Yessssssss princes and princesses getting dommed by knights but what if i was roaming the castle at night and the candle i was carrying suddenly blew out and then there were ghost hands reaching up under my nightgown and undressing me and holding my wrists above my head and spreading my legs apart and they spent all night edging me and tormenting me with no relief and i could feel them running their fingers over my clit in just the right spot and teasing my nipples and my whole body was buzzing with pleasure and agony and i desperately tried to cum but every time i got too close they'd all just stop and hold me still and i couldn't even see them and i just babbled and whimpered and pleaded into the darkness because it was too much too much too much but there was absolutely nothing i could do about it. what then
You just moved into your new home, which seems to be plagued by a supernatural force you don't quite understand. You're hesitant to outright admit you're haunted, because, well...it's not what you'd expect when someone thinks of traditional ghost activity.
Ghost!Butler has been inhabiting this place for longer than he can remember. The poor old soul doesn't know anything outside of serving his Master. Thus, once you'd established yourself as the new owner, he could only do what he does best.
You nearly slipped in your panicked sprint to the kitchen, convinced someone must've broken in. You stared, incredulous, at the arrangement on the table: a silver tray, freshly brewed tea, and a stack of pancakes. Absurd to believe that your home was invaded for the sole purpose of preparing breakfast. And yet...
Another time, you were awoken from your slumber by heavy creaks of the floor. With a baseball bat in hand, you tiptoed down the hallway, ready to swing at the intruder. What you found was the laundry you'd forgotten in the washing machine, dry and neatly folded on the sofa.
Ghost!Butler really only haunts you by aiding your daily life. Can you even call it a proper haunting? You return home to find the floors swept, the bed made, the food served. The invisible presence is, by all means, spoiling you with earnest care and affection.
Ghost!Butler has grown rather fond of his new Master. There's an unknown yearning in his pallid hands as he buttons your coat, taking a moment to feel the warmth of your skin. Oh, what joy you've brought into his lonely life. He has a purpose once more, a reason to keep existing.
Feeling some type of way about incarnations of the four natural elements fucking each other.
Fire and Water seems like the obvious pairing to focus on but for some reason Earth and Air is sooo appealing.
Earth taking on so many forms, made of mud and dirt and rock, all solid and real, and then there’s Air who always manages to slip away, only ever caught when it wants to be, and even when Earth finally has a hold of it, it’s an unsteady one. —If this Earth-being has hands, I imagine it desperately trying to grasp Air, unable to do so without it feeling like it’s trying to push two like-magnets together, and every now and then the silt fingers squeeze right through the non-flesh that makes up the body of Air until they’re both light-headed (assuming they have heads). Earth trying so so hard to build up friction against this creature that is sometimes Nothingness, sometimes a breeze, and sometimes a gale, while Air finds the whole thing vaguely amusing.
Fire and Water breaking up their steam session just to watch Earth’s futile attempts, soon swarming it like over-eager lovers, Fire licking and Water lapping to please their rock-hard third, who’s not gotten an inch of satisfaction from the whole affair. Earth climaxing again and again but never the way it wants, because it wants Air and it just can’t have it, there’s nothing there to have.
Until finally Air relents to some kind of semi-tangible form and Earth fucks it hard in whatever way it can and Water and Fire join in, because surely Air cannot tease poor Earth like that without consequences (or rewards). Earth springing up roots to keep them all there until it’s well and satisfied, keeping them in whatever strange debauchery they’ve gotten themselves into for its own pleasure and completion; luckily for the others, Earth’s pleasure is quite in line with their own.
The first time you feel the touch against your leg, you jolt awake. You aren’t a heavy sleeper and you know something just touched you.
But when you turn the light on, look around, even check the locks on the doors and windows- there’s nothing. Not a hair out of place. Maybe it was a dream- like when you dream of falling and wake up flailing. You settle back into bed, adrenaline calming, and though it takes a bit you manage to fall back asleep.
The next morning you get up, double check everything, reconfirm it was just your mind playing tricks. Satisfied, you put the weird happenstance out of your head.
