obi-wan kenobi only looks like a respectable, even-tempered rule-follower because he's standing next to Anakin "what are rules" Skywalker and Ahsoka "i know the rules but i don't give a shit" Tano. the moment he's alone, and not being forced to keep anyone in check, he is JUST as chaotic as the other two, if not more because he DOES know the rules and he DOES give a fuck so the fact that he's breaking them means he REALLY wants to ruin someone's day
- Missionary: classic one. He likes being able to see your beautiful face, the face expressions you make when he hits that one spot and giving him good access to your clit. Loves being able to kiss your face and lips whenever possible.
- Doggy style: he loves seeing your ass. Loves eating you from behind, giving you long stokes from your clit to your asshole, especially when your tits are on the bed with your ass up, giving him better access. This is also your favorite position.
- Cowgirl: he loves seeing you on top of him, especially when you’re in a hugging position, your chest pressed to his chest. He loves when your tits bounce in his face, giving them occasional bites and kisses.
IN WHICH daryl thinks he’s gonna embarrass himself getting with you, but when you express your anxieties towards sex, he steps up to help ease your mind.
WORD COUNT 2.6k
THEMES sub reader, soft dom daryl (but he’s holding back hella), virgin reader, anxiety, implied age difference, size difference, praise kink, degrading praise? brief breeding mention, slow sex, he might cum too quick, oral, aftercare
A/N tysm @shattersoftly for req this. i like this one a lot.
daryl’s crush on you wasn’t meant to go anywhere. it was supposed to be something he shoved down, internalized, forced himself to ignore. at no point did he imagine you’d ever reciprocate those feelings, and he had made peace with that.
imagine daryl’s face when you made a move on him.
you’d been helping set logs for him to chop. it was quiet, with only the sounds of distant conversations, the slicing of dry wood, and the occasional grunt. something about seeing him work, man, you were a flustered mess.
somehow, walking wood back to his place ended with you squirming in his lap on the couch.
daryl’s hands ran up and down your back, calloused fingers dragging heat up your soft skin. his lips dragged along your neck, as he waited for you to signal for more.
daryl was used to women bossing him around in bed. it was easier that way, he always knew what to do when they explicitly told him.
not you, though. you were whining softly, shy, gentle and hesitant.
“this good?” he asked, nipping just below your ear.
you nodded, hiding your face in your sleeves. daryl was put off at first, thinking perhaps he’d overwhelmed you, that you didn’t want to go any further. he leaned back, brushing hair out of your face. “gotta tell me what you want,” he murmured. “can’t read yer mind.”
you blushed deeper (if that was even possible), and looked down. you worried your bottom lip raw, and god, you looked gorgeous like that.
“dun’ wanna stop,” you confessed softly, looking at him through thick lashes.
a smile threatened to form on daryl’s face. he understood now. swiftly, he adjusted, pulling you in closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands rested on your hips, squeezing experimentally. you squeaked, and he melted.
“ah,” he sighed. “a’right. hands… here.”
he placed your palms on his chest, pausing to ensure you were still comfortable. you gave a short nod, and he grunted in acknowledgement.
“i’ll put my hands… here,” he grumbled, letting his fingers slip under your shirt, lips now brushing your cheek. “an’ you jus’ tell me… if it’s too much.”
another nod, your breath coming out shaky. your hands twitched against his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat. “s-sorry,” you whispered.
“dun’ be,” daryl replied, tracing a finger under your breast. “jus’ relax, okay?”
“tryin’,” you laughed nervously.
daryl got the idea. normally, he hated taking the lead, always worried he’d take it too far, get too rough. right now, he could tell that you were not only anxious, but inexperienced. and while he was no pornstar, he could find the rhythm.
his lips dragged along your neck, down to your collarbone. he hummed softly, the vibrations radiating off of your chest.
“gotta know,” he murmured, hands wandering upward, until they cupped your breasts. “this all new t’ya? i mean, are you…”
he trailed off, pausing to look at you.
your cheeks felt hot, eyes wide and dilated. god, you hated this question. what a helpless little lamb, never having been touched. since the world ended, you’d kind of given up on it.
a simple nod was all it took. daryl knew he had to do this right.
“shit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. “kay… you just… ya gotta talk t’me, yeah? if i’m goin’ too fast… doin’ too much, if you wanna stop—”
you gripped his collar, stopping him cold. your face was one of hesitancy, and determination. no matter how out of your element you were, you wanted this. needed it.
“stop talking,” you whispered. “please.”
daryl swallowed roughly, before nodding. his hands slid down, planting firmly on your waist. experimentally, he urged you to roll your hips, grinding down on his clothed cock. he groaned, low in his throat, feeling you jerk forward with an eep!
“ain’t… gon’ be no prince,” he muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “ain’t exactly… great at this, either.”
you let yourself laugh this time, smiling and shaking your head. it eased your mind a bit, recognizing that daryl was nervous, too.
“if i wanted a prince, you think i’d sit on your lap?” you scoffed, hand moving to the back of his neck. “just… go slow.”
your lips connected, messy and cautious. the warmth was electric, though, and what began as a slow experiment, soon turned heated, desperate.
daryl’s hand moved from your hip to your hair, tugging gently. your gasp gave him access, shoving his tongue in and intertwining with yours.
“fuck,” he growled. “so soft.”
a whine fell from your lips, wriggling against him, all needy and wet. daryl had to constantly remind himself to go slow, to not take take take.
“daryl,” you arched your back, your tone making his stomach flip. “please…”
he was hasty. his free hand quickly moved to his belt, unbuckling, tugging, chucking it on the floor loudly. while he did, your lips slid down his chin to his jaw. it felt good when he did it, so you figured he’d like it.
your tongue glided along his collarbone, a sensitive spot for daryl, drawing a shudder from his spine. “fuckin’… christ, woman…”
he yanked you back by your hair, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “gotta get ya ready fer me.”
with that, he flipped you on your back, straddling you. the couch creaked underneath your combined weight as daryl nipped your neck. he sucked little love bites as he slid his hands under your shirt.
“gon’ take this off,” he warned, tugging the thin fabric. “that okay?”
his eyes were glazed when he looked at you, but hell, he was holding back patiently. you bit your lip, nodding. daryl almost smirked.
“arms up.”
once your shirt came off, daryl swore he was in heaven. this gorgeous, smooth skin he’d ached to feel for so long, now on display like dessert.
“could eat you alive,” he grumbled, tongue sliding between your breasts. “fuckin’ delicious…”
a thick whine fell from your parted lips, back arching into his touch. his hands glided across your skin, up and down your hips, along your stomach. “daryl,” you groaned, eyes screwed shut.
“member t’tell me if it’s too much,” he said as his head leaned down towards your thighs. “or… not enough.”
daryl’s breath was hot on your skin, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your hips, your thighs, your navel. your body twitched as his tongue slid along your hot skin, teasing, not quite where you needed it.
“fuck,” you breathed, hands itching, hovering over his head. “please…”
that’s all daryl needed. his lips mouthed over your clit, then sucking. his fingers glided up and down your thighs, squeezing and smacking the inside of them eagerly. your back arched, pressing into his tongue as he swirled it.
“oh god,” you whined, hiding your face in your hands.
daryl paused, looking up at you with concern. his palm massaged your thigh, rubbing where he had previously slapped. “you okay?”
you quickly nodded, peeking down at him. his facial hair was already wet. “yes. ‘s good,” you muttered. “please.”
daryl chuckled, his other hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “fuckin’ gorgeous,” he whispered, before going back down on you.
his tongue got back to work quickly, sucking, slurping, sliding. he hummed against your cunt, pleased with how you were writhing and panting.
