn’t pass this class, at least you could fuck the hottest professor on campus.

He leaned back on his chair, his eyes flickering to your almost exposed breasts. He hummed and finally said: “Okay, little human, we’ll make a deal.” You nodded eagerly, so ready to do whatever he asked.

If he asked you to get naked and suck his cock right there, you would fall to your knees so fast he wouldn’t even see you moving. You were more than ready, so wet and needy you could feel the wetness pooling inside your thighs, probably through your pants. The walk home was going to be so uncomfortable. Ugh.

But you weren’t expecting his offer to be so filthy, so nasty. “Each morning, you’ll arrive a bit early, and you will handle me your panties. Used panties. And I want you to take them off in front of me, so I suggest you start wearing those slutty skirts you love so much.” You were bamboozled by his words.

Did he notice you? Did he like your skirts, too? He must like them if he noticed you wearing them so often. And he though they were slutty (they were, and you might or might not wear them to see if he reacted). A part of you wanted to be offended, but the other part of you was ready to say yes. Yes to that, yes to anything.

He interpreted your silence as agreement and kept talking. “If you do that, you will pass my class. That works for you?” He was back to looking uninterested, but you saw right through his facade.

His hand was resting suspiciously close to his groin, and you could almost make the outline of a dick. A huge dick, but you weren’t sure. You wanted to lean closer to inspect it, but you refrained, your head spinning with everything that just happened.

“Yes. Yes. Perfect. I’ll do it. Thank you, thank you, thank you…” You repeated a dozen times before he dismissed you. There was a big grin on his face when you left. You could feel his eyes fixed on your ass as you walked out. Point for you.

The first couple days it went without a hitch. You arrived early, and he was always there, expecting you with a knowing smirk. You usually made a show of pushing your panties down your legs and grabbing them, never actually showing him anything, but making it obvious that you were enjoying yourself with the game you two were playing. He always smelled them and hummed appreciatively, making your clit get excited instantly. You loved when men were vocal in bed. In his case, when monster’s were.

Where all monsters more vocal than humans? You never slept with a monster before. You always wanted to try, but never knew someone who excited you as much as your orc professor. The first time you saw him you tripped on your feet and almost hit the ground. He was so much older than you, he could probably be your father, but good lord if you wouldn’t love to call him daddy.

After the fourth day giving him your panties, you got a bit bolder. You turned around and bent down, making sure he was seeing your naked pussy and fat ass as you did so. The red lacy panties barely covered your wet pussy as you pushed them down your legs. He growled loudly at you when he saw them, you groaned softly. When you handled the panties to him, his eyes were as dark as a storm and you could see the outline of his dick perfectly. You gasped, he was so big, so much bigger than anyone you’d been with before. How would that feel inside of you? Would it even fit?

That day, you left feeling elated because of his reaction, a plan starting to form in your mind. You were going to be really, really bad. You spent the rest of the class rubbing your thighs together and trying not to touch yourself. You could still see the outline of his dick if you focused on his groin, and it was making you insane. You almost ran out of the class to jerk off in the bathroom.

On the fifth day, you wore your shortest skirt, the one that barely covered your ass. You walked in and waited until he gave you a once over. Your body was burning by the time he ended his staring. He arched a brow, expecting you to do what you were instructed before. You turned around and repeated the same actions as the day before, showing him your wet pussy as you bent down. He growled again and you smirked.

You handed them the black lacy panties and grinned. “Here you have them, sir.” You pronounced the last word with all your intent, being as flirty as possible as you walked away, sitting in the first row. You never did that before, you were forever a last row girly, but today you had plans. You felt his eyes lingering on your half exposed ass. The walk home was going to be a bit sketchy with that skirt, but it was worth it.

The class started and he looked at you. You smiled innocently as he started to explain about the life circle of some plant. You didn’t care, you were a girl on a mission.

When he turned around and started asking questions, you opened your legs.

The girl sitting next to you wasn’t paying any attention to your actions, but his gaze zeroed on you. You open your legs slightly more, knowing full well your big thighs must cover your pussy most of the time. But if you open them far enough… Yes. You realized the second he saw your pussy because he dropped the pen he was using to write down some stuff on the board.

And then you saw it: the outline of his monster cock noticeable against his dark pants, making you drool and do it again. You parted your legs and bit down on a pen, trying to be as slutty as possible. He coughed to cover what you guessed was a groan. He sat down and ordered everyone to write some stuff for him.

Before you left the class, he grabbed your arm and told you: “Remember we have a meeting after class, I’ll be expecting you in my office.” His tone is harsh and final, you nodded, blushing. Suddenly you feel very embarrassed about your performance in class, but your slutty side is more than happy to comply.

After all your classes, you rushed to his office and knocked softly. He opened the door before you could ask, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. He closed the door behind you and pressed your back against it. He was over you instantly, his big mouth kissing you as his tusks framed your jaw. You kissed him back with equal passion, grabbing his hair and pressing your whole body against his. You moaned against his mouth when he pulled back.

“You were a very naughty girl. And naughty girls need to be punished.” His voice had an edge of danger to it that had you panting. You nodded, eagerly. “Bend down over the desk. Now.” You had to press against him to get to it, but you complied.

“What about the papers?” You asked, trying to move them around but he grunted. He put a hand on the middle of your back and pushed down, plastering your head against the papers and pulling your skirt up at the same time. You felt the cold air against your backside and shivered.

“Such a slutty girl, offering me his panties for a pass. Showing me her wet pussy like a slut. Parting her legs for me in the middle of class.” He punctuated each one of your actions with a caress to your ass. You were panting against the papers, pushing your ass up to get him to touch you more. “You need to be punished for all of that. You were a very, very naughty girl. Such a slut.” And then his big hand made contact with your right ass cheek. You screamed and he stopped. “That won’t do. You need to be quiet.” You looked at him over your shoulder and watched as he took your panties out of his pocket. “Open.” You complied, and he shoved them in your mouth. “Good girl. I’m going to spank your little slutty ass and then fuck your pussy, do you want that?” You nodded eagerly.

He hit your ass ten times, one after the other, not letting you catch your breath before he was hitting you again. You cried out around the panties in your mouth, but you only got them wet with saliva. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on the papers on the desk, making a mess. He didn’t care about it. When he finished spanking you, your pussy was so wet you were sure it was dripping.

“Such a good girl taking the spanking she deserves. Are you on the pill?” His question took you by surprise and when you nodded again he smirked. “Good, I’m going to breed you so deeply you are going to feel me for days.” You groaned at his words. He lowered his pants enough to get his dick out. When you saw it, you whimpered. “Don’t worry, it will fit.” You weren’t so sure about it, but he was already pushing the tip against your gaping hole.

By the time he bottomed out you were breathless. His dick so big you could feel it in the back of your throat. You were spread so wide you felt like you were going to tear in two. But it felt so fucking good. His dick hit every single good point inside of you, rubbing against your G-spot and parts of your pussy you didn’t even know could feel that good. He breathed hard over you as you adapted to his size. He was being so careful with you it was a shock from the way he acted when you entered his office.

After a few minutes you started moving your hips back. He grabbed your hips and pulled back, controlled. You groaned and he chuckled, pushing into you again. The scream you let out wasn’t muffled by the panties. And then the carefulness stopped. He fucked your pussy restlessly, until you were drooling around the panties and over papers on the desk. You could feel the bruises forming on your hips, where his green hands were holding you.

He fucked you like a machine, grabbing you like a toy and fucking your body like you weren’t more than a fleshlight to him. You moaned and groaned around your gag every time he thrusted inside. The pleasure so high it was maddening. His hand went around your body and he started rubbing your clit frantically. You came less than three seconds later and he rapidly followed. His cum was scalding hot in your insides, so deep and so much of it you could feel it slipping out around his dick.

When he finished cumming, he draped himself over you and hugged you close. “You did good, you were perfect.” He took the panties out of your mouth and kissed you softly, moving your limp body until your back was on the desk and he was sitting on his chair in front of you. “Now, take out my cum and eat it.”

You pushed your torso off the table, leaning on your elbows. “Wha- what?” Did he really wanted you to do that? That felt forbidden, like a step too far, but it made you so hot to think about it...

“Finger yourself for me and eat out mixed essence like a good girl for me,” he repeated. As soon as he praised you, you were ready to do whatever he asked you to.

So you complied. “Ye- yes, sir.”

You proceeded to do exactly what he told you, slowly scooping his cum from inside you with your fingers and putting it in your mouth. You moaned at the first taste, feeling naughtier than ever, feeling like the slut he called you earlier. His eyes were focused on your pussy and it felt so good to have all his attention over you that you wanted to scream again, your pussy tingling.

“Come here.” He pulled you off the table and to a kneeling position between his legs. You looked up at him adoringly, your brain, blind with pleasure. “You are going to show me those beautiful breasts of yours and I’m going to come again over you. Then you’ll put the shirt back on and walk to your house like that. Pussy dripping cum, tits marked by me,” he growled the last part. You nodded, already taking your shirt off. “Good girl.”

He jerked his monster cock over your tits, his green fist contrasted with his red tip and darker dick. It was beautiful to see. It took him less than three minutes to be groaning over you as he painted your boobs with his release. He spread it all over your tits, pinching your nipples as he did so. You groaned, your clit pulsing again. You couldn’t understand how much his actions turned you on.

He helped you put back your shirt, and he put you over his lap. You made out for a few more minutes as you melted against him.

“Tomorrow morning I expect you to be early for class.” You arched an eyebrow at him, confused. “If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?” You nodded, unable to form words after such risky order. “Good.” He kissed you again before sending you home.

Anticipation filled your inside as you walked home feeling his cum drying over your tits and leaking out of your bare pussy.

You were going to get an A+ in his class.

Don’t forget you can comission me for something like this if you want.

This is so worth it \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

A Diplomatic Error

cw: enemies to lovers, kidnapping, being tied up, manhandling, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

male orc x fem reader

Word count: 9k

You were headed to another counsel meeting. You never really stopped attending them, despite the fact that they never listened to a word you had to say. 

Your father said it was good for morale. You didn’t understand how watching someone sit around and not help was good for anyone’s morale, but you knew better than to question him. 

The halls of the palace were quieter than you were used to. Almost everyone had been called to the front lines, even your closest guards had gone. You weren’t used to walking alone, nor were you accustomed to the typically lively castle looking like a ghost town. 

So now you walked through the castle halls, more alone than you’d ever been before, no one there to wait on you, to protect you, to watch over you. Something in you said it should have felt freeing. 

It didn’t. It just felt lonely. 

As you walked, moving slowly as you wallowed in self-indulgent pity between war meetings, a pair of hands reached out of nowhere, one snaking around your waist to pull you back into the shadows while the other clamped firmly over your mouth. 

When the guards had been sent away, you’d been assured that you’d be safe. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for a hulking orc to sneak in undetected. At least that's what you'd been told. With a massive hand that dwarfed your face locked over your mouth, suddenly the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous.

You thrashed under the figure's unwavering grip to no avail. He easily held you in place, barely needing to put any effort in to stop your desperate bid for an escape. 

You weren’t one for swooning but suddenly a faintness came over you. You reached up to grab at the only stable thing in reach, hands wrapping around the figure’s arm, trying to keep yourself upright. 

Your knees began to buckle and only then, mind slowed by whatever he’d dosed you with, did you begin to suspect foul play. Maybe something on his skin that humans were weak to, maybe something in the air. Was he holding a cloth? You didn’t think so. But then again, he seemed so far away not, even pressed up against you as he was.

You blinked your heavy eyes and when you opened them, you were thrown over a large shoulder. You watched the road behind you as the creature holding you strode along, still blind to what was ahead. His hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place, jostling you only slightly with each step. 

It took you a second to gather your bearings enough to start struggling. Once you did, you started pounding on his back. It was a futile gesture but you were nothing if not persistent. At the very least, he knew you were awake now. 

His shoulder shook under you as he chuckled. “Good morning, princess,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying across the road.

“Put me down, you brute!” you shouted, trying your best to kick your feet under heavy skirts. If you'd known you'd be getting kidnapped today, you'd have worn something lighter. 

He paused and for a moment you thought maybe he'd listen to you. But you knew better than that, knew you'd have no say in any of this.

“As you wish.”

Your feet were planted on the ground, although he still had a heavy arm on your shoulder, holding you in place. A silent promise: you weren't going anywhere. 

You whipped around, eager to see what was in front of you instead of the increasingly distant road you'd been traveling on. 

You got your first look at the front of your captor, no longer flung over his shoulder. 

Despite it being part of the little information you already knew about him, the first thing you noticed was that he was massive. He towered over you, with a broad frame to match. Tusks stuck out of his mouth as he sneered down at you, marring an almost handsome face. 

You’d never actually seen an orc in person and despite years of being at war with them, it struck you suddenly that they were real. They were real and in front of you, no longer threatening figures discussed in crowded rooms you weren’t supposed to speak in but instead a real man in front of you with his hand on your arm. It radiated warmth, applying a firm pressure that told you if he wanted to he could crush you underhand. 

In front of you, next to your very real captor, was a camp. The sort of camp you imagined soldiers slept in. You had no idea which side of the border you were on, disputed or otherwise. You hoped you were still in your own kingdom, but you had no way to know. It all looked the same from here. 

Amidst the massive canvas tents milled a dozen or so orcs. At your sudden appearance, they’d stopped what they were doing, all peering at their new guest. 

As they all stared at you, you panicked. Your feet started moving before your brain did. You managed to slip out from under your captor's grasp just in time to feel his hand dart forward, pushing you into the mud before you had a chance to get anywhere.

As you lay in the dirt, you heard something that sounded like orders being barked in a foreign tongue. 

And then you were being hauled to your feet. You didn’t have the presence of mind to be upset at the manhandling as you looked down at your body, the front of you almost completely covered in mud.  

You didn’t even have time to protest that before he cut you off. “Come on, m’lady. We have much to discuss.”

You crossed your arms, about to demand more respect from him before you were being lifted again and all you could manage was a surprised little squeak.

You watched helplessly as you were hauled into a nearby tent, all of the towering soldiers staring at you as you went. 

You were deposited less than graciously on the floor of the tent, left to flounder and find your bearing on your own as your captor moved to look at you. 

The tents were incredibly spacious, at least for someone of your size, the roof towering above you. 

He leaned down in front of you, tone condescending as he spoke. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re a bargaining chip for us. We’ll get you home as soon as your father allows it, princess.” He said your title like an insult, spat it at you in a way that made you flinch. 

“And in the meantime?” you asked, trying your best not to look afraid. You'd make your way out of this with your pride intact. Well, as much of your pride as you could still manage to salvage as you stood there, covered in mud. 

You could barely see the deep red of your dress under the grime. You didn’t even know how much of it was from your fall and how much you’d picked up on the road. 

“In the meantime,” he said, “you will sit around until we need you.”

“Perfect.” You stood, futilely attempting to brush off your skirts as you did and taking a step towards the entrance of the tent. “Well, I should go find a place to rest until I am needed.” It was a long shot but you at least had to try.   

Your captor followed you as you backed slowly out of the tent. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here.”

“What’s the harm in it? Where do you think I’m going to go?” you shouted, gesturing around you at the thick woods. “If I had a death wish, there are far better ways to satisfy it than getting lost in the forest. Attempting to kill you, perhaps.”

He nodded. “It would be more honorable, to die in combat against me.”

You groaned. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I meant. It’d be so honorable of me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find somewhere to rest, maybe even clean myself.”

You managed to make it about two steps before his arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you as if you were a ragdoll.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words were hissed into your ear as he walked. You thrashed in his grip but it didn’t matter, he hauled you along just as easily. 

You were thrown into a new tent next to a massive wooden pole, staked into the ground in the center. 

He leaned down next to you, grabbing your arm, easily resisting your attempt to pull it away from him. As he easily held your wrists in one hand, the other reached back to pull out a length of rope. His hands were surprisingly nimble, threading rope around your wrists and securing you to the pole at the center of the tent with little difficulty. 

When he let his hands get a little too close to your face, you bit them as hard as you could, locking your jaw down on him. There wasn’t any strategy behind it, you couldn’t escape or go anywhere, but the way he hissed and yanked his arm back filled you with a little bit of self-satisfaction. That had to be worth something. 

He didn’t stick around long after. It seemed you had managed to piss him off at some stage in the kidnapping process. You couldn’t imagine when. 

Your first night in the orc camp was spent restlessly, pulling futilely at your bindings as you sat there on the floor. You tried not to wallow in your misery. This wouldn’t be forever. Your father would get you out of here, one way or another. Until then, you could put on a brave face. 

As the sun began to rise, the orcs’ curiosity in you seemed to reawaken. 

Occasionally a soldier would peek in the entrance of the tent, never for more than a few seconds, or you would see them silhouetted against the canvas, hovering nearby. When you got particularly frustrated you’d shout at them, the snorts of laughter your yelling drew from them only making you angrier. 

But anger was good. At least anger felt productive. 

You’d become accustomed enough to the curiosity of the soldiers that at first, when your captor returned, you didn’t notice it was him. It was only when he strode towards you and began to undo your bindings that you realized who he was. 

The second your bindings were undone, you made a break for it. You didn’t make it far. Your captor held you by your ankle, dangling you upside down, your various muddied skirt layers falling to cover your face as you struggled. 

“This will be easier for you if you behave,” he said, and you could hear a layer of irritation in his voice. 

You would've spat in his face if there weren't layers of fabric hanging in front of you. 

His attempts to right you were thwarted by your thrashing until you figured out what he was trying to do and attempted to still yourself as much as you could, if only to get your feet on the ground again. 

“We’re moving,” he said as you steadied yourself when returned back to solid ground. “I can carry you or you can walk.”

You opted to walk, both to preserve your dignity and to attempt to plan an escape. 

The soldiers were shockingly efficient, completely packing up the camp faster than you’d imagined possible. 

And then you were on the move. 

You had to move swiftly to keep up with them, none of the soldiers willing to slow for you. 

Your captor stayed diligently by your side, occasionally shooting you looks that seemed intended to tell you you had no chance of escape. You ignored him.

After about an hour of moving quietly, out of breath from all the walking, he was the one to break the silence. 

“You’re slow.”

“Your legs are longer than mine. Besides, it's hard to walk when you’re covered in filth” you said, struggling under stiff, heavy skirts. 

“And who is to blame for that?”

You gave him a pointed look. “In fact, I think you’ll find that you are.”

“You shouldn’t have run,” he said with a grunt. 

“You shouldn’t have pushed me!”

He rolled his eyes and then you were being hauled off the ground again. You yelped in protest but were quietly a little grateful as he sat you on his shoulder. If you had to keep moving at their pace all day, dressed as you were, you might’ve passed out. 

It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t keep up with a well-trained group of soliders. If anything, they should be impressed you managed to keep pace as long as you did. 

Your hand rested on his other shoulder as he moved, trying to keep yourself steady, but realistically, you knew he wouldn’t let you fall, his arm holding you easily in place. You were just glad you were being allowed to sit this time instead of being thrown around like a sack of potatoes. 

You spent the rest of the day like that, sitting on his shoulder as they traveled. As the sun began to set and the others began to set up camp, you expected to be set down. 

It seemed you were wrong. 

Instead of placing you on the ground or even tying you up again, he began to pace off in the opposite direction of the rest of the camp. 

Nerves began to take over you. He may have said nothing would happen to you, but you did not relish in the thought of being alone with him, let alone him intentionally dragging you away from the rest of his compatriots. 

You began to squirm again and his arm tightened, holding you in place. “Settle,” he said, his voice low and calm. 

You did not listen. 

Eventually, he did set you down, although you did not think your thrashing encouraged him to do so. 

As he did, you noticed the sound of a swift-moving river just behind you. 

He nudged you towards the river. “Clean. You’re too slow.”

“What?”