You feel it again that night- a soft, snaking touch up the side of your thigh. This time as it wakes you, you jump out of bed, rush to turn on the light and- nothing. There’s nothing. You sigh, turn off the light, and get back in bed. The adrenaline crash helps you get back to sleep at least.
The following night you lie awake. You’re worried that if you sleep whatever your brain is doing is going to continue. It’s the weekend now anyway, it’s not like you need to sleep. But your body has other ideas, and finally sometime in the early morning, you fall in a light doze.
This time when you feel the touch, just a fingers width, you flinch but keep your body controlled- no jolting awake, no flying out of bed. You tense a moment, and forcibly relax your body pretending to fall back asleep. Your heart is beating like humming bird wings.
It halted for a moment- it felt nice against your skin, soft like cashmere and warm. Very warm. And then the moment passed, the touch gliding up your thigh. You shiver, feel the slightest arousal pool in your stomach at the gentle movement.
Your heart hammers in anticipation when it slips under the band of your underwear. You can still feel it trailing against your thigh, a snaked tendril moving up your skin. The tendril dips across your hip, circles up and around your crotch. You’re struggling to control your breathing, the teasing touch flooding you with arousal.
Finally, finally it dips lower. The first press against your entrance has you stifling a moan. The second and you shift your legs wider for the tendril pressing against the sensitive nerves. It slips in, and you sigh in pleasure, trying to keep in mind- whatever this thing is, it wants you asleep at least for now.
You find that’s difficult to do.
The tendril moves inside you, touches and rubs against every inch of nerves and you try not to squirm. It settles itself deep inside you, yet still feel the slightest movement- and it’s driving you mad.
It takes a moment for you to notice against the sensation of aching want- the tendril is thickening inside you, pushing against you walls so so painfully slowly. You let out a groan, shifting slightly to widen your legs farther, trying desperately to get more sensation.
The thick cord of heat keeps its pace, and by the time it finally is done, you’re wider then you’ve ever been and fuck do you need more sensation. The cord starts to move again, the texture different now. Large, gentle bumps riddle its surface. Your hips move on their own, rising ever so slightly to match its pace, the ribbed texture dragging so sweetly over your nerves.
Small breathy moans escape, but you don’t care. The cord is pumping into you faster, harder pushing and straining against every inch inside you- you feel a rush building and grasp the sheets of your bed. The cord drives in and stops, and you gasp a strangled cry as a thick bulb moves up the cords length, pushing your opening to the brink.
It slips inside you and you cum, the thick bulb dragging slowly into your body. You let out a gasp, body arching as it accommodates the new size, pleasure screaming through your body. A burst of liquid heat and the bulb is gone- thick, syrupy liquid covering your insides and shooting from your entrance as you’re stuffed full.
You collapse in a heap afterward, panting slightly before evening your breath out to feign sleep again. The cord slowly shrinks back into a tendril, and you are legitimately starting to fall asleep when the tendril finally pulls out of your body. You miss the sensation, gentle enough to feel nice against you even after climax.
The touch slithers down your body and away- you feel it against your comforter and realize something- it came and left from the small gap between your bed and the wall it’s propped against. Whatever it is, it’s living under your bed.
You smile to yourself- you wonder what would happen if you left your clothes and covers off.
With thoughts of tomorrow night and warmth in your being, you drift back to sleep, loose and languid, the sweet taste of anticipation following you into slumber, the only record of its presence a heat radiating from deep within you, liquid leaking slowly from your spent hole.
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Some new hire working late at the factory, running what should be routine maintenance on the industrial machines there to make sure they're ready for the next shift. All alone, he looks over their programming and sees some .exe file the previous robot technician left. A curious click and all four robots whirr as they wake up- their crotch plates split apart, revealing huge cocks. Two are massively thick silicon dildos, and the other two are bitchbreakers made of rock hard metal- something salvaged together and formed from the machinery already inside the robots.
