I'm curious about your REV OC! Is she in a relationship with Moreau? And if so how did they meet? Does she have a backstory?? If not then she's still cool 👍 :)
Thank you for this question!!
Okay so... here's everything I wrote down. I hope it makes sense. 🫣 There is a LOOOT under the cut, and a lot I didn't even mention yet! If you want to hear me yap more, I'd be so so happy to!!
Her name is Cécile Eloise Fischer!
She’s a kindhearted daydreamer, always wanting to see the best in everyone and willing to bend over backwards just to see a sliver of goodness in even the worst of us.
Her father used to joke that he wouldn't be surprised if Cécile could make friends with the devil (and technically he wasn’t wrong.)
She is the type to believe that “everything will turn out okay”, and she views her whole life through that lens. She’s optimistic to a fault and often struggles to process when she's in active danger. Sometimes, however, that plays out in her favour.
.
The two did not meet on the best terms.
Cécile was one of the unfortunate few that were captured to be used as human experiments. She was given to Moreau in a small batch of random people, basically as just another hunk of meat to add on to the pile. While she waited for her turn to be butchered, she would observe everything he did, and grew curious of what he was working on.
So, Cécile began to ask Moreau small questions while he worked. At first, her questions were simple and so were his answers, but soon their talks grew longer and the Lord grew curious over her chatty demeanor. Her worldview was kind and her voice was sweet like honey, and oh, it gave him butterflies.
As the days went on, Moreau began to look forward to their little chats. He even began to get distracted from his work, sometimes pulling up a chair and sitting with her for hours. He postponed the experiments she was supposed to be a part of further and further, until he could no longer avoid it.
Mother Miranda had noticed how little work he'd gotten done and when she brought it up, Moreau panicked. Surely, if his family found out he'd been slacking off to be with a beautiful maiden, he'd be turned into a laughing stock. When he even thought about Cécile being taken away from him, he made his own head spin! She had become an angel to him, one he couldn't part ways with.
So in a panic, he put her in a cage and hid her away, just until he could figure out what to do.
.
Moreau would stay with her every day, sometimes for several hours. He knew he was most certainly breaking several ethical rules, but he justified it to himself somehow.
In an effort to make her comfortable, he began bringing her gifts, trying to charm her with anything he could get his hands on. He fed her, clothed her, brought her books to read and soap to wash herself with: anything she asked for, he would bring. He spoiled her with presents, while actively keeping her prisoner at the same time.
Poor Cécile couldn't understand what was even happening. She’d heard horror stories of Lord Moreau’s kill streak: how he’d become lazy and inhumane to the point of eating his victims raw. While she wanted to believe that he had a good heart, locking her in a cage definitely didn't give him gentleman points 🙈
(she was not charmed by that.)
So at first, Cécile was jumpy around him. His smell was something she thought she'd never get used to, that– cloying, awful stench of rot and vomit that followed him… When he got too close, all she could think about was the smell of raw meat on his breath and the slime that bubbled in his throat...
But the smell did grow bearable. The more he proved himself to her, she began to enjoy his company and find his strange quirks increasingly charming. She began to understand why he did certain things, and they began to find comfort in each other. She even began to miss him when he went away…
Their trust in each other grew with time. He'd begin to let her out of her dingy cage and they'd go out for walks together, enjoying the fresh air. She even asked to go swimming once, and he obliged.
She became less of a prisoner and more of a companion, eventually moving into Moreau's humble abode.
...
So… tsssskkkk.... you can see their dynamic is complicated. You could argue Cécile has Stockholm Syndrome, but their relationship has a lot of layers 🌺🌿
They are quite co-dependent, especially Moreau. He is terrified of losing Cécile, because that's what’s happened with everything he’s cared about dearly. He has a habit of getting jealous and insecure over small things, and he does sometimes treat her as if she's his property. He hovers around her a lot and it does come across as animalistic “resource guarding”. He even becomes territorial when other men enter the room, which is… kinda funny, especially when his growls are targeted towards Heisenberg. (like oml chill nobody's gonna take her away from you 💀)
The other Lords view his possessive behaviour as pathetic, but Cécile always reassures him whenever he needs that.
Truth be told though, Cécile has way more control over Moreau than people think. She has him wrapped around her finger, and he bends to her whim more often than not... Moreau lives to serve women, and oh, it shows. He would absolutely make an absolute fool of himself just to make his “princess” happy.