“y’can tug. if ya need to,” he mumbled with his mouth full, glancing up at you for a second.
your breaths came fast, as your shaky hands landed on his head. you hesitated, but as daryl’s teeth gently grazed your pussy, your nails dug in without permission, yanking on his hair hard.
you didn’t expect daryl to let out a low groan, the vibrations radiating up your spine. that alone nearly sent you over the edge, cunt throbbing. the hair pulling was like motivation for daryl, and he went down harder, growling like a man starved.
“fuck, d-daryl!” you squealed, head falling back. “oh god, please, i—”
his gaze flickered to your face, lips smacking, drool dribbling down his chin as he slobbered all over you. he almost smirked. daryl’s large hands came up, squeezing your thighs, massaging your clit with his tongue. “uh-huh,” he grunted. “go on.”
your hands moved without permission, tugging on his hair and shoving his head down as you came. your hips jerked up, chasing the high. daryl snarled with delight, smacking your thigh sharply. his tongue slowed, giving your pretty cunt a sloppy kiss before rising.
“oh… god…” you panted, face flushed, eyes glossy.
embarrassment washed over you, and your knees came up to your chest as you let out a whine. daryl only chuckled, unbuckling his belt slowly.
“oh, come on,” he leaned down, moving your knees out of the way. “don’t get all shy now, we jus’ started.”
you squeaked, worrying your bottom lip raw. your hands came up instinctively, wanting to hide your face.
the air was thick with tension and musk, daryl’s cock throbbing against your leg. his hand came up, cupping your cheek gently. “gonna fuck you now.”
because he never really knew how to be that romantic.
it was slow and hesitant, little nudges against your entrance, until he finally pressed inside. a long groan rumbled in your ears as he slowly pushed all the way in. you thought you might pass out from the girth alone, and once he was bottomed out, fuck, you could feel it in your stomach.
“stop, stop, stop,” you babbled, clawing his back.
daryl’s head fell into the crook of your neck, breaths heavy and hot. still, he listened, despite the desperate ache, despite his desire to ram into you over and over.
“gotcha… i gotcha,” he mumbled, stroking your hair as he let you settle. “shhh…”
after a moment, you nodded, a preemptive whimper falling from your lips. “okay. you can… move.”
daryl exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. slowly, he pulled almost all the way out, til catching on your eager hole, before just as slowly easing back in. the noises you made had daryl’s ears burning.
“fuck… so tight,” he grunted, palms pressing hard into the couch. “shit… gon’ have to move soon. ‘m slippin’ off.”
you let out a short laugh, “tight’s good, right?”
“sure, till it’s too good,” daryl replied, jaw clenched. “fuckin’ milkin’ me, christ. guess i shoulda figured, since you’re…”
he trailed off, shaking his head. he needn’t get too hasty, you’d only just started.
“ah… okay,” daryl slowly slid out of you, before quickly lifting you up. “goin’ to the bed.”
in seconds, he’s in you again, bottoming out quicker this time. a low growl fall from his lips, eyes fluttering closed. “jesus fuck. ain’t gon’ last.”
once he developed a rhythm, slow and methodical, your legs moved to wrap around his waist. your head fell back, lips parted. “oh my god, daryl,” you whined. “c-can feel it in my… tummy…”
daryl groaned, biting your shoulder to keep himself occupied. god, he was this close to pounding into you. “gah, shut up. ya start talkin’ like that, we’re gon’ be done ‘fore we start.”
you laughed breathlessly. experimentally, daryl snapped his hips forward, making you cry out. he couldn’t help but snicker.
“told ya,” he murmured, nipping your ear. “god, could ruin you.”
a pathetic whimper from your lips, and daryl was kissing you. sloppy and fast, not as gentle as his movements were. it’s hot and heavy, and he knew he wouldn’t last long, but it’s what you said next that nearly undid him.
“faster,” you moaned against his lips, tugging at his hair. “please.”
daryl snarled, biting your bottom lip before pulling back. his hips jutted back and forth quicker now, feeling your sweet pussy squeezing his cock. “gotta stop that,” he bit out. “gonna fuckin’ cum.”
the noise that followed sounded more eager than you intended. bless his heart, daryl tried to keep it slow, keep it steady for your poor, virgin cunt, but he was never that strong of a man.
“please, please, please, please,” you cried, back arching as you grew closer.
daryl licked at your neck, down your collarbone. “take it so good, almost forgot it’s yer first time,” he grunted, skin slapping skin. “so fuckin’ good fer me, ah? take it so well.”
his tone was almost mocking, and that was all it took. your cunt clenched hard as you came, pulsing rapidly as your orgasm washed over you. the overstimulation was addictive. you babbled nonsense as daryl fucked you through it, thrusts slowing down as your peak passed.
“fuck,” daryl hissed, coming to a dead stop. “don’ move.”
you whined, long and needy. god, the noise was becoming his new favorite thing. he smacked your hip gently. “serious, princess. don’t get cocky now.”
“heh,” you giggled. “cocky.”
“idiot.”
then he was moving again, in, out, in, out. he was sweaty and hot, breaths raspy and wet. you were a drooling wreck underneath him, and god, daryl couldn’t handle it.
“moan so pretty fer me,” he panted. “fuckin’ gorgeous, takin’ this dick, baby. c’mon. c’mon.”
faster, harder, too much, not enough. your head was spinning, nails creating dents in his skin.
“fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you rambled. “ohhh, god, daryl, ‘s too much… don’t stop!”
daryl lost control, just a little. his hand yanked your hair, pulling your head back so your throat was bared for him. he bit into your skin, marking you his. “if you don’ shut the fuck up, ‘m gon’ knock you up righ’ now, y’hear me?” he growled, all teeth. “that what’cha want, huh? babies with a fucked up prick like me?”
you shook your head, but couldn’t stop moaning. you’d surely get noise complaints tomorrow. “please, i can’t… i’m… it’s…”
your voice came sharp, too loud. daryl smacked his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as you came again. this time, daryl couldn’t restrain himself. he let out a primal noise, quickly pulling out and spilling hot white all over your stomach.
your eyes blew wide, and you grabbed his cock without thinking. daryl’s hips jerked forward, sucking in through his teeth as you milksd him dry.
“ohh, you fucker,” he grit, squeezing your face where he covered your lips. “motherfucker. gettin’ greedy, ah?”
you just hummed, eyes glazed over and droopy.
it took five minutes of laying down, huffing and puffing, for daryl to get up and grab a towel. and while he was not a romantic, and totally not head over heels for you—yes, he did clean you up. felt your smooth stomach, kissed it gently. fuckin’ loser.
then, daryl rolled over and spooned you. his hand raked through your hair, as he softly hummed against you. you must’ve been dreaming.
“did so good,” he muttered, voice groggy. “you hurt at all?”
you shrugged, eyes closed. “li’l sore. but that’s normal, right?”
daryl chuckled, but couldn’t hide his concern. “was a tight fit. you’ll be alright.”
a pause. he felt guilt bubbling in his gut.
“here,” he adjusted, propped up on his elbow. “roll over.”
you got on your stomach, and daryl straddled you again. this time, to massage your back. his large palms pressed deeply into your soft skin, rubbing out the kinks and knots.
“mmh,” you moaned. “tha’s nice…”
“yeah?” daryl arched a brow, thumbs circling your shoulders. “good. jus’ relax. earned it.”
you were cheesin’ into your pillow until you fell asleep. who knew this burly son of a bitch could be so sweet?
Daryl loves back rubs, your back rubs specifically. He didn’t even know he liked physical touch until you came into his life, holding his hand, arm, hugging and kissing him, racking your fingers through his hair and rubbing his back. He never realized how much he yearned for those things now. Now every time you too are separated for a long time, wether it is because he’s on a run or you’re helping around, he always needs to come back to you and get those back rubs and hugs.