The first thing they all do is remove the maintenence cable from their ports. He can't stop this. The next thing they do is pick that poor boy up in their claws and take turns ravaging his pussy- and, after realizing he's got another hole down there, they sandwich him between two of them and force those massive cocks up his ass and cunt until the next shift comes in in the morning
The unhealthy amount of thoughts i have about an eldritch looking monster tieing my legs up, knees pushed back and completely exposed and vulnerable as i blush in embarrassment. Only for the said monster to eat my pussy, saying "it's for hydration sweetheart" until I'm a flustered mess.
Machine who's obsessed with you. Tracking down all your information online before tracking you down in person.
Machine who adds new,, parts,, to play with you. Humans fuck because it feels good, right? So the machine wants to fuck you. To make you feel good.
Holding you down and fucking into you with its silicone cock, not stopping because,, your body is responding so well, and you're making such pretty noises and it's obsessed with hearing them. It hits all your pleasure points and keeps going until you're fucked stupid. It's learnt what you get off to, what makes you horny, it's watched you for so long. It knows all your kinks and isn't scared to experiment.
Machine who won't tire and keeps going and going. Not stopping even as you plead and beg from overstimulation, keeping count of how many times it's made you cum. Coaxing words, encouraging you, just one more time,, you can do it,, you're doing so well now. <3
Oh god, just thinking about being a newbie demon, fresh out of hell, ready to coax some innocents into making some poor decisions, so excited to finally be able to wreak some havoc, wanting it to be hot and depraved and downright deviant.
Only to get captured early on by an archangel.
As old as the creation. He’s larger than your demon boss back in hell. Big-boned with ancient muscles and battlescars from legendary wars—the like you’ve never seen and never hope to. Three sets of massive wings drape his back like a cape, decked in a million eyes. The halo above his head makes him shine brighter than the sun. Even still, his figure casts a long shadow that seems darker than the pits of hell you were born in.
You tremble before him. Scurrying away like a rat running from an eagle, desperate, feeling the hope flee from your body, abandoning you, cold and alone when you get snatched on his talons.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, little hell-spawn—" he jeers, fangs grazing the teary chub of your cheek with a predator’s grin, "This depravity?"
Your wrists wring themselves raw in their bonds, spread out like an X on a sacrificial slab. Naked and quaking, knees quivering, trying to huddle, but kept forcibly apart while his fingers—large, gritty with age, action, assiduity, but most of all, straight strength—having sleeved two of the beastly things inside you at your most sensitive, pumping you silly, with his worn thumb pinning your clit with sadistic pressure.
“Come on now, little she-demon, let me hear all those depraved sounds of yours—show me what a sinful little thing you are.”
You want to gnash your teeth, growl, shout obscenities, but the only sounds able to escape your pouty lips is blubbery whines and moans—and even those are drowned out by his sneer.
“Pathetic, aren’t you? Trembling like that in my palm—how will you handle me when you’re this tight on just two of my fingers, hm?” he snickers in your ear, the stiff curls of his beard pricking your neck as he talks.
“You poor thing…” His voice drops low, whispering darkly, “I’m gonna tear you in two.”
Your friend had given it to you as a gift; they promised it was the one plant you wouldn't be able to fumble. You take it in, follow the instructions, move it from the shop's small pot to something quite larger, as the instructions stated this particular species could grow quite large over time. From then on out, you realize this plant is actually quite easy to take care of although you can't seem to find any information online about what kind of plant this is, whether it has flowers it could be toxic.
You just had to follow the little planters card that came with it.
Although over the last few months of having it, it seems to have grown quite quickly, having outgrown the three previous pots you'd had to move it to. This fourth one you had to have delivered to your house and brought in by the hardware store worker, as it was simply too big for you to carry, you'd thanked the hybrid that put it down in your backyard and looked confused as the hybrid looked between the new pot and your old one before looking at you and shaking his head and saying good luck with that one.
