Caution ⚠️: the works on this page are rated as HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE for the viewing of minors. Please do NOT interact if you are under the age of 18(!!)
!! this is a side blog for me to share my love of smut for monsters and curate a space for my micro interests.
༝ imagines are given tags and warnings — pls read them
༝ i only write for fem!reader (yes it’s annoying, but i can only write from my experience with what i have)
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summary: After having wet dreams of a peculiar alien entity in the form of a clown, you wander into the sewers and Pennywise fucks the daylights out of you. That's literally it. There's no plot here, none to be found.
word count: 1.9 K
w a r n i n g s: shameless, plotless SMUT, female reader, mentions of dead children, it pronouns for Pennywise/It, clussy mention baybeeee, no use of y/n, monster fucking, teratophilia, p in v (although it's a prehensile tentacle cock sooooo), tentacle fucking, come eating, brief mentions of wet dreams.
a/n: uhhhhh listen, this is my first pennywise fic despite being a registered clown fucker since 2017 (technically longer, but shhh). i'm not even going to explain myself here. you're either here for it and get it, or you don't. there's no mention of time periods so this can take place whenever you'd like. also ignore my abrupt ending i'm sick and can't be bothered. banners by @/veejiez @/dollywons and @/adornedwithlight!!
↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
Wind rustles through the leaves. A bird titters somewhere behind you.
The heady, buttery smell of popcorn drifts towards you.
Strange.
Very strange considering it's coming from the gaping, circular mouth of a sewer.
At first, it had started with dreams of floating. Dreams where every other thought dissipated and was replaced with the undulating, throbbing sensation of it. Then, those dreams turned… peculiar. A clown. Bells jingling. Distant, melodic calliope music that grew dissonant the longer you listened. Children singing a nursery rhyme that didn't make sense.
The really unsettling thing was that every time you woke up, you were soaked. You'd rub your legs together for relief, determined to restrain yourself from sliding your fingers between your cunt. But god, you wanted to.
So many Derry children had gone missing. Others made claims of a clown in a sewer. Surely, not your clown.
They were always playing near them — the sewers.
Probably the same sewers where you now stand, in a knee-length dress that flutters with the soft breeze. You take a deep breath of the familiar scent and take one step into the tunnel. Wet pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you step further inside. Amidst the popcorn, there's a distinct damp odor. It's colder without the sunlight.
Afraid of getting lost, you continue straight, avoiding any of the turns and glancing behind you every so often at the bright opening from whence you came.
The tunnel opens up into an expansive area. In the middle of it, a pile of… toys? Junk? Forgotten belongings that wash away into the sewers during the many rains — you pick out bicycle wheels and teddy bears with your eyes. It's impossibly tall, looming up above you.
This must be another dream.
And if it is…
Your footsteps echo as you curve around the mountain of discarded belongings. Something out of place.
A circus wagon with its side panel door open. From the prickling darkness, a tall, slender figure emerges. It smiles, revealing two buck teeth amidst other normal teeth. His eyes are bright blue, but seem to glow in the dim, blue lighting of the sewer. So, the children hadn't been lying. This wasn't some unfounded urban legend.
"Oh my god," you breathe. "It is you."
The thudding of boots thunders across the wooden floor of the caravan, echoing against the walls of the sewer as the clown takes a running leap, effortlessly landing a few inches from you. You lift your head, gazing into the abruptly warm, amber eyes that gaze back. Red lips part, revealing now sharp teeth, more teeth than any human should have. You blink, swallow. Tighten your fingers into a fist.
In any other situation, maybe you'd scream. Run away. But you don't. The clown sees this. After a few seconds, his mouth closes around the pointed, layered teeth. He shivers, and a jingling rings in your ears.
"Ouuh. Ooouh, you're not afraid… but…" The clown suddenly snuffles close to you, his red-tipped nose running along the length of your neck. "Something else."
Yes, you think. Something else.
You hinge slightly at the waist and gather the hem of your dress into your palm. You straighten, bringing the dress to your hip, and with your other hand, you reach into your cotton underwear and collect some of your warm, slick arousal on your fingertips.
