When you're ditched by your date, a lovely older orc takes it upon himself to make your night that much better; what starts as one evening together quickly turns into more.
All around you, people chattered and laughed as they drank expensive wine or fancy cocktails; even at only seven o'clock in the evening, the bar was so busy you could barely hear yourself think over the laughter from a table of fauns to your left. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even the bartenders and wait staff - all except for you.
For the fifth time in as many minutes, your eyes darted down to your phone. The clock glowed seven eighteen, and your notification bar was empty. With a frown, you turned your phone upside down. Another ten minutes, you promised yourself, then I'm gone. It didn't matter that you'd been telling yourself the same thing for thirty minutes now.
Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Your date was wasting your time, sure, but better to be stood up and realise the truth than to keep wasting your time on somebody not worth it, right? If he was so rude as to ditch you on a first date, you probably didn’t want to spend the evening with him anyway. Your friend Olina had been right when she said not to trust a guy you met online. Oh well.
You still checked your phone again though, feeling a little jolt of disappointment when there was still no notification. There was no explanation for his absence, no apology or even acknowledgement that he’d failed to arrive.
You were still contemplating the disastrous date when a looming figure appeared in your peripheral. Eyes flickering up, you saw the towering figure of an orc. He had to be at least six and a half foot, probably closer to seven, and he dwarfed your tiny two-seater table as if it was made for dolls. Yet despite his size, his expression was gentle. His dark hair was endearingly messy, tied back into a bun at the back of his skull. “Drinking alone?” he asked, gesturing to the half finished martini clutched between your hands.
Nose crinkling, you nodded. “Yeah,” was all you offered in reply.
While you thought it would have been enough for him to leave, the enormous man didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped closer and asked, “room for another?”
Without being rude, you weren’t convinced that the slender, low backed chair could take his weight. He was thick and sturdy like all orcs, but he was also a lot larger than most of the orcs you’d seen, who were all obsessed with building muscle and pulling weights. He was... softer. Bulkier, and not due to rippling muscles, either. The black shirt was stretched across his generous middle, outlining the shape of his belly and chest.
It was a good look on him, actually.
A raised brow jolted you back to attention. Right, he was expecting an answer. He didn’t look irritated though; rather his face had split into a look of amusement, a smirk quirking at the corner of his full lips.
Feeling your cheeks flush hotly, you stammered, “well I was waiting on someone, but it doesn’t look like they’re coming. I could use the company.” You fought to keep your voice calm, unwilling to look sad or desperate in front of this handsome stranger.
Smirk growing, he sat. You were relieved to note that the chairs were stronger than they looked. "The name's Ove," he said, and stuck out one huge hand for you to shake. He had a tattoo on the inside of his wrist, some kind of tribal design that swirled around his wrist and curled from the bottom of his palm around his thumb. You knew, vaguely, that wrist tattoos often symbolised clans - but it was more of an aesthetic thing these days than anything meaningful. Like getting your partner or family's name tattooed on your body somewhere.
Wishing your hands weren't quite so clammy, you shook his hand and offered your own name, too. Your hand looked so tiny compared to his, but the handshake lasted only a brief moment before you both drew away. You immediately dropped your hand into your lap, subtly wiping your own nervous sweat onto your jeans.
Jeans which, you realised upon noticing Ove's black shirt and dark blue waistcoat, perhaps didn't match the vibe of the rest of the bar. Considering that your date had bailed, perhaps it was a good thing you hadn't put too much effort into your outfit; but now, looking at how well dressed and damn gorgeous Ove looked, you wished you'd at least worn heels instead of the plain black boots you currently wore.
Ove leaned across the table then, quickly snapping your thoughts elsewhere. Up close, you saw a small septum ring glint against his vibrant green skin. He was older than you first guessed, smile lines creasing the corner of his lips, crow's feet wrinkling his eyes - which were a bright, vibrant royal blue. "So, let me guess," he rumbled, his voice soft and yet clear even above the hum of the bar, "you're date never showed? His loss, you look great." He cast an appreciative glance over your body, lingering just a moment longer on the bare skin of your neck. "How long have you been waiting?"