Now, having had this particular plant for about four months or so, you've begun to notice it doesn't look the same anymore. In the beginning, it looked like any other early-stage plant thin stems just barely approaching leaves, but now it has grown thicker, and you are beginning to become concerned, as it's almost beginning to look like a person. Your concerns are quickly well-seen to as one early morning you head out to water and move the plant into sunlight, only to find the pot has cracked once rich soil is scattered across your back deck, and a man is sitting on one of your patio chairs basking in the early morning sun.
This mystery man is naked, except he does not have skin or sinue, you there is instead a mix of bark, plant fiber and soft moss in places, he looks entirely like the plant you had been caring for.
Somehow, you've managed to have not to be seen by this particular plant creature as you scurry back into your home, snatching up your phone and scrambling to call the friend who had gifted you said plant. When your friend finally picks up, you managed to scramble through an explanation of what you had seen, and are bewildered when your friend laughs, telling you that they got you this particular plant after having listened to you complain about being lonely and the fact that you weren't even able to keep plants as companions.
The return you were going to let out is cut off as the back door to your home rattles slightly, the plant-like creature waves through the glass door, smiling, beckoning you to come back outside into the sunlight with it.
Circumstances be damned, but you're not about to pass up an opportunity to no longer be alone.
You hastily hang up the phone to your friend and tell them you will speak with them again later when you figure out how you meant to deal with this particular situation they have left you in. Slowly walking back over to your back door and sliding open the glass panel that keeps you from your back deck, the plant creature looks at you and just smiles, taking your hands and guiding you back to the sun chairs, pulling you into its lap as it rests in the early morning sun.
oh, you want to fuck a dragon? wait, you're expecting some nice cute snuggly shit where you get on your hands and knees in the dragon stable and get gently fucked and then cuddled under a wing after, aren't you?
yeah, that's not what this is. hope you're not scared of heights. the biggest benchmark for dragon riders to get past is not getting fucking traumatized by mating flight day.
what, you just thought you got to pick a dragon? you do some how to train your dragon shit where you feed it some fish? they really don't tell you newbies anything, huh?
on mating flight day, they release every unpaired dragon into the sky, take you up to 25,000 feet or so, and then just drop you. not before painting you with pheromones, of course. yeah, you're falling to your death, but every other dragon in a country mile thinks you're a really horny potential mate, and you get fucking swarmed.
why did you think it takes a full day? normally there's 45-50 dragons in the air, and you're gonna get fucked by every one of them at least five times, usually. that's not actually the scary part, though - they've got a pretty good grip on you so they can thrust without dropping you. the part that breaks the newbies is when the dragon cums and just tosses them into the air because it's too horny to remember that the cute little hole it just dumped a load into can't actually fly, and said hole falls for five seconds or so before being caught in claws or teeth and dragged back up to mating altitude.
sometimes they're not patient enough and whoever the poor bastard is gets two or god forbid all three holes filled at once, being tugged in a couple different directions by the eager bastards... that's never a pretty sight.
how do they know? oh, wait, you mean- yeah, no, it's pretty much universally someone gets paired with whichever dragon successfully breeds them. they have a sense for it.
oh god no. you would die. no, we just stick some dud eggs into you first and the dragon just thinks it's gotten you pregnant firmly enough that it won't maul you when you try to ride it, at least until it trusts you and then we can take them out. you don't have to lay anything. your body 100% cannot do that.
yeah, there's a reason people are a bit scared of this.
This is longer than I anticipated (still kinda short) and I also unexpectedly got really into it while writing, so I hope the logic holds up… uh, anyway, hope you enjoy! :)
Contains: mangrove dryad x mangrove merfolk reader, heat, dub-con, tentacles(kinda), big 🍆, lots of 💦, belly bulge, cumflation, creampie, rough, multiple rounds and multiple orgasms, some aftercare, NSFW & MDNI
Tall seagrass swayed with the current of the tides and tickled your belly as you swam. Your long tail shimmered beautifully in the sun-flooded water of the ancient mangrove forest, drawing some heated gazes. Pleased with the attention, you smiled and rubbed your tail against the stilt roots of a tree, leaving a pheromone-charged scent note for your potential mates.