You hold them out in front of you, like offering a feral dog some meat.
You can feel the clown bristle above you, elongating. Orange eyes flicker down to your fingers, to your legs. Back to your face. The expression on its face reads one thing — hungry. Big, long arms wrap around your torso, and you feel the jostling steps of the clown as it runs back towards the wagon, taking you with it. For a moment, it almost scares you, but as it always does in your feverish dreams, the arousal takes over when the creature in front of you presses your back against the wood panel of the wagon.
"What do you taste like…." Without warning, lithe, gloved fingers wrap around your wrist. Its crimson lips close around your fingers, the ones that are coated in your wetness. You can feel its mouth pulsing, tongue scrubbing at the pads to remove all traces. With a wet pop, it pulls your fingers from its mouth.
It smells you again. Every inch of you. Open-mouthed inhaling of the scents you give off while gloved hands trail behind its face. When it passes by your mouth, its hands on your neck, you catch its lips in a kiss.
The inside of the clown's mouth tastes unlike anything you've ever experienced. There's no remnants or hints of food, no personal notes, or anything normal. No, instead it's euphoric and dangerous and bright, like licking a battery. You dive back in for more, running your tongue along the other waiting muscle. A tongue that feels too long for its mouth. You moan into the cavern of the clown's throat, and a feral-sounding growl swallows yours.
Your groin presses up against Pennywise's. There's something there, but it's not what you're used to — not what you expected. Your hand drifts down between your bodies, almost apprehensively, to feel more. It takes a moment, digging underneath and between the silk confines of its costume, but eventually, you find it. What it is, you aren't sure. At first, it feels like you do, but larger, a longer slit that's wetter than you could ever get. The soft flesh is covered in a thick, viscous fluid that leaks from between the folds. Your finger trails along the slick edge curiously.
Then, without warning, something slimy and strong slithers from deep within, slithers out to meet your fingers. The tip of it curls around your finger like a serpent, writhing its way up the soft inner flesh of your palm, then your wrist. It's warm and has a strength that could pull your entire hand inside of it, if it wanted. You yank your hand away from between its legs, swallowing hard as you hear a retreating squelch. You don't dare look down.
"What… what are you?"
The once playful voice drops an octave, no longer high-pitched and melodic. The answer is serious and simple: "Everything."
The dull ache of fear presses a single sharp fingernail into your arousal. "No, what does that mean? What did I just touch?"
"Me," it insists plainly. "You want something else?" The question is eager, riddled with capability. You know what it means — a question of forms, of what it can do. It can take any form to frighten you, naturally. In this moment, however, it can take any form to fuck you, to please you.
You watch its eyes, glowing bright amber in the dim lighting, as they watch you. Finally, it speaks again. "You want to say yes… but you don't smell like you want something else... small human is hungry... curious…"
Your cunt aches. Beats hard. Whatever it is, it can smell your arousal as it leaks from you.
"I don't want to run… but even if I did, I can't run fast enough to get away from you."
The clown shakes its head quickly, excitedly.
"You want to play pretend?" you ask.
Another head shake. "Nnnooo… wasting time."
"Fine, then." You lower yourself to your knees, the grain of the old wood digging into the flesh. While maintaining eye contact with the creature, you lean back and drop your legs apart to reveal a pair of soaked underwear, your dress gathering at your waist. Its nostrils flare. The hungry gaze returns, and you notice a specific change in its stature. Pennywise mimics your previous position, on its knees, and shuffles close to you. Not close enough that your hips touch, however.
For a fleeting moment, you're confused.
Pennywise straightens up, almost proudly. From the slit, a glistening tendril slithers out with a wet sound, and you can't help but stare, watching intently as it grows, thickens. The tip of the deep red appendage snakes forward until it bumps into the cotton of your panties and glides upwards like a tongue, leaving a slick trail on the fabric. Then, suddenly, long fingers reach towards the fabric and rip it apart, tearing the shreds away from your legs before you have any time to protest. Not that you would, anyway.