Usually, you'd have brushed off such a longing look. He was apparently alone at this bar just like you - mostly you would have chalked it up to an old man hoping for some company, but there was something so genuine in his blue gaze that had you relaxing into the seat. "Nearly an hour," you confessed, "I was just about to finish my drink and leave, honestly."
"And waste your entire night?"
"Well, it was either that or stay here by myself, looking like an idiot."
Ove ruffled his hair; despite the fact that his dark beard was going grey, his hair was perfectly black. "Well, how about I take you out instead?" he suggested, and that grin returned, "I'll pay for everything; you shouldn't have to worry about a damn thing after being stood up like this."
The smart thing was to say no, go home, and order takeout. Yet even as doubt swam to the forefront of your mind, you found yourself agreeing. "Deal," you said brightly, "we're both already here, we might as well enjoy ourselves."
"My thoughts exactly." His beaming smile reveed pointed tusks, small in comparison to most orcs you'd met and yet no less lovely. They were tipped with little silver caps, engraved with the same swirling tribal symbols etched into his skin. "Perfect. How about I start with getting you a fresh drink?"
You stare down at your martini, now lukewarm and nasty. Yes, a fresh drink sounded great. "I'll have an espresso martini," was your reply, followed by a smile. "Thank you."
"It's my pleasure," came Ove's smooth reply. Then he stood to his full height, towering above both you and the table with his bulk, and disappeared to the bar.
You watched him joke with the bartender, although it was far too loud for you to make out the words. He seemed so at ease in this place that made you so awkward, so perfectly fitted for such an expensive venue despite being the only orc in the place. He was big and bulky and covered in tattoos, yet you couldn't imagine him looking so comfortable a anywhere else.
And if you were staring, soaking up the image of his broad back and deliciously thick middle, so what? He wasn't watching, and you had caught the coy look he had sent you before leaving for the bar. Something told you that Ove wouldn't have minded, even if he'd caught your lingering gaze.
A moment later he was sliding into the seat, and he hardly batted an eye as it creaked and groaned beneath him. Perhaps he hadn't noticed; or maybe he was simply so used to it that he never gave it any thought.
It made your cheeks flush though, Wath building in your chest. And lower. We'll, that was something to pack away for later, you decided with only a dim flutter of embarrassment. You had good dri ks and better company; anything that came after was just a bonus.
After that, the igjt flashed past before your eyes. Drink after drink passed your lips, always just far enough apart to stave off the tipsiness threatening the back of your mind. By the time you reached the fourth drink, it was time to tap out.
"As much as I love a good cocktail," you said with a muffled laugh, "I think this is my last for tonight." You paused, smiling when you caught Ove's gaze. "But I could always stay a little longer, if you don't have anywhere to be?"
"Nowhere that could make me want to leave you," he quipped, smile growing to reveal those pearly white, silver capped tusks again.
Something deep in your chest stuttered, warmth spreading through your veins. He was gorgeous, from his greying hair to his silky voice, and you found yourself wishing that tonight didn't have to end. "Maybe," you said hesitantly, feeling nerves tug at your chest, "we could do this again sometime? A proper date, maybe a meal or... or something."
Ove's grin was devilish. "Yeah, that sounds great."
Unable to hide your grin, you reached across the table to take his hand in yours. It was enormous, thickly calloused in a way that made you wonder just what he did for a living. There was softness there too, though, in the way his fingers curled carefully around yours, as if you were made of something precious and easily broken.
Repost: The Monster in the Closet; F Human x M Closet Monster, HARD NSFW Quarantine Porn
Apparently this was one of the broken links back from last month…thanks so much for bringing it to my attention, @halibellecter! I can’t believe I’m reposting porn in the daytime when Jesus can see 😭😭😭
(Based on this excellent post from @cyo-bro)
The sound of nails dragging down the wall made you jump.