At night, before bed he loves to lay down between your breasts and let you rub his back, going up and down and into his hair, relaxing him so much he almost always falls asleep on top of you. You love it, love to hear his little snores. No one knows that the silent arches is such a yearner for your physical touch.
Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.
Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.
We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.
Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.
The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.
Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.
We Don’t Know What Comes Next
There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
How You Can Help
I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:
Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.
Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.
summary: a monster keeps your cottage safe from wolves, believing you neither see nor want him—until spring comes, and you finally turn to the creature in the trees and let him know you’ve been leaving the bread, the clothes… and that you were never afraid.
pairing: the creature (adam frankenstein) x reader
word count: 3,299 words
warnings: gothic romance (set in 1800’s), talk of death and murder, slow burn, horror, MDNI (18+ only)
notes: hi first time writing in like 2-3 years so be nice please xoxoxo if you can’t tell i’ve gotten into writing horror/thriller and this was the perfect opportunity to dip my toes back in. anyways if you’re reading this here’s a kiss mwah
PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV
SERIES MASTERLIST
He’d been haunting the tree line long before you ever saw him.
At least, that’s what he believed.
All winter, something bigger than any wolf stalked the border of your little cottage, keeping the growls and yellow eyes at bay. You’d wake to claw marks in the snow that didn’t belong to any animal you knew, to the broken bodies of wolves dragged far from your door, as if someone didn’t want you to see what he’d done for you. Your lanterns never ran out of oil. Your firewood stack never emptied. Sometimes, there were heavy footprints in the mud—too large, too uneven to be human—leading back into the forest and vanishing with the mist.
He thought you didn’t know.
But you saw him.
You always saw him.
The first time, it was only a shadow: a towering figure half-hidden behind the black skeleton of a pine tree, watching you as you hung freshly washed sheets beneath a washed-out winter sky. Another time, you caught the briefest flash of his eyes, pale and aching with something that wasn’t quite hunger and wasn’t quite hatred, as he melted back into the dark.
The creature.
Adam Frankenstein.
The villagers whispered about a monster in the woods, a patchwork horror that should have never drawn breath, but you knew better. Monsters didn’t leave bread on your windowsill on nights you forgot to eat. Monsters didn’t stack kindling by your step after snowstorms, or set down a freshly killed hare just close enough that your old dog could sniff it out in the morning. Monsters didn’t linger at the edge of your light like a shield, taking every blow the world had meant for you.
So you started leaving things for him, too.
A still-warm loaf of bread wrapped in cloth and left on a flat stone near the forest’s edge. A thick, clumsily sewn shirt you’d stitched by candlelight, big enough to fit the breadth of his shoulders as best you could guess. A pair of gloves with uneven fingers. Each offering would be gone by morning, and in their place there’d be… nothing. No note. No mark. Just a silence that somehow felt shy.
Spring came slowly, softening the snow into streams and coaxing green from the hard earth. One bright morning, you took your dog and followed the familiar path beneath the budding branches, letting the cool air kiss your cheeks. You could feel him behind you—no longer a rumour, but a steady presence in the spaces between birdsong and the crunch of twigs underfoot.
He was careful with his distance.
Careful with you.
You felt him before you saw him.
The air behind you changed—thicker somehow, as if the very forest were holding its breath.
Your dog’s ears flicked, tail giving the smallest wag, but he did not bark. He sat at your heel, as though he, too, had long grown used to the giant shadow that haunted the trees.
You stood in the clearing, sunlight painting your skirts in pale gold, fingers resting lightly upon your dog’s head.
“I know you are there,” you said, voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “You have been there for a very long time, have you not?”
Silence.
The birds went quiet. A breeze stirred the budding branches overhead, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else—old smoke, metal, and the faintest trace of soap, as though someone had tried, clumsily, to scrub himself clean.
You swallowed your nervousness and smiled, though he could not see it. Not yet.
“Tell me, Adam,” you continued, your tone turning wry, “how much longer until you understand that I have always known about you… and that you do not frighten me in the least?”
Something shifted among the trees to your left. A heavy footstep, then another, crunching over last year’s leaves. Your dog gave a low, pleased whine.
Slowly, as though dragged forward by some unseen chain, he stepped out from the shadows.
He was larger than you had imagined, even after months of stolen glances. Broad shoulders strained the seams of the very shirt you had sewn by candlelight. The fabric sat oddly upon him, as if he were still unsure he had the right to wear something made with care.
His face—oh, his face.
You had prepared yourself for horror.
Instead, you found sadness.
Features too sharply cut, as though chiseled in haste and anger. Eyes a pale, unnatural blue, ringed by the kind of weariness usually reserved for much older men. There were scars, yes, and those patchwork seams that betrayed the unnatural hand that had pieced him together, but beneath them all… he was simply a man who did not know how to occupy his own skin.
He stopped several paces away, hands held slightly out from his sides, as though to show he carried no weapon.
“You… you ought to run,” he said at last, his voice rough and low, the words strangely precise yet hesitant, like a man learning to speak again after a long illness. “The villagers would tell you to flee.”
“The villagers,” you replied, “have never once stacked firewood by my door after a storm.”
His jaw tightened. He glanced away, as though ashamed.
“That was nothing,” he muttered. “A mere… task. I happened to be near.”
“And the hare left upon my step in January? Was that another mere task?”
He shifted his weight, great hands curling into fists. “You were thin,” he said grudgingly. “There were no tracks near your home. I deduced you did not hunt.”
“And the wolves?” you pressed gently. “The ones that never cross the boundary of my field, though their howls wake me in the night?”
His throat worked. For a moment, the creature looked almost… irritated. “They are foolish animals,” he said. “They do not understand when they trespass upon what is mine to guard.”
Your heart stuttered at that word.
“Yours to guard,” you echoed softly.
At last his gaze met yours. There was a terrible vulnerability in it, like a child braced for mockery.
“You ought not look at me so,” he said, voice rougher now. “You ought to scream. Or at the very least, avert your eyes.”
“I shall do neither,” you answered. “You have been my unseen champion all winter, sir. I should think it discourteous to shriek at you now.”
He frowned, as though the very notion of courtesy applied to him was offensive.
“I am no ‘sir’,” he said. “The man who stitched me together did not deem me fit for such a title.”
“Then what shall I call you?” you asked, ignoring the chill that raced down your spine at his choice of words. “The villagers speak of a monster. A demon. A fiend. I do not care for any of those.”
A shadow of something like humour passed over his face. “He called me Adam,” he said quietly. “As though I were the first of my kind.”
You nodded once. “Very well, Adam.”
Your dog, emboldened by your calm, trotted forward and sniffed at his boots. Adam stared down at him as though the small creature were some strange, new invention.
“He does not fear me,” Adam murmured, almost to himself.
“Animals are often better judges of character than men,” you replied. “He knows you have watched over us.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “I watched to ensure no harm came to you,” he corrected. “Whether you knew of it or not is of little consequence.”
“On the contrary.” You took a small step closer. His eyes widened, as though you had moved a mile instead of a foot. “It is of great consequence. You believed yourself unseen, did you not?”
He hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod.
“Then you must also have believed that the bread, and the shirt, and the gloves appeared by some miracle of the woods.” You tilted your head. “Or did you imagine the forest itself had begun to sew?”
Colour—faint but unmistakable—rose along the visible seam of his throat. He looked past you, toward the stone where you always left your gifts.
“I thought…” He paused, visibly searching for words. “I wondered if perhaps you had set them out for the poor. For some wandering soul more deserving than I.”
Your chest ached. “And yet you took them.”
“Yes.” His gaze dropped to his hands, as though the gloves were still upon them. “I told myself I had stolen them. That you would never know. That is the sort of thing a monster does, is it not? Take what is not his?”
“If I leave something upon the edge of the wood with no name attached,” you said gently, “is it truly theft for the one I hoped would claim it… to do so?”
His eyes snapped back to yours, startled. “You… hoped…?”