As Pennywise towers over you, crawling its way up your body, the tentacle moves of its own free will, writhing and slithering between your legs. The slick sensation pulls a whimpering, pitiable moan from your lips, your eyes fluttering helplessly at the feeling. You throw your head back and flatten against the floor.
"Please," you beg.
"Pleaasse?" It echoes.
You nod, determined.
When it slips inside, driving its wriggly tendril forward, your jaw drops in a silent scream, pupils dilating. The feeling is all-consuming — it continues to penetrate your insides, writhing and stretching instinctively towards your deepest spots. Longer and thicker than any man you'd been with, it fills you in a way that leaves you breathless and sweating — scooting back to get away from it as the pressure intensifies.
Pennywise's arms are fast on your hips; however, it pulls you back sharply to its groin. The arms feel too long, too strong for its body, and sharp, black talons that have ripped forward from the tips of the white gloves dig into the soft flesh. It finds purchase, and tightens its grip. "Nooooo," It coos, almost mockingly. "You stay right here. You're not going anywheeeere!"
You mewl and clench your inner muscles hard. The creature above you snarls, and you feel the tendril twitch within you. It finds a rhythm with its thrusts. They're hard and meaningful, jolting your body backwards with each one. Internally, you can feel the tentacle as it moves, searches for your innermost spots, or curls back against the spongy flesh that makes you see stars.
Its thrusts are shallow, pulling you back and forth on the girthiest part of the tentacle while the rest of it curls and twitches inside you. You lift your head weakly, watching as it writhes. Above you, the clown is breathing heavily, snarling, and exhaling long breaths. Heavy-lidded, your eyes dart from between the two visuals repeatedly, fueling your release. It comes like a wave, crashing over you. Your toes curl, fingers tighten into fists. A single drop of sweat descends from your hairline, trailing down your neck.
"Fuck, oh my god…!" you cry.
With a sudden buck of its hips, the inhuman cock buries all the way inside you, pelvis pressed tightly against yours. You feel an alien, indescribable pulsing inside you, throbbing hard against your walls as it, too, orgasms. You feel full. And yet, the throbbing continues. The filling continues until it begins to leak out the sides with deep, wet squelches. Its release lasts longer than you think possible, and your body eventually goes limp in his grip, rocking helplessly back and forth with its erratic, slowing motions.
When the creature finally pulls itself away from you, drawing the tentacle back up into its body, a staggering amount of sticky, post-coital liquid seeps from between your legs — you can feel it dripping from your used cunt, which still throbs. It pools beneath you, slimy and warm.
"I can't believe you…"
You lift your head before continuing.
The clown is gone. Sucked back into the darkness from whence it came.
With a quivering breath, you find the torn scraps of your underwear and attempt to clean yourself up. The fabric absorbs little of the mess. You get to your knees first, then gingerly push yourself up onto your feet. Your legs are shaky and feel like they're made of rubber.
Priest!Creature is tempted and wants to redeem your soul
warnings: gentledom!Creature, fingering (f recieving), praise kink, dryhumping, x fem!reader (1.8k word count) ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
Priest!Creature is revered by his gentle nature and kind personality, always willing to help and guide anyone to the path of light. who spends his time giving back to the community, feeding the elderly, playing with the children. his fans, all women, flock and fawn over him. calling him “Father” and inviting him to social events and more intimate gatherings. he always turns them down wanting to maintain professional, friendly partnerships with the people of his church. You, the total opposite, reveling in the pleasures of the flesh and the world, he catches your attention as he stands awkwardly outside the brothel/bar in which you work.
Priest!Creature holds pamphlets in his hands as he greets and advertises prayer hours and Bible study. promising redemption and that it was “never too late to change”. the working girls in their short skirts and revealing tops giggle and offer him a taste of heaven—with a price of course, but he shyly turns them down.
Priest!Creature who offers you to sit with you, talk to you, pray for you before you cut him off and ask if he’s ever been with a woman. his face turns a shade of pink while he looks away and mumbles about how God has called for him to serve and how his priorities keep him fulfilled and blah blah blah.
Priest!Creature stays till the late hours off the night while the sound of music, drunken laughter, and loud conversations fill the night. he is surprised to see you alone, considering how men called out to you as you moved past to him. you offer him a glass of amber liquid, he turns you down and says he doesn’t drink, but you swear to him that it was water before you touched it. you get a small laugh out of him.