It was getting desperate then, you considered, slowly peeling your jeans down your legs. Tossing them over a chair, you paused to unbind your hair, letting it fall loose before you gripped the bottom hem of your top. Kocks and bumps, scraping the walls and rattling at the handle—they were all needy cries for attention; desperate, whining pleas for contact. In the silence of the room, you were able to hear its panting breaths as you pulled the shirt over your head, culminating in a rumbling growl when you unhooked your bra deftly.
There was a monster in your closet, and it wanted to fuck.
This is essentially a list of other creators’ masterlists, mostly so I can find them myself without having to dig. If you are a monster writer, artist, or blogger and didn’t see yourself listed, or there’s a blog that should be on my masterlist and isn’t, please don’t hesitate to send me a message and/or reblog and tag me. I want to include all of you.
I have a zero tolerance policy for non-con, incest, bestiality, and pedophilia, so please keep that in mind.
After reading your last post, can you tag some more exophilia writers 😩 I don't know of that many and I need more content to read (and to possible help with inspo)...
You’re in luck! The wonderful and amazing @thetravelerwrites has a masterlist of monster writers! Get the list here and give her some love.
Sorry, this is a long one! Hope everyone is keeping cozy and safe this festive season ✨ Why not come take a break and read a little monster story somewhere comfy 🍵
Female Reader x Male Monster
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It starts with the chiming of the mantelpiece clock in the second drawing room, then the grandfather clocks down the Southwest corridor, and finally the entire manor is filled with a cocophony of announcement. You’ll always know what time it is at the Contessa’s manor.
Your maid, Georgina, said she would be by to escort you to the ball at eight o’clock, where you are to make your entrance from the top of the grand staircase. A little dramatic for an ordinary birthday you think, but your aunt will take any opportunity to parade you around and rub shoulders with the creme de la creme while she can. It will be a year today until you come into your full inheritance, and more importantly, experience your first taste of true freedom.
For now you sit primly on the edge of your chair as the seconds tick by, doing your best to sit still lest you wrinkle your expensive tulle gown. You run your finger underneath one of the bell sleeve cuffs, which is long enough to brush the edge of your knuckles, and marvel at the luxurious feel of it. The silk buttons are beautiful, and the swathes of fabric look like spun air draped weightlessly across your figure. You’ll have to remind yourself to ask your aunt where she imported it from, she’ll enjoy telling everyone.
You glance at yourself one last time in the floor length mirror beside you, wondering idly if it would crush you to death under the weight of its ornate, golden frame if it toppled. You have to admit you look beautiful, always artfully put together and maintained, like a prize songbird or painted doll.
You feel a familiar pang of grief when you think of your parents, it’s always times like these you miss them most. Perhaps grief isn’t the right word, you were very young when they were lost to you and so you didn’t get the chance to know them as the adult you are now. Nevertheless, you feel their absence has changed you in ways you can’t yet understand.
The door clicks open and you rise from your perch as Gina bustles in with a grin.
Our reader has been part of a harem to a ruthless king for a long time. She’s come to accept her place and what it comes with. But when she rescues a young orc and his friends, things begin to change.
Female Reader x Male Monster
You became part of King Nazrath’s harem when you were young. It was a fate that promised comfort and safety in harsh, unpredictable times. You had come from a life of poverty, working ever since you were physically able. And war was a constant, as Nazrath was often at war with the orc tribes surrounding the kingdom.
Nazrath is vengeful and hateful towards the Orcs, taking out his wrath on them in hopes of purifying the land of their stench. This is not well-liked amongst the people, as the Orcs often do trade with and provide work for the poorest of the kingdom. They are slowly being driven from their homeland while Nazrath seizes control.
Often Nazrath sends his favorites of the haram to spas and retreats, where they prepare for his return from battles. One such spa is located in the mountains, where there are hot springs that soothe the body and soften the skin. You have been sent to this spa, at a time when there are warnings that refugee Orcs are hiding out in these mountains. You realize that you are being set up as bait. The other girls with you are new and not usually the first chosen from the haram. Nazrath intends to use you to draw out the Orcs and hopefully find their hideout.