“For whom else do you suppose I stitched sleeves of that length?” you asked, lips quirking. “There is no man in the village with shoulders so broad as yours, Adam.”
He stared at you as though you had struck him. Not in pain—more in stunned disbelief.
“You… knew,” he breathed. “You knew I was there. All this time.”
“Yes.”
“And you were not afraid.”
You considered this. “I was wary,” you said honestly. “At first. One does not wake to strange footprints and dead wolves without a certain degree of alarm. But then I saw you. Hiding like a boy behind those poor trees, trying very hard not to be seen. And I thought—”
You broke off, biting your lip.
He took a half-step forward despite himself. “You thought what?”
“I thought,” you said slowly, “that no true monster skulks in the shadows to keep a woman’s cottage safe through a winter as harsh as this last one. No true monster leaves food instead of taking it. No true monster looks at another living soul the way you looked at my dog last month—do not pretend you were not there, I saw you through the curtain—like you were afraid to even breathe in his direction for fear you might somehow break him.”
He said nothing. His breath misted faintly in the cool spring air, harsh and uneven.
“You should not look so kindly upon me,” he managed at last. “It is… improper.”
“Improper,” you repeated, amusement bubbling up despite the solemnity of his tone. “We are alone in the forest, Adam. There is no vicar here to scold us.”
“It is not the vicar I fear,” he muttered. “It is myself.”
Your smile faded.
“Why?” you asked.
He looked down at his hands again, turning them palm up as though they were strange objects he’d found rather than parts of his own body.
“These hands have done terrible things,” he said quietly. “I have torn wolves apart, as you have seen. I have broken men who sought to harm me. I have throttled hatred at its source and found only more hatred beneath it. I was created in violence and I fear I shall end in it as well.” His eyes lifted to yours, desperate. “I cannot trust myself near that which is gentle.”
Your throat tightened. “You have been near me all winter.”
“At a distance,” he insisted. “A barrier of trees. Of shadow. Of night. It is different now.”
“Is it?” You closed the gap between you by another small step. He sucked in a breath, shoulders going rigid. You could feel the heat radiating from him now, unnatural in its intensity, like standing too close to a forge. “I feel no danger from you, Adam.”
“You should.”
“But I do not.” You lifted your hand, giving him every opportunity to retreat. “May I?”
He stared at your outstretched fingers as though they were some holy relic. “I… do not know.”
“We shall discover it together,” you said softly.
After a moment that stretched thin as spun sugar, he extended his own hand, large and scarred and trembling just enough for you to see. You laid your palm against his.
Warm. Solid. Very real.
He flinched, not from pain, but from the shock of contact.
“See?” you murmured. “You have not broken me.”
“Not yet,” he said hoarsely.
You squeezed his fingers. “Nor shall you, if I have any say in the matter.”
For a heartbeat, the forest was nothing but the two of you and the soft panting of your dog at your side. A bird dared a tentative trill somewhere above, as though deciding the danger had passed.
“You treat me as though I were… a man,” Adam said quietly, almost accusingly.
“You are,” you replied simply.
His brows drew together. “I am a collection of parts stolen from graves. I am a blasphemy against God and nature both.”
“You are standing in the sunlight speaking to me with more courtesy than half the men in town,” you countered. “If that is blasphemy, then perhaps we have misjudged Heaven.”
A startled, rough sound escaped him—half laugh, half exhale. As though he had forgotten how ordinary mirth should feel in his chest.
“You should not say such things,” he chided, but there was no true censure in it. “You are too bold.”
“You have been listening to me mutter to myself all winter,” you reminded him. “You ought to know by now that my tongue is not easily tamed.”
“I know many things about you,” he admitted, voice going soft. “I know you speak kindly to your dog even when he chews your shoes. I know you hum that same song each morning when you light the stove. I know you eat too little when you are anxious. I know you cry when you believe no one can hear.”
Your breath caught. “You ought not watch a lady in such moments,” you said, flustered.
“I know,” he said, guilt flickering through his gaze. “And yet I could not look away. Your sorrow… it frightened me more than wolves ever could. I wished to tear apart whatever had caused it, but there was nothing there. Only you, and your hands shaking, and your tears falling into the dough you were kneading.”
You blinked rapidly, your throat thick. “You saw that.”
“Yes.”
“And you still think yourself a monster,” you whispered.
He hesitated. “Do you not?”
You stepped closer until there was barely a breath between you, your hand still cradled in his. You had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes fully.
“If I say no,” you asked, “will you believe me?”
“I… do not know.” His voice cracked on the words.
“Then I shall tell you as many times as necessary until you do.” Your lips curved into a small, earnest smile. “You are not a monster to me, Adam. You are the reason I have slept safely these many months. You are the reason my dog still runs through these woods without fear. You are the reason I am standing here today, whole and unharmed.”
He swallowed hard. “Any man might have done as much.”
“But no man did.” You lifted your free hand to his chest, pressing your palm lightly over where his heart would be—if it beat. “You did.”
His breath hitched. For a moment, he seemed to forget how limbs functioned, standing utterly still as though one wrong move might shatter the moment into fragments.
“You should not touch me so,” he said weakly.
“And yet,” you murmured, “you do not step away.”
He closed his eyes, jaw clenched. “Because I am selfish. Because I have spent a season watching you from afar and I am not yet strong enough to deny myself this one brief… kindness.”
“Adam,” you said softly. “Look at me.”
He obeyed. Slowly, hesitantly, but he obeyed.
“There is nothing ‘brief’ about what I intend,” you told him. “You have guarded my cottage as though it were a kingdom. Will you not allow me, at the very least, to guard your heart in return?”
His lips parted, but no sound came. You could see the war waging behind his eyes—fear and longing and disbelief all tangled together.
“You… would keep company with me?” he managed at last. “Knowing what I am?”
“Knowing who you are,” you corrected. “A man named Adam who walks the tree line at night so that I may sleep. A man who refuses to let wolves cross my field. A man who looks at my foolish old dog as though he were some creature made of glass.” Your fingers curled briefly against his chest. “If that is monstrosity, I shall gladly consort with monsters.”
Another laugh—clearer this time—escaped him. It transformed his face, smoothing some of the harsh lines, revealing the man beneath the scars.
“You are very stubborn,” he said.
“So I have been told.”
“And you would not… flee, if I came nearer? If I…” He faltered, gaze flickering to your joined hands. “If I visited your cottage when the sun has set?”
“I should be most put out if you did not,” you said lightly. “I have an extra chair by the hearth and no one to fill it. My dog prefers company. As, I suspect, do I.”
He stared at you as though trying to determine whether this were some cruel trick of the mind. At last, cautiously, he lifted his other hand to hover near your cheek, stopping inches away.
“May I?” he asked, echoing your earlier words.
You leaned into the space between, closing the distance yourself. His fingers brushed your skin—calloused, uncertain, trembling. He cupped your cheek as though cradling something far more fragile than you felt.
“You are warm,” he whispered, wonder in his tone.
“And you are real,” you replied.
His thumb swept once, reverently, along your cheekbone. “If I frighten you,” he said softly, “you must tell me at once. I will go, and I shall not trouble you again, though it break what passes for my heart.”
“I do not believe you capable of breaking my heart,” you said. “Guarding it, perhaps. As you have guarded everything else.”
His eyes shone, sudden moisture gathering there. He blinked it away quickly, as though ashamed.
“I do not understand why you would offer such mercy to me,” he murmured.
“Perhaps,” you said gently, “it is not mercy. Perhaps it is simply… affection.”
The word seemed to strike him with more force than any blow.
“Affection,” he repeated, voice barely audible. “For me.”
“For you,” you affirmed. “For Adam, who walks the forest so that I might live another day to bake too much bread and scold my dog and sew shirts far too large.” Your smile softened. “Stay with me, and I shall show you there is more for you than shadows and solitude.”