“You wanted to be clean,” he said, nudging you again. "You should clean”

“It’s a river.”

He looked at you like he was worried you’d hit your head. “It is.”

“And you expect me to wash in there? It’s full of dirt!”

He chuckled and you considered biting him again. “You’ll survive, princess.”

You groaned but decided that anything was better than the mud you were caked in. It was running water, at the very least. You weren’t certain why, but it did feel a little cleaner that way. 

You considered bathing fully clothed but you’d heard too many stories of women drowning, weighed down by layers of dresses. 

You began to pull at your dress, stripping off some of the upper layers, glaring at your captor as you did. It was too much to ask to be left alone, you knew that much, but it was still humiliating to get undressed in front of him like this. 

You only took off as many layers as you needed to ensure you wouldn’t drown. You were almost fully covered but still, you felt exposed. 

At the very least, he seemed largely disinterested in what you were doing, only sparing you the occasional glance. 

You covered your chest as you moved towards the water. He looked down at you as you did, head cocked to the side. “What are you doing?”

“The skirts are heavy, I can’t wear them in the water or I could drown.”

He scoffed. “Little weakling. That’s not what I asked though, why do you hide? You’re covered.”

“I’m being forced to strip to my underwear, of course I’m covering myself.”

He stared back, clearly still confused, and you realized as you looked at him that the idea of being properly dressed was probably not the same for him. He was covered, but largely in leathers and furs, with far more skin exposed than you would ever have, even now in your underskirts. 

“Listen,” you said, trying not to be too antagonistic, as it seemed he was truly trying to understand. “It’s different for us. Especially for me, I’m supposed to be covered perfectly at all times. Maybe you should give me new clothes.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked dismissively. 

Any patience you’d been trying to put on for him snapped. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a heartless brute, I don’t know why I asked.”

And with that, you stormed off into freezing cold water. 

The mud caking your skin began to wash off as soon as you touched the water and you let out a sigh of relief. The river looked to be snow runoff from a nearby mountain, it certainly felt cold enough for it, but for now all you wanted was to be clean. 

You looked down as you scrubbed at your skin and your skirts and as you did, you realized the whites of your underthings had become translucent in the freezing water. 

You turned and caught him staring, both looking away as soon as your eyes met. You turned your back to him immediately, feeling tears pricking at your eyes, trying to cover it up with the water that was rushing over you. It felt like you had nothing left, like this was the ultimate humiliation.

When you turned back to look at him once more, he was gone, not making so much as a sound as he left. 

You weren’t foolish enough to think he’d truly left you alone, but you appreciated having at least the pretense of privacy. It was shockingly… kind? 

No. You pushed the thought out of your mind as quickly as it occurred to you. You would not start thinking like that, not about the man who had kidnapped you. 

You finished bathing quickly, the chill starting to set into your bones. 

As you waded out of the river, he was still missing. It was evident where he’d been, massive orcs weren’t exactly built for stealth, but still he was nowhere to be found. 

In his stead, you found a pile of clothes lying on the bank of the river. As you lifted them, the first thing you noticed was while they were far too big for you, they were too big by human standards. It was an old shirt, well worn, and a pair of pants you’d have to find some way to tie to keep up properly. They were slightly torn and upon closer inspection, you found speckles of a dark rusty substance splattered across the shirt. 

Someone’s blood. From who’s side, you’d never know. 

You tried not to dwell on what had happened to the owner of these clothes to leave them in the orc’s possession. They were yours now. 

They were far more practical than your fine skirts had been, even if they didn’t quite fit properly. 

As you pulled them on, you hesitated, holding your skirts. You didn’t need them any longer, but it felt like a waste to just leave them here. 

But you had no time for sentimentality right now. You cast them aside, opting to forgo your shoes, despite the lack of new ones. Your shoes from the palace were not exactly built for forests and rough terrain. They’d only slow you down. 

As you finished dressing, situating yourself in the unfamiliar clothes as best you could, you looked around nervously. You could find no sign of your captor amidst the unfamiliar foliage, but you had more than enough reason to doubt yourself. You felt lost amidst the thick trees surrounding you, it was hard to tell where you stood. You didn’t know what to look for or how to orient yourself, trapped in a foreign landscape. 

You did what you could, checking for any onlookers, peeking through the trees, and once you’d made your decision, taking off. 

You had no idea where you were, or where you were running to, but anywhere was better than here. There were surely search parties looking for you and even if you were on the other side of the border, orc civilians or soldiers who were unfamiliar with your status were a better bet than your current captors. 

As your bare feet pounded down on a floor of sticks and rocks, you tried to ignore how cut up they were getting. 

You were faster this way. That was what counted. 

You focused on moving as fast as you could, the determination drowning out the pain until suddenly, the sharp rocks and twigs were underfoot no longer. Your brain took a second to catch up, feet still moving down to try and push off of a ground that was being pulled further and further away.

“Predictable little thing,” said a familiar voice beside you. “What happened to attempting to best me in combat? I didn’t take you for a coward, princess.”

A frustrated scream escaped you, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the forest. 

Despite your protests, he continued to haul you back towards the camp, tying you up as soon as you reached your tent, a practiced routine for the two of you by now. 

You had the night to sleep off your anger before morning came and you were on the move again. 

Your captor did not wait before lifting you onto his shoulder and this time, you did not fight him. It was preferable to running to keep up with them, especially on newly damaged feet. 

It felt strange to sit there, without struggling or screaming, just moving in silence. So instead, you spoke. 

“Do you have a name?”

“Drakar,” he said. His voice was low but with your position atop his shoulder, it was easy to hear him, even over the bustle of moving soldiers. 

“Thank you for the clothes,” you tried again, wanting to start up any sort of conversation to break the silence.

He didn’t even grace you with words this time, giving you a simple acknowledging grunt in return. 

His answers remained brief, with no apparent interest in engaging in conversation. Eventually, you stopped trying. 

When you came to a stop and the soldiers began to set up camp around you, you waited for your chance. 

The second Drakar turned his back to you, you were off. 

Another orc caught you in a heartbeat, hoisting you off the ground until Drakar could come fetch you. 

He dragged you off with a huff, scowling at you as he set you down. “Why do you continue to fight and run? I’ve told you of our plans to trade you, you’ll fare better with us than on your own in the wilds.”

“I have no desire to be a bargaining chip against my own people. Besides, I’m no fool. I know good things don’t often happen to soldier’s prisoners.”

He scoffed. “Your soldiers, maybe. We have honor, unlike them. And you call us the monsters.”

“Monsters? Maybe. Uncivilized at the very least.”

“I assure you, your soldiers in my country are living in no more luxury than we are here.”

So you were still in your country, not yet over the border. If you could just get away, your chances were good. “Well, then they’re uncivilized dogs just like you,” you spat. 

He never seemed to find your outbursts anything other than vaguely annoying or passively amusing. Right now, he seemed inclined towards amusement, despite your latest escape attempt. It was for the best, that tended to work out better for you. It was irritating nonetheless. “Perhaps.”

Your enlightening conversation was cut short as a horn sounded, a familiar announcing horn. The sound of one of your people. Drakar’s head perked up and before you understood what was happening, your legs were being bound together, untethered but severely limiting your movement. You might be able to move like this, but you couldn’t get far. 

He did not feel the need to explain this to you or threaten you with hunting you down, trusting you to come to your own conclusions as he strode off in the direction of the horn. 

You might not be able to run, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. The least you could do was try to gather information, so you could be useful when you were saved.

If you were saved.  

You managed to scoot your way towards the back of the tent Drakar had retreated to, out of sight of any of the soldiers, just close enough that you could peek under the thick fabric of the walls. 

Drakar’s back was to you. You could barely see the messenger from your spot on the floor, his body blocking your vision. You could just see the tip of a feather, presumably stuck in a hat, bobbing as the messenger spoke. 

As you got close enough to listen in, you caught Drakar mid-sentence. “- does your king think about our terms for his precious daughter?”

You held your breath, trying not to get your hopes up. This was a war. They couldn’t just be giving in to the first demands given. This could be a long, arduous process. You understood that, would never blame him for it. The country came first. 

“The king rejects your terms.” You tried not to let it get to you. You knew this would probably happen, could understand exactly where your father was coming from. The messenger continued on, unaware of your quiet heartbreak. “Furthermore, he would like to close negotiations on this matter.”

You could not hold in the gasp that came at his words. You saw Drakar stiffen and knew he’d heard you, knew he’d figured out exactly what you’d been doing. A moment passed and he untensed his shoulders and continued on. You silently thanked him. You were in no state to face anyone right now. 

“What do you mean close negotiations?” he asked, and you choked back tears. 

You cursed yourself for putting yourself in such a tight spot. You didn’t think you could manage a quiet escape, at least not without being noticed, not in your current state, so instead you sat, a captive audience to a discussion of why your family had given up on you. 

The messenger cleared his throat. “We do not negotiate with beasts.”

“So he chooses instead to abandon his daughter with them?”

The messenger disregarded his words entirely, his voice squeaking as he cried out, “You creatures will pay for the loss of his daughter.”

“She is not lost yet. He is choosing that fate for her, not I,” he hissed out.

“I have said all I was bidden to say. Do you have a message for the king?”

“Tell him if I see him or any of his scrawny little messengers again, I’ll rip them in two.”

With a little yelp, the messenger retreated. Drakar stood for a moment, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the tent. 

After a moment, the canvas of the tent was lifted and your hiding place was revealed. You sat, crumpled, on the ground, bile rising in your throat. 

That was it. There was no one coming. 

He hauled you to your feet, undoing your bindings. 

“What did you ask for me?” you asked as he undid the ropes, keeping you propped up on him as he worked. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you snapped. You needed to know what was so much more important than you, what you’d been given up for. “You will tell me. I’ve earned that much.”

“A full retreat. It never would have been taken, it was just supposed to be a start to the negotiations.”

“Hmm.” It was a ridiculous ask, obviously so. But to dismiss you completely? To not even try?

Drakar pulled you out of your thoughts with a question. “Would you even want to go back now? If I let you go?”

Your brows furrowed. “You can’t let me go. It would show weakness, show you’ll roll over if your terms aren’t met.”

“I know, it was just a question. So what do I do with you now?”

You shrugged. “You could kill me.”

“No. We won’t be doing that. I should have killed him, though. The audacity of them sending a little snot-nosed fool to tell me negotiations were over. I should’ve gutted him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He spared you a look that said more than you were sure he wanted it to, rage and concern both written across his face. “I had other things on my mind.”

He tried to speak to you again but you’d begun to shut down. It was all too much, you could do no more. 

It didn’t seem too unreasonable a reaction. Your life had just ended, severed by your father without even a real rescue attempt. 

But even if you’d shut down, the world had not. 

And so it continued. Drakar seemed to have decided you were still useful somehow because every day you were hauled along with his troops, and every day you were given your own little tent. 

He didn’t keep you tied up anymore. It wasn’t because you’d become docile, you’d attempted many escapes and he’d found you and brought you back every time. You weren’t entirely sure why you were no longer being tied up. Maybe it was because you weren’t valuable anymore. 

You didn’t fully understand why you hadn’t been killed yet. What more could you do for them? 

As days passed, the grief lessened to more practical thoughts, thoughts about your future. What was there for you now? Why were you still here? What else could they want from you?

You wanted answers. 

You stood and stormed off. Several of the soldiers around you went to grab you until they realized that you were not headed out, but instead towards Drakar’s tent, letting you continue on your warpath. 

You started to shout as soon as you entered the tent and he whipped around to face you. “You should kill me. Why won’t you kill me? What do you want from me? Whatever it is, I won’t give it. I have nothing to give. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

He watched your outburst with a level of amusement on his face that made you want to attack him. “Are you done?”

You ran at him, trying to claw at him, bite him, anything. He restrained you easily, pinning you against him, but still, it fed something in you, trying to do something.

You felt him chuckle behind you and if you weren’t pinned down, you would have attacked him again. 

“See,” he asked, and you felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. “You’ll be fine. You’re a fighter.”

“I will not fight for you,” you spat.

“I don’t expect you to. But you will fight for you. Nothing is over.”

He released you from his grip and before you could decide what to do with your newfound freedom, someone came crashing into the tent, armor shining a bright silver. He stood, ready to attack, sword in hand, but the second he saw you he froze. “You’re dead,” he choked out, words muffled through the metal of the armor. 

You didn’t have a chance to respond before Drakar had thrown him halfway across the camp, orc soldiers rushing over to finish him off. He didn't stand a chance.  

You stared at the spot he had just been in, processing his words, before slowly turning to Drakar. 

“What was that?”

“An attacker. A foolish little man.”

You shook your head. “No not… why did he think I was dead?’

“Princess, the whole world thinks you’re dead.”

You head snapped up to look at him. “Why?”

“Because I told them.”

You reeled back. “Why would you do that? I didn’t ask you to say that.”

“Your people didn’t seem to care.”

“Oh, thank you so much then. As long as they didn’t care, then it’s fine. You speak of honor and then do this. Why? To torture me? Make sure I have nowhere to go and ensure that I know I am not loved?”

You’d had enough of this conversation, turning heel and storming off without another word, set on putting as much distance as possible between you and them. 

You vaguely heard orders being barked to follow you, but that didn't stop you from running. 

It didn’t change anything. No matter how far you ran, you had nowhere to go. 

Drakar didn’t follow you himself, instead sending someone else to do his dirty work. A few orcs stood behind you, easily able to keep track of you and match your pace. 

You weren’t even given a full hour of feigned freedom before one of them had picked you up and started pulling you back towards camp. You fought them the whole way. 

You were set down in front of him, the whole process embarrassing. You straightened your ill-fitted pants as you desperately tried to regain any ounce of dignity. 

Despite your appearance, he didn’t seem amused. “You shouldn’t run.”

“So you saw fit to have me kidnapped? Again?”

“I had to tell them you were dead,” he said, pushing past your outburst.

You scoffed. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I have orders to kill you. The negotiations failed, my people wanted you dead. It was the only way out of this for you.”

Oh. There was no reprieve for you on either side. You’d known your father had signed your death warrant with his refusal to negotiate but now the orders had been given. 

“Then why am I still here?” you asked, your voice smaller than you would’ve liked. 

“It is not just. I will not kill you.”

“So what now?”

“No one knows what you look like,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It doesn’t have to be over.”

It didn’t matter. Both sides had condemned you. You had your life, but nowhere you could live it. “I have nowhere to go,” you said, sounding braver than you felt.  

“You’ll find somewhere. Until then, there’s always room for you in my camp. I displaced you, the burden of this wrong falls to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “And none of your men will send word that you’ve kept me here?”

“As long as they get to keep staring at you, I can’t imagine they’d mind.”

Your nose wrinkled at his words. “These are your honorable men? Letting me stay for the right to keep ogling me?”

“It’s not so odd. They’re fascinated by you, such a strange little thing.”

You supposed you were strange and foreign to them, as they were to you. But surely you weren’t the first, not with the combat they must’ve seen. “You’ve seen humans before.”

“Some of them haven’t. At least, not living ones that aren’t trying to kill us.”

“Who said I’m not trying to kill you.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

“And if I stay? I won’t fight my own people, even if I was trained in combat. You’ll just carry around dead weight?”

“You’re hardly dead weight. I don’t even notice you up on my shoulder half the time.”

“You know that’d not what I mean.”

“I do. There are towns over the border where you could stay.”

You looked up, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “They’ll take me? A random human?”

He nodded solemnly. “They will, if you wish to depart. If not… I am the reason your people forsook you. I do not regret it, I did what needed to be done, but I regret what has come to pass to you because of it. You’ve faced this better than I ever thought a human would. They’re cowards to have cast you out, I will not follow in their steps. It may not be what you’re used to, I am no prince and we are no humans, but you’re welcome to stay at my home. You will never be a princess again, that was taken from you. I took that from you. It is only fair to give what I can in return. It is not much, but it is what I have.”

You smiled, swallowing down the lump in your throat and willing away the misty feeling in your eyes. “Thank you. I’d love to stay, if you’ll have me.”

It was no great concession from you, you weren’t exactly drowning in options, but it felt like choosing it all the same. It was no less of a choice than your last home had been, born into it and forbidden to ever really leave. 

This was being offered to you. You were being given the opportunity to say no. To run. 

As much as Drakar had angered and frustrated you in the past week or so, you weren’t sure you’d ever been given this much respect. Real respect, not the fake respect of being placed in war rooms and told to be silent. 

You gave him a final nod and a smile, adding a curtsy that you pulled yourself out of halfway through when you thought better of it, tripping over your feet a little as you did. 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you and you wondered how you’d never noticed it before. 

You went to bed that night feeling lighter, freer than you were used to. 

As you left your tent the next morning, you almost tripped over a deer carcass left in your doorway. 

You backed away slowly, rushing over to Drakar’s tent. 

He was barely dressed for the day, the sun having only half risen past the horizon, and gave you a smile and a nod as he saw you rush into his tent. “Good morning, princess.”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you blurted out, “Someone left a dead animal outside my tent.”

He froze, his shoulders tensing.

You watched, waiting for a response and getting none, before adding, “Should I be concerned? It felt like a threat. Maybe they don’t like that you lied for me, that you're protecting me. Maybe they don’t like me like you think they do.”

“It’s not a threat,” he said with a swift shake of his head. 

“How could you know?”

He explained it through barred teeth. “It’s an orchish courting gift. You’ve caught someone’s interest.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” None of the tension had left him and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. “It’s odd, an orc taking an interest in such a frail little thing.”

You rolled your eyes. He was clearly upset that one of his soldiers had become distracted with you, maybe even disgusted at the prospect of one of them taking interest in a human of all things. Clearly your bonding the day before hadn’t taken you that far. 

“I don’t know, I’ve heard I can be quite charming.”

He ignored your statement completely, shifting closer to you as he spoke. “You should stay close to me until I can find out who left it and tell them off.” He was being strangely protective almost, the disgust you’d assumed would be there instead entirely absent. 

“Why would you tell off my suitor? Surely I should do that myself. Besides, why do you even ca-”

Oh. 

The reality of why someone courting you would make him protective set in and you looked up at him with wide eyes

You couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that plastered itself across your face. “Well, maybe I’ll accept it. I’ve got no future now, it couldn’t hurt to have a big, strong orc husband.” 

He stood a little straighter as he understood the implication. “You seek protection?”

“Hm, I do, thank goodness I’ve finally found a suitable option, I was really starting to worry.”

Frustration flashed through his eyes as he realized what you were doing. “Fine, we should go find this suitor so we can tell him how graciously you’re accepting this courtship. I, for one, will be glad to be rid of you. Now you’ll be someone else’s problem.” 

“We should. Unless there’s something you’d like to say?”

His nostrils flared as he glared down at you. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Nothing on your mind? Nothing like, I don’t know, having feelings for the, what is it you keep calling me? The weakling you kidnapped?”

He avoided meeting your eyes as he spoke. “Your force of will is admirable. The odds were against you but still you fought.”

You fought the urge to coo at him, at how flustered he looked and how it seemed like he was forcing out every word. You had no doubt he would rather have left you an animal carcass. You preferred it this way. 

“I’m going to need you to be more direct than that.” Your voice was patient and kind and you could tell it was making things a hundred times worse for him. 

“I had intentions to look into human courting, to find something familiar for you amidst so many new things you’ve been forced into. But given the situation, I suppose I can just tell you.”

“Tell me what?” you asked. You were going to make him say it, you didn’t care how long it took.

“About my intention to court you.” 

You giggled at his pained face and he relaxed a little, looking down at you with fondness in his eyes. You wondered when that had begun. You wished you’d been paying attention enough to notice. 

“What now?” he asked. “How do your human courtships go? I will do what I must.”