No matter what point of their relationship they're in, Moreau will always have a corny little crush on her. She knows it and knows how to push his buttons juuust right. She knows how to make him melt like butter.
When he's not recycling romantic gestures and sentences from his favourite movies, he likes calling her “princess” or “my lady”... Sometimes he even throws “kitten” in there. It makes everyone else CRINGE, but Cécile is smitten by it.
(My favourite comment about them is that Moreau looks and acts like her sugar daddy LMFAO)
Now, Cécile is both his wife and assistant, taking good care of him and making sure he's all fancy and well groomed! She worked hard to clean up his little bachelor pad, adding some feminine touch to the spot!
Moreau actually smells a little better thanks to her care. Instead of smelling like straight up piss, he smells oakier, kind of like an old boat.
He views her as the angel on his shoulder, always steering him in the right direction.
...
Hehee. They also show a looot of public displays of affection. 🙈
They always come across as ridiculously mushy, and the other lords have definitely seen Moreau wagging his tail when Cécile’s buttering him up. Sometimes he even starts physically writhing, because he struggles to keep his hands to himself even in public.
Moreau will often pull Cécile to sit in his lap even during important meetings, while she tickles his chin or plays with his hair… Meanwhile everyone else is actively disgusted, because they do NOT want to see their stank ass brother smooching on a woman not even half his age HAHA
Their 70+ year age gap comes up sometimes. Looks like grandpa's getting frisky with his geriatric nurse again ...
At first, the other Lords wouldn't know what to make of Cécile. Truth be told, they didn't think anyone would be able to love him. So having a kind young woman always standing beside him would raise eyebrows.
Alcina thinks this poor girl is being held hostage by her idiot brother. Karl thinks Cecile's kindness is an act and Moreau's being used. Donna thinks it's strange, but she's less judgemental than the others.
Mother Miranda thinks it's good that Moreau has a distraction. She doesn't like to have him constantly groveling at her feet, so she allows him to keep Cécile. As long as Moreau won’t neglect his job. She'll allow him a bride for now, but if he stops bringing results to her, Mother can take his toy away with the snap of a finger.
.
But... Yeah. Moreau will always struggle with his "selfish" nature.
While he does want to make her happy, he doesn't want her to go outside on her own. He's deeply insecure and very paranoid about losing her, which means she's basically tied to his hip at all times. He doesn't allow her to mingle with people he doesn't particularly care for, which means that unfortunately, she doesn't have too many friends.
Whenever Cécile has made a new friend though, Moreau is always up in their business LOL. He'll just sit with them and listen to their conversation, breathing like a pug. But Cécile always makes him a nice cup of tea to keep him occupied… Ooh and biscuits.
They're the kindest woman you'll ever meet and her terrifying husband with every illness ever.
So happy to see someone who likes Moreau as much as me!! I have a personal headcanon that he has an absolutely massive 2 foot long dick so could we have him trying to fit it all in the reader because he needs to breed tf outta her during some sort of fish rut??
Love your writing 👍🐟
Turn off anon, I just wanna blow u for this delectable ask 🙏
Writing this while waiting for my bestie to get out of her obgyn appointment lmfao
Before his transformation, Moreau was an ugly sap who never got to use the potent weapon in his pants. As a medical professional - one of the only in such a small village - he'd seen equipment of all shapes and sizes. His own, though, always exceeded the average, and even large phalluses he'd see on occasion.
Once, he'd almost bedded himself a blushing dame- only for her to leave upon seeing such an...oversized piece of equipment.
After the drastic transformation, his little issue had only worsened. His large length only increased in dimensions exponentially, sheathing itself in sickly flesh to hide away the obscenity of its inhuman nature. Where, before his Cadou infection, his overly thick ten inches was a point of pride once he heard women enjoyed the larger variants of those particular parts, when it had varicosed into being well over a foot, he realized much too late that too much of a good thing wasn't exactly the best.
Intrinsically, Salvatore knew that it wouldn't fit. Obviously, even holding it against your stomach (and chest) showed just how realistically impossible the task would be.
However, in his current state, he didn't much care for reality.
Current state being absolutely deranged, almost feral.
He was shivering and spewing out filth, whether it be begging or damning you, or slavering over your body as if to trap you using that foul, green mucus of his. Whichever it was, he would have delighted in his ability to fill up a willing partner...had it not been for his little (big) issue.
Moreau groaned and gutteralized over your struggling, squirming body whenever you moved the wrong way. It was just so unfair! You were so wet and warm and welcoming to his twisted, turgid girth, but you couldn't take all of it. You'd easily taken the length his cock had been once upon a time, but after that, he could enter no further.