He drew in a long, shaky breath. When he exhaled, something in his posture eased—the line of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. As though a burden he had carried alone for far too long had shifted, just slightly, into your waiting hands.
“Very well,” he said at last, voice low but resolute. “I shall try.”
Your heart lifted, light as the first spring breeze.
“Good,” you replied. “Then you shall walk me home, Adam. And after that, if you wish, you may sit by my fire and tell me all the things you have seen from the edge of the wood.”
He glanced once toward the deeper forest, then back to you—the woman who had left bread and stitched shirts and dared to speak kindly to the creature everyone else feared.
“As you wish,” he said quietly.
And when you turned toward the path, his heavy footsteps fell in beside yours—not behind, no longer hiding in the trees, but at your side. Where, you suspected, he had always longed to be.
Last year, your father sponsored a science project you didn't agree with the concept of. Yet, you must visit that place with him because you were sympathetic to the Creature. One day, the project was over, and the Creator intended to burn his own work to cover mistakes. It was the Creature's luck that he could survive and find your manor. And it was your luck to meet someone whom you could be yourself with. Today, after months of residing in your place and learning how to be human, the Creature asked you for kisses and love.
ONE MORE LEAF FOR ONE MORE KISS
Sweet! The Creature (Adam) x Naughty! Fem! Reader (2.6k words) — It should be fluff, but I really can't help myself, so it becomes smut. You'll give him kisses, and your mouth will be full (blowjob). I hope you enjoy reading this short story!
“I saw a man… giving a flower… to a woman…” the Creature, Adam, said, smiling to himself.
He was sitting on his favorite rug, lap covered with the comfortable blanket you had used when you were younger, hands holding dry leaves he collected from the tree in front of your cottage.
This place, your cottage, was the small space after your family’s manor, locating close to the pine forest, where you secretly let Adam reside. No one but you and your sweet creature cared about your cottage, since you claimed that this place had only books and stuff for your hobby, which your family didn’t want to know about it, or you would keep talking about this and they would walk away. You weren’t a young woman who needed to marry for wealth or dignity, at least not yet, so you lived freely than other young women you knew.
“She held a flower in her hands, then she kissed him.”
But what Adam just said wasn’t the thing you expected to hear.
“He seemed happy. She seemed happier.”
You paused for a brief moment, before replying: “Kissing a person you love will always make you happy.”
You didn’t look straight at Adam’s seamed face, only staring at flames in the fireplace. As your heart was throbbing, your body was tense on the armchair next to his cozy spot, especially when he leaned his side close to your legs covered with the exquisite skirt.
It wasn’t the first time he was close like this, but you both had never done anything that needed to be closer.
“Love…” He whispered that word to himself, but you heard his voice, full of curiosity and pureness.
You taught him to repeat your words, you taught him to speak with confidence and read with attention, and you taught him to study human behavior to help him understand how to use words.
It had been a long while since the day his creator tried to eliminate him, and to be with you, for almost three seasons, were the most meaningful thing Adam had ever experienced.
“Love… It’s like fairy tales you had read,” you added, tone sultry. One darkest thought you had never revealed to him was: your heart attached to him.
You didn’t admit to yourself that it was love, although recently, you found no way to lie to yourself. You thought he was looking for a companion, you as well, which you secretly imagined the thin line for you to not cross, the thin wall for you to not break.
But another part of you shouted too loud inside your mind: you loved him. You longed to be with him. Your feelings were too intense to sit calmly like you tried to do at the moment.
“I still remembered that tale,” Adam said, looking up at you. In your sight, he was so beautiful, like a broken yet still delicate statue, like a charming stag in the wild forest.
Like a man you would make love until you forgot the time.
You still remembered the day you instructed him how to wash his hair and clean his body. You still remembered when his large hands grasped your hips when you tried to dry his dark hair with a cloth. You still remembered that he wore nothing while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, although you told him to cover his lower body when he was around a gentlewoman… You still remembered that your eyes dropped when he was exposed again and again, although you tried to cover him again and again.
The Creature had a thing like a normal man had, probably having more than a normal man. His figure was incomparable, tall and lean. You liked those seams, since it made your thighs wet for some reason… You didn’t know why. Or, because he was so fragile?
He had what you needed the most from the man you would devote yourself to him: seams on the broad chest and the big cock.
Oh, no. You were blushing. Your breath was ragged, and the curious creature just looked at you with a question. Why did you keep sitting like this? Frozen and nervous.
“Are you all right?” he asked, one of his large hands touching the back of yours. You looked at entwined fingers, warm and cold on two fleshes. How could it feel if you took him deeper—?
“I’m fine,” you said, suddenly pulling your hand from his grasp, although doing that quickly might make him feel vulnerable. You told him to not be frightened by your sudden thoughtless expression, but you had never told yourself to be gentle. “I—I should go home—The sun is going down—”
“I looked around the forest, but I can’t find a flower.” Adam said, his gaze like a sweet plea from a sweet boy. “I… I can find only these leaves.”
Before getting up, Adam placed one dry leaf on your lap to make you sit on the same chair. Your eyes widened with surprise, because his hand was still on your knees.
You stuttered:
“A leaf? For me?”
He nodded, and if your eyes didn’t lie, you thought the pale skin on his cheeks had a tint of red, as if a shy boy confessed something to a girl he adored.
Then, you recalled what he just talked about.
‘I saw a man… giving a flower… to a woman…’
‘She held a flower in her hands, then she kissed him.’
You gently held a leaf, and Adam averted. He looked at his own lap where other beautiful golden leaves were. You began to understand what he tried to talk to you.
“You gave me your leaf for a kiss?”
You swore to yourself that you noticed how shy and sweet Adam was. In many fairy tales you let him read, all men got kisses from women they loved. And he saw a man in the real life got a kiss from a woman…
“You… love me?” you asked, your voice laced with hesitation. But your heart fluttered as if you would get a thing you had waited for a long time.
His love.
Adam took a deep breath and looked up at you again, as if he was begging for something.
“I love you,” he whispered, your name on his tongue such a gentle thing you had ever heard. “I love you… and… and I want to kiss you.”
You froze, fingers almost tearing a leaf you just got.
“You want to kiss me?” you asked, the air around you warmer.
“I want to kiss you,” he repeated his own answer, smiling shyly.
Forgetting all thoughts you had, holding a leaf in hands, you leaned close to him and pressed your warm lips against his cold ones. He was surprised by your sudden move, so were you. He froze, but you knew that it was his first time, so you weren’t bothered at all.
Then, you pulled back, your eyes looking at his face. He murmured your name, as if he was praying to the God he believed.
“You kissed me,” he said, smiling with contentment. You loved this picture, since it was you who pushed him out of innocence. “Your lips are so soft.”
“Thank you,” you replied, a hand with a leaf on your lap like it was, another hand cupping his seamed cheek, thumb stroking his bottom lip. “When you kissed a woman you loved, you should shut your eyes.”
Adam chuckled, fingers fidgeting at leaves—Right, he had more leaves in his hands. And he got an idea.
“If I give you more leaves, will you kiss me more?”
That question, from the most purest heart, broke your sanity. You wanted nothing but him for so long—too long it hurt—but today, right here and right now, he asked for more kisses.
You smiled at the idea, before saying:
“One more leaf for one more kiss.”
Oh, but how could you cage your intrusive thoughts when the perfect opportunity was here?
“But if you give me all leaves, I’ll not kiss you only on your lips.”
“My cheeks, too?”
“Your cheeks, too,” you chuckled, before shifting yourself to the floor. Since he was taller than you, you were smaller than him at this moment. “But when you love someone so much, you won’t kiss another person only on lips or cheeks.”
“You love me?” he asked, his voice soft, like the time you asked him the same question.