You thought about it, amusement flickering through you at the thought of Drakar trying to uphold the proper etiquette required while courting a princess. But the courting process was long and strained and if you were being honest, you preferred the brutal honesty you’d been given here at camp. “Frankly, I’ve had just about enough of how humans do it. What about you? We can skip the dead animal bit, but what comes next?”

He looked you up and down, some gears turning in his head that you were not privy to.

“I will have to be gentle,” he said, before hauling you over his shoulder and bringing you over to his bed of furs on the floor. 

Your eyes widened as the implication set in. You’d been far from the perfect princess, having your fair share of trysts with guards and servants over the years, but this was a different beast. 

And then he kissed you and you stopped thinking altogether. 

It was desperate and urgent, his lips figuring out how to move against your smaller ones and you reached up, pulling his face closer as he set you below him on his makeshift bed. 

He ground down on you, clothed hips moving to meet yours. Your disparate sizes meant to do so while kissing you he was contorted at a strange angle but he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

He stopped kissing you, rushing to pull off his off pants, and his cock slapped against your stomach, thick and hard and hot and you wanted him inside you now.

But when it fell against you, it hit just above your belly button and you thought that perhaps your eyes were a bit bigger than your stomach.

He seemed to realize the impracticality of it at the same time you did, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Don't worry, princess, I'll get you nice and stretched out.”

You chuckled nervously. “I don’t know if stretching will be enough.”

He slid down, hitching your shirt up and pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I won’t hurt you. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. There are other things we can do.”

He shifted both of you with ease, pulling you to sit on his chest as he laid back on his bed. You looked down at him, brows furrowed. “What about your traditional orc courtship.”

That pulled another laugh from him. “What part of this do you think has been traditional? The closest we got to traditional was when you bit me.”

You flushed red, recontextualizing the memory and wondering how many of the things you’d been doing to anger him had also been part of traditional orc courtship. 

While you were busy blushing, he’d set to work on your pants, wrestling them off of you as he easily manhandled you. You barely helped, halfheartedly kicking them off. You remembered how much you hated being picked up by him when this had begun and how much that had changed. You were loathe to admit it but every time he lifted and moved you so easily, something stirred inside you. 

As soon as he got your pants off you were pulled roughly forward, his hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you onto his mouth. 

He ate you out with just as much urgency as he kissed you with, wasting no time before sliding his tongue through your folds. 

His grip was unforgiving, pulling you down so all of your weight was on him. 

His tusks dug into your inner thighs and he seemed to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue thrusted up inside of you. 

Even his tongue was almost too thick, you walls stretching to accommodate it. You hands grasped at his hair, needing something to hold onto. 

His mouth locked over your clit, sucking hard before moving back to thrust inside of you again, hands rising to play with your sensitive bud of nerves as he did. 

As you began to fall apart above him, writhing against the onslaught of sensation, he only doubled his efforts. 

You arched your back, your thighs clamping down on either side of his head, hips shifting with the waves of your orgasm that suddenly overcame you. He was content to let you ride it out, grip loosening to let you have your control as you moans filled the tent. 

You came down slowly and it took a few moments to realize you were still sitting on his face. 

You moved to sit beside him on the furs as soon as you did, your face warming. 

You shifted your head to rest against him, staring down at his cock as you did. It was impossibly hard and practically pulsing with need, and you made a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret. 

“You know, it can’t hurt to try.”

He sat up immediately, eagerness evident in his face. “You’ll stop me if it’s too much.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course I will.”

He shifted you, lifting you over him and you were happy to give over control. You trusted him.

It felt even bigger pressed up against your entrance than it had on your stomach and you took a deep breath. You waited but as nothing happened, you realized that Drakar was waiting for your signal. 

No nodded and he began to lower you, incredibly slowly. As it pushed inside, you knew the girth was more than anything you’d taken before, but it was manageable. The stretch bordered on painful but it was slow and careful enough that you had time to adjust. 

And then, as it went further and further, it became too much, 

You winced long before he’d bottomed out, about half of it inside you. It was bordering on too painful and you pressed your hands against his chest, shaking your head. “No more,” you said quietly, already weak from your last orgasm. 

He didn’t seem to mind, holding you steady as he pressed you close to him, muttering quiet praises to you. 

You slowly adjusted, not ready to take more but more than happy with what was already inside of you. 

You shifted your hips a little, pushing it against a perfect spot inside of you, letting out a quiet moan as you did. 

He put a stop to it fairly quickly, holding you still. “I think I’ll just keep you there. You’re perfect, taking me so well.”

You writhed, trying to get the stimulation you were becoming desperate for but he held you steady easily. 

So you tried a new tactic. “Want more,” you said, voice soft and sweet. If that didn’t work you’d try yelling at him, see how that fared. 

“Careful, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. You damn humans, so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile, you’re just too big.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Despite his words, he began to slowly move, shifting out of you before pushing in again, careful to not push past the point where you’d stopped him. 

He moved you up and down like it was nothing, careful even as he began to speed up, hips shifting a little to meet you, chasing after your warm cunt as he pulled you back up.

His breathing grew shaky as he did and despite feeling overwhelmed with sensation, you fought to keep your eyes open, to watch him come undone. 

As his grunts became more and more unruly, your walls clenched around him at the sight. 

He immediately pulled you up, leaving just the head of his cock inside of you as he filled you with thick ropes of come. 

His breathing was ragged and his grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him. 

He looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, before pulling you off of him and settling back with you resting on his chest. 

You made an absolute mess of him as he did, with no chance of keeping the frankly absurd amount of come inside of you. 

He didn’t seem to care at all.

“We’re making a mess,” you said, despite suspecting the objection would fall on uncaring ears. 

“You said you wanted an orcish courting, the mess is traditional.”

You weren’t sure if you were cut out for a traditional orc courting, already squirming as your thighs were coated in his spend. 

But his chest was warm and his breathing steady and you couldn’t help but settle into the comfort of it. 

“I'm gonna fit all of it someday,” you said, meaning it fully.

He laughed. “Brave little thing, aren’t you? Dreaming big.”

You snorted. 

“What happens now?” you asked as you snuggled further into him. 

“You reject that fool's advances.”

You hummed happily. “I will. I guess I’m lucky I caught your eye, don’t know if I would've survived this if I hadn’t”

“I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have let them kill you. It wouldn't be right. And you would’ve managed even without me. You wouldn't be the first human to sneak away to our side.”

That surprised you. “I wouldn't?”

He chucked, hands running through your hair. “You wouldn't. We're a more accepting group, I've found. Although you are a weak little species, we don’t have much use for you. You’re lucky you're pretty or I don't know if we'd put up with you.”

You scrunched up your nose. “You didn’t decide to court me because you thought I was pretty though.”

“No,” he said, like you both already knew the answer. “I decided to court you because no matter how many times we stopped you, you never stopped trying to run, to fight.”

You sat up with a sudden urgency. “If I said I wanted to go home, to my father, would you let me?” 

You watched the panic flash across his face and some selfish part of you hoped it was panic over losing you and not panic over the consequences that could come if you showed up alive after his order to kill you.

He sat with it for a while and you let him, in no rush to pull an answer from him.

Finally, he seemed to find whatever he'd been searching for. “I would.”

“Good,” you said, a smug feeling welling up in your chest, right beside the warmth that had begun to fill you at his answer. “Then I'll stay.”

He tried and failed to hide his smile. “Good. Does that mean you’re done running from me?”

You grinned, knowing full well it didn’t. What would be the fun in that? “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” he said as he shifted the two of you, wrapping you up in furs to protect your modesty before picking you up once more, with one arm under your knees and the other below your back, keeping you close to his chest. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

AAAHHHH\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

NSFW

You yawned, smiling sleepily as you felt the familiar warmth of your Werewolf!Husband’s tongue lapping at your cunt.

“Happy Mother’s Day, princess…” he murmured against your clit, looking up at you with those pretty brown eyes of his. “Wanted to start your day off right…”

A contented sigh left your lips, your cheeks warm and your stomach tingly as his tongue slipped into you. “Mmph, that’s it… ah, thank you baby…”

You had recently become the mother of a litter of pups, three in total. Currently, they were asleep in the nursery across the hall. They were all now 7 months old, starting to walk and talk. You knew werewolf pups were a bit more advanced than human babies, but you hadn’t been expecting them to be running around so early!

“I’ll be taking care of the pups today, so don’t worry at all.”

Your husband brought you over the edge several times, his red cock bobbing between his legs. Despite his obvious arousal, he left it alone, tending to your needs.

“Such a good pup…” you cooed, gently playing with his fluffy hair. “My pretty boy, wanna knot me?”

From the way his cock bobbed violently, you knew his answer.

Your husband had you pinned in a second, growling lowly into your ear. “Pretty mate, already want another litter of pups? Gonna make you a mommy all over again…”

So you spent Mother’s Day a bit sore and full of cum, but competent satisfied.

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

Commission for @vgilantee

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning again! And specially for trusting me with an idea to write it as I want, means a lot! <3

Request: fem/afab cat hybrid reader and first time taking werewolf boyfriend’s knot?

Plug you up to shut you up

Werewolf x cat-hybrid fem!reader || dom/sub undertones, phone sex (kinda), edging, orgasm denial, knotting, oral sex

“It won’t fit,” he told you for the thousandth time.

“Yes it will,” you argued, also a for the thousandth time. Your tail moving around in agitation. You weren’t asking much of him, just for his knot. You two had been dating for a few months, you deserved to be stretched and stuffed, didn’t you?

“No it won’t. Stop asking about it, you’ll get hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you.” His worry was adorable and you wanted to hug him about it, but also scratch his face because he was being way too nice about it.

“I won’t get hurt!” You argued again.

“Yes you will, you are tiny and your pussy is just too tight for it to fit.” His voice was exasperated, like he was arguing with a kid, or like he was a dom arguing with his bratty sub… Which was pretty much what was happening right there.

“Pretty please…” You asked, looking up at him, blinking slowly, trying your best innocent look.

“No,” he repeated. But you saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. He was going to agree, you just needed to try a bit harder.

“Pleaaaaaaaaase…” you repeated, pouting. You caressed his chest slowly and acted all coy. He loved when you did that.

He sighed. “Ugh. I hate you.”

You jumped, happily and hugged him around his middle. “No you don’t, you love me so much you are going to stuff me with your knot.”

He grabbed your wrist and kissed you until you were out of breath. When you broke apart, he told you: “Okay, but we need to do some prep first.”

“What kind of prep?” You asked, already suspicious of his intentions.

That’s how you found yourself wearing a plug in the middle of the day. He bought some kind of special plugs that were made exactly for your purpose. There were five of them and you were supposed to change them during the day leading to the knotting. He did a lot of research before buying them and was so serious about it that you couldn’t be mad about it. He was adorable, like a puppy.

He woke you up earlier that morning, knowing he had to go to work, just so he could eat you out and plug you with the first size. It was a bit uncomfortable to move around, but you could deal with it. It was fine. You made breakfast and worked for a bit before he video-called you.

“Hey darling, what do you want?” You asked, busy with your latest drawing. You had a deadline soon and wanted to do as much as possible as fast as possible.

“It’s time for you to change the plug,” he reminded you. There was an edge in his voice, the exact same edge as the one he had when he was ready to push his dick inside of you. Fuck, how was the tone of his voice so fucking hot? Being madly in love with a werewolf was fucking with your brain, you now got wet when he talked. Just talked. Insane, you were going completely insane.

“Yeah, right. Will do,” you answered, not paying too much attention to him as you reached to end the call.

He stopped you. “Hey wait! I want to see.”

You looked back at the phone like he grew a second head. “What?”

“I called so I could see as you change it. I want to see.” His voice was pleading, but demanding. The idea of him calling you just to see your pussy was making you all kinds of hot and bothered, and it was annoying. But you agreed, because it was making you all kinds of hot and bothered. Fuck, you wanted to cum so bad.

You positioned your phone so the frontal camera was looking at your pussy, your face extremely red as you parted your legs. You could hear his intake of breath as you parted your lips and he saw the base of the plug still inside. His grunt of pleasure made you whimper as you pulled the plug out. Your pussy gaped as he groaned.

“Fuck, kitten, look at you. It looks so puffy and swollen for me. You are going to look so pretty wrapped around my knot.” You blushed harder, trying to insert the second size without knocking off the phone. You whimpered again when it made contact with your swollen clit. “Fuck, do that again. Touch your pretty pussy for me, kitten.” His growl was so deep it made you groan. You complied, running the plug up and down your slit and getting it all wet. You were so ready to come you wanted to beg. “That’s enough, kitten. You can’t come, remember? I told you that this morning.” You whimpered, but obeyed. You wanted to be a good kitten. You pushed the plug inside, feeling the stretch but still comfortable with it. “Good job, you are doing perfectly. How does that feel?”

“Go- good.” Your voice broke down when you lowered your leg and the plug pressed against your G-spot. Fuck. This one was going to be harder.

“I will call you later for the next size. Love you, bye!” His cheerful nature annoyed you to no end. He called you, got you all hot and bothered and then had the audacity to forbid you from coming and then hang up on you. Fucking werewolves (affectionately).

It went exactly like that three more times. Each size up was harder and harder to adapt to. You felt so stretched and needy you wanted to grind against every single surface, unable to sit down since size three. You had been standing around, trying to clean but failing. Every time you bent down to pick something, it pressed against your G-spot and you saw stars. When the fifth plug was inside of you, you couldn’t hold it anymore and had to call him.

He picked up at the second ring. “Please… Please come home. I- I need…” You whimpered, unable to keep talking.

“I’m on my way, go strip and wait for me on the bed. Face down, ass up. Be a good kitten for me.” He instructed. You followed his instructions without even processing them. “Don’t hang up on me, talk to me, tell me what you did today.” You could hear him walking around, closing the door to the car. The anticipation was killing you.

You tried to tell him, to distract yourself so you wouldn’t grind onto the bed until you came all over yourself. You told him about your new project, about the art supplies you wanted to get, and he listened and asked questions. Without realizing he arrived home.

You heard the door closing as he hung up the phone and ran to the bedroom. You were exactly how he instructed, face down, ass up. Your tail was going crazy from side to side waiting for him. You felt on the edge of the biggest orgasm you’d ever felt, and he was just standing there.

“Please…” Your plea broke him out of his stupor, tearing off his clothes as he approached the bed.

“Good goddess kitten, you look good enough to eat. Are you ready? Do you still want this? You can say no.” He was always so sweet that you wanted to cry, but at that moment it infuriated you.

“Knot me already!” You cried out, more than ready. You always appreciated when he asked stuff and asked for consent beforehand, but in that moment you were beyond any questioning, you wanted to be filled. You wanted to be stuffed with his knot.

He didn’t comment anymore, he lowered his pants and threw them someplace behind him. You could hear something breaking, but you didn’t care. He slowly but surely took the plug out as you cried out his name, grinding back against air as your gaping pussy dripped with fresh juices. You were so turned on you could cry. Maybe you were crying already. You couldn't feel anything apart from his hand on your hip and the tip of his cock at your entrance.

He didn’t ask anymore. He pushed right in and you groaned, coming instantly around him. Your claws tearing through the bed sheets. He grunted behind you, not stopping. He held your hips secure as your arms went limp under you and you face-planted to the bed. He kept fucking into you and telling you how pretty you looked, how good your pussy felt around his shaft. You came at least twice more before you felt the knot forming.

“Do you want it? Tell me you want my knot, kitten.” His voice was soft and demanding, and it made your insides melt. You loved that stupid werewolf so much you could squeeze him until he disappeared. But right now you needed his knot more than anything.

“Yes. YES. Knot me!” He didn’t wait anymore. He pulled your tail up, making you scream as he pushed his fat knot inside your pussy. Your eyes crossed and your brain turned off. The only thing you could feel was the stretch of his knot and the first shot of his cum deep inside.

“Does that feel good, kitten? Do you like to be so full you can’t even talk?” He chuckled at your blissed out face. “Guess it does, you love it, don’t you?” He rolled his hips and you opened your mouth to say something, but you could only drool in pleasure, too fucked out to even control your saliva. Embarrassing. But so fucking good you could die impaled on his cock and you’d die a happy cat. “If I had known all it took for you to shut up was to fill you to the brim I would have done it sooner.” You tried to argue with him but when you opened your mouth the only thing that you could do was moan as your eyes rolled back into your head. It was insane how big he felt inside of you, how stretched you felt. It was like you were going to break apart, but at the same time, his knot was the only thing keeping you together.

By the time the knot went down, he was still grinding inside of you, your pussy raw and abused. It felt like pain and pleasure mixed in the most excruciating sensation you’d ever felt. As soon as his knot deflated, he was there, tongue and fingers and playing with your used hole. He licked and sucked and made out with your pussy until you were coming again. And then another time. Your body couldn’t hold you up anymore, and you gave up trying.

“I like you like this, limp and fucked out. We should do that again.” His voice was cheerful and animated, and you wanted to scratch his face for being so fucking annoying. But good lord if you didn’t want to be fucked like that again. “I take that groan as a yes,” he said with a laugh.

Ugh, fucking werewolves.

Reminder that you can also commission me, info here.

It’s very beneficial XD 

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

This is fire \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ like I need more

vampire x crime scene cleaner!reader | 16.1k

you're a crime scene cleaner who happens across an advertisement for a mansion housekeeper in exchange for room and board. it's close to work, close to your university, and an easy job. the ultimate package. right away, you notice the owner's beauty as well as his eccentricities, but decide to commit to it. the spiral into depravity and debauchery begins when you're tasked with cleaning the site of a savage murder, solidifying you as a irreplaceable treasure.

warnings; dead dove do not eat; explicit non-con, extreme dubon, sadomasochism, blood play, overstimulation, choking, cigarette burns, smoking, hypnotism, theological themes, exploration of morality, gunshot wounds, extreme & graphic depictions of body horror + gore + grotesque details, graphic depictions of crime scene cleanup, possibly inaccurate depictions of crime scene cleanup (not looking for feedback on it), obsessive & possessive behaviors, heavy prose & details, the entire work is allegorical, murder, vampire is written as a monster bc that's what they are lmao, dividers are used between scenes

reposted from 2kmps; previously proofread by @ceruleansol

I shouldn't have to say it, but I will: nothing in this oneshot is indicative of my personal viewpoints. it is entirely fictitious.

this was a project that took me quite a bit of time to do, so I would be immensely appreciated if you'd please reblog + interact with it!! I'd love to hear your feedback!!

Another internet search bore fruit.

The image bouncing back at you from your phone had been hastily taken with a tremble in your hand, all the while launching a few too many cautious looks across your shoulder to either end of the dim, long hallway making up part of the second floor. There wasn't any particular rationale for your apprehension and busy eyes but the belief the mansion owner wouldn't be too pleased to see you taking pictures of his valuables rather than cleaning them.

That fear hadn't stopped you from reverse image searching a good couple of curiosities over the widening gap of time you had been living there.

Tonight was a Chalmette table vase displayed on a pedestal in the hall; brassy gold gilding cradled a somewhat drab white bloom that reached high and sprouted open to a hollow inside. Similar surviving articles went for thousands.

You totaled the prices of everything so far as enough to outright buy a house on the more modest side of town.

There was a daring thought that loomed in the back of your mind, an ugly little thing that told you one or two missing antiques wasn't any big deal. He wouldn't miss them, let alone even notice they were gone, because he was the strangest man you had ever met.

Four months ago, he had only ever introduced himself by the name Montague, letting an anticipatory stillness hang in the air while you waited for him to finish. He never did, handsome features lifting as his dark eyes thinned and smile inched higher. He had you in a tight handshake.

"I enjoyed reading the resume you sent in with your response to my advertisement." He had traces of an accent intact but had cleverly adapted to one more common to the area. "You're the first person I've come across wanting the room who's done that. It really stood out to me. A crime scene cleaner? Must be a difficult job."