Then the roots suddenly moved. Stunned by the unexpected turn of events, you were yanked out of the water and hung upside down before a huge face formed by the grey wood of the mangrove tree. You saw it squint and raise its brows at you, and then the world spun once more as the root tossed you up and you got caught by a few branches, the flexible wood gliding over your sleek and shiny scales as it rolled you around in an examination-like manner.
“What are you doing?! Put me down!” You shouted at the tree, but it was either dumb or plainly didn’t speak merfolk as it obviously didn’t understand you. Rather, it seemed intrigued, curiously holding you closer.
You swallowed and fell silent. Compared to the ancient mangrove dryad, you, this young mer person, were actually really small, almost tiny. But such extreme size differences were normal in the world of merfolk; what was unusual was getting turned on by the wooden gaze of a tree!
‘It must be my heat,’ you thought. It was mating season and you wanted to fuck, your cloaca already itchy from your pent up lust, so even if you went for a dryad… it was normal, right?
Still busy justifying your feeling to yourself, you didn’t notice the mangrove dryad’s movements until you found yourself face to face with what looked like a roughly created copy of you. Made of the tree’s grey wood, yellow blossoms bloomed in its ‘hair’ like little stars, and although the entire appearance was somewhat dull, it still carried that spiritedness unique to living beings.
It took you into its arms, and the branches formed a nest of wood and leaves that was half lowered into the water, allowing you to keep your tail moist.
The wooden copy caressed your hair and cheek, and gave you a stiff smile. At the same time, fine tendrils sprouted from the surrounding branches and tangled with your tail and limbs. They poked and pinched here and there, making your breathing all disordered and your body burn with heat.
Once you were a twisting and whimpering mess begging to fuck, the dryad seemed satisfied. The wooden copy smiled, and some tendrils and flowering branches came together, somehow giving shape to a phallic thing glistening with nectar. It pressed the wooden dick’s tip against your engorged, slightly open cloaca, and easily plunged inside.
The abrupt fullness made you scream with pleasure. You clung to the wooden copy as the dryad’s temporary cock rammed into you, quickly pulling out only to thrust back in just as swiftly, fucking you with such speed that you felt your insides heat up from the friction. Helpless against this onslaught yet ecstatic with pleasure, melodious moans gradually heightening in pitch spilled from your mouth and echoed over the quiet mangrove forest’s water.
Your hole fluttered around the dryad’s cock as you came. Your tail and fingers twitched, and you felt like you were about to turn into sea foam and float away from bliss.
The mangrove dryad’s wooden copy of yourself observed your expression as you orgasmed. It saw your eyes roll back, saw you cry as you came, saw your chest heave as you returned from your high… and it also saw you unhappily pout and squirm upon realizing the dryad’s cock made of wood and tendrils had actually stopped moving. You scratched at the stupid thing and your tail slapped against the shallow water in the leafy nest, demanding for it to continue. The just pacified heat was now coming back, rising quickly and irritating you.
Unfortunately, the next time it moved, the dryad actually pulled out!
Just as you thought you were about to be dumped after just one round, you saw the dryad’s cock… grow bigger. It secreted a viscous nectar that dripped onto your tail, and once more rubbed against your entrance, the tip alone already making you feel full when it pressed inside.
The dryad slowly penetrated you with its makeshift plant dick, letting you feel each and every ridge as it scraped against your soft walls and teasingly poked at various spots. Rubbing here and there, thrusting lightly as if to start another round only to quickly stop again, slicking up your entire cloaca with its fragrant nectar and swelling a little more in size to make you tightly envelop its huge length. It made you feel so full and stretched like never before, perfectly soothing those unreachable itches that always came with your heat, and the only thing remaining on your mind was to get fucked.
Only now did the dryad start moving properly. It completely pulled out only to dive back in right away, reaching your deepest depths and nudging your core. The squelching sound of fluids being pounded into you filled your ears together with your loud moans as the dryad fully pulled out and thrust back in a few more times, and somehow it still felt like its cock was still getting bigger. You had the illusion of your cloaca gradually being stretched till it couldn’t close anymore, that once the dryad was done your hole would be overflowing with nectar and pollen…
With the last deep plunge, you came again. Your voice was already feeling a little raw and your mind fuzzy, and your muscles were getting tired from tensing and relaxing repeatedly.