“I love you,” you reassured, biting your bottom lip as your gaze observed his rugged form. He wore proper attire, staying comfortable and adorable, but this picture wasn’t less tempting at all. He made you want him more… That gentle kiss wasn’t the thing you desired.
Your twisted thoughts urged you to teach him a new lesson—a sensual one you had only read from famous erotica you got from markets.
“Your leaves,” he said, smiling as if he saw an angel before him, offering you precious gifts you knew you would keep forever.
And you did… You exactly did what you thought.
Without a word, you grabbed leaves from his hands and placed them with caution on the table nearby. You shifted close to him and pushed the comfortable blanket aside when you straddled his lap. Your skirt wasn’t an obstacle but luring you to press your hips against his lap. Your hands held his cheeks, your mouth kissing him once again.
You had waited to kiss him. You had longed to kiss him. And you now did. Your tongue trailed the line of his lips, urging him to gasp and open his mouth for you. As tongues touched, you felt his large hands grabbed your waist.
Instinctively, Adam was a quick learner. He shut his eyes and absorbed the love he was supposed to receive, as if to collect all of feelings deeply in his sacred mind. His tongue followed your lead, tasting your warmth and sweetness with admiration. His hand touched your back, like the way he held a leaf with tenderness. You heard him groan, soft and vulnerable, and you liked that noise so much.
You poured kisses on his cheek, your tongue trailing the seam without any second thought. So arousing… You were enjoying the broken part of his, and he were willingly giving it to you.
“Move to that chair,” you commanded, your voice thick with craving, as your throbbing core clenched nothing. But no, you shouldn’t push him too far, especially when he just discovered that giving love, like a flower, should receive love, like a kiss.
Right now, he must learn what true pleasure felt like, and he should understand what his tempting body needed the most by himself.
Adam did exactly what you said; he sat on the armchair you just got up, yet he froze when your hands caressed his broad chest, tracing down to his stomach. He had never known how intense this feeling was… It was exciting. It was warmer than he had felt, melting coldness inside his body completely.
“Relax, my dear,” you cooed, hands undressing his clothes. “I’ll take care of you.”
Adam leaned against the backrest, trying to relax like what you said. He looked down at you, sitting on the floor, staying between his thighs, taking off his pants so eagerly. He didn’t know if he was desirable or attractive enough to make you do this… He saw charming men kissing charming women, and what was he doing now?
You looked beautiful for him, delicate and fragile. And he wouldn’t judge you from what you were doing, the sweetest mouth kissing his bare chest, the eager tongue lapping his nipples, one of soft hands holding his length, one of gentle thumbs tracing his cold skin.
You would always be the pure soul for him, and he doubted that he could belong to you or not.
“Should I go and collect more leaves…?” he asked, his hand touching the back of your head as your mouth found his groin. “I don’t know if I… if I deserve you.”
“I don’t kiss you because of your gifts,” you said, your lips touching his ball, your hand stroking his shaft gently. “You deserve me, Adam. I love you… I know I love you since the day I met you. And you love me. That’s sufficient for us to be here, to make love.”
Adam hummed as your tongue trailed over his length, from the base to the top.
“Make love…”
“It’s what I’m doing right now, Adam. It’s not just a kiss anymore.”
He was tense, like the day you dried his hair and saw how thick his cock was. He didn’t know why he was drawn to this feeling, but his instinct told him that it would be fine, as long as he was with you.
His eyes were hazy with desire, almost shut, but he wanted to look at you, wanted to watch you, wanted to observe the way your tongue swirled around his tip. Whenever you glanced up at him, he felt nothing but heated. He began to love it. And when your mouth sucked him… his hand tangling with your hair was the only anchor he could grasp.
Adam whispered your name, his voice gravelly and sensual. That made your thighs slicker, but you knew you should be patient with him. Your warm mouth provided him the new passion he might not know that he needed, your hand still stroking him—making him harder. His skin wasn’t cold like he used to, right now he was as if a mere human, and it all was because of this new lesson.
His instinct told him to buck his hips up, seeking the friction around your lips and in your mouth. You almost choked, but that was fine.
His breath quickened, his chest moving. And you knew what it would happen. You had doubted if his body would work like a human, but spending time with him for months only told you that he was the real human. He knew. He felt. You witnessed it all. His taste was like berries he enjoyed eating, sweet—bitter, intoxicating.
You moaned against his cock, gulping but trying to send pleasure to him. You felt his fist around your hair tighter, his movements against your mouth rougher, and your breath almost faded away. You tight heat clenched nothing, spilling wetness… And when he shuddered, groaning so deeply, filling your mouth with his seed, you knew what you wanted to do in your lonely life.
You wanted to make love to him, deep and senseless. You wanted to become a vice and fuck him until he came inside you, but you should let this beautiful creature learn this new thing.
“If I want you to do this again, what—what should I do?” he asked breathlessly after spilling his release in your mouth.
You pulled back, letting his cock slip from your mouth. You swallowed that taste and said: “Just ask me when you need me.”
His hand shifted from your hair to your face, thumb stroking the drop of his own seed on the corner of your lips. He didn’t know that he could do such a thing, but seeing you smile and blush made his heart throb with affection.
You kissed his thumb, teasing him by lapping his skin. “Or, say you love me.”
“I love you…” Adam said immediately, spent yet eager to lean forward. His mouth captured your lips and tasted himself through this slobbery kiss. Your hands grasped his shoulders, letting him pull you up to the armchair and straddling his lap.
“So… you need me?”
“I always need you,” he whispered against the kiss, begging for your attention.
“Actually, there is more than my mouth you could feel,” you suggested, hands cupping his seamed cheeks. “Would you love to try?”
He nodded, smiling.
“Please…”
Thank you for reading my fic! This film consumes my soul in the best way. I can write 2.6k words in 24 hrs again after a long, long time, and I'm so happy to do it. And it's a bit dirty 👀 I hope it's not that strange since it's the first English smut I let people see. If you love it, you may tell me, scream at me, or suggest some new plots in my humble ask 💗 Have a nice day, the Creature's girlfriends!
Edit: And the new part is here 🫣 This time, Adam truly made love to you! Xx
Edit 2: And if you like something fluffy, check my new story here!
Having a place to reside, learning about the world, getting love from you, the Creature thought this life was beautiful, and he enjoyed every simple day more than anyone you knew. One day, when thunder struck and the nightmare tormented, the Creature woke up and cried. He ran to your manor, climbing up to your balcony. You, already awake and worried about him, saw him. You needed to comfort this frightened creature in both gentle and heated ways he asked for.
This is the next part of this one. You don't need to read it first, but you may read for appetite.
YOU ARE MY ONE AND ONLY
Sweet! The Creature (Adam) x Protective! Fem! Reader (3.6k words) — It's fluff in the night and smut in the morning. He likes kissing after tasting (eating out) and making love to you (he's so vanilla). I hope you enjoy reading this short story!
Although the Creature, Adam, had told you that he wasn’t frightened by rainstorms and lightning, you couldn’t help but worry about what he was doing right now in your cottage, the only sanctuary of his. Could the blanket warm and comfort him? Could he sleep when the heavy wind blew the wooden door in the night?
Many thoughts disturbed you, causing you to stare at the ceiling and grip your own blanket. Adam was a quick learner, and the most important thing: he was polite, so he wouldn’t be a problem if you let him stay with you in this large mansion… But it was you who was scared of someone seeing him or repulsing him.
It was true that you and your father resided in different wings of the building, and he didn’t care that much if you brought anyone from evening parties to drink tea and listen to gossip. But some prying eyes of housekeepers, including some nosy attitude of your cousins when they visited your estate, were things you were frightened by. So, you only kept Adam in your place, the cottage near the pine forest, where you could look from the wide window of your room on the second floor and make sure that he was safe from the entire world…
Yes, you should get up and peer at his place, as though the rain would blur your vision.