"I know it was probably overkill, but I think this will be perfect for me." You were led to a suede armchair, his hand anchoring onto your shoulder to lower you into the seat. He sat across from you in something similar, one leg crossing. "I recently had to move out of my other place, and the university will be about an hour closer. My work won't be as far of a drive, either. I—I, uh, clean some gross stuff, so taking care of your house won't be anything."

Even after that spiel, Montague never let his smile slip. Rather, it seemed to widen as though delighted by your oversharing. He looked like a man basking in glee over a rare find, an offer he couldn't possibly turn away.

"All amenities in the house are yours." This was after he showed you to one of the rooms on the second floor: a capacious, well-dressed space behind a red door at the end of the hall. "As long as you listen to a few rules and keep things clean, we should have a very amicable... cohabitation."

You thought it was an odd choice of wording. "Okay. Well, what do I need to know?"

"No guests." It was immediate, his tone suddenly a touch edgy, razored, unyielding. "Not unless I give you explicit permission beforehand. I keep many important valuables; they're very dear to me. Also, do not invite anyone in unless I am there."

Again, odd, but it was his house.

"Sure," you said agreeably, having half the thought to write down these peculiarities of his. "What next?"

He was set on your shoulder, reaching out to pull a thin, frayed thread off of your jumper. "The downstairs—as in, the basement—is my personal space. If I need you down there, I will ask you for you to go down. You can go anywhere else in the house, on the property. None of it concerns me."

"Why the basement, though?" It felt damaging to press a question like that so early on, but you figured it was innocent enough. "This house is so big that we could be on the same floor and hardly see each other."

The muscles around his mouth twitched slightly, only once. You still noticed it. Noted: he didn't like to be questioned. "Sorry, I'm not trying to-"

"It's cold downstairs." he injected, shifting to look around the room as though taking in the newness of it as well. "I make sure it stays comfortable all year, all throughout the house, but the cold suits me best."

With how downright frosty his skin felt in that handshake earlier—on a mild day in mid-spring—you thought that explanation checked out. He must have only just come up to greet you at the front entrance.

You tried to forget the feeling. "Alright. Next?"

"Oh," he restrained an unseemly laugh, using one hand to crowd into a pocket on his dark blazer, "there is nothing else, at least nothing pertinent. It's my understanding that we're both quite busy, so this would be the current arrangement unless something changes."

What changes? You wanted to ask, thwarted to silence when he revealed some sort of silver thing pinched between his fingers with a thick handkerchief. It was a dainty-seeming contraption with chains linking several old skeleton keys at the end. The fabric he used to hold the clip concealed all of the elegant tracery that made up its shape.

"Traditionally, this is called a chatelaine. It’s something I’ve modified for you to get around the house. It’ll be easier to clean." Montague said, fast to force the mess of cold silver and chains into your palm, rubbing down his fingers with the handkerchief afterward. "The smallest key is to your room. The largest one opens the doors to go outside, so don't lose that. One of them is meant for doors in the basement—can't recall which."

He could see the wariness behind your eyes, a worrying crease forming in your brow. "This house has been around for a long time. I've just never gotten around to modernizing the locks."

Other questions came to you, but he hardly acted interested in entertaining them. You let him swivel on black soles, stopping him just as he reached the doorway.

"Why haven't other housekeepers worked out?"

Montague let his fingers rest on glazed woodwork framing the threshold, drumming out a soothing rhythm while considering an answer for all of two seconds. "In short? They couldn't follow the rules. Now, let me show you to the yard."

Afterward, the so-called cohabitation had become a seamless blend for you both. You had learned right away that Montague wasn't one for idle chatter and niceties without purpose. He had deviated from it once, on move-in day, to reassure you that the mysterious nature of your life schedule and odd hours you were called to a clean scene wouldn’t be a source of concern.

Shortly after settling your things around the house, the reason for his amenable attitude was a little more apparent. Several times a month, you would be pulled from your forensics projects to the landing at the end of the hall, piqued by fresh voices always indistinguishable at first, and folded your waist over the railing to see down.

The top of his head, hair short, impeccably styled, and ash-brown, was the first thing you noticed, followed by someone on his arm. Sometimes a woman, sometimes a man—always conventionally attractive, always utterly enraptured by him. It struck a nerve with you once or twice, finding your thoughts swimming bitterly: Of course a man who looked like him would go for types like that!

Why did he act so much differently with them than you?

He wasn't nearly as friendly and affable as he was making himself out to be.

You stopped peeking down on him after an instance where his eyes shot straight up, pinning you where you stood. He simpered at you before leading his companion away to the basement, and that was it. You never saw them leave and never bothered to ask.

Tonight was different, however, both in the way you nearly toppled the two-figure Chalmette vase off its pedestal with flighty fingers and a duster, and the echo of a scream piercing the hollow halls to you. It stayed in one spot on the first floor, luring you down the center staircase with your duster clutched to you like a sword. At that point, your heart bursting in your ears was louder than the agonized cries resonating around the corner.

You looked around, spine wrapped in dread as another scream, weak, garbled, and wet, came from the basement, and then nothing at all. It was soundless in the house. Distantly, one of the clocks mounted in the kitchen archway toned onward. You followed its beat with the shuffle of your feet.

Hello, hello? Those words clung tightly in your throat, yet you were too afraid to announce yourself like that. Still, nothing came as you slowly pulled at the basement doorknob, brass and freezing and unlocked. The stairway plunging down inside was filled with inky black, so dark you couldn't get your eyes to adjust to it.

Is everything okay down there? Hello? Hello? You ran the imaginary chatter through your mind, lips sealed but trembling during your slow descent, the path now illuminated by white glow from your phone. At the bottom, the stone stairs turned into seamless gray marble and red wetness crawling toward the soles of your slippers.

"What–" You gasped, taking a step back while flicking the flashlight higher, deeper into the basement. The vivid red puddle glistened in your light, widening around a motionless figure with pale skin—a blonde woman you didn't know. Her face pointed up at the ceiling, twisted in terror, black tracks of mascara curving along her cheeks.

She was naked on the floor, surrounded by her own blood, something you didn't have to look at twice. Your breaths grew harsh, taking in the sight of her neck, or lack thereof; there wasn't much left of it. Only a few stringy bits of sinew and muscle kept it from a full decapitation, and blood still pulsed out in spurts from mangled arteries and veins.

A motion nearby made your nape prickle. It was like feet padding across wet pavement after a fresh rain, except this smell carried the malodor of rust and something sour under your nose.

You settled a pillar of light on the source, capturing the view of Montague standing amid the bloodbath, sickly skin bare and saturated in rich crimson.

Something was wrong with him, came an instantaneous, instinctual reaction the moment his head spun toward you, catching pale eyeshine in the white light.

The bones in his jaw cracked as the length of it began to recede into the semblance of something more man to you, rows of jagged teeth retracting into the depths of his throat until only a pair of long incisors remained.

Montague skimmed the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, smiling at you affectedly, saying as though it were some trife thing, "She started screaming."

You were gone and out of the basement after that, clearing the woman's body and kicking away the slippers on your feet when they squelched with blood. Montague said something after you when shrieks ripped out of your lungs and reverberated through the house. You winced as the basement door let out a hollow rattle when he collided with it, heart matching the rhythm of the skin on your feet slapping against old marble, thoughts disarrayed, frantic the closer you got to the front door.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! You were panting in unison with the vicious chants.

The doorknob was in your hand. The door was open—and it was thrown shut with the force of your body thrust against it, fingers wrenched off of the handle and enveloped in Montague's cold fingers as he pushed himself flush into you.

You felt his palm clamp around your mouth, whittling your screams into panicked whimpers, nostrils flaring with your ragged breaths.

"Ah, no, no." He had to stoop his neck to talk into your ears. "Shh, shh, shhh. Far too loud. I don't like screaming. Shh, shh, shhhh."

Tears seared red behind your eyes, making you think you could follow the warmth down your face as they filled the crevices in his hand. "It's really, truly a pity. She was a pretty one but far too smart. I'm usually decent at picking out the ones who wouldn't suspect anything or, at least, catching them before they try to scream.

"You'll have to forgive me. I swear to you I'm not ordinarily that messy. I prefer to keep everything tidy, especially so you don't have to go down there. After all, you're already so busy. You're already doing so much. I can't recall when I last saw you relax."

The weight of his palm softened, a wordless agreement that you honored with continued silence as he used that arm to lean against the door. His voice shifted around your head to your other ear. "That's it. Just wonderful. There's no need for screaming, is there? It's only the two of us."

"Are—are..." You couldn't get it out, lips and throat suddenly sucked dry. "Don't kill me, please. Please. Please."

His chest quaked while a subdued, eerily delighted laugh hissed through his lips. "Kill you? Oh, no, no, no. Never. How could I ever kill you when you're so remarkable? My home has never looked so beautiful and lived in. I'm enjoying how it looks with you in it."

You wilted away from his lips sinking to a spot below your ear, now taking far too much notice of his erection curving up along your lower back. It felt disgustingly wrong to wonder whether the violence and blood turned him on, or it was you and your fear. The man wasn't even human; that much was clear.

"What are you?" There was no shortage of daring questions in your arsenal. Montague was beginning to find the charm in them.

"That's quite difficult for me to answer." He let his chin lay on your shoulder. "I've been called many things over the centuries. I suppose the closest anyone has ever gotten is vampire, but even that's not quite right. You're free to guess as much as you'd like, though."

He was satisfied when you didn't, freeing the weight off of his arm to slide his hand under the hem of your shirt, fingertips still slick with that woman's blood as he explored your navel. You were too aware of the roundness of his fingernails stepping across your flesh, sometimes pressing deep, and other times a light touch you needed to scratch. His throat vibrated against your shoulder.

"What are you thinking? I'd love to hear it." He wanted to devour your fear in more ways than just feeling you wince. "Well? Tell me."

"I want to go." Go? Where could you possibly go that he couldn’t find you? If he ripped out the side of a woman's neck, he could track you down.

He leaned his cheek into your ear again, relishing the warmth that spread into him. "Where would you go? Who would you tell? Humor me, where is the first place you'd go?"

"The police," you said.

Montague let out a pleased hum. "Of course. It only makes sense to report a terrible scene such as that to them. Forensics and the police play together often, don't they?"

Your nod was weak.

"I know how hard you've been studying, how much stress you're under to commit to your degree, your work—to me." His hand crept along to your stomach, fingers splaying wide across the protective layer of skin and fat. "Let's say they were to find something I left behind. Who becomes a suspect in their eyes when they learn that I have someone who tidies up after me? Who knows the dirty insides of cleaning up anything and everything?"

You were starting to panic, fitfully struggling against his body. It's like he was made of stone. "They wouldn't accuse me of murdering anyone."

"Haven't you seen the news lately? Are you so sure?" he said derisively. "No, perhaps you're right. Maybe you'd be fortunate, and they wouldn't have your head for murder, but they would certainly try to peg you with something else. As an accomplice, maybe? And that's assuming that I don't disappear and let rip you apart.

"Can you imagine it? Can you feel your heart break at the very thought of losing it all? Your degree? Your job? Safety? The world is cruel, darling. You'd never have another moment of peace or anonymity. Anywhere you'd go, you'd be found, every alias sullied with your sins. All because you decided to speak up about it."

You knew he meant to send you downstairs to do something about the mess, spend hours scrubbing and mopping until what had once been there was a secret that thickened your tongue and made it hard to swallow. No one would ever find out, but you would carry it in every waking thought until, one morning, the cute barista on Market Street had an eerie semblance to that dead woman, and the light roast in your hand suddenly looked so red.

"Thump. Thump. Thump." Montague mocked the heavy thrum of your heart behind your ribs, his cold fingers skimming your nipples before resting over your sternum. "You can go if you'd like, but I'll find you. I'll hear your little heart until it bursts and drag you right back here. You're mine."

The push of his body gradually faded away, giving your chest the room to expand, leaving you to gulp quivering, greedy breaths that didn't stop even as the pads of his feet grew distant.

He called back to you, "Give me ten minutes or so, and then come down."

You were already partway through the front door with your car keys to pop the trunk when, floating like a spectre's moans in still night air, his voice reached out once more, "You may want to clean up yourself first. You have blood all over your face."

༺ ♰ ༻

A damp towel came before your descent back into the basement. In tow on your shoulders were three bags of absorbent, the fancy stuff hospitals liked to use to throw on puke and piss and anything else they just lazily wanted to sweep around. It worked for blood in smaller quantities, blood that was still wet, anyway.

The woman hadn't been dead long enough for her body fluids to dry, so you didn't anticipate needing anything except the basics stowed in your car trunk.

You weren't sure what you expected to see down there, noticing the lights were turned on high, fully illuminating the gray marble, the furthest reaches of the blood puddle with your slippers saturated dark red and ruined. What came as a shock was the woman's dead eyes and shredded neck being nowhere in sight. Montague had moved her body but to where?

For some reason, you were drawn to ridiculous spots like the walls, ceiling, and tiny cramped corners that he could have feasibly stuffed her in. There was no sickly trail of blood leading any which way, droplets only reaching as far as the stairs and first landing where you had been pursued—nothing else.

Where did he take her? Part of you was ready to turn a blind eye to all of this because you knew you would have to in order to keep everything. If you kept your head low and groveled a little bit, maybe he'd get bored and leave you alone, biding you the time you needed to finish your degree. But, that'd be two years of this.

You weren't sure you could stomach it.

As you moved granules of absorbent through blood with coarse bristles from the kitchen broomstick—shifting the puddle more than the actual absorbent—you wondered if he could hear your heart now from wherever he was.

You thought about a lot of things while letting your eyes roam the space. It was enormous, taking up the entire underside of the house, outfitted impressively with mahogany accents, sprawling bookshelves, armchairs, and loveseats pulled tight in leather and velvet. Across the room was a disheveled bed, creamy sateen sheets in a luscious heap but otherwise undisturbed.

To the adjacent end of this expanse were two doors you didn't notice at first, one a little taller than yourself in height, about as wide as any normal arm span, and looked old, so old that everything else was too new. Even from where you stood, you knew it'd take a skeleton key. The other door was more coherent with the rest of the basement, cleaner but certainly still part of the house's original construction.

By the time Montague had returned, you already had much of the ordeal pitched into a biohazard bag with some trace remnants putting you on your knees to scrub away. You hadn't realized he was even there until the tips of his shoes—brown leather loafers with a scalloped tassel near the toes—appeared in your peripheral, sending you launching back onto your hocks.

"This work is spectacular. I knew I had a good feeling giving that room to you." he said with a beguiling smile. All of the blood was gone; he was clean in a dark dressing robe with black trousers, a look you hated that you saw as alluring. "Don't forget to clean the floors upstairs. We made quite a mess there as well."

"What happened to that woman?" You were asking your pesky questions again. Montague wasn't so sure he found them as charming now, but you were still a prize.

You leaned away as he crouched in front of you, nearly risking the soles of his shoes in the blood and hydrogen peroxide. For the first time since meeting, you kept eye contact and saw that his reached a depth you didn't think could be possible for a human. He wasn't touching you, yet it felt like he had you caged, trapped in a vise that held you tight.

He did touch you then, grazing the side of your face with a thumb. Suddenly, he brought it to his lips and licked it as he rose to full height.

"You still had some blood just there on your cheek." There was an armchair a few feet away that he dropped into, withdrawing a gold compact from a chest pocket on his way down. "Don't worry. I wouldn't ask you to carry away the bodies. I'm not that Roman."

"That's not what I asked." you rejoined.

Montague tucked a cigarette between his lips, igniting it with a match he kept inside the compact. His first few puffs looked like they calmed him as he crossed a leg and settled deeper into the leather. "You shouldn’t expect answers to things you don’t need to know—or want to.”

But he humored you with a slight lean of his head towards the old door far away. "The original owner of this house was ingenious and built tunnels that were used to shuffle people in and out. Mistresses. Servants. More unsavory things—you must remember the era. At any rate, it stretches beyond the house and some ways off. I do not recommend ever going inside."

You understood now why you never saw any of the dates he brought home leave. And you believed every bit of his warning.

It inspired you to move away from the grim reality dwelling beyond that old door. You hovered over the same spot, drenching the floor with more of the disinfectant, grasping for a distraction. "I didn't know vampires could smoke. Isn't blood enough for you?”

Montague flicked his cigarette over an ashtray beside his chair. "Well, we all have our vices. Mine just happens to be five or six of these a day. Keeps enough of the edge off so you get to sleep at night."

Something about that comment made the entire stretch of the basement feel so confining—claustrophobic, even. Your back was wide open to it, to his ravening gaze and leather toe turning fluid circles as though to pace himself before lunging.

"I have class in six hours." You finished the job by tying off the bag. "I'd like to get the upstairs done and take a shower."

"Of course. Try to get some sleep, you've had quite a night." He didn't move to see you out. "Oh, and leave the bag. I'll dispose of it."

༺ ♰ ༻

Meredith Nimu died approximately twenty-three days ago after a stroke left her immobilized in her favorite armchair. Her body wasn't peeled away from the murky-green polyester until day twenty-four, following enough neighbor complaints about a bunch of rats dying in the vents.

Getting rid of the chair was half the battle in this case, something that Meredith's overzealous, recently divorced daughter spouted off as sacrilegious. She insisted that the carpet cleaner she used for her obese dogs with raw patches on their legs could do it all. Your supervisor had been inflectionless when telling her it didn't work like that.

One of your teammates, a middle-aged black man affectionately nicknamed “Hoss” had unceremoniously slammed the apartment door shut and flipped the lock so the daughter's rancorous eruptions were somewhat contained outside. The other half of the duo responsible for pitching the chair, T.J., a white man who could never tan, wheezed out a laugh as he labored a hard bristle brush through the gunk left behind from Meredith's decay.

"Boss ain't gonna be happy about that." T.J. couldn't commit to the act of a brownnoser even if he wanted to. A couple more chortles rattled through his respirator. They were infectious, ridiculous sounds that coaxed similar from Hoss when he rejoined the effort to get the job done and over with.

You could still hear the daughter on the other side of the door, never once allowing your supervisor a word in edgewise. A part of you wanted to pity her, perhaps conjure up a shred of empathy for someone so completely enmeshed in the throes of grief and anger. She was clearly spiraling, her entire life yanked out from under her—and she was free-falling with nothing to catch her, no thin wire she could snag in the bend of her fingers and watch as the velocity of that cruelly, cleanly severed white tendon and bone.

Where would she fall after that? You didn't know. You didn't care. She could regain control over her life even without fingers, but what about you? No one understood how disconcerting it was to know that your survival depended on a vampire's good mood. An old woman was meant to expire, but you were young and had aspirations—yet that could be stolen from you just as quickly as a clot could kill the brain.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Hoss had called out to you repeatedly until the hard brushes stopped scratching the floor, and he and T.J. were settled back on their heels, staring at you. You were used to leveraging your commitments in life as a means to get them off your case, but even they could tell this was different.

"You've been real spacey lately." It was enough to gently reel you back to the moment, eyes unstuck from remnants of putrid matter hidden under a deluge of chemicals and soap. Now you were thinking that the landlord would probably have to replace this entire spot in the flooring. It would be an expensive fix.

"Everything okay at home?" Hoss tried again, emulating fatherly concern in his tone and sidelong stare. It was something he couldn't help since you were so similar in age to his adult kids. "I don't think I've seen you eat today. We oughta finish up here up and grab somethin' quick on the way back.”

"Sorry, yeah, it's just the usual things." They didn't know what that meant to you, but readily accepted with dour expressions masked by their respirators. "I think I saw a gyro truck down the street."

As many times as you had regurgitated the same thing when they pried into your well-being, you were surprised they still asked at all. That made it hard to wave after them as you pulled the lever to the trunk, waiting to be left alone once the job was done to stack half your weight in absorbent until the back bowed to it.