They all agreed that you'd always been a strange little creature, even when you were just a wee babe. You were far too dreamy, too curious and much too...strange. For years now, they had whispered about your odd behavior.
The way you walked through the village with your head in the clouds.
That odd little habit of running off to God knows where, only to return with flowers in your hair and a smile on your face.
The stories you babbled about, ones you had read and ones you had written.
It was silly and almost shameful, they said, casting judgemental looks towards you as you wandered past them.
But this...
This was something much stranger then anything you'd done before.
It was something downright shocking!
When Talon came to the quaint little village, he too had received those judgmental looks and vicious whispers. The idea of an orc coming to live in Nag's River was shocking enough but he was so...so vicious. The mighty orc towered over all, tall and muscular and terrifying to look at. A glare was permanently fixed upon his scarred face, frightening away everyone.
Except for you.
To the surprise of both the orc and the neighbors, you went over to see him one sunny morning.
Whispers whirled through the village as you walked up to the mighty orc's door, a basket of baked goods in hand and flowers tucked under your arm.
Such a foolish girl!
Absolutely shameful!
Such a strange creature!
The neighbors hissed on as Talon opened his door, carefully looking down at the little thing on his doorstep.
"Yes?" He said gruffly.
"Hello, there." You said, cheerfully smiling up at him. "I came on over to welcome you to our little village...and to give you these!"
And then you were gone, leaving with a smile and a wave.
What a strange girl!
~
It only seemed to get even stranger.
Every so often, you would go and visit your new neighbor. Talon, though certainly a frightening figure, seemed to only put up with your visits at first.
The villagers whispered amongst themselves as they watched you wander over to the orc's home once more, basket in hand.
"Good morning!"
"...Good morning, Y/N." He replied, golden eyes flickering towards you for only a moment.
And away you chattered, making small talk with the orc until he finally could take it no more. Standing up quickly, his mighty form towered over you as he glared viciously down.
"Whatever those lot have you coming over for," he snapped, "you won't get it! I don't care about them so you can just-"
"Is that what you think?"
He stopped.
"I'm not a gossip, despite what you may believe, and I didn't come here in some effort to humiliate you. I came here because I thought it would be nice to have a friend."
And then you left.
~
It had been a week.
The whispers had quieted down now, the villagers having found something else to gossip about. Talon was almost angry with himself, knowing full well that he was yet again giving them pathetic entertainment.
But he had to do it.
He had to.
If the orc didn't make his wrong right, it would only make him feel even worse. Sighing, Talon steeled himself, picked up the basket and marched over to your cottage. Instantly, looks were shot his way and voices began to whisper.
"Look there..."
"Where is he off to?"
"What's he doing?"
"The orc..."
Orc. That's all he was to those people. Just an orc.
Not Talon.
Not the Talon the gardener or Talon the baker or anything like that. Just a dirty orc that didn't belong here in thier quaint town. He knew that. He knew that they hated him. But you had not hated him. In fact, you'd been nothing but nice to him...and he had repaid you with coldness.
That wasn't his way.
Orcs believed that all actions should be repaid in the same. Kindness for kindness, his mother had told him.
She would be furious with him.
If she was still alive, she would have dragged him to your door herself, scolding him the whole way.
Standing in front of your door, Talon sighed again, running a hand through his hair. Twice he tried to knock, only to stop himself. But on the third try, he was finally able to knock on the door. It sounded heavier then he'd meant it to. Too loud and too hard. But you still came, opening the door and looking surprised when you saw him.
Before you could say anything, Talon shoved the basket in your hands.
"I'm sorry."
And then he turned away, storming back down the little path quickly. He only stopped once, looking at you over his huge shoulder as he did.
"You can come back." He said. "If you want."
~
You did.
The neighbors didn't understand it and, honestly neither did Talon, but you did return.
A day later you were at his side once more, chatting away...and this time he listened. He gave you a chance, the same chance you had given him when he first came to the village. Over the garden wall, Talon could see a neighbor "casually" casting glances your way. He could hear them whispering.
But this time, he ignored them.