Priest!Creature who does his best not to watch the way your hips sway in your skirt as you plop down in the pew. pulling out a cigarette, you promise not to light it, as you ask him if you think your soul can be saved. he talks about what redemption means, tells the story of Jesus and his sacrifice, and then about verses he thinks are significant blah blah blah.
Priest!Creature who hold your hands as he bows his head in prayer. they are so big and so strong, you trace the veins and lines that disappear underneath his sleeves. you ask him if he touches all the lamb of his flock this way, "i offer a gentle nudge in the right direction, and whatever else is necessary-" his brown eyes mirror yours, still holding your hands, his thumbs rub gentle circles that send chills up your arms. were you getting nervous? in front of the pastor?
Priest!Creature who stammers when you tell him you’d like to make a confession. but only if you could make it in privacy. he offers the booth but it’s the intimate kind that you’re too fearful for anyone else attempting to hear. he reluctantly suggests his own studies. his heart pounds in his chest as he guides you towards a large door that leads to his living quarters.
Priest!Creature who sits in front of you, with his hands clasped together as you kneel in front of him. “that is unnecessary” “i want it to feel like the real thing” he traces the outline of your waist, your hips, the curve of your breasts as your cleavage is exposed. pressed palms together as you lean inward, chest rising and falling steadily. was your skirt always this short?
Priest!Creature who pretends not to feel himself aroused by hearing you call him “Father”. like it’s dirty word, sultry and sweet on your tongue. you ask for his forgiveness and he asks what you’ve done. you explain that you’ve had sex. lots of it. that it felt really good. you go into detail of your work, of being flirted with and dined, how each man touches and teases you. undresses you. kisses and fucks you. the positions. the sounds you make and how it feels.
Priest!Creature who tries to fight against the images in his head of you bent over, legs spread, squirming and convulsing from touches and tongues. pushing against the insertion of himself in these stories. your body is so close to his, he can smell the sweetness of your perfume. has it always been this hot in his room? no—it was Hell approaching fast, if he did not fight against this temptation. he lifted his eyes to a picture of Jesus on the Cross, praying for strength and forgiveness of his thoughts and his body’s natural responses. His cock was hard and pressed painfully against the fabric of his pants. he almost didn’t notice your hand on his thigh, looking up at him with mischief in your eyes.
Priest!Creature who suddenly pulls you into him, lifting your mouth to his. the sounds of moaning, grunting, and sucking full the room as your tongues and teeth class. his grip on you his strong, but you do not feel pain. as if he wants to keep you at arms length, push you away, but also he wants you pressed against him, to lost himself in you. you pry your lips away, with a growl of disapproval from him, “am i worthy for redemption?” “not yet. but you will be.”
Priest!Creature who bends you over with your face in the pillows, fingers buried deep into your flesh pit while his other hand gripped and propped you in place. "read", he commanded, the leather bound text held limply in your grip. your mouth was open but only lewd whimpers and moans fell out. his fingertips slide and stretched you open, wet schlicking and sticky noises filled his room. suddenly his presence disappeared and your riled pussy was empty, "if you don't read then i won't continue."
Priest!Creature who gently rubbed your clit and teased your hole as your trembling lips read the verse. "f-food is meant for the stomach," hips rocking gently back and forth, chiding his fingers closing, "a-and the st-stomach for f-ngh please." he clicks his tongue, "and God will destroy both one and the other..." with his free hand he rubs and caresses your hips and thighs, leaning forward and breathing deep into the curve of your neck. "is this really all it takes for you? can't you be a little more earnest in your own salvation?" his lips pressed gentle kisses on your ear, his tongue flicking and leaving a damp trail of restraint. he's never been so hard in his life, let alone with anyone. your smell, the way your back arches and your legs trembled under his weight. his touch. what wonders the power of God beheld.