It was just past two in the morning when you were locking the front door of Montague's sprawling estate behind you. Every time you did, a part of you hesitated to seal it the whole way, as though if you did, your final traces of freedom would be stripped away entirely.

"Welcome home!" Montague came out from prowling somewhere in the shadows, seeming to materialize from the darkest parts your eyes couldn't adapt to. He was in a dressing robe again, this one forest green with gold embroidery and a burgundy handkerchief tucked away nicely in his breast pocket.

He already had a cigarette lit between his knuckles, fussing with the little stick as he went to an open window, sucked in, and expelled pungent gray smoke. "I apologize. There's a bit of a mess for you tonight. It's unlike me to be so untidy, but it shouldn't take you too long—oh, darling, don't make that face."

"Why can't you get blood from other sources, like a blood bank?" It's been on your mind for a while, but Montague had a habit of turning petulant if you asked him too much.

He was in good shape tonight, though, despite still puffing away antsily. "Where's the satisfaction in simply being given what I want? Blood banks are a finite supply, but out there"—he gestured through the open window—"there is an infinite supply from any walk of life that I so choose. Did you know that not all blood is equal?"

You sensed him at your back, awash with that same vulnerability as the night on your knees in the basement. He strolled along with you while you collected your things, examined his leftovers, which fortunately wasn't as sensational as before. It looked like a Rorschach inkblot almost, purple-red and pristine, obviously untouched for some time.

Just like that dead blonde woman, there was nothing left behind of the victim except what Montague was too careless to handle himself.

"The worst blood is what you find in hospitals or on the streets. It doesn't matter their type; it all tastes like shit." he continued, even while you worked. Just like before, he sat himself nearby and observed your process with gross fascination. "In a pinch, though, I do what I must. It doesn't matter if a man is homeless or a woman is looking for a night out. When I hear their hearts dance, that thump, thump, thump—oh, I have to have it. I can taste them through their skin, even before I sink my teeth in.

"The fear in their eyes. The ragged breaths I see in their chests, watching their bellies pulse. I like to think in those moments they know exactly what's going to happen, like little flies in a spider's web."

Montague let more smoke slither out from his lips in skinny, swirling wisps that dissipated once it touched the air. The haze of it remained, just traceable to your eye. "I always find it interesting that they all struggle, even as they're writhing in their own blood. Sometimes I'll count how long it takes for them to die."

These weren't confessions of a madman because that would imply he was human. He was treating you akin to the way an old man recounted the fondness of his flawed, flickering memories. There were sensations of joy and affection in the work he did, a true love and visceral desire for carnage and suffering that made it hard for you to stomach. A few times throughout his soliloquy, you needed to bear your weight on the kitchen broom to keep yourself from toppling from nausea.

You shouldn't have been curious. "Has anyone ever survived?"

The surrounding space grew darker, not from loss of light but from the way his lower face sunk behind the hand wielding the cigarette. You saw his smile widen through sickly appendages and faint smoke.

His response pierced straight through you. "I'm looking right at it."

Suddenly, the urge to run rushed forefront in your mind, an instinctual reaction that you had trouble wrestling over with logic. The broomstick was easily pulled from your fingers and discarded onto the floor with a reverberating clatter that made your spine race with cold needles as Montague stepped into your proximity.

You shivered against the hands slowly climbing your neck to the underside of your jaw, cradling your face as he lifted it to meet his eyes. Something was so wrong with how black they were; you didn't see a pupil, nor did your reflection stare back at you in them. It's almost as though there was nothing there at all, the dark of them growing into an abysmal chasm that made your vision cross and blur, eyelids weighing like lead when you felt him kiss you.

His lips were the same kind of cold as the rest of him but full and unrelenting, never granting you the chance to mold the kiss in any other way. Surprisingly, the taste of stale smoke on his breath was just slight, a mediocre vexation you overlooked the moment his hands started groping you under your clothes.

And you didn't think much of it when your back settled into the clean linens on your bed, skin flushed with the crisp evening air and lips mapping their way south across your stomach and navel, delving lower to your core. It was too dark in your room to see down your body at the top of Montague's head, but you felt him with your fingers, coiling pieces of his ash-brown hair to your knuckles while he pushed your thighs wide open for him.

An anxious patter swelled in your chest, a vague understanding that something was horrible about this, but you were too wrapped up in a dreamy fog to think about it. More than the resounding boom of your heart, you heard your own breaths dissolve into lewd moans and slurred pleas for him to do more, more, more.

It didn't sound like you. It didn't feel like you despite knowing that build-up in your abdomen better than most things in your body. The hands in his hair, the back bending off of the mattress like an archway, the shaking limbs, and the cries begging for more were someone else entirely up until the very moment rapture fluttered behind your eyes in searing white, body deluged in hot release that left your scalp tingling and toes curling and spend on your sheets.

"Give me more." You tasted him again, his tongue pushing hard into your mouth where those salty notes of yourself lingered on your cheeks. His silhouette melded with the rest of the room, tangible only in the way he roamed every surface of you.

Montague had shucked the clothes from both your bodies earlier, preferring to lean into the flush of heat you radiated. Everything was only skin-deep away from him; he could feel your pulse throb on his lips when he teased himself against your carotid, your radial, trailing all the way to the powerful beat of your femoral nestled there in your groin.

His teeth came close many times to piercing you, allowing him a sliver of a taste like a parched king waiting for a drop of golden wine. But half the thrill of having you around was denying himself of you, knowing well that if he were to start, then he'd never be able to stop, and he'd fully hamper your dreams of escaping.

The air smelled like you now, heavy and like damp skin and your fluids soaking into the linens. He watched your face bunch and fall apart when he split you open with his cock, hips colliding, your skin sure to bruise as his thrusts turned savage. There wasn't much left in his heart anymore. Most of it had atrophied over the centuries, and yet the sound of yours spurred him on.

He could follow the path of your blood through your body, an extensive subject he had studied and dissected at length in his lifetime. The most vulnerable spots were gorged and worked the hardest, almost glowing red through your skin for him. When he thrust a little bit harder, a little bit faster, and felt your fingertips pushing against his chest, he heard your heart be the loudest it ever had been.

"That's it. That's it. That's it." His own breaths were ragged now. The sheer exhilaration of pushing his lips deeper, hot sweat leaving a slick layer on them, and that one big artery in your neck pounding out was doing everything for him.

Your frantic pants were a close second. He could feel you unraveling, tightening around his cock until you were soundlessly writhing on the mattress, clutching anything you could bunch together. The final few thrusts he made were purposeful; they were forceful and jolted your body, a show to make sure you wouldn't forget the feeling of him inside of you.

The clean linens were sodden with cum, some still dripping out of you while you lay there, legs splayed enough so you wouldn't feel it stick to your thighs. Whatever haze had been hanging over your eyes before lifted away, leaving you ruined and exhausted on the sheets but not alone.

"You've got class in a few hours, don't you?" Montague said from above, shoulders nestled in your headboard while one leg hung off the side of the bed. He was smoking again, acting the calmest you had witnessed him. "I don't really think you're in any shape for that. Why don't you stay home today?"

You were too spent to respond to him, somehow using the occasional breaths he blew out into the vast room to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

༺ ♰ ༻

Shin Nakamura had been a selfish man in life. Mid-fifties, thinning hair, and twice divorced from women who knew better—his tenants did not. He had built a reputation on the north side of town for hidden costs and faulty appliances that were never fixed. Once or twice in the past four years you had cleaned up scenes, they came out of Nakamura's buildings in the summertime, stuck to the floor and infested with maggots and flies in different orifices.

Everyone had asked at one point, yourself included, how he was able to get away with that level of blatant cruelty and disregard—and the answer was as simultaneously simple, complex, and terrible as poverty. The north end was an area notorious for local crime and violence, but more than that, it was forgotten in favor of gentrifying other areas of the city—pretty little boutiques that'd make a splash on social media and a couple of upscale dining spots, all of those meant to change the online scales deeming an area's walkability, and therefore, profitability.

The blind eye most city commissioners turned to the north end made it an easy life for Shin to do as he pleased without many consequences despite living in the area himself. Most of everyone found it an odd sort of justice when he was discovered in his office, unrecognizable from how badly the dozens of stab wounds had disfigured his face and body. One look was enough to know that it was personal, a tenant who had received their condemnation via a neon-pink eviction letter hastily taped to an off-white door.

Only, this time, Shin chose a person backed into a corner at their breaking point. There wasn't much left to lose, yet Shin had ultimately lost it all. Rumor had it that no one sold out the tenant who committed the crime, something even the more moralistic part of yourself could fathom. These were the cases that painted a grim picture of your future in forensics and often speared to the front of your mind at the worst of times—could you really be part of the reason why a person shattered by the powers of society goes to jail?

Shin Nakamura was a terrible man, but were his crimes punishable by that sort of torture? What about the tenants who probably heard Shin screaming for help, crying in agony—were they any better than murderers themselves?

What did that mean for you? An accomplice who quietly scrubbed clean murders at a monster's behest, you allowed those people to be swallowed up by Montague under a guise of fear, or was it selfishness?

That discomfort lasted you your entire shift, like an incredibly nauseating pill with a bad smell that sat in your nose for hours. You couldn't wipe away the thoughts like you could dried blood on smoke-stained walls or lumps of serrated flesh and fat wedged between slabs of wood on the floor.

"Man, he coulda been cleaner about this." T.J. had his feet planted solidly on the middle step of a ladder, well at work with a long-handled brush pushed flat to the ceiling. The splatter had gone that far, earning a few awestruck coos from him and Hoss earlier. "It would've made our lives easier."

It was a normal joke. You'd laughed at the exact same one many times before, even finessed your own commentary in there on occasion because the dead can't sue, and a murderer had no rights—but now, you thought it'd taste bad on your tongue.

The two hulking men noticed, far sharper than you gave them credit for. Or maybe you were just worse at hiding things than you thought. They didn't allude to anything until everyone was packed up in the van, dried from the sweaty protective suits and summer heat by the AC.

"Listen, it ain't my business, and I swear I've been trying my best not to ask." There was a furtive look linked between Hoss and T.J.; it was something they had talked about when you weren't around. "That guy you're living with. He isn't doing anything to you, right? You used to talk about him all the time in the beginning. Haven’t heard a peep about him in ages. God, you're not living in your car, are you?"

From the outside in, you weren't doing much to try to embellish fancy stories and reasons onto your drastic change over the months. You simply let it be and navigated every day with the hope you'd remember where you were going with your head down. It probably didn't look too good to a paternal man like Hoss, and to T.J., who had several younger siblings.

"No, it's not him—" But, of course, it really was and everything surrounding his cruelty, everything he made you do, and what you never refuted. "I'm just perpetually exhausted. I'm sure you've heard that from Sylvie and Deshaun while they've been in uni."

"All the damn time." Hoss beamed, chest perked a little higher with the mention of his children. It wasn't enough to diffuse the tension lingering in the van, however. "Just know, I'd do for you what I'd do for my babies—put the fear of God in that man. If he puts a finger on you, you let me know."

T.J. gave an agreeable hum, fingers sticking to the steering wheel as he moved them around, making a turn down some street. "We'll catch him by surprise and everything. I'll call in a couple favors, grab a few shovels and bags of cement from my dad's place. It's all good."

For some reason, their entire spiel only spiked your uneasiness, and suddenly you were far too aware of your bladder. It was enough initiative for T.J. to floor the gas and get back to headquarters, giving you the chance to break away and race the remnants of daylight all the way home.

༺ ♰ ༻

It had never happened before, but you managed to catch Montague by surprise when he walked through the front door to find you standing there in the foyer. The kitchen broom wrapped in your hands was a nasty ploy, along with the look you cast between him and a young man not any older than yourself. Again, just like all the others, you didn't recognize him. Montague's victims were fast, fleeting fixations for him, none worthy of names or an identity in his eyes. You suspected this guy was much the same.

Montague's bewilderment was swept away by a smile and laxing posture. He had settled back into his element. "You're home early today. I didn't expect to see you until much later. Not much to the scene, I assume?"

"It was pretty bad." A certain stiffness trailed on the end of your words, letting them echo through the hall and hang in the cool evening air. The young man was fast to perceive that tension: the tightness in your shoulders, fingers subtly wringing against the cracked wooden broom. Montague's anticipative smile climbed higher the longer he looked at you.

Would it be such a bad thing to turn around and pretend you had never seen him come home with that other man? You considered doing it, hiding upstairs and using your headphones until everything seeping through turned into an amalgamation of ambient noise that meant nothing to you, and you willed away the guilt like you'd always done.

In that moment, you thought about Meredith Nimu's apoplectic daughter, a woman so embittered by her own suffering that she was foul and relentless to anyone she crossed paths with. You thought about Shin Nakamura, a greedy, pitiless man who'd rather let coroners scrape up his tenant's remains rather than grant them mercy while they were alive and had been left in pieces because of it.

You thought of them and all their wickedness and edged your gaze towards the young man still standing in the doorway with his hand holding it ajar, clean fingernails picking at chipping paint, just steps from outside. "I think you should leave."

Run! Run! You'd better run away as fast as you can! Nothing would stop Montague from keeping his prey there, if that's what he chose to do. He did the opposite of that, and that was, simply, nothing at all. No pretty blandishments, nor a mouthful of teeth. Rather, now, he was particularly piqued by what you were trying to do.

To the young man, he had meddled into something rather egregious, probably convinced it was extramarital. You battled a surge of pride blooming inside you, shifting your chest a little higher, anchoring your spine back into your body.

"Don't come back here." You didn't need to say anything else. He was gone after pinching out a look of disgust towards Montague, tutting at him with his upper teeth showing through a curled lip.

Nothing happened for a while, not until the front door was secured after his departure. You were left to that responsibility, triple-checking the lock, while Montague ambled deeper into the house, but not too far away as you could follow the leisurely path by his heel strike. There was a rhythm in how he moved. It was deliberate, as though mimicking something.

It took you five paces to figure out he was miming your heartbeat, and he only stopped once it quickened in your chest. He appeared from around the corner, still taking his time reaching you, toying with some trinkets displayed on shelves built into alcoves throughout the lower floor.

You couldn't explain what you were feeling at that moment. Of the thousands—maybe millions—of victims Montague had taken in the previous times, you had just deprived him of one. That man would continue living, and he would tell his friends tomorrow about the weird night he had, and he would never have to be grateful that you saved him from a hellish death.

Yes, oh yes. Even as Montague approached you, carried by his deft gait with both halves of his gold compact open in his palm, you couldn't help but be in complete awe of yourself. A life continued outside of this mausoleum, and it was all because of you. You were entirely different from Meredith Nimu's daughter and Shin Nakamura, and, for once, your hands weren't sullied by bleach, blood, and body matter.

All that heaviness you had been carrying was suddenly so much lighter, and you felt like your chest could open up as wide as the room where you stood. The breaths you took were dry and cold in your throat, yet fresh as though you were walking outside in wintertime.

Montague must've seen something he didn't like on your face because he sucked down on his cigarette for a while, winding his wrist with it at his side once he was adequately calm.

"Did it feel good? I've only seen you this happy while I was fucking your brains out." It was jarring to hear him talk like that. He took another quick drag and let it out slowly as he rounded you. "Truthfully, darling, I didn't think you were the type to break the rules—on purpose, anyway. But I suppose we all get a little wound up every now and then, right? I've already forgiven you."

And then, you watched him drop the cigarette to the marble and snuff it underfoot until the weak ember was turned to soot. A black smear was left behind when he took his foot away. His stare into you was unwavering. "Clean it up."

You figured this was how a frightened animal felt when it wanted something within reach of an observant predator because you were trying to think of all the ways to get close without getting too close. It was a pitiful, humorous sight to him, seeing your steps forward so light and on the verge of bolting. But he showed no intention of doing anything more.

Still with the broom in hand, your knuckles turned stark around the handle while sweeping the remains towards you. It would take more elbow grease to get up that smudge, and he knew that just as well.

He reached for the broom and snapped it to a halt, making you jump, jaw clenching. A noiseless gasp lurched in your throat, his fingers wound tight into the hair at your crown as he yanked your head back to show all the fleshiness of your neck.

"What will you do about it, darling?" His lips were already cold and flush to the artery dancing in the curvature built of skin, muscle, and tendon. Your teeth chattered as the wetness of his tongue followed that intricate, breathtaking network inside of you as far as the neckline of your shirt would let him. "A man has to eat. Have you ever seen it? A man near starvation and the sorts of things he'll do to survive? Why, I've heard stories of desperate, little men eating their own lovers—their children—themselves just to claw around for a little longer. It's inspiring, I think."

He dragged you away then, up the stairs and through the hallway on the second floor to your bedroom, fingers still nested your hair until the moment you were shoved down onto fresh linens. There wasn't anywhere for you to go once he joined you on the mattress, feeling it bend towards his weight.

"Don't be afraid." he said this with all the fond familiarity of a lover, blunt fingernails digging crescents into your thigh through your clothes. In the waning moonlight that filtered through the dusty window over your bed, his pale eyeshine snared you like roots bursting from somewhere within your busy sheets to keep you there—keep you tame. "That's right. Come to me. Come to me."

There was a new drowsiness behind your eyes, one you couldn't stave by blinking. Montague's face was closer now, and you were struck with just how beautiful he actually was. The longer your gaze lasted, tips of your fingers exploring every shape and edge of his exquisite features, the less you were convinced he was a threat to you—that he couldn't have possibly been all that you'd feared up until now.

"I want you." His lips inched up like he expected you to say it. He felt your hands rest on the sides of his face, guiding him down into a soft kiss that he returned, that he kept clean and let you command until he was bored with it. You chased after him, lower lip pulled between both of yours and eventually out of reach. "Don't you want me too?"

"I wish you could understand just how much I do." He rummaged his pocket for the gold compact, losing it somewhere in the sheets, and then busied himself with stripping himself and you of clothes. Each piece discarded showed a greater expanse of your skin, a delight in his eyes because he could see that gorgeous webbing of arteries and veins throughout you, even in the darkness, through every defense your body created to protect you from every bacteria, virus, infection—from him.

He didn't need the breath, but he took one and held it anyway. You withered against his touch, those freezing, lithe fingertips traveling down all the areas where he wished his teeth could be, clear down to your groin. His smile stretched, feeling you search eagerly for a fistful of his hair with his lips smoothing across your inner thigh and then going higher.

There was warmth between your legs, a colorless glisten that leaked out onto the thin sheets, darkening a spot on them that tempted his tongue out for a taste. He came close to entertaining the notion of giving you that glimpse of heaven, allured by your hips leaping off the mattress and against his face.

"You really do think this is all about you." Montague kept you still by pressing down into your abdomen as he rose onto his knees, erection fitting tight between your bodies in the moments before he guided himself lower and hitched up into you. The sharp motion knocked a startled gasp out of your throat, where it quickly dissolved into a slew of filth and breathy panting. Your nails clawed into your palms, a sight he thought to make worse by digging himself deeper into you.

Montague had no issues biding his time this way, looming over the sprawl of your body beneath him, manipulating parts of you until he saw your face flinch and the first moans of discomfort shake all the way from your chest, up, and through your teeth. They matched the pace of his hard thrusts, smothered by sharp slaps of skin that carried in the inky air.

Indeed, I can wait. That thought of his unsatiated hunger melted in the back of his mind with the precedence of arranging the course of blood in your body. The drum of your heartbeat was deafening to him, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't loud enough. He wanted to be able to envision the arteries and veins bursting in his teeth, saturating the sheets and walls and both your bodies in hot red. He wanted it to paint his skin while he fucked you to absolution.

"It really, truly, is all about you in the end, isn't it?" He could still speak clearly, despite you being unable to utter noise beyond the air being forced out of your lungs. "You really are magnificent. How could I ever think to let you go? Not after everything you've done for me, how beautiful you look next to all of my things."