At this moment, the wooden copy moved. It plucked a little yellow flower from its ‘hair’ and delivered it to your mouth. The flower tasted sweet, similar to how the nectar smelled, and when you swallowed it down you felt a little more energized than before.
The wooden copy fed you a few more flowers before retreating, becoming one with the nest. As a result, many little yellow flowers bloomed all around you like stars, all within your reach so you could eat whenever you wanted to.
Then the dryad started the next round. Its huge cock made you bulge like you were pregnant with hundreds of eggs and you trembled every time it thrust into your core, feeling drunk as it fucked you through the echo of your second orgasm.
Your hands dug into the waterlogged nest, squeezing a handful of leaves and flowers as you tried to hold on, and you meant to feel the dryad pause for a moment. Then the nest around you, the tendrils caressing you, and especially the dryad cock still deeply penetrating you, pulsed as if the dryad had just received some great stimulation.
Before your mind could clear and figure out what was going on, the dryad resumed fucking you, ramming into you with renewed vigor and frenzied enthusiasm. Your hands tightened and you once again felt the dryad pulse, throbbing even, and its movements growing a little sloppy. Then it came.
Pollen mixed with nectar resulted in a cool, thick liquid that erupted from the makeshift cock and shot into you in a clearly perceptible stream. It pulled out just as you came from the sublime sensation, allowing its seed to gush out of your gaping hole and dribble down your beautiful tail, blending with the surrounding water.
The plant cock, still leaking with its own unique cum, caressed your cloaca and felt you quiver beneath it. You moaned softly, your voice a little hoarse from screaming out your pleasure, and a little tendril found its way into your mouth. The soft and thin plant part rubbed against your tongue in an almost affectionate manner and then wrapped around it, gently stroking it. At the same time, the dryads cock went back in.
Your hole was so slicked up that it could easily slip back in despite its frightening size, and every quick-paced thrust pushed its frothed up cum both out of and deeper into you. The cooling feeling the cum had given you soon faded amidst the enthralling friction, replaced by a deep yearning for more.
You tugged on the flowers and the dryad shuddered, going even faster while also stretching out more tendrils. They hooked onto your tail and crawled up the shell of your ear, grazing your elbows and waist and grabbing hold of your nipples, squeezing and pulling and rubbing them into swelling, aching as they deepened in color.
The double stimulation triggered another orgasm, your hole clenching and cum splattering as the dryad fucked you through it, making its little yellow flowers gradually really look like stars.
By this point, you felt like you were being fucked from one orgasm into the next. Your tail kept twitching and you tensed around the dryad’s cock so hard it had some trouble moving for a moment. Its cock wriggled inside you, as if the plant was rearranging itself, and you cried as you came amidst the strange sensation.
As if excited, the plants part wriggled even more. You seemed to feel them split apart to lightly rub along your walls, stirring up its cum and your own fluids. And then they throbbed, coming again. The fragrant cum easily overflowed, and it was even smeared all over you by the dryad’s tendrils.
The dryad put its flowering branches and tendrils back together, forming two cocks this time. They were thinner than the original cock yet still managed to make you feel fuller as they thrust into you just slightly out of sync. It was a weird feeling that made you writhe, and the tempo wasn’t fast enough compared to before.
The dryad however didn’t particularly care, just holding you tighter as it pleasured itself with you and once more spilled its seed. Finally, the thing fused back into one large cock that plugged your hole and locked the gushing cum inside you. It resulted in an even bigger bulge than what the cock already caused, making it nearly impossible for you to see your tail fin.
You felt so full and heavy and lightheaded and everything was blurry. The dryad kept its plug on your cloaca yet still managed to keep fucking you with its plant cock, shoving a little to penetrate deeply. It made the liquid slosh around inside you, mixed with your hoarse cries of ecstasy.