The welcoming grip of your slit was a betrayal when he couldn't fit his entirety inside. Salvatore was left to cage you in with his skinny arms while he glowered down at the foot of cock not taken inside.
He snarled like he was pained. He'd spent decades in the reservoir, going through the spring with that scratching, clawing ache in his gut that shrieked to mate, surrounded by fish and frogs and birds that all bred and laid their eggs on his land while he suffered without a partner, or anywhere to really put his eggs. He'd thought it would change when he finally had a little hole to fill, but as he grunted and hissed, it only frustrated him more to have a fraction of his dick strangled by heaven as the rest hung slick and cold in the frigid, stagnant air of the mines.
"T-take it all...!" Salvatore babbled. It looked like he didn't even know he was speaking. A sob broke free from your throat as you felt the tip screw against the end of your small, tight passage.
And then your diaphragm seized, forcing air through your lungs and out of your larynx in a desperate scream. Moreau, in turn, ignored it. He felt salvation just on the other side of that wavering flesh, and he would not falter in his bid to fit even more of your bodies together. If in a more put-together, less instinct-driven state, he would have remembered the dangers of such penetration, how painful it would be, but...he wasn't.
Moreau shunted his hips forward to the best of his crippled capabilities, earning another yelp from your agape jaws. He looked at you with soft, wet eyes and a snarling, drooling maw that looked about ready to tear into you. Saliva spattered onto your chest thickly, slightly green and far too warm for a cold-blooded creature like Moreau.
It was like a predator about to tear into prey, and to be fair, he was tearing into your body like he had the intent to break it in twain.
Another hit to your cervix, a softer one that had you sobbing out, drool of your own leaking from your twisted lips. It hurt, truly, and you could hardly contain your noises. Not that you needed to, when you two were so far secluded from other people. Nobody would hear you now, and no one would hear you when he broke you in half like an excited child with a delicate toy.
"No!!" You cried out and wriggled away from the man's attentions like he would actually stop and listen. Not in this state though, when he was driven by an evolutionary need to reproduce.
He slammed his hips down again, and you squealed. It felt like the muscle was giving way. It hurt like a branding iron to your gut, wrenching open a part of you that should only open every so often, with only one reason and purpose to do so.
Your fingers scrabbled against his upper arms, leaving trails of dark, sickly red on his skin and under your nails. It smeared and your nails raked across thin skin, cutting gouges into the faded tattoo in his bicep.
Salvatore pulled back on thin, struggling thighs, as if steadying himself.
Then, he used all his weight and force, driving himself deep into your tight depths.
The air was punched out of your lungs. You couldn't scream, like you'd paralyzed your diaphragm, and your thoughts had gone entirely blank. Moreau's mind had as well, but because of just how filled with pleasure it had become. Blissfully, his maw dropped, his eyes rolled back, and his hips spasmed closer, trying to get that much further inside.
It was only around three inches, perhaps four, but more was pushed into your unwilling hole which clenched with a vice grip, past the pinching cinch of your tight, now broken, cervix.
"Y-you feel s-so good," Moreau just barely managed to force out, feeling his muscles tensing with a barely restrained need to fill you up.
You whimpered, hardly breathing. It hurt so badly, but the pain had you mute. Your uterus spasmed at the intrusion and your cervix tried to go back to its impenetrable position from before, yet unable to do so with such a thick slab of meat forcing it apart.
Moreau's eyes fluttered open after a moment. He groaned and panted, and he didn't make it after seeing the sight beneath him. You were stretched far apart on his cock, and while it was only halfway inside, it was more than had ever been taken of him before. The love for you, his desire, overwhelmed him and he couldn't hold it in any longer.
Thick sperm oozed from his thick cockhead, and his urethra bulged as his eggs began to pushed their way down his shaft and into your hole. They scraped along your insides through his pulsing flesh, stretched your poor, broken cervix, and deposited deep in your tiny uterus.
By the time he was finished, you were sobbing weakly, clutching a womb filled past bursting with cum and eggs. Salvatore was by your side, grinning against your shoulder with a placid expression, shushing you. Thankfully after he'd gone soft, he'd extracted himself from your little passage, and his dick slid wetly and lewdly back into his own innards, welcomed easier than yours ever would accept.
"I-I love you, little g-guppy," Salvatore groaned out lowly, clutching his clawed fingers around the roundness of your tummy.
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