Priest!Creature who couldn't take it any longer and begins grinding his hardened length against the curve of your ass. he reaches around and plants the book vertically in front of your face, "read it. 1st Corinthians 6:13. now." your thighs were pried apart as both of his large hands worked your clit and hole, plunging them in deep, air escaping your throat as your walls clenched and throbbed. you moved your hips to match his friction, his desperate pace, begging to be closer.deeper. "..the body is n-not meant for se-sexual immorality..but for the Lord—"
Priest!Creature who mutters curses and apologies while you read, pre-cum leaving an imprint on your panties, his mouth dropped open in disbelief and arousal at the sight of your carnal sins. your juices coated his fingers as he pumped and rubbed, fast and in-pace, your mind was coming to a blank as pleasure built in your stomach. none of your usual clients knew how to get you there so quickly, it was like you were being touched for the first time. you were on the edge of spilling over, begging and whimpering and drooling from his touch.
"..your body is a temple...Holy Spirit...ngh fuck..you're not your own...," your voice mumbled and desperate, "'s not fair please i wanna feel you inside—" He wanted that too. two will become one flesh, that's what the verse was. the answer to His plan. a way to redeem your soul.
"you show a desire for change, a willingness to open-" his voice hitched, "open your mind to the glory of my Father."
Priest!Creature who tilted his head up, eyes rolling back and mouth open, bucking as he felt himself twitch and flex against your ass. He wanted to take himself out and shoved himself deep into your cunt, pound you senseless until it etched every inch of his cock like a memory. but that would have to wait. this wasn't about him. it was about you.
Besides, there would be more time. he was sure of it.
"allow Him in," he sputtered, as his hips rocked and rutted against your ass. he was so close, so very close, he needed you to become undone for him. your mind blank and clean. made pure. you whined as your pussy clenched and tightened around him, "oh God, oh God, oh Go—" your face pressed down into the pillows as you came fast, hitting a wall of ecstasy. you understood now why they called it 'little death'—your body locked in place, frozen in this moment. you peeked up and found the eyes of Jesus staring back at you from above the bed, glowing from some far wall light. if this was the feeling the pastor talked of, you were ready to follow him wherever.
Priest!Creature whose hips catch as his cock twitches and cums pressed firmly against you. a wet spot forming and slicking the fat of your ass, he pants and grunts like a dog. whining and grinding against the sensation. the mind was willing and the flesh even moreso, he felt lighter and freer than any sermon he's ever led. he was flying above all creation, you in his arms and quivering beneath him. The world was Eden. You were his Even and he, your Adam. was this the plan all along? were they supposed to repeat the story of creation once more? he leans forward and plants kisses on your neck," you are perfect and now made anew".
Priest!Creature who opens him home to you as you cease your life and enter the church. his entourage of women whisper about you and how your arrival has changed him. he still volunteers and does sermons. however, his eyes and smiles always linger on you. no more did he walk as their orbit, but would take your hand and lead you elsewhere. in privacy for "spiritual meetings". a silent understanding of what transpired that night. and immediately after in the very pews of which the women were very well sitting.
᧔ sorry just couldn't help myself i’m watching welcome to derry while typing this btw ₊˚⊹♡ part 2 to gentledom!creature coming next!!! ᧓
imagine teasing The Creature about his sexual urges…. </3
you, as a tiny little human, find the large, ‘horrifying’ creature living in your barn. instead of shooting him, trying to kill him like most would do, you befriend him.
you have to keep him a secret, of course. your father would hurt him if he found out, maybe even hurt you.
you find solace in the creature that you’ve never been able to find in anyone else. he listens to you talk with stars in his eyes, and it makes you feel special. there’s something about him too, maybe it’s his huge stature, his kind eyes, his long hair, his musky scent, his deep, growling voice. but it leaves you sometimes squeezing your thighs together whenever you’re near him.
you give him books you find in town, letting him read them. you give him all of your old novels, some of them a little feminine and you’re sure he wouldn’t be interested in them, but, oh well.
he reads them anyway. even the dirty ones.
you catch him reading a romance novel one evening. you sit down next to him on the old cot, his makeshift bed in the barn.