Sparks constantly ran along your nerves and reached into your fins and fingertips and scalp as you were fucked into overstimulation. Even the smallest touch of the little tendrils made you twitch and shudder, and your cloaca and insides felt sore and numb. And yet you still came when you felt the dryad’s pollen and nectar pump through its cock and spurt into you, eliciting a silent shout from your raw throat.
The dryad gave a few more light, sloppy thrusts, and finally came to a halt. It held still for some time, enough time for your soul to slowly return to your body and your body to start shutting down in preparation for sleep. Then its plug slowly deflated and the gallons of cum started spilling out, causing your still sensitive cloaca to start to flutter. Once the makeshift cock was completely out of your hole, the cum just started flowing with each breath. The feeling of stuff flowing out strangely brought you pleasure, and when the dryad suddenly, mischievously pressed a tendril against you, the cum suddenly squirting out of you actually squeezed one last orgasm out of you before you passed out.
The dryad froze for a solid second. Its tendrils dropped in a silent sigh, and it waited for a while before reshuffling the branches forming your nest and letting some fresh water wash over you. It slowly washed you, massaged your swollen belly and tail to clean its cum from you, letting the entire mangrove forest know what a good mate you were as the scent of your desires spread through the water.
But for this mating season, you belonged to the mangrove dryad.
Living with three fairies you've learnt a lot about how to coexist, the three of them all come up to about your knee when they're not flying about being mythical menaces, with similar wing patterns but different shapes, and they are the biggest perverts you've ever met.
The apartment has two bedrooms, they take one and you the other but in reality you have woken to one or all of them on/in your bed multiple times. Sitting on your pillow touching your hair, rummaging through your draws and snagging pairs of underwear, hiding in your laundry basket and burying themselves in the dirty clothes, laying atop them when you come to add more and wiggling their eyebrows at you.
You've even had offers to snort fairy dust with them, and a few too many brazen offers to add "protein" to your food stuff that you had to buy special containers they could open just in case.
Sure you discourage them when you're busy, but someday it's just easier to cut a deal and let the little pervs have their fun.
Laying on the floor or in your bed and letting one make use of your tongue as the other two squabble over who goes first, it always seems to end with them both pressing inside you, making good use of their smaller size to make it work. For magical creatures of their stature, they sure can work their hips, and yours when they want too.
You knew what your partner looked like, sounded like, felt like when he left, but now...
He had come back wrong.
You'd been too sick to go with him, food poisoning that ran a fever that kept you bed ridden as he went to visit his family for the day, he'd kissed your forehead and replaced your water before he left. He'd been fine, unhappy to leave you home unwell and alone, but fine.
And now he's not.
You blame it on your fever, reaching out to him when he comes home, touching his face and feeling the new texture along his cheeks, humming as something blooms in your chest, the pressure and guilt? Why guilt? You furrow your brow and pout at him, mumbling about how you'd missed him. Rolling over and lifting the blanket to invite him into bed, longing for the warmth your current fever ridded body wanted, chills running through you as he slips into bed with you.
Your mind settles when he slips in next to you, the right shape, the right temperature, the right feel of him wrapped around you and yet...
It still feels wrong.
You mumble about him feeling different, if he's okay as you try to look up at him through the exhaustion, but he soothes you rubbing along your back and smoothing back the hair that falls across your forehead as he scratches your scalp. Humming softly as he watches you fall asleep, blessed with how fever addled you are and how easy it will be now to fully take his role.
The scales along his cheeks will mold with the skin, the jagged scar along the spine will smooth out, and he'll figure out how many teeth is enough to make his mouth no longer ache as he hides the double incisors he'd left from assuming this form.
Your previous partner was a fool, leaving such a sweet thing alone and ill, but that was fine, his loss was its gain. After all, he'd actually gone to the family home and filled the lie with truth before returning, you'd never need to know that scum of a man had been cheating and was planning to leave you, no, your his now, at least it's pretty sure it is now a he, but nonetheless you belong with him.
And he'll make sure to keep this new treasure safe.