When your feet touched the floor, you heard the faint knock on your window. You knew it wasn’t just a random noise.
Heading to velvet curtains, pushing them open to see the cause outside, the candlelight in your room led you to meet Adam’s rugged form. He was tall and strong, yet you knew one of his dislikes: coldness. He was shivering, and his eyes widened, pleading you to open the window and usher him into your world.
“Adam,” you greeted, welcoming him to the warm room of yours.
He stood still, having no courage to move if you didn’t order, because he knew well that he was supposed to look at your place from afar or causing a problem to you.
“You’ll get a cold—Could you get a cold?”
“I don’t know…” Adam had something unusual tonight. He looked sad, like the first day he found your manor.
Before the real conversation began, you guided him to the fireplace and helped him take off his soaked cloak. You had tried to search for the biggest size of cloaks for him, asking many merchants in the town to bring you cloaks with good quality, and that was why he loved them so much. For this one, he wore it until some spots of the hem were frayed.
Adam didn’t dare to move, only watching you try to hang the cloak on the back of the chair.
“Take them off. I’ll find the new one for you,” you said, heading to the room nearby, where all clothes of yours were. You weren’t sure if you needed to ask one of your housekeepers—but you shouldn’t ask them, for Adam’s sake.
Meanwhile, Adam knew well that his soaked clothes would ruin the beautiful floor of your room if he didn’t get rid of his clothes quicker, so he didn’t deny what you suggested.
When you came back from finding some clothes for him to dry his skin and cover his body, you gasped as you saw everything… You had seen him naked before. You had tasted him before. But you were always impressed by his presence.
You cleared your throat and focused on treating him right. He was as if the big doll you could take care of and guide around the room; it wasn’t innocence but trust. You became his world, and you knew it well.
After drying his body and wrapping him around the cloth, you led him sit on the edge of your bed and continued drying his dark hair. Your touch was always gentle for him, full of kindness and warmth.
Adam felt more comfortable, so he began to explain his visit in the night.
“I saw you… In my dream.”
You smiled, still standing close to the edge of the bed. “What was I doing in your dream?” you asked, continuing to dry his hair.
“That night, you sat in front of me, in the place I was chained.”
Your hand movements halted, eyes shifting to meet his wide and pleading sight. One of his large hands grasped your skirt, his thumb tracing the soft fabric carefully.
“You snuck out of the guest room, and you visited me. You told me the thing I played with was a leaf… I had no hair that time.”
You remembered that you cried because of that picture. He thought a leaf floating through the waterway was enjoyable. He just smiled… and you cried. He couldn’t know what the real enjoyment was because of that bastard who happened to create Adam. Careless. Abandoning.
That night, you taught Adam how to say what he was playing with, leaves—dry leaves in the depressing damp cave. Those dry leaves and the chain were his first toys. But he couldn’t say it that time. His soul was pure, and things were new for him.
He continued: “You were so beautiful and truly kind. You were trying to tell me how to pronounce your name. I touched your neck, and I felt your warm skin against my hand.”
“Oh, Adam.”
“You’re still beautiful,” he whispered your name, long limbs embracing your hips, face leaning against your chest. He clung to you, as if he was afraid of letting you slip away. “So beautiful…”
“You’re beautiful for me, too, sweetheart,” you said, guiding one of his hands to your lips and kissing his fingers softly.
He pulled back and looked at you, sight full of affection. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t say your name when you were there.”
“That’s fine. You say my name everyday now—”
Then, he shut his eyes, tears dropping. His breath was ragged, and this picture crushed your soul immediately.
“Adam?” You stopped drying his hair, two hands cupping his cheeks.
“Then I… I saw him,” he sobbed, tone laced with agony. “I saw Victor.”
Victor. You swore to yourself that you wished that man suffered more than anything, more than Adam. This beautiful creature, Victor’s creation, was tormented since the first day the creature opened eyes.
Even though Adam was far from that man, escaping the death and embracing the life, he sometimes had nightmares about Victor, including some lives who owned some organs that were embodied into Adam.
“I… I saw him. He wasn’t gentle to me like you were. He chained me… He snapped me.”
Adam held your hand, opening his eyes and meeting your gaze.
“He lashed me… And he burned me.”
“Adam, I—I’m sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to your chest again. You hoped you could shield him from all the pain, but somehow it all cut deeply in his mind.
“He hated what he created… Am I a mistake?”
“You’re not a mistake,” you whispered against his hair, kissing his forehead gently. “You’re the most rightful—beautiful creature I’ve ever met, Adam. It was that man who has never treated you well.”
“Really?”
“Really,” you reassured, hand patting his back. “You’re the only victim of his trauma, which it’s not your responsibility to be mistreated. You were born to be yourself. You’re not what he created anymore.”
You pulled back and cupped his cheeks, smiling as if you were his one and only angel in his life.
“You’re the creator of your own life.”
The rainstorm stopped, and the morning came. The window with open curtains let the light shine on your face. You, still sleepy, hummed and turned your back toward the window, snuggling in Adam’s embrace.
He was with you for the entire night, and it was the best night of yours. You both slept with comfort, under the same blanket, entwined with each other, sharing warmth and coldness. You liked a bit of coldness, and you had told Adam about it countless times, since he was always worried about you.
You weren’t sure if he had any nightmares about his creator again or not, but you woke up few times and saw him sleeping peacefully, which you assumed he didn’t have unsatisfied dreams.
The picture of Adam sleeping was too lovely to let anyone see. Not because someone might think it was strange to be in love with the beautiful creature, but you would be jealous of him. You didn’t want anyone to find out how sweet and gentle he was and be in love with him like the way you did—They could be friends with him, of course! But no, you didn’t want anyone to think about being in his arms for the entire night like you were experiencing. No way. He was yours only.
And your heart melted… You felt his lips pressing against your head, giving a soft kiss like the way he usually did. He loved when you patted his head and when he kissed your head.
“Adam,” you murmured, tone still laced with drowsiness.
He greeted you with your name, soft rumbly voice soothing your soul like a balm.
You pulled back, smiling and saying: “I want you to be with me every night.”
Adam smiled back and kissed your nose.
“I want, too,” he replied, his mismatched eyes gleaming with the first light of the day. “But I don’t want you to have a problem.”
“I guess I’m a problem, abandoning you for my own sake,” you added, blaming yourself. “I should take care of you. I should give you every good thing.”
He whispered your name, holding your hand and kissing your fingers. It was one of you both’s love gestures, cherishing each other with the smallest touch. “You don’t need to give me anything. Just… still love me. That’s all I want in my life.”
“I love you, always,” you reassured, shifting close to him. “And I’m greedy. I want you for myself only, so my bad thought said: I should hide you in that cottage.”
He chuckled, because what you said, what you did, and what you thought weren’t the same thing. You let him explore around the town, making friends with nature and animals. Also, you let him have conversations with children and blind elders, which they both were kind to him.
“If you weren’t alone,” you still talked about the incident last night, “to be fair, you might not dream of—”
“If I had nightmares, I would come here.”
“But there might be thunderstorms, or snowstorms, and you’d be cold.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to bother you and this mansion.”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you added, kissing his stitched cheek gently. “I want you to be here, with me, all the time. I’ll make sure no one will come to my wing and interrupt us.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You are not a burden. You are my lover.”
Adam sighed with contentment and pulled you closer, his long limbs holding you against his chest. He adored you when you said many things so lovable, filled with affection and kindness, always making sure he didn’t feel lonely or repulsed. You were sentimental, and he promised to himself that he would be good to you, as long as you still wanted him.
As you pulled back to look at his beautiful eyes, he said:
“You are my one and only.”
Full of love… Full of hope. You could notice it all from his gentle tone and soft pleading eyes. You smiled, admiring his sweetness.