“a romance novel? is it good?” you ask him.
he clears his throat. “….good.” he answers. “…beautiful.” he pauses on a particular page, a scene detailing intimate contact between the male and female protagonist.
you lean over him slightly to read it better. “do you know what they are doing?” you smirk, a slight hint of tease in your voice.
he starts to breathe harder when he feels your body brush against his. he glances down at the book, his brows furrowing. “touching…” he whispers, his fingers grazing the page. “touching skin… intimate.”
“yes, intimate..” you say, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. the two of you were used to touching one another, however, platonically. this time, it feels different, he knows it does.
“you know… it’s supposed to feel really good.” you say, still teasing.
“…good.” he whispers hoarsely. “feel… good?”
“mhm.” you nod. his hand grips your thigh, hard.
you giggle, which only seems to heighten his frustration. he was still working on emotional regulation. this wasn’t easy for him.
“need you…” he says.
you laugh.
“that’s inappropriate, angel.” you say.
“I don’t care.” he says, his hand nearly crushing your thigh now. his voice is rough, borderline feral. he’s not thinking anymore, not bothering to. he’s simply a wild creature caught in the thrall of desire.
you continue to tease him, though. he’s a sweet, naive creature. he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he barely knows what sex is.
but when you push him too far, when your hand brushes purposefully against his crotch, he finally snaps.
you thought you had the upper hand here, silly you. but you were no match to his strength.
before you know it, you’re a pretzel on the floor of the barn.
he rips your skirt easily, causing you to yell out in protest.
“quiet.” he snarls, his hands rough as he feels you all over. his calloused and clumsy hands tumble with your underwear. it’s clear he’s never done this before, but his body is taut with want.
he spreads your legs, stilling. he stares down at your pretty puffy, pink folds.
you stare up at him, watching as his face contorts in curiosity, eyes full of lust. his hand reaches out, his middle finger sinking between your chubby lips.
you suck in a breath, hips pushing up slightly.
“wet.” he says.
“please,” you say, all of a sudden desperate. you hump his one, meaty finger.
it pleases him, he watches in awe how your soft organ pulsates, leaking all over his hand. he wonders how it would feel if it was his dick instead.
he keeps his finger between your folds as he eagerly pulls out his cock with his other hand.
you gasp. he’s huge.
“wait-“ you protest as he guides his thick and hard length to your pussy. but he doesn’t insert it. rather, he replaces his middle finger with his cock, letting it rest against your cunt.
you sigh, and he growls. the heavy, warm weight feels good against you. you reach down to spread yourself open, letting his cock nestle deeper between your lips.
he grunts, beginning to rub his cock against your pussy by slowly thrusting his hips.
your head throws back as you let out a drawn out moan, which catches his attention. he thrusts hard and fast against you once, then twice, and so on, making your breasts bounce through whatever remained of your dress.
“want… you…” he growls. “beautiful…” he says, his eyes staring at your bouncing breasts.
he starts to get desperate, his usual low and growling voice reduced to needy whimpers as his hips move faster and faster.
his cock slips, the tip catching on your clit and your back arches. he leans over you in an instant, burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent, growling in your ear.
“please..” you whimper, almost a cry.
his cock slips again, and he thrusts, full force, but his tip catches on your entrance this time. you’re suddenly penetrated by his thickness. upon realizing he can actually enter you, his large hands hold the backs of your thighs and he pushes your legs up, folding you in half, preparing to fully sheath his cock inside of you.
to be stretched by him was a feeling you never knew you could experience. you scream, loud and unashamed.
the creature only speeds up his pace, grunting, his hot breath on your face.
you feel a sharp pleasure, a mix of discomfort and overwhelming fullness, whimpering and crying out.
“feels… good…” he groans into your neck, his instincts telling him to bite the soft flesh there.
the way you react to the bite has his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, has your toes curling and you see stars.
his sex drive is almost unbelievable, using your body over and over again until you beg for mercy.
even after your coupling, he begs to stay inside of you, loving the feel of your warmth around his cock.
he’s gentle after each time, though. cuddling you and speaking softly, a huge contrast to how he likes to take you. he can’t stop touching your body as if he needs you to survive. he loves to kiss your neck especially.
you may have thought that you were in control in the beginning, but he proved you oh so wrong… and you may or may not address him as master now :p
The dark whispers: an act of selfless mercy turns to eternal obsession.