His hand shifted away from your abdomen at last, tracking across the soft span of your stomach and the muscles spasming there under his fingertips. All he would have to do is dig through you a little bit, and he could bury himself in those twitching fibers and insides. But he continued on his path to your pert nipples that he rolled against his palm a few times, higher still to fold his fingers together against your sternum where he felt your heart thundering there against your ribs.

"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump," came his mocking chant that cracked into raspy moans as he lingered there. It had been a long time since something had made him feel this good. He had forgotten what bliss was truly like.

He reached your neck before long, trapping the underside of your jaw against his knuckles, forcing you to see him as his weight bore down on your throat. You both heard the cartilage and muscle in your neck shift, a subtle crack that sent your limbs flailing. You were thrown out of the rhythm of his thrusts in an attempt to grab at him.

"You really are despicable, aren't you?" He let out a gleeful laugh, letting your fingers turn ashen while you wrung his wrist. You weren't able to do much with your legs except use them to plant your heels into the mattress, vaulting your hips in the air to try to wrench yourself free. His cock slipped out of you, but he was hardly bothered by that. "Does it feel good that you chased off my guest? I could get him back, you know. You're aware of this. I know you are. But righteousness just feels so… rewarding, doesn't it? You couldn't resist. Desperation must've been eating you alive."

Strings of saliva glistened in your mouth, breaking apart the further your jaws spread. You were convinced, in that moment, that you would die like that in a silent scream. None of the words that Montague spoke truly reached you, not as your chest quivered and lungs burned as though swallowed in an inferno.

"Every misdeed in life vastly outweighs the good, you know? The scales have never been leaned in our favor—not I, and especially not for you. If that's the sort of thing you believe in. Isn't that what you're taught? Goodness for the sake of salvation at the end of a short life of inhibitions? How miserable." Montague took his hand off of you and let you breathe. You sucked in crisp air, gasping from your side through wet coughs and the sourness of vomit spat out on the floor.

Your respite was brief, weight on the mattress shifting as the hair on your scalp was used to lever you to your knees, body suspended upright only by his fingers tangled at your roots.

"This is all I can see." Montague loosened his hand from your head, moving south along your spine to your ass. He kneaded the bruised parts of your hips for a while after, lips ghosting their way along your neck up to the ear. "All I can see is what's right in front of me. And how it tastes. All that matters is that I have my fill—and that I feel good."

He smeared slick into the heel of his palm, rolling the head of his cock in that mess as he instructed you with every bit of lewdness how he wanted you to bend against the headboard, how far apart for you to spread your legs for him.

Every bit of it was humiliating for you, while he wished he could memorialize that moment of sinking back inside of you as your breaths broke into stifled sobs, face warped by anguish.

"Does it hurt? Tell me, I have to know, what does it feel like?" He enjoyed the suspense of not receiving an answer, listening as your fingernails dug tracks into the wood headboard and the dark room filled with obscene wetness that grew louder as his thrusts turned wild.

"Mmm—" He hinged forward, bracing his weight on top of your hands with his own. You shied from the surge of coolness that came with his cheek pressing yours. "You and I aren't so different. It makes me wonder if you actually like this. Isn't there something so freeing about it?"

"Mer—mercy, please." It was a coarse whisper from your dry throat, so much of your time having been spent with your mouth agape. The idea of having you that way was as tantalizing as all the others he thought up. "Montague, please—mercy."

Oh, now you were begging.

This was more than what he deserved. He managed a few more thrusts, spilling over into you by the third with a moan that he felt no shame to leave ringing in your ear. "Every part of you, every single part—I'll burn myself into your skin and your bones. You'll feel me in your veins, your blood. I'll make for certain that I'm all you remember—forever."

The vastness of your bedroom had grown warmer, permeated with the thickness of sweat and salt that left your palms slick against the headboard. You let your body slump against it, skin sticking to the wood. It didn't offer you the relief you wanted at that moment: a glass of ice water, all the tenderness of a soft bed to lull you into a blank dream—you just wanted to rest.

Montague knew this just as well, fishing his compact out from a muddled heap of linens and clothes. He checked inside to grab one of the two cigarettes left, making a mental note he'd need to replenish again tomorrow before lighting it and savoring it. At this rate, he anticipated he'd be empty before the end of the night.

For a while, he sat there cushioned on his haunches, admiring the way the smoke coiled towards the ceiling in dainty wisps and mingled with the stench of sex.

"It's not enough." he said, barely eliciting more than a glance from you. His current cigarette was already burnt to the filter, forcing him to pull the last and light that one too. "This is my last one. Such a shame."

You smelled the smoke strongly now, just seconds passing before you were yanked across the bed onto your back, the soreness in your scalp near excruciating as you yelped. Montague made a place for himself between your thighs again, leering down the length of his nose at you.

If he wanted to, he could trace the dread etched in your features with a finger, feeling all along your hot skin, into all the cavernous lines he wished he could preserve—right there, just like that. There had never been a more gorgeous visage than the one you wore right now. Only your gleaming, glowing, pink insides were more beautiful.

He watched your lips twitch while he teased a fistful of his hard cock against your sorest spot. You were swollen and bruised, and he could only imagine what it felt like when he bottomed out in you again.

The curve of your spine arched off the mattress, fingers frantically raking the air at him, reaching for any part you could sink into to get him out. Even your body seemed determined for the same, wonderfully stimulating walls squeezing around him.

It made a shiver roll all along his spine to his tailbone, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling, with his first thrusts feeling positively divine. Especially when you jolted, an almost exaggerated response amplified by jagged cries and wet gasps you couldn't seem to swallow back down into your chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" You sputtered around the mucus piled in your throat. "Montague, I'm sorry. Please, stop."

He had burned away half of his last cigarette when he leaned over you, his body eclipsing what poor light had managed to illuminate the room for you. You could only follow the dainty mesmerizing glow that worked away from his mouth—his exhale barely masking a moan that he blew away with the smoke—and towards you.

"Keep doing it." His other hand was crawling up your neck, forcing you to suck in a hard breath. "Beg me again. Keep doing it."

All sound but the steady pulse of the headboard striking the wall had deadened, lasting well until the moment the cigarette touched your skin—and you screamed. Your throat vibrated, suddenly stopping when his palm closed around you again, silencing all your noise, his thrusts sloppy and rough while you thrashed under him.

This time, he kept you pinned by his chest, letting your feet dig for traction and slip and slide on the sheets. The bright smolder turned dark as he twisted it into your neck, taking all the remnants of restraint he had not to drill into you as far as it could go. He curled his tongue behind his jaws, keeping them tight.

Montague let go of your throat to allow you the grace of a stifled wail before that same hand sealed your lips. "Ah, ah. You know better than to scream. Shh, shhh, shhh. It's such an ugly sound."

He rubbed the cigarette into your skin until it crumpled, leaving him to lament for a moment once flicking it away to the floor. For him, it left behind a beautiful burn: raw, mad, red, and enticing. As his hand fell off of your mouth, daring you to do more than whimper and cry, his tongue was already flat against your wound.

"Oh, God," you wheezed, voice hoarse and jarring with the force of his hips knocking into you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Stop, stop, stop! I swear I'll never do it again! I swear. I swear!"

Montague caught the wrist you swung at his head, giving the taste of your seared flesh time to settle on his palate before turning towards the pulse in your thumb. He tried to match how he was fucking you out to how it throbbed on his lips.

"Oh, I'm well aware that you won't do it again. That much is a given." His strokes into you were suddenly languid and intentional, so achingly deep that your eyes rolled back. "I've already said that you're forgiven, haven't I?"

You could barely speak over the depth he reached. It didn't feel right. "Th-then, why?"

A smile flourished across his face, but your eyes couldn't pierce that dark veil to see it. You could feel the damp path he left on your wrist, how the muscle writhed all around the sprawl of your veins, going as far as to wind your fingertips before it receded back behind his lips.

"Because I'm enjoying myself." There was a weight of finality to those words before his mouth engulfed the side of your wrist, away from your fragile network of bluish-purplish channels. And when he bit into you, it was the incisors that sank through.

You didn't know what it was. A clamp seized you by the neck like his fist, steeling itself there and robbing you of a scream. The pain was unlike anything else—paralyzing and deep, like a pair of sharpened, narrow skewers made of molten fire piercing you with such an agonizing ache that you could do nothing but lay there.

But you still felt everything he was doing. His thrusts had grown truly vicious, chasing a high that came as the warmth of your blood seeped from a pair of punctures he had created. The steady flow he fed from was something he lapped on at his leisure. Enough of it streaked the length of your arm and dripped onto your bedding, onto your naked, warm skin when he guided the fall over your neck and chest, south to your stomach and abdomen. He let it fill and pool the seams of his fingers while smearing it with the fluids between your bodies.

At last, breaking the trance to speak, feebly, in between intermittent pockets of pain and numbness rolling through you, you asked with some hopefulness, "Are you going to kill me?"

"You? Kill you?" Montague dropped your wrist. It felt like a limp, dead thing that didn't belong to you. He dove at your neck for those drops he teased himself with, nudging your chin high with his nose to reach it all. "Death would mean letting you go. You're all mine, darling. Whatever other existence waits beyond death will never have you."

His tongue wet a trail to your chin, collecting a watery essence of blood and spit that he pushed into your mouth. Your lips were sealed by his ravenous kiss, relenting to the thickness of his tongue swirling the taste into your cheeks and down your throat, a nauseating intermix of iron and stale smoke that lingered and made you pucker.

And then, you heard him back in your ear, craning his neck only as far as to aggravate the cigarette burn with his breath. It gave several angry throbs. The weight of his body was almost flush on you, spreading the blood around as though your skin together was a single canvas.

To his eyes, it bloomed breathtakingly, seeping into every crevice, pore, and scratch that made up your design, an impermanent stain that he could saturate you in again and again and again. The things he whispered in your ear were vile and wicked, all on unlabored breaths while his strokes turned sluggish and stayed seated deep inside you until the final hitch of his hips left you full of him.

"I don't think you should go to work today."

You were only scarcely coherent of him—or anything for that matter—eyes unmoving from the black void above and unfeeling of how he chose to manipulate your body, still, hours later. All you could think about was the flutter of your lashes weighing down heavily over your eyes and how this world only survived on suffering such as yours.

༺ ♰ ༻

A small pile of things was arranged fussily in a duffle bag Hoss had given the day you returned to work after an impromptu leave of absence. It had only lasted three days, just enough time to acclimate to the pain that seemed to synchronize to every part of your body, throbbing everywhere, all at once, and at times with sharpness so great it toppled you to the ground. You could only lay there—wherever you dropped, on whatever cold slab of marble or concrete until it dissipated, unfurling from your limbs and organs to a rapturous wave of relief that melted the tension out of you.

It had only happened once while at work on a scene amidst a balmy summer night and came out of nowhere like an electric shock surging to your fingertips and toes, a hammer landing on your bones and leveling you on the sidewalk leading back to the company van. And that was all it took to incur a ruinous sort of anger in the two hulking men.

"You're going to take this bag, pack some shit, and you're leaving. Tonight." Hoss had to shake out the dust on the old duffle bag he pulled from somewhere in his car. "You ain't gonna tell me the reason, but I know he did something to you. T.J.'s calling in a favor."

"No. Don't—don't do anything. Don't try to come to the house—" There was a bandage around your wrist that you couldn't stop fiddling with. "I don't know what'll happen if you do. Just fucking don't."

"Nah, not us." T.J. slapped his phone back into the clip on his belt loop, eyeing the motions of your fingers on your wrist uneasily. "One of my old buddies—name's Roscoe—said he wants to handle it. Apparently, he and your guy have a history of some kind. He says to be ready to go by three."

The meaning behind what he said was left nebulous and concerning to you, even after you returned home with the duffle bag and started pulling things from your closet. Some ways across your room, high up on the wall and out of your reach was a clock. Its monotonous ticking brought your eyes over to it.

It was just after one-thirty, still enough time to change your mind if you wanted to. There was something so effortlessly easy about following along to the whims of other people. It felt safe, reassuring—their confidence was infallible. Not once in four years had T.J. or Hoss given you a reason to doubt their intentions, but right now, it boiled over in your mind.

But where will I go? What am I going to do? He'll find me. He'll find me. Montague would find you, but he wouldn't stop you from leaving. You could see it with clarity—him perched on the armrest of a chair, watching you walk through the door. He'd give you a headstart, a few days, maybe a few weeks.

You weren't sure you knew what to do without him. There was nowhere else in the world you could go, no one you could confide in that wouldn't be destroyed. He would keep your heart beating all the while breaking you apart until he had his fill, reminding you that this was how it was meant to be. This was how he showed you how you belonged.

And you—silly little you with your consciousness floating on the fringes of inscrutable ecstasy and some personal purgatory built on agony in your bones and blood—would believe him.

"Going on a trip?" His voice drifted to you from the doorway, far sweeter than it usually was. "I wish you would've told me. I can't imagine what it'll be like without you here in this house. You breathe life into it."

He was lured over by your silence, fitting his fingers between your shoulder blades to push along your spine, easing away the discomfort that had settled there. It was hard not to lean into that relief, a misstep that shattered any lasting hold of willpower when he stooped his neck to sweep you into a kiss.

"Why don't you stay instead?" He knew you wouldn't be coming back, not without dragging you back himself. "Stay with me instead. Right here. In this bed."

"Montague, stop—" He pressed down harder on your lips so those words withered into guttural frustration in your throat.

The duffle bag was flung far away, opening space on your bed for him to lay you out and begin to unravel the bandages around your wrist. Once he had access, his mouth was already full against the two puncture sites.

"Stay." He wasn't playing coy now. "I'll take care of you. It wasn't enough before. I can see that now. What can I do? It'd be too easy to break your legs. What if I chained you to this bed? What if I locked you up in this room? I wouldn't mind keeping you downstairs with me, but it would be too cold for you, I think."

"I want to leave." you said, mustering your composure through tight lips while he teased the infected purple holes with his flatter teeth. "Let me go."

He smiled derisively. "I don't think you know what you want."

"I—" You balked at him, reiterating with a stumble, "I—I just want to leave. Get off."

"How will you ever survive without me?" You didn't know if you'd be able to. "You'll be all alone, all alone in a world that's just ready to tear you open and spit you back out. I've told you before: Society doesn't reward virtue over vice—only those who play along. You won't last, not after you've known and tasted me."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, whereas he swelled like a man who had salvaged a victory, lying himself down to kiss you again—

And then, the doorbell rang with an immense melancholic echo that you could feel vibrate up your arms and legs. Nearly a year later, you were hearing it for the first time and grasping onto the lapels of his suit vest, keeping him still when you remembered T.J.'s promise.

"Ignore it." you said.

"We have a guest—" Something in his tone made your stomach clench. "It's not polite to leave them waiting, especially at this hour."

Montague had untangled himself from you and was gone before you could stop him. Another wave of pain put you on the floor when you moved. Drool piled from your mouth. An ache so unreal pounded in the wrist he had played with. The crawl to your duffle bag was far, arduous in that every inch felt like carrying stones on your back.

I'm going to die. I might as well already be dead. You didn't have any more time to wait, so you slung the strap over your shoulder and used the wall to guide you along the quiet hallway, bumping into every pedestal and display where Montague's most treasured things had stayed undisturbed.

You were one of them, something he could keep on the second floor with the rest of his stuff, but unlike brittle porcelain and fraying embroidery—he could break you as much as he wanted, again and again and again, and fit you back whole. He could do it forever while you wasted, longing for an end he would never give you.

But as you crept along the bleak wallpaper and all of his curios, you were so gentle with them, steadying any wobbling base or piece as you went. The central staircase was close, voices at the bottom of it faint and unintelligible, drifting alongside you as though part of the house—

The air exploded. Just once. A single gunshot brought back all the alertness to your body, neck and shoulders at full length, pain dulled to where you could shuffle faster and look off the bannister at the landing below.

Montague was staring back up at you from the floor, entirely still and soundless. His jaw was unhinged, askew, frozen in a position that should've been impossible. A black hole gaped between his eyes, but didn't bleed.

"If you're not ready, that's going to be bad news." Another man stood nearby sheathing a gun, unfamiliar and yet with sameness in the way his gaze felt hollow and reached through you. "I'm repaying my debts. I'd like to make good on this one."

You were slow descending the stairs, even slower while you rounded Montague's body and denied yourself the chance to stop. Something invisible wanted to pull you to him, plow your knees into hard marble and weep over his chest. However, your insides bending in disgust and twinges in your bones kept you onward.

This man, Roscoe, was just as sickly-seeming and gray as the other, every slot of space on his arms and neck filled with images of religious iconography and portraits of saints—Mary being the only one you recognized with just a glance. It was tempting to touch him, something he noticed and stepped out of your reach.

"Is there another way out of here?" He made a weak motion towards the front door just ajar, but his eyes were stuck on the wrist wounded and unusable to you now. "We need to go. Now."

You were racking your brain for an answer, turning half-circles in place before pointing to the archway with a clock. "There's a backdoor, but the yard is fenced in and there's nothing but forest for three miles. There's also—"

Roscoe waited expectantly, ushering you to continue when he went for the gun in its holster. "Start moving, we'll figure it out." He unloaded another round into Montague's head, a near indecipherable twitch in the fingers made the hair on your neck shoot straight out. "Silver only keeps him down. It won't kill him. Go!"

"Th—there's, there's the basement." You smacked your lips, trying to swallow around a bulge in your throat. "There's an old door. He said there are tunnels, but I don't know where they go. I don't know if he was telling the truth. I don't—"

He threw a hand into your back, thrusting you forward at least three feet. You almost didn't catch your footing. "Then that's where we're going."

"Not a friend of yours then, I assume, darling?" Montague's voice from the floor was as much of a relief as it was terrible. The silent gaps of air all around were disturbed by sharp snaps and cracking bones as his jaw moved back into place and he sat upright over his thighs. You were transfixed by the silver bullets being sucked into his skull, holes shrinking until they closed completely. "I'm not surprised you're still fraternizing with the wrong crowds, Roscoe. You and that entire Society have always been a fucking eyesore."

Roscoe readied his aim. "Parasite."

Montague laughed all the way to his feet, tugging at the edge of his vest to make it neat again. He opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue roll out, shards of silver bullets tinkling as they hit marble underfoot. "You can't take what's mine."

He looked to you, stepping closer every time Roscoe moved you back with his arm. "Come here. Come back to me, darling. This is where you belong. This is your home. You belong here with me, here with everything that you know."

"He doesn't mean that." Another gunshot snapped you to attention, blinking out of a stupor you hadn't realized you were in. The bullet landed in Montague's forehead, teetering his balance in such a way that his back curved towards the floor, arms hanging like useless instruments, yet he still somehow kept his soles planted. "Time to go. Get to the basement."

Roscoe didn't fail to reach you this time, running tight on your heels through the house to the basement floor. He stopped partway to the old door to help you scour the duffle bag for a key—one attached to the chatelaine Montague had given you the day you accepted to move in.

Your breaths were ragged, heart ablaze and beating against your ribs. In that moment, as you flipped through the assortment of keys with an unsteady, slippery grip, you wondered if Montague heard your blood racing in your veins, if he could follow the suffocating drumbeat your heart made in your ears.

Just above, fast approaching the locked basement door, came a thunderous roar so inhuman and reverberating that it scared the clip of keys out of your hands into a clattering heap on the floor. Time was up.

"Move!" Roscoe shoved you aside, illuminated by the hectic flare of your phone as he fit his fingers through a gap in the door and ripped the entire thing off its hinges. He pulled you by the scruff of your shirt and heaved you inside the tunnel. "Go! Go! Go!"

The first thing to hit you was a putrid smell intimately known but always through protective equipment and a respirator. And as you went deeper into the tunnel, led by a single route and the light off your phone, the dirt packed under your feet turned soft, sinking to the tops of your shoes.