Rather then wallowing in the anger and embarrassment, he focused on you and his flowers.
It was the right choice.
Since then, you had returned time and time again, a friendship blossoming among his flowers.
And perhaps something else too.
Side by side, you worked in his garden. Half whispering a song as you cared for the flowers, Talon found himself smiling a little more. A garden and a home to call his own had always been dreams of his...
But there was something else he was dreaming of too.
Plucking a flower, Talon placed it in your hair as you walked by him, grinning when you giggled at the gesture. It was just one flower...
But he would give you more.
All the flowers and all the books and all the love you could ever ask for.
(And then they sell their houses and use to the money to move away, building a cottage and creating a beautiful garden...💕💕)
I’ve been trying to settle on a design for this character for about a year now. It has evolved a lot. For the last couple of iterations, I felt like I was getting close. I wanted him to look scary but hot – you know, the kind of rugged face that looks angry even when at rest. (The really bad undereye circles help 😂) But his body didn’t seem big enough. He looked lean and muscular, but the way I’ve written the story, he should actually be huge, like somebody who could pull your arms out of their sockets without really trying. So here’s the latest version.
Also, who else is into black hair with white streaks? My own hair’s never going to do that, but I just love that look!
Never getting your way is hard, so when the chance finally appears, you’ve gotta take that chance and run with it.
Female Reader x Male Monster
The Pitfall is one of those ingrained institutions, a place where dreams are made, careers are started, and tragic romances blossom. For you, it’s simply a job. You started working at Pitfall directly out of school, hoping to get a job somewhere in management, and instead getting thrust into the glamorous lifestyle of bartending. For some reason they much prefer an edgy bartender to an educated manager. The current events coordinator is the owner’s son, a dipshit of a human being who thinks ordering a martini with three olives is class and that EDM DJs are the only way to live.
Needless to say, attendance is down at Pitfall, and for the first time in a long while the bar closes early due to inactivity. You are grateful for the time off - not that you have anything against the music, it’s just that it all starts to sound the same after the tenth DJ or so. You go outside into the back alley that leads to the employee parking lot. You sigh, staring up at the sky and seeing that the moon is full.
“Hi, excuse me?” A rumbling voice shakes you from your poetic thoughts.
Things to imagine about your orc boyfriend/husband
• His height and how he towers over you, no matter how tall you may be.
• The thick muscle that naturally cords around his body in heavy layers of meat and power and promise.
• Huge hands that grip just this side of too tight and make you feel both protected and desired. Thick fingers, calloused with the ghost of past battles and a life of hard work, digging ridges into your skin both by day and by night.
• The rolling growls he lets out that can somehow sound both terribly menacing and deliciously promising depending on who they’re directed to. Those same growls only hold the latter sentiment for you, as he growls when he’s teased, when he’s teasing, and when he gets down to business and takes you how he pleases.
• Tusks, which warn of so much biologically formatted danger, being pressed into places that squeal and tingle in protest because Tusks shouldn’t be that close to your jugular, and Tusks certainly shouldn’t be pressed in to the apex of your thighs. But they are and it’s the perfect blend of a gnawing instinctual fear and a newly sewn preference for delightful risk.
• The breeding kink that drives him wild in the heat of the moment when he’s nearing the edge of his pleasure. His absolute need to finish inside, with a roar of triumph, brought on by his immense desire to see you swollen with a healthy son or daughter that he - no other male - gave you. His deep-seated desire to claim you as his in all finality and to have it be known, worn honest on your body for all the world to see.
(This is a late night idea that WHEW, I might need to add on. Enjoy my first werewolf story!)
You’d been in a dark place for almost six months.
Living out of the single level motel you worked at — for way under minimum wage – you were hardly able to feed yourself.
A fallout with your family in your small hometown left you with nothing. Out in a mountain town, unable to get much of a job, and slowly fading away. Young adulthood was probably going to kill you.
It was a lonely, scary night where you’d found the ad.
HeatHelper.com
Help out a local werewolf for cash.
The sexual connotation was clear, even though you’d found it on a porn site.
