CW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Blood, Death
MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI
There’s something under the bed.
A sickeningly dreadful thing that's lingered there night after night, its presence growing ever bolder, atmosphere growing ever heavier. Perhaps you're imagining it—imagining the suffocating and chilling air filling your lungs like tar whenever night arose, imagining the cool breath on the back of your neck and the graze of its teeth against your pulse.
You could hear creaks and groans of the wood beneath you, the sound of its nails digging into your bedframe, your heartbeat mimicking a drum—deafening and loud in your ears.
You keep your eyes closed, breaths even and try to ignore it all, chalk it up to your imagination, and sleep it away. It takes a while—the sound is almost incessant, almost grating to your ears—but soon, sleep lures you to the edge, the noise and fear fading slowly into the background. Consciousness wanes as your heart calms to match it, sleep creeping into your skin, limbs heavy.
You don’t notice the pause in its movements—in its sound and interest—nor the silence that follows, an odd quiet that had the moon hiding behind the curtains.
It’s light—almost kind in touch—soft and curious, feeling the warmth you emit compared to the chill of its own. It could only truly come like this, touch you like this, when the light cannot touch it nor can your eyes gaze upon his form.
Serenity is a good look on you, defenseless, vulnerable, it wonders how other emotions appear on you as its touch slithers to your hair.
Impulse drove it to want more, to see what other faces you could make; a curiosity turned cruel. It was an abrupt, sharp pain, claws digging into your scalp—yanking and pulling with vicious fascination—a pained hiss ripping from your throat as your head was dragged back.
Your back meets the hard ground, and your eyes snap open. The pain is gone, and so is its presence. Your eyes are wide and erratic as you search the darkness, but you find nothing, not even a wisp of its existence.
You sleep in the guest bedroom with the lights on that night.
The encounters don’t stop there.
Each night, you wake with a new mark, its curiosity ever growing as it plays with you—claw marks on your skin, bruises blooming, and tattered clothes it rips in its exploration. Its touch sends tingles to your skin, which you ignore.
You no longer wear a complete set of comfy clothes to bed, just throwing on an old t-shirt knowing it would be inevitability torn. No matter where you spend the night in your home, it always finds you; you’ve given up at this point.
You can hear its satisfactory purr once your resistances drop into nothing as each night passes, just promptly falling asleep as it explores—occasionally snapping awake when its touch turns harsh—and letting it happen.
There’s not much you can do, money is scarce, and it’s not like you can go and hide somewhere; even if you did, you have a feeling it would follow.
This routine continues for a good while until something disrupts it one night.
It’s the sound of glass shattering that tears you awake. Your monster nowhere to be found as you hear the sound of people invading your home. You hear gruff orders and them rummaging around for valuables.
Fear stills you, sinks into your bones, running red and hot. Your mind urges you to run, hide, to do something to survive, yet your body does no such thing.
The twisting of your doorknob snaps you out of your frozen state, immediately making a dash for the closet before they enter your bedroom. You slap your hand over your mouth, cowering in the darkest corner of your closet as the door creaks open, footsteps following.
Your heart pounds in your chest as they search the room, cursing as they discover how little you own. You wait for them to leave, to lose interest, and move on to the next home. A low, snarling growl creeps into the air, startling your intruders.
“Hey… did you hear that—”
A loud crunch cuts the air, a horrified scream ending into a gurgling cry. You cover your ears and wait for it to end. The silence is deafening when it does, staying in the closet a while longer to calm your beating heart and forget the screams and tearing of meat echoing in your head.
When you finally walk out of your hiding spot, blood litters your ground, splashed onto the walls, dripping from the ceiling; no bodies to be found, but the grumble of your monster is heard from the dark underneath your bed.
It takes a while to scrub the blood all out; sleep doesn’t come easily to you for that night or the rest of them.
It's grown more affectionate, still mean at times, but it’s almost caring—almost possessive. It throws a fit every time you leave the house—leaving more marks, tearing up your things, snarling at you in displeasure.
You don’t quite know what to make of it, nor do you know how to feel about its newly attained humanoid form. Before you could never see it, only faintly feel it, hear it, but now (as a result of it eating those robbers, you believe) you can.
It becomes tangible and intangible at will, forming into the shape of a man, a vastly distorted version of one, to touch you, look into your eyes—something it never got to see before—and discover the weight of its speech.
It only speaks in distorted one-word sentences, snarling out “no,” “mine,” and “stay,” among other things. Its form is not limited to only one; it can shift and change its shadowed appearance into something far more animalistic—far more dangerous and intimidating.
It loves to paw at your flesh, grabbing and pinching at the softness of your stomach and fat of your hips, fascinated with you. It soon grows bolder, more daring, pawing at your breasts and ass, licking and nipping at your skin as you try to read a book or do something as mundane as watching television.
You ignore the warmth seeping into your underwear, shoving it away with an annoyed “Stop it.” It always huffs, displeased but relents and backs off. That is before you turn in for the night.
That night, it rises you out of your sleep—not abruptly but slowly, sensually. Something warm and wet glides between your folds, confusion, and sleep muddling your brain. A breathless gasp escapes you as it swirls its human-like tongue against your clit, head buried between your thighs.
You try to pull away, push it off, and close your legs, but it just growls and spreads you wider, pinning you in place. You shudder from the feeling, unsettled by the arousal already dripping from you as it continues. It mouths at your pussy, slurping and lapping up your juices as you squirm.
Even as you try to fight it, the coiling at the base of your spine, you can’t. A hard suck at your clit is what sends you over, a cry fleeing your lips.
When you come down from your high, it doesn’t stop there. He soon manhandles you into another position—face smushed into your pillow as he lifts your ass in the air. You try to speak, to process, but it comes out in a useless murmur.
You hardly process the feeling of something blunt at the entrance of your leaking pussy. It wastes no time, giving you no warning before spearing you with the head of its cock, sinking down to the hilt with a slight burn of pleasure. You whimper, your walls clenching around it, shame blooming in your chest from how good it feels.
That shame soon wilts into nothing the moment it starts thrusting into you, filling and fucking you on its fat cock. You gasp and moan, cunt drooling around it.
Its humanoid form fluctuates, shadowed tendrils warping around your body, restraining your arms and legs, slamming you harder on its cock as you whine. You feel something rubbing your clit, unable to think as stars pop behind your eyes.
It feels too good for you to stop, too good to even care how it tormented you before this, mind hazy from the pleasure it brings you. You find yourself begging for more, moans getting louder, your eyes rolling back as it hits all the right places.
“Please, please, plea—”
It growls in response, pulling out before shapeshifting its cock into something even bigger, even thicker, and ramming itself back in you. You cum hard, mouth opening in a silent scream.
You fall limp, limbs feeling like jelly, but it doesn’t stop, holding you up with its shadows as it continues to seek its own pleasure, claws digging into your skin. It soon follows after, spilling its seed inside you with a roar, the feeling of its cum filling you nearly enough to send you over the edge once again.
You pant, mind fucked out, not even hearing how it purrs, keeping its cock buried deep inside your cunt.
Somewhere in your mind, you conclude that this is your life now, and it might not be all that bad.
He's my wifey