And then, you saw bodies.

Numerous—countless corpses in varying stages of decay with twisted faces reflected your terror and pain right back at you. Most were intact with missing limbs or dark red chasms in their abdomens that had been scraped hollow and dry under the white light. A few had been fully decapitated, briefly reminding you of the dead blonde woman from that night, but most of what lay stacked against the tunnel walls were emaciated figures with skin pulled so taut to their bones you could still make out their faces.

You were doubled over your knees, sucking in fetid mouthfuls of air and retching them back out on the ground. It burned in your throat, in your nostrils, and behind your eyes, but stifled your sobs as Roscoe dragged you alongside him.

"What did he do? What did he do?" You were crying, wheezing out those words on every shallow breath you took all the way to an end just ahead. The more you thought about it, the more you smelled the rot, tasted the bitterness of your own vomit, the more came out. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Roscoe had to let you rest in the grass once you both surfaced. One of the exits turned out to be near the house, less than half a mile. But the tunnels kept going and so did the bodies. You suspected that there wouldn't be any reach of that underground labyrinth that didn't have some form of decay along it.

The thought brought the tears back, but now you could relish the sticky summer night humidity and touch dewy tendrils of grass under your hands.

"Can you drive?" Roscoe had a pair of keys hanging from his index finger, giving you a long moment to take them. He saw confusion in your watery stare. "I'll tell you where to go, just drive."

That's how it had been for hours at this point. You kept your hands locked around the steering wheel, one stronger than the other, gnawing the inside of your cheek while ruminating everything—tonight, the night Montague had bitten you, every other night before that, and your decision to have ever trusted him.

"How long ago did he bite you?" Roscoe had the seat reclined, arms over his eyes to shield them from oncoming headlights. "It doesn't look good."

You tested your grip on the steering wheel, but you couldn't do much without a sharp sting in your wrist. "I don't know—a couple weeks ago? I've tried everything short of going to the emergency room."

"That won't help," he said. "Modern medicine can fix a dog bite, antibiotics can kill an infection, a vaccine can protect you from a virus. Those aren't going to do any good."

Solemnly, you asked, "Am I going to die?"

Roscoe didn't sit up but had your wrist in his hands, turning it in little ways that didn't aggravate you. Besides the occasional glare from passing vehicles, there was no light in the car, and the holes in your skin were hardly distinguishable, though they had gotten darker. You weren't able to move it with any ease now.

"What you need to know right now is that he's never going to stop following you." He put your hand back on the steering wheel, careful as he enclosed your fingers around it. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, what you do, where you go—a parasite finds a host, and it latches on. And it doesn't let go."

You glanced between him and the road several times, tongue wetting the dry parts of your lips. "He's a vampire—you're a vampire. There's got to be something—"

Roscoe finally sat up in his seat, now cramped sideways with his shoulders flat to the window. The car veered a bit into the other lane. "You need to understand something. What you're saying would imply he ever had any humanity. Vampires are created." He paused for a beat, waiting for the realization to strike you. "Montague was never created."

"What—what the hell is he, then?" A horn abruptly blared by, prompting you to yank the car back onto the correct side. "He drinks blood. He has teeth. He—he hunts. He doesn't like silver. His eyes are the same as yours."

Roscoe lowered his gaze, but remained in that uncomfortable position. "There's a story I heard about him once. I don't remember the details except for one: ‘If the devil exists, they're one in the same.’"

You kept your eyes on the road, counting every car that flitted on past. They were probably going to work at this hour—green numbers on the dashboard showed it just after four—and they'd be able to have a place to return to at the end of the day. Now, you didn't belong anywhere, and twenty-four hours from now you still wouldn't.

The town where you had lived with Montague for a year was long behind you, backtracking would take hours, and you wouldn't know how to get back from the direction that Roscoe had told you to go. Dim streetlamps and cozy houses with spruced yards had morphed into an endless network of concrete, signs, and off-ramps to places you'd never heard of.

It was scary how everything could change in one night, and how it did. The only semblance of normalcy to you right now were the aches throughout your body, which had returned the moment you fully comprehended that you had escaped that house.

"Why…" Roscoe looked up at you, seeing your lips shake and eyes turn red. "Why do I want to go back to him?"

He fixed himself right in the seat, tousling a hand through his hair while looking out through the windshield. "You shouldn't do that. But you'll never be able to stop running."

You never saw Roscoe again once the car ride ended several thousands of miles later, mentioning something about how he repaid his debt to T.J. and had disappeared from a restaurant you both walked into. When that happened, you sat paralyzed at your little table for most of the day with a soul-crushing realization that you were truly alone with nobody in the world—just like Montague said you would be. And, for the sake of others, you'd never be able to have anyone else in your world.

It stayed that way for close to two years. The hardest part hadn't been the homelessness or constant vigilance, not the door revolving each person to come into your life since, but the fact that you still yearned for what you once had. Everything so awful about what you experienced sometimes looked like heaven when you thought about it, like soft, cloudy nostalgia from a time where the throes of agony were all you had ever known.

You were capable of thinking soberly as well, and with that came the understanding that a part of you would always want that time back—want him back. He had left you with a permanent scar and neurological damage that could never be corrected. It was anticipated you'd lose that wrist at some point in the future, but for now, you could still hold a cup and brush your teeth with enough conscious effort.

The pain never went away either, but you refused to let it impede your work in the field. And your two roommates were a couple of engineering geniuses who'd managed to make the flat more accommodating to your needs. They'd been patient with you during every step of your transition into a new life, calling you an enigma because you had nothing to your name except a dusty duffle bag and a "strange-looking dog bite" on your wrist when you first met them.

Sometimes, especially on the weekends after clinking together enough shot glasses, they tried to probe your brain for some clue as to who you were, who you had been historically. You had decided it was better that they—that no one—knew about it or what actually existed out there in the world.

And when you returned home from the lab late that Saturday night, you were surprised to find the lights off and the flat immersed in the kind of soundlessness that made your ears feel clogged with cotton.

You were slow in lowering your backpack to the floor, keeping the front door slightly ajar so a slither of light from the residential corridor slipped inside. "Jordan? Felix?"

No answer. You didn't hear anything from their bedrooms upstairs either.

"Jordan?" The nearest light switch didn't work, neither did the one after that, or any others you hunted down with the diffused beam from your phone screen. "Jordan? Felix? Are you guys home?"

It was possible they had gone out somewhere for the night and just hadn't mentioned anything to you, as unsound as that logic actually was, considering it simply wasn't their personality. But as you wandered through different rooms checking the switches, you knew you were rationalizing to keep yourself in check.

The light from the hallway still piled inside like a narrow pillar, raising all the hairs on your neck and arms, knowing that it wasn't a building-wide outage. They had never left you in a situation like this before. Something was wrong.

"Jordan! Felix! Whe—" Your foot nearly shot out from under you when you slid through something slick on the laminate. After a moment to fix yourself, bracing the edge of the countertop with a clammy palm, you steadied the white glow of your phone at the floor.

There, glistening back at you, was the vast richness of blood in a tall puddle that spread like long winding tendrils through grout in the flooring. It looked almost black under your light at a certain angle, estimating it had been there for several hours—untouched.

You held in a breath and grit your jaws together as the more you moved, the more you saw. And when the top of a head came into view, silky hair shining like fine thread before clumping together at the base where the blood had pooled the most, it was everything you could to keep yourself from hitting the floor.

Both of them were there, perfectly out of sight of the front door and completely unrecognizable. Their bodies had been left in one piece, though where their faces had once been were cavernous holes with pale, pink ribbons of flesh and fat left behind. The roundness of their skulls let blood fill inside it like a vessel. What little pieces of brain matter remained had floated to the surface.

You staggered back from them, phone loosening from your weak hand and returning them to the maw of darkness, while groping the wall behind you as far as your arm could reach. This wasn't a result of crude knife work or even bludgeoning; no, it was a slow kill, one meant to steep someone in torment so immense that you prayed to whatever was out there that they succumbed immediately.

"Help…" Your voice was trapped in your throat, barely registering as a whisper even to yourself as you sidled along the wall. "Someone—anyone, please help."

The patter of your heartbeat was torturous. Your every step back to the entrance was leaden with fear. You couldn't get your legs to move fast enough, and the light reaching in through the gap seemed to stretch on forever—further, further, and further still.

You thought back to that day you met Montague and shook his hand, noting how unnaturally cold it had been despite it being a nice day in spring. You remembered the dead blonde woman with mascara tears, and the bodies he used to decorate the tunnels, and the young man who was able to walk away that night believing it was all some shallow quarrel—never knowing he had sealed your fate.

You regretted all of it.

The door was in your reach now, and you could get out, call for help, and go back to running. This time, you wouldn't be tricked into false satiety or let anyone too close. You would see mountains and forests and oceans a thousand times over before you stopped again.

Two years hadn't been enough time for you to accumulate many things, you thought. It wouldn't be hard to leave most of it behind, just like you had before. You would unpack that old duffle bag from the back of your closet, fill it to the brink, and that would be enough.

You had your hand over smooth metal, but that cold reached greater depths in you as the door was pushed shut from behind, light shrinking away through the slot until you were swallowed whole in the dark.

"Hello, darling. I've missed you." He sounded the same against your ear. For a split second, you felt relieved. "Don't worry about cleaning up. We're not staying long."

He clamped damp fingers over your mouth before you could scream.

A girl could dream ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Ghost bf craves more than anything to taste the nectar that gushes from your folds whenever he brings you to orgasm. The fact that he can’t ingest anything that’s not on his physical plane slowly brings him to feel as if he is dying all over again. Your essence so close and yet unreachable.

He refuses to give up, pumping load after load into your sloppy wet cunt. He grits his teeth, staring at the wet sheets under you in envy. The way they so easily soak up your glorious release. He doesn’t stop as he fucks his cock into you, watching you arch off the bed like a woman possessed.

His hand makes contact with your clit and you jolt, pleasurable goosebumps trailing down your legs. Your body seizes, exploding around his ghost cock just as he releases another hefty load inside of you.

Your bf doesn’t hesitate to slip out of you, leaving you to hiss at the faint stinging sensation. Your pussy fluttering closed now that his invisible length left you. His hands push against your soft thighs and you see them spreading wider in what appears to be all on their own.

A moan rips out of you, a much smaller pressure gliding between your puffy lips. Your ghost bf laps at your pussy, his spirit aching for just one taste of your sweetness.

“Wait…” you croak out, legs shaking. This being the umpteenth time he’s repeated this cycle, giving you an idea what of what he wants and is not getting.

When you don’t feel what you assume is his tongue a moment later, you weakly rise onto your elbows. Despite being spent, pleasure swirls in your gut as you watch his spectral-cum ooze out of you.

Reaching down you whimper at the sparks of over sensitivity as you move your fingers through your folds in small circles, mixing your release with his. Your breathing picks up, the sight more erotic than you can admit. But you can feel yourself growing wetter and you can only imagine your bfs smug expression.

“That should work, right?” You ask into your seemingly empty bedroom, not expecting an answer as always.

A moment later you feel that pressure return, a gasp escaping your lips. Your bf slowly licks at your combined cum. His own musk crashes into his tastebuds and for a moment that’s all he tastes. But then, as if the door to the afterlife has finally been opened he tastes the most heavenly flavor as it coats his tongue.

Ghost bf moans, the sound moving through the wind and sending a shiver up your spine. You chuckle lightly but you quickly choke on it as your bf returns full force, happily slobbering up every last drop of cum he can find. His cock already prepped to do this all again.

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

tw eggpregg

Tentacle dildos but not silicone molded into tentacles shapes—actual alive tentacles the size of a dildo, some bigger, some smaller, that you have to keep and care for like anemones in an aquarium. They love wet and warm crevices because they're used to laying their eggs in them. Since they've been domesticated for the general market, they've developed a symbiotic relationship with humans. When removed from the water, they search your body for that warm hole to breed, glide into your ass or pussy and start fucking you until they come inside you. The eggs will develop and leave your body eventually, requiring an additional one-week incubation period. Once they have hatched, they grow fairly quickly into full-sized tentacles and boom, you got yourself a dozen more that compete for your holes.

If you're not into the whole eggpregg business—they recently crossbred two types of tentacles whose come is sterile. They have been cleared and declared as safe, but the crossbreeding resulted in some unforeseen side-effects. Tentacles that came once or twice per session now have a seemingly unlimited amount of come that they shoot into you until they tire, and the slippery mess it makes has been declared a safety hazard by several consumers now.

If you're not in for the clean-up, you can have them fuck you during their infertile period, which lasts about two weeks. Their self-lubrication is not as active during that time, making for an interesting textural experience, especially with the bumpy ones. But be careful—while infertile, they simply won't finish and just keep fucking you, which can lead to some very long sessions that some customers have called ‘too intense’.

I wish ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Imagine a group of three mermen find you, a human, stranded near their waters. They've never seen a human before, let alone one so cute! You're dehydrated and starving, so they take it upon themselves to nurse you back to health. They get you everything you need even before you need it, making sure you're always comfortable and satisfied. Once you're able to start walking again, the mermen start bringing you presents ranging from pearls, pretty shells, and large fish. You accept gifts from all three of them, to which they respond with confused expressions and clicks that you can't understand. They don't speak your language, obviously, but you've always been able to communicate through hand signs and pointing. They all start acting a little odd and you can't keep up with their conversations.

"She accepted all of our gifts! Does that mean she wants to mate with us all?"

"That must be it, there's no other explanation."

"She seems happy with all three of us as mates, but... Can a human truly handle our offspring..?"

The following evening, the biggest out of the mermen approaches you, cooing softly and clicking as he caresses your legs and thighs. It doesn't take you long to understand what he wants, especially when he starts spreading your legs and prodding his nose at your pussy. He eats you out with his long tongue reaching deep, webbed hands keeping your thighs spread wide so he can enjoy your cute little cunt, gushing and leaking for him. After he's made you come twice, he retreats a little, causing you to sit up in confusion. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the thing emerging from a slit located below his stomach. Not only is it long; it's also thick, curved, and intimidating. It isn't until you see that the other two mermen have appeared behind him, cocks also exposed, that you finally understand what's about to happen...

"Did you prepare her?"

"Yes, I think she's ready."

"She's our pretty mate, I'm sure she can take all three of us!"

Top tier content \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 2

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, nipple/clit stimulation, double penetration, anal play, edging, yandere monster

[Part 1] [Part 2]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s late at night and you’re sitting in bed, reading a book before you go to sleep. Or at least, you’re trying to, but you keep peeking over the side of the bed, hoping your tentacle monster will come visit you again tonight. After a while, with no sign of your guest from last night, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep. The light is still on and your book is sitting open on your stomach as you lay sprawled across your mattress, dreaming about tentacles wrapping you up.

You’re snoring softly when, suddenly, you jolt awake to the feeling of something cool and silky caressing your cheek. Quickly sitting up in bed, you blink open your eyes to find an inky black tentacle stroking your face. With a wide smile, you reach out a hand and stroke your fingers along its length, marveling at how nice the texture feels. When the tentacle begins tickling your ear, you squirm out of reach, giggling and gently batting it away. Wiggling in place, almost as if it’s laughing, the tentacle retreats back under the bed.

A moment later, it reappears again with its tip wrapped around an object. This time, you reach out your hand, eager to see what it has for you. When it uncurls itself, a small stone drops into your hand. Grinning at the new gift, you hold it up to the light and marvel at the gorgeous gray surface that’s veined with bright streaks of white. After you’ve finished inspecting the stone, you place it on your nightstand along with the pearl and necklace pendant. Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on the tip of the tentacle and then laugh when it wiggles again.

Remembering what you found up earlier today, you hop off the bed and hurry over to your backpack, calling over your shoulder, “I have something for you too!”

After rummaging around for a minute, you find what you’re looking for and walk back over to your bed where the tentacle is still patiently waiting. Extending your hand, you watch as it carefully picks up the piece of dark green sea glass, its edges worn smooth. Another tentacle appears as it gently rolls the piece of glass between the two tips, caressing the surface, as if inspecting it.

You’re chewing your bottom lip, hoping it likes your gift, when suddenly the tentacles wiggle again as several more shoot up from under the bed and wrap you up in a giant hug. Laughing, you squeeze back, happy that it seems to like your gift. 

As the tentacles slither along your skin, you’re reminded of the night before when it had you pinned to the bed. Your cheeks grow flushed with the memory and you wonder how you can make that happen. As if it can sense where your thoughts are headed, the tentacles begin to deliberately rub along your nipples, which are already hardening under your shirt. Letting out a soft moan, you relax into the monster’s hold, hoping it will get the hint.

It clearly understands what you want because a few tentacles grip your shirt and begin pulling it over your head as others work your shorts down your hips. Once you’re completely naked, the tentacles take a moment to slither along your bare skin, as if enjoying the feel of you just as much as you do. 

Then, one of the tentacles wraps around both your wrists, tugging you forward so you’re on your knees. Another one wraps around your waist, pulling backwards as the first one continues to pull your arms down to the bed. Soon you’re fully bent over with your ass up in the air and your wrists bound and stretched out over your head on the mattress. Next, two more tentacles wrap around each of your thighs, pulling them apart so that your pussy is completely exposed.

A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from anticipation for what the monster will do to you. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you wait long. One tentacle reaches up to play with your clit, alternating between flicking the bud and pulling at it with one of its suction cups. You moan at the sensations, trying to wiggle your hips for more but you’re completely bound, unable to move anywhere.

Two tentacles reach up and suction themselves to each of your nipples, pulling down so there’s a delicious tug on your breasts. The weight of the tentacles and your heavy breathing causes them to sway beneath you and you mewl in pleasure. As the other tentacle continues to play with your clit, wetness drips from your soaking pussy. Another one slides up along your leg gathering up your juices and plunges inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

As the tentacle pushes deeper inside you, stretching your walls as far as they’ll go, the small bite of pain adds a delicious zing of pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. When it’s completely filled you up, it pauses, letting you adjust for a moment. Once it senses you beginning to relax, it slowly pulls back out, almost to the tip, and then plunges all the way in again. Pulling out and shoving back in, it sets a rapid pace, the wet squelching sounds mixing with the cries of pleasure pouring from your lips.

As the monster continues to fuck you senselessly, you begin to feel an orgasm building. But just as your walls start to clamp down on the tentacle, it abruptly pulls out, simultaneously pausing its ministrations on your clit, and you cry out in despair. After a moment, it resumes teasing and fucking you, only to pause once again when your orgasm is almost at its peak. It does this over and over again, bringing you right to the brink and then pulling back until you’re a whining, needy mess.

Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes and you think you’ve almost had enough when, instead of pushing back into your pussy, the soaking wet tentacle moves higher, up to your ass. You suck in a breath as it tickles the outer rim, teasing and flicking the puckered skin. You’ve never had anything there and you’re a little afraid it will hurt, but at the same time you trust this monster with your body and want to see what it will do.

Pressing the tip gently in, the tentacle pushes past the first ring of muscles and you groan at the new sensation. Slowly, it works its way further and further in, pausing every few inches to let you adjust to the new girth. When it reaches as far as it seems to be able to go, it pulls back out and then pushes in again. This time, it fucks you more slowly than before and you melt into the mattress, getting lost in the sensation. 

You’ve forgotten your earlier frustrations, too distracted by the tentacle filling your ass, until you feel a different tentacle begin to push its way into your pussy. Gasping, you try to wiggle away – there’s no way it can fit two at the same time, right? But of course, there’s nowhere for you to go and it continues to ease the second tentacle into your cunt while the first one keeps slowly fucking in and out of your ass.

Before long, both tentacles are completely filling you up, stuffing you to the brim, and you’re almost delirious with the overwhelming fullness. They begin to move in tandem, plunging in and out of both your holes as you whimper and cry out with each thrust. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt anything more amazing and you never want it to end. 