Note: Reader may also kindaaaa be a maid cause ya know, victor doesn't know what he's doing, but money is money, he actually pays you real good.
The castle looms over you as the coach announces his leave, the old man hesitates before finally pulling the horses to depart.
"You must take heed, young lady."
His ghost of a warning echoes in your head. A cold breeze passes by as you march forward to your permanent work place.
"We never know what malicious things lurk in there."
The pay is high, unusually high, high enough for you to start your studies, especially in this inflating economy.
You were born on a farm, your mother gone long before you sucked the milk off an artificial tit.
Then later, you were plucked off your father by your rich spinster aunt, who was convinced that you were her dead daughter's reincarnated self.
She died.
And all her will went to her hobo brother who wasted it all on horse races, he deemed, the sport of kings.
You then discovered your father died of cancer.
So then you grew up in an orphanage, up until you decided you wanted to stop working your back off without getting paid so you explored the world.
You didn't. Hours of wandering around the streets, you miraculously found a wanted assistant flyer, so far from where you are now but big pay, so you spent two days selling every single one of your priced possessions.
Including the dresses your aunt gave you that you grew out of, rich ladies love vintage clothes for their daughters.
And so you earned enough for transpo and food going there, and if they were going to turn you back, you're just gonna have to beg on your knees because then where will you go?
Before your knuckles can even touch the doors, they open, albeit unsteadily.
"For the last time! I am not going to give anything to your stupid cult!" The man, presumably your employer, stands staggering before you, his hands grip each of the doors like he was about to collapse, his hair was a bird's nest kind of messy as well as his clothes, his front casually undone.
"I-I, did I catch you at a bad time, sir?"
He straightens, at least he had the decency to fix his hair, dismayed that he left his shirt as is.
"Who are you?"
You pulled out a worn flyer. "I'm here for the job, sir..?"
"The job.. wha.." he mumbles, snatching the paper out of your hands.
You shuffle on your feet, awaiting in dread for his answer, have you got the wrong address? Surely not, this is exactly where the ad says it's supposed to be. Did he already have an assistant then? That's why he already forgot about the flyers he posted, oh you hope not, you've got nowhere to be, no money to spend, no clothes.
"Ah.."
Ah what? Ah I've got an assistant now? Ah you're not right for this job?
"Oh.. Ah yes! Yes, I completely forgot, oh, finally. What's—"
He pauses when he looks to you. Did you have grime on your face?
"Ah.. You're not with anyone.. are you?"
"Huh?"
"Like, a lord, or an employer? Did he send you here to inquire for the position?"
"What? I'm, I'm here for the position,"
"You?" You nod, he seemed both disappointed and discouraged.
After a long thoughtful second, he clicks his tongue, and waves his hand to follow him.
"Guess you'll do," he sighs. You let yourself relax a little, almost giddy as you stepped inside, then it all in all left your body when you saw the state of the foyer.
"Pardon for the state of the house, well it's not actually a house— this was once a factory, obviously abandoned but it does have its uses." He gestures to the place, his head looking up the ceiling.
"Oh, and before I forget," he hurriedly leaves the room, you hear shuffling on the other before he emerges from a corridor.
He hands you a paper, at the top, you see the glaring big words.
NDA.
You frown and tilt your head.
"You read?"
"Yes," you nod, ",sir"
He pauses for a second, before nodding as you did.
"NDA, stands for non-disclosure agreement, long story short, what happens here stays here, got that?"
"What.. happens—?"
"Got that, now, here's– a pen, and you only have to sign, here– yes there, and then– here at the bottom, on the second, and here, then at the back," your mouth stutters as he looks at you expectantly.
Well, you've gone all this way.
You signed all the confusing lines needed to be signed and handed them over to him.
Wait, you didn't get his name yet.
"I'm Victor Frankenstein, if you forgot to ask," before you could shake his hand, he pulls it back and jogs to the stairs, gesturing you to follow him again.