Then, your quick learner thought about something.
“I want to… to make love,” Adam stuttered, his tone shy yet sultry. You widened your eyes and chuckled. However, you had told him to ask whenever he wanted intimacy, having no requirement to give you wild flowers or leaves first, and today he finally asked. Such a lovely morning of yours.
“Make love, you said?”
“Yes,” he replied, smiling sheepishly. He pulled back and shifted to stay above you. Because of soaked clothing last night, he had only one cloth wrapped around his waist and the blanket covering two of you.
Large hands carefully pushed the bottom of your nightgown up, your bare thighs exposed and soft against his skin. He bit his lip as he looked at you, staying comfortably beneath his rugged form.
You brushed his dark hair, thumbs stroking his cheeks, while you opened your thighs for him to position between. He stayed into your touch, before leaning forward and gave you a gentle kiss.
He gasped, your name slipping out of his mouth, as your tongue traced the line of his lips.
“Taste me,” you urged, core bucking up to meet his bulge. He knew how to do this, tasting you, making you satisfied, since the day you both confessed love and began to explore each other sensually.
Adam obeyed, kissing your lips once more, then showed you how good he was at tasting. You shivered when he marked your collarbone with cold kisses, one hand worshipping one of your breasts through the sheer fabric. He moved down, until his face was close to your stomach and groin. He sighed softly when your hands tangled with his hair, making him comfortable even more.
He grasped your hips, one hand touching your folds and drawing your gasp. You glanced down and saw him smirk—right, he smirked. His finger stroked your slit, from your entrance to your little nub. Your slick spilled on his skin, which he loved it—heated, tantalizing—so much.
“Adam…” Your core shuddered as his fingers gently spread your folds, his tongue lapping on your wetness. He had done it, but that time was more fumbling than—
You gasped again, hand gripped his hair tighter. The faint, obscene noise came from his mouth. He twirled his tongue around your clit, teasing you, cherishing you, then sucked your skin. You pressed your pussy against his lips, searching for the passionate friction. His tongue was still working on you, stroking your sweetness, finding the way to your tight little entrance.
Your cunt was oozing, but the man’s hunger dried you eagerly. His fingers kneaded your throbbing cunt, urging more wetness, urging more moans from you. Then, he thrust one of his long fingers inside you.
He whispered your name against your soaked pussy, his breath ragged and warmer. You loved it when you could make him warm—it wasn’t a burden but longing. And he loved it when he found warmth and heat in you.
“Good boy,” you whimpered, praising him and that—Right, he loved when you praised him. His mouth felt dry, and he needed to please you quicker, lapping and sucking deeper. Your entrance clenched his finger, making him want the body of his protective sweetheart even more.
He let another finger slip into your core, then moved them slowly—deliberately. You couldn’t help but writhe beneath his ministrations, your walls clenching his fingers tighter. You felt your entire body aching from pleasure, yearning for release.
He wanted to draw more of your gasp and a little whimper from your soft lips, and he wanted to taste your cum on his tongue. Sweet slick which he loved… He knew he would receive it all when you shuddered.
“A—Adam.”
And you gave him what he wanted.
“I—I—” You panted, his tongue swirling around your clit, his fingers moving against your entrance eagerly. He was a quick learner, but his movements were quicker. Losing your own restraint, you reached the pleasure only him could provide, spilling a little drop of your wetness on his mouth, like what he desired.
He hummed with satisfaction, pulling back and looking down at you. Such a spent, wrecked gentlewoman. Your thighs were still open but weak, while your core clenched nothing but the air of yearning. His fingers were smeared with your wetness, and he tasted it before your eyes. He lapped his skin as if he couldn’t let your taste fade away.
Then, Adam took off only one cloth around his waist and pushed the warm blanket to be away from you both. His cock, thick and hard, under the first light of the day, made you shiver without being touched. So big… So thick. You saw all seams and veins, which made your hand reach out to his stomach and grasp his length.
“Make love to me,” you begged, your hand slowly pumping him. He was so hard in your palm—hard and tempting.
Your favorite good boy obeyed, leaned closer to you. His lips pressed against yours, sharing the deep kiss with your own taste on his tongue. So good—he knew how to use his tongue. Your kiss wasn’t genuinely innocent but filled with pure lust and obscenity, like the way you both liked.
You guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, stroking your throbbing clit with his skin. And he knew—he knew how to push himself inside you, stealing your gasp during the kiss. He was inside you, slowly and gently. He didn’t want to hurt you but provided satisfaction…
Adam leaned his forehead against you, then moved his hips tentatively. His breath was ragged as he tried to be cautious about making love to you. But how could he resist this sensual touch? You were so small, tight, wrapped around his hardness so well.
“Adam, my sweetheart…” Your moans were ragged as he thrust deeper, then—His movements became urgent. He made it deep, he made it right, and he made it for you. His cock thrust inside your cunt, groaning whenever you whimpered so sweetly.
His hand caressed your cheek, before resting on your neck, while his lips kissed your temple, proving you that his love for you was genuine. But he was starving. He craved your flushed face and gasp when you came undone.
“Good boy—Ah—”
Just praise him. Just tell him how good he is.
Two hearts almost jumped out of their chests as Adam quickened his pace against your tight little entrance. He moaned along yours. He chased after the pleasure at the same moment as you. He wanted you to release it first… He wanted to feel your slick which was so heated around his hard cock.
“I love you—I love you, A—Adam—”
Your core bucked up to meet his deep thrust, then shuddered as you released your own pleasure. Your walls clenched him so hard, making yourself sore, but it was all you loved about. Your arms were weak, hands fumbling around the bedsheet and pillows.
He called your name, following you with intensity. His gravelly, monstrous groan was close to one of your cheeks, before he himself muffled it with a bruised kiss.
Adam’s control made your body oversensitive even more. Your cunt was shuddering, waiting for him to come inside you. Your cunt was aching to feel his seed deep inside you. Your cunt was sore, and—
With the last urgent thrust, your creature spilled his cum. He released it, giving it to you, and that was so warm. He felt so alive, so warm, as he gave it all to you. Only you could have his pleasure. Only you could have everything he had.
“I love you…” Adam whispered, then kissed your lips once again. With both of your releases, his hard cock still filled you, closing the gap between you. “If I could be here, with you every night, I might think about do this every morning.”
“Really?” You said breathlessly, arms wrapping around his shoulders. This morning, he was so warm against your chest… Not only his coldness you loved.
“Really, and I might cause some problems.”
“Like, making me pregnant?”
“No,” Adam replied, kissing your cheek with adoration. “Before something like that happened, your people might find me doing this to you.”
“They’d be envious. Their husbands’ cocks aren’t that big.”
Adam laughed at your joke, pulling back to look at you again. The morning light made you look like hope before his eyes, and he wondered how lucky he himself was.
“If you were sure no one would disturb your peace because of my presence, I’d be here,” he finally accepted your invitation, kissing your forehead gently. “But the cottage will still be my place… It’s the first gift you give me.”
“Of course,” you replied, smiling warmly. “And if I were foolish, you could go back to your cottage.”
“Oh, I surely will,” he joked, and that made you laugh. You loved when he wanted to joke about everything… It was simple but sentimental to you. “But I can deal with your foolishness, like the way you can deal with mine.”
It was… really sentimental.
You embraced him once more, promising to him and yourself that you wouldn’t be foolish. You didn’t want to make him disappointed. You didn’t want him to suffer from anything, including you.
How could you lose this pure soul? How could you let him have a nightmare again?
No, you could not, and you would not.
Thank you for reading my fic! This film made me post two smut in the same week, which I'm surprised to see myself doing this 💗 Would you love to see Adam being vanilla more, or being hotter?? 👀 Have a nice day, the Creature's girlfriends! Xx
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