This time, when your thighs begin to tremble and your walls start to clamp down with your impending orgasm, the monster doesn’t stop. Instead, it resumes playing with your clit and you immediately explode. Stars burst behind your eyes as your entire body seizes up, white hot pleasure coursing through you. It feels like the orgasm goes on forever as you get lost in a hazy bliss and time ceases to exist.

Eventually, though, awareness begins to return as you start to come down from the high and you sag into the mattress, boneless and spent. Carefully, the monster eases out of you and releases its hold on your body. You’re almost sad at the loss of contact. But then it gently maneuvers you so that your head is resting on the pillow and pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in around the edges. As the tentacles start to retreat back under the bed, you reach out and snag one of them, holding onto it. 

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask in a drowsy voice.

You feel it hesitate for a moment but then the tentacle winds up your wrist, grasping onto you. Smiling, you settle back into the pillow and begin to drift off. Before you’re fully asleep, you manage to mumble, “Will you come back again tomorrow night?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, right as your awareness slips away, you hear an inhumanly deep, multilayered voice echo in your mind, “Yes, little creature.”

──────────────────

The monster is immensely pleased with this female it has chosen to mate.

At first, it wasn’t sure if the gifts left on various surfaces of her den were meant for it. But it took them anyways, wanting to indulge in the fantasy. Most creatures run screaming when they see the monster for the first time. Some even attack without warning. 

But not this one. To the monster’s delight, this delectable female was only startled at first. And when it tried to offer her gifts to soothe her fear, she eagerly accepted them! 

She even accepted its attempts to couple and let it touch her. 

Feel her. 

Taste her. 

She is utterly delicious.

And when she presented it with a mating gift of her own tonight, it knew for sure that she had accepted its offer.

As the monster settles into the darkness beneath where she sleeps, grasping her tiny delicate hand, it hopes that it can make her happy enough that she’ll never want to leave. Because even if she does, it will never let her go.

Some rather unlucky investments have landed you in a tad of debt. However, you have know of a way to get out of it that requires very little work on your part.

The "Pussy Portal" company are always hiring after all.

All you have to do is have a portal directly connected to your pussy that any paying customer can use at any time. What could go wrong?

Just realized u didn't actually say it had to be monsterfucking specifically but I made it that anyway lmao.

At least you thought it was going to be very little work on your part.

But now you're not so sure as you sit on the train ride home trying to act like there isn't a monster cock reaching deep in your cunt.

You curse yourself for not reading the terms and conditions of the contract properly. You thought they were just being hyperbolic when they said "Prime Pussy Anywhere, Anytime!" Surely they would have down times right?

No. There are no down times unless you call in a sick day of which you only have few. You shoulda known that pay was too good to be true.

At least whoever's using your portal seems to only be cockwarming themselves for the time being, although that could change at any moment. Every jerk of the train makes you tense up as you try and act as nonchalant as possible. The cock sits so snug and warm inside you, it twitches every time you tense around it.

On the customer app your portal is advertised as specifically "Human pussy" so you like imagining the kinds of monsters who would pick that out specifically. You haven't figured out what monster this one might be, it's rather thick and hot with a very generous amount of precum.

When you get to your stop the train jerks more than you expected and you have to subtly cover your mouth and grab the railing to avoid making a sound. Your customer definitely felt you clench down in panic as their cock jumps in excitement.

They start grinding down slowly on the portal, their cock thrusting shallowly. You speed walk straight for the train station bathrooms and lock yourself inside a stall. Close call but you made it and just in time for their shallow thrusts to turn into full pumps into your slick pussy.

You lean your back on the wall of the stall as your cunt is now being thoroughly pounded by this stranger. You have to crouch to your knees as your orgasm builds up, rubbing your clit with one hand while the other covers your mouth.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge you feel something bigger at the base of the shaft bump against your pussy with each hard thrust. You gasp in realization but it's too late as the monster thrusts their knot past your entrance and you cum hard with a silent scream, spasming and shaking against the bathroom stall.

Their cum fills you to the brim, kept inside by their inflamed knot. They don't stop cumming for several minutes but when they do it takes you several more to compose yourself enough to step out of the bathroom on wobbly legs.

You make the slow and embarrassing walk home while the monster's knot sits snuggly inside your pussy, keeping all that warm cum inside you.

The knot inside you doesn't deflate fully until you're already home and making dinner. You have to grip the counter, shivering slightly as your customer pulls out and goes on with their day having been properly satisfied. The thought makes you feel a strange sense of pride. Just then your phone beeps with a notification from the Portal companies app.

The customer left a tip!

How nice! They also left a review on your page,

"10/10. Best stress relief. Would fuck again."

Yandere half elf x reader headcanons

🪲you were part of the human revolution , monsters had been at war with humans till after 50years of war they won . Being victorious they took as they pleased leaving little care for the humans that were left over.

🪲so naturally there was a revolution in the making after so many years under there thumb a handful of people you included decided to finally rise above. Of course with such a low amount of members there certain roles . Your role was not too recruit but instead assassin some of the higher up monsters that is where you met him.

🪲the person in charge of the revolution had given you the name prince Novan of course you knew you would be assassinating higher ups but weren’t expecting princes .

🪲the first time you met the prince you realised he wasn’t a full blooded elf it turns out his mother was a human trapped by his father hidden away . Finding out this information helps feed your hate to the monsters. However the prince seemed to become more enchanted.

🪲instead of you seeking him out to come closer it is him doing the work for you trailing after you like wolf pup .

🪲leaving you expensive offerings which you deny and give back to him.

🪲he follows after you even standing outside bathrooms .

🪲when other monsters may try to lay harm to you or take you he is quick to sentence them to death or prison.

🪲all the ladies and men who had come from far away trying to gain the attention of the prince quickly realised it was useless after seeing him with you .

🪲he writes long letters and notes they litter his room only when the maids come to clean his room is it ever tidy.

🪲as his obsession grows he becomes more interested in your past leading him to a rabbit hole of finding out that you were sent here to kill him.

🪲one night he leads you out of the large city and to the woods he pulls out his dagger and places it in your hand he’s eyes glow an ice blue as tears fall from them. He then says to you ‘I know truth your a warrior yet still you have dug your name into my heart without me knowing .either end my suffering with the dagger or love me and I will be the tool to your success..’

🪲shocked and unsure you know in the long run perhaps he can be of use so instead of diving the dagger into his heart like you so badly wanted to you let him live to be your tool . You wouldn’t truly love him like he wanted but you could fake it .

🪲as times goes on even with you pretending to love him he grows restless not knowing your true name only your code name and nickname drives him insane. He wants to own you and knowing your name would help.

🪲so finally he finds away after all after his statement in the woods a few months back you give him a little trust but still trust . He goes to a bar with you a interesting place filled with trolls ,giants ,dwarves and the list goes on . Eventually your drunk and his plan succeeds he finds your name in a few minutes of you being drunk.

🪲after finding your name he binds you too him with a spell and also by law he weds you while your still oblivious.only in the morning when your naked and have a rock on your finger and markings as well on it do you realise what’s happened.

🪲you can scream and yell at him all you want but you can’t go anywhere without his permission especially now your a princess.

🪲he makes the word spread and it eventually goes to your coworkers who think you betrayed them after hearing the rumour he spread about you both being madly in love.

🪲you locked up with your mother in law in a tower just on opposite sides of the tower yet you can still talk through the bar window of the front door . You find all sorts of information yet you can tell know one since no one from the rebellion will save you now.

🪲your new husband showers you in lavish gifts and since the spell stops you from killing him your powerless.

🪲he’s always been bullied in secret of course by the snot nose spoiled court kids when he was younger he tried telling his father but his father didn’t care only ignoring him and telling him he would become stronger . So he did become stronger and made them pay but he also had no friends so when you came along so eager how could his poor heart not cling to you ? It doesn’t matter you were sent to kill him it only matters is that you didn’t when he gave you the chance.

🪲he hates that you hate him but he can’t help but smile after all how can he not when he notices your stomach swelling…

Out of 10 he’s a 7.8 very protective and possessive.

Thank you ❤️❤️

Bet

Writing idea #2

Warnings: I don't mention it in the text but it's supposed to be smut so 18+

a/n: yayy here's my next writing idea! Even though it doesn't say it, I think it's just a great idea for a super smutty story. In case someone wants to write it, please let me know so I can read and share it and support you ♡♡♡

Werewolf

Imagine you live in a small French village around 1800, everyone has to work extremely hard to get enough food and the times aren't the best in general. And if this wouldn't be enough a werewolf appeared some months ago, every full moon he haunts your village, trying to get the people who live there.

Everyone is in panic, no one knows who the monster might be and since the people are just simple farmers no one has the money or the contacts to buy silver bullets.

But one thing is sure, since no one new came to your village and the other villages are too far away, the werewolf must be one of the residents.

So the only thing you can do is trying to soothe the monster, so the mayor gathers all the people on the marketplace, knowing the werewolf must be there too, promising that he is willing to give him whatever he wants so that peace will come back to the village.

And on the next day, there is actually a note left at the mayors house, it says he will stop tyrannizing the people if he can have one night, the next full moon night, with a special person. You.

Hey, don't be sad. Dragon with two dicks ok?

One dick is for proper insemination. It's huge, almost as big as you are, you definitely can't take it.

But the other one is much smaller. It's meant purely for pleasure, like a clit. It's still quite big for you but you can definitely fit it inside. It swells inside you, hot, heavy and throbbing.

Your dragon partner is trying very hard to stay composed, you're basically riding the most sensitive part of him. He has to keep his composure so he doesn't hurt your small human body. He just lays there moaning, growling and twitching while his little human rides his dick.

You could even turn around and play with his bigger cock, reaching to rub the tip or hugging your body around it while you keep bouncing.

He can't help but hump the air as he cums, jostling you up and down his length and bringing you to your own climax.

You lay on his stomach, exhausted and covered in cum. He purrs lazily and the vibrations lull you to sleep on his warm belly.

𓆩✧𓆪

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑-

yandere!false angel x gn.reader

cw: gore, death, attempted sa (not by yandere)

2.2k; not proofread bc I believe in myself. based on this imagine.

what were you expecting, venturing this far into the woods at night? there's something stalking you from behind the trees. a terrible beast watches and you are powerless to its mercy. luckily, your prayers are answered; not by god, but by the angel covered in red.

The wind was the first thing you noticed. It was still, not even a breeze licked at your skin, nor a sudden chill digging into your bones. Cold, yes, the cold remained even without the slashing wind. The sun dipped farther and farther below the skyline as you walked, taking with it the last remnants of warmth. You tugged your shawl tighter around your form.

Regret began to seep into you. What were you doing in these dark woods? There could be packs of wolves, or bears, or mountain lions, or another predator searching for a meal out there, you being a prime target. A shudder raced down your spine. As terrifying as the thought of being ripped apart by wild creatures was, you were almost certain it would be worse to be caught by him.

You glanced behind you, into the maw of dark trees and snow covered ground from which you came. Threats of what he promised to do to you should you be found echoed through your mind, motivating you to ignore the weariness in your muscles and push forward.

You chided yourself at your predicament- the huntsman seemed so kind. He promised you a warm bed and a meal for the night while you waited out the snow, mentioning how he understood the difficulty of traveling during the winter months. He made good conversation, although he spoke little of himself. You doubted he would present to be a threat towards you. How wrong you were.

Oh yes, he provided a meal and a bed for you, but neither were out of the kindness of his heart. No, apparently there was an expectation that you were going to service him in some way- to which you promptly refused. It was then that his true nature began to reveal itself. The huntsman grabbed one of his weapons, threatening to get his rightful payment since nothing comes for free. He wasn't going to let you leave otherwise.

You were lucky to have made it out of the door. You booked it, running in whatever direction you were facing, which happened to be the thick, untamed forest. He was searching for you, that much you knew. You could hear the howls of his hunting dogs somewhere behind you, sniffing you out.

Panic was starting to set in. What were you going to do? It was cold, you were running out of stamina, and you had no clue where you were or how long it would take to reach another village. These woods seemed to stretch for hundreds of acres, completely uninhabited by people. It was easy to get lost here you imagined, the tall trees melded into each other at some point. You could be going in one big circle for all you knew.

Besides the clearly psychotic man on your trail, the woods itself concerned you. There was a distinct feeling that said you aren't supposed to be here. As if the trees were going to wrap around your limbs and pull you apart on their own. You knew that was unlikely, but still- something in the back of your mind remained aware of the fact that you were bordering territory that would not welcome you. Maybe it was because you recalled the horror stories of people who entered and never came out- or they returned with not all of them attached.

Another howl cut through the air, snapping you out of your rumination. It was much closer this time. Frighteningly close. Close enough that you wouldn't be able to outrun it from where you were. There was only one other choice- hide. You scanned your surroundings, searching for something that would cover you. There was a small clearing up ahead and woods on both sides of you. The trees were too thin, but there were a couple of fallen ones and an uprooted trunk that created an opening just large enough for you to crawl into and hide behind. It would have to work.

You tucked yourself in, heart hammering frantically in your chest. He was so close now that you could hear his boots crunching against the freshly fallen snow. The chuffs of his dogs resounded in your ears like deafening booms, each one ready to rat you out.

"We could've done this the easy way, you know." The huntsman spoke into the silence, voice dripping with malice. Your heart dropped. Did he know you were nearby?

Your hands covered your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from breathing too loud. You could see him now, he was a couple feet ahead of you in the clearing. A large hunting knife glistened in the moonlight. Heavy realization set in, he was going to kill you.

And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

If you ran, one of his dogs would surely chase after you. You had no weapons to fight him with nor the strength to go against his much more well prepared form. The cold sapped at your energy, making it a chore just to keep yourself alert. The adrenaline helped, but it wouldn't last forever.

You did the only thing you could do. Pray.

You clasped your hands together as you waited, shutting your eyes and mouthing pleas to whoever would answer. Even if you had never been one to pray before, the imminent threat of your mortality was enough to make you chant feverishly for mercy.

And an answer you got.

The huntsman paused, shushing his mutts while sticking his nose up to the sky. Then it happened.

It was almost too quick for you to catch- one minute he was standing in the clearing, the next he was dangling above the trees. A white flash of feathers came down upon him, plucking his form like a mouse caught by a vicious hawk. With a powerful beat of the creature's wings he disappeared out of sight, far above the canopy of the trees. His dogs cried out for their master, but even they retreated into the safety of the brush for fear of being snatched.

One long, haunting death screech pierced the once still air for just a few seconds before abruptly quieting. There was barely any time to process what you saw or what had happened when splatters of red rained down from the sky, staining the white snow like paint on a canvas. Something round and fleshy dropped and landed on the snowy floor with a cracking sound, almost similar to a coconut.

You strained your eyes to see what it was.

A... head.

Not long after the creature swooped back down with the remaining parts of the huntsman, holding his corpse up to its mouth like a cat with a large rat. You shifted ever so slightly from your hidden position where you could get a proper look at it while it seemed distracted.

The scene was horrible, but you couldn't stop the awe that crossed your mind as you gazed at it. Two large, white wings speckled with blood emerged from the pale being's back. So pale it was that it practically blended into the snow.

The more you looked, the more you thought it seemed to appear more humanoid than creature, so reminiscent of the angelic sculptures you would see watching over graveyards. From the great wings, to the long white hair, it was nearly exact to how you would picture heaven's inhabitants to appear. Except, they couldn't capture how overwhelming the presence of it was. Utterly magnetic in a way you couldn't describe, a kind of beauty not defined by humanity.

you've been rescued by an angel.

It came right when you called, in your greatest time of need, like it had already been watching. Like a guardian angel.

Distracted by your realization, you didn't notice eyes locking onto your hiding form.

-

He missed one.

Warm blood trailed down his lips, dripping onto the white ground below. A human thing was hiding in the foliage, behind the broken trees.

He focused back on the body in his grasp. So loud and annoying, parading about his territory, hunting his prey. The deer were already scarce this winter, but the human had scared off the remaining few. Other prey were not as abundant. Humans he did not often approach, but everything was fair game in his domain.

He took a bite of the neck, the flesh tearing apart like filled dough. The metallic taste caused his wings to rustle in delight. He almost forgot the tenderness of human meat, rich with fat and underdeveloped muscles from a life of comfort. As of late, there had been less and less willing to enter the deep woods where he roamed, most likely due to what ends up being leftover of those who do.

His attention is drawn back to the one who tried to hide. Amusing, it hasn't run yet. Maybe it knows that it has no chance if it runs, even in the crowded trees his form is lithe enough to maneuver around the branches much better than the human can. It must've thought that the only viable option is to wait for him to finish and leave. Such a plan might've worked, if he was a much less vigilant predator.

The body is dropped onto the snow with a thud, entrails spilling out of the half eaten man. He was in a good mood, not only was the problematic creature dead but he had just gotten a meal along with it. Maybe he would decide to do something else with the remaining one.

Slowly, he turns his head in the human's direction.

-

The angel is approaching you.

It's now crouched, no longer standing on two legs; instead slinking towards you like a cat. You would be terrified by the sight of this massive creature covered in blood targeting you had you not already made up your mind that is must be your guardian angel.

When it is close enough to reach out to you, it pauses. It cocks its head, temporarily parting the hair covering its face to reveal pale, blanched purple eyes. Its- his- face was decidedly masculine, you thought. The wings on his back are folded close to his form, reducing any drag they could've caused.

Your heart is pumping, but this time not out of fear- no, you're enthralled by this opportunity.

The angel opened his mouth, uttering words that made you freeze.

"Be not afraid."

You think your pulse stopped for a solid moment. The voice was somehow quiet, yet cold and not quite reassuring. It surprised you that he could even speak in the first place. The smell of metallic blood and pine was noticeable. You reach out shakily, just slightly touching his hair. Your fingers meet the white threads, long and thin, like spider webs. The creature flinched in surprise at your boldness, but didn't move away.

The question tumbled out of your mouth before you could regret saying it. "Are you... are you my guardian angel?"

The angel fixed you with an unreadable expression. You thought he was confused for a second, before he stood up to his full height, no longer face to face with your form curled up in the branches. You couldn't help the raw unease that came to you then, he must've been nearly twice your height, taller than any man you had ever seen.

"Angel?" it repeated, looking down at you. "Your angel?"

Your mouth felt dry. The wind started picking up again, gliding through his feathers and into your bones. There were two options being presented to you; either you were right, and this being was an angel, or you were wrong. You didn't want to imagine what was standing before you if you were wrong, especially not after witnessing what became of the huntsman.

He seemed to consider this, staring down at you with strange intensity. His eyes were once again covered by hair, making his expression even more difficult to decipher.

A tense few moments passed before he spoke again. "Would an angel show you mercy? Lead you out of the woods to run back home?"

You nodded your head, still not daring to move. He bends down to pet your head, lips curling up subtly at your reaction.

True to his word, the angel did lead you out of the forest- although you lagged behind significantly and weren't nearly as swift navigating through it. It was a wonder how something so large moved as fast as he did. You were beyond grateful, thanking whatever higher power had listened to you. It was unlikely you would've made it out yourself, even with the huntsman gone. The woods were not friendly to outsiders.

You didn't say a word as you followed, too busy keeping up to ask any more questions. Tiredness overcame you as well now that your survival mode was beginning to wear off, leaving you sluggish and inattentive.

When you reached the treeline outside of the huntsman's cabin, you looked back up at your savior to thank him, only to be met with nothing but the breeze.

"Thank you." You whispered, regardless of whether or not you would be heard. The thought of your experience being a trauma induced hallucination crossed your mind, one you would consider if it wasn't for the fact that there was a large white feather caught by a tree limb beside you.

It was now almost morning. The sun was preparing to rise over the horizon soon.

You trekked your way back home, unaware of the new pair of eyes following you from the sky.