"Now, for your quarters, you might wanna clean.."
You sigh, finally, you've got a job.
———
He tours you around the mansion most of the day, aside from cleaning your room a bit after the tour, at the very least, the bathroom is working, and my goodness your room is the size of the cafeteria in the orphanage, it's got the best view in the world!
The walls still had paintings likely from their previous owner, or owners.
You also apparently learned that this mansion was actually a factory turned abandoned, that was why it looked.. grimey and well, abandoned.
Though Mr. Frankenstein is quite wealthy, you thought, why wouldn't he hire some help and restore this beautiful relic to it's former glory?
A question for another time.
You pat the dusty bed sheets out the terrace, the moon unusually big and bright staring down at you.
Day one starts tomorrow, you remember Mr. Frankenstein saying. You hammer the bedsheets down the foam as you finish sweeping the last few dirt out the balcony and closed it for safety, you never know if a bat comes flocking in, though you leave it slightly ajar, preferring to feel the cold air instead of waking up sweating.
———
"Here," he hands you a pen and notebook, both colored in red. "For noting down during my experiments, and, and don't forget, to clean up right after, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, now let's.."
You discovered yesterday, if not obviously, that he is a rambler, he talks and talks and talks, although you don't mind, especially when you've been living, as per your knowledge, alone, he might be this way because he's used to talking to himself with no one to listen to him and now that you're here maybe he can have a proper conversation with another human being, you thought.
You noted down every little thing he pick up or ingredient he uses, his, how can you say this, "theories", well honestly they're his ceaseless musings and thoughts you'll sometimes catch and so you'd write them down.
You're doing pretty good all things considered, after a while, he tells you he's gonna take a break and maybe you should too and then he disappears.
You quickly realize how quiet it is when there's no one with you, you can hear your own heartbeat by how silent everything is.
Then you hear it, that... thumping sound, it sounds like.. chains..?
Surely he has no dog here or he would've introduced them right? You frown as you descend the stairs, the sound grows louder each step you take.
"Mr. Frankenstein?" You say, though it came out a whisper.
You reach the point in the house where the sound was the loudest. This was the door you're supposed to be avoiding.
"Nothing down there, it's the canals." Mr. Frankenstein said.
A bead of sweat trickles down your face.
What if some animal was stuck down there? Or worse..
A vampire.
Ugh, you shake your head, vampires are not real..
But wolves on the other hand-
No! None of those are real and you're tired, you should just take a breather and calm down.
Rattle! Clang!
You wince by the door, pressing your ears to the door, searching for more sounds other than the rattling of the chains, then you hear it, a man's voice, no, Mr. Frankensteins voice, he's.. mad, yelling, a grumble you hear then your employer yells again, something in the lines of, stupid, and uhm, you strain your ears to hear more, speak.
Then everything goes silent, save for the clang of something thrown on the floor.
You hear hurried footsteps nearing the door, quickly, you detach yourself and hide behind the back of the stairs, enough for you to see Mr. Frankenstein rushing out, the door slam shut, your eyes follow your angry employer exiting the premises.
A startle visits you as you hear the clang of the chains once more, the door is.. open?
It was slightly ajar, Mr. Frankenstein forgot to lock it in a fit of rage.
Gathering your courage, you stood u from your crouched position and approached the door cautiously. You eyed the entrance doors, almost wanting your employer to come storming in and stopping you, telling you not to go any further, but alas, he was nowhere, and with curiousity in mind you entered the door, keeping in mind to close it.
And your employer was right, it was certainly dirty and stinky in here, obviously because it's the canals but the stench is really wank.
Your foot unfortunately gets soaked in one of the pot holes, for the love of your horses it was warm and oh so so so fragrant, you're actually contemplating your life choices and wonder if you should jsut turn back and act like the door was never open in the first place, like you never heard the rattling and the yelling.
Then there was the rattling sound again, but now, you can clearly hear a low guttural rumbling, like something out of a bear.
You let out a big breath of courage and went deeper.
That was when you heard him before you saw him.
"Eli.. za. bethh?"
You go rigid, blood frozen as a colossal figure of a man steps into view.
