I'm so glad you found my little corner of the internet! This space is dedicated to everything monster romance and spice (so much spice). My stories focus on pairing our favorite monsters with us.
I have been writing for a long time now [Disaster of a Story], and I'm still obsessed with finding new ways to make these stories come to life. Whether you are here for the romance, the fluff, the scenery, or just a bit of an escape, I hope you have fun exploring!
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🔞 Please note: This blog is 18+ only. My stories contain smut and adult language. If you are a minor, please leave!
✍🏻 English is my second language. I’m always learning and trying my best, but if you spot a mistake, feel free to point it out.
📝Requests are currently open! Important: Things I don't write about. And I don’t use a taglist, so the best way to keep up is to follow.
🧜🏻♂️ I write with (mostly) human female Reader. In some of my older stories, the reader had a name, but I’ve since switched to the classic 'Y/N' to make it easier for everyone to imagine themselves in the story!
S C H E D U L E - July
M A I N M A S T E R L I S T
Explore my world...
Ironridge - a small mountain town
Meriad - the city
Mirage Resort - a resort in the middle of the desert
Grimbrook - a spooky town
Space - beyond Earth
And if you want more...
Sweet asks - 2024 and 2025 and 2026 Requests
Thoughts - drabbles, sneak peeks
And if you want even more...
Patreon Masterlist 2024 - more monsters
Patreon Masterlist 2025 - and more monsters
Patreon Masterlist 2026 - and even more monsters
I'm so glad to have found someone who writes for goblins!! I'm obsessed with Ut and the downstairs neighbor your monster neighbors series!
The monster neighbors series is probably my favorite out there, and I think of it fairly often! I'd love to see more from it when you have the chance! It's so domestic and funny that I can't help but be enamored by it. <3
monsters x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: no warnings, just humor
More:
Original: [monsters] Neighbors
A Halloween one on my Patreon: [monsters] Neighbors +1
Request: [monsters] Neighbors +1
And another request: [monsters] Neighbors + Succubus
[monsters] Neighbors + Santa Claus
_
"The devil can't reach me, so he makes me go through summer every year," you groan when the apartment building door clicks shut behind you. You almost lean back against the glass in defeat, but catch yourself just in time; the last thing you need is to stick to it like a sticker.
It's hot outside. It's hot inside. And it's probably hot in your flat too.
You are sweaty, sweaty-sweaty. You can feel it under your armpits, under your tits. Your blouse sticks to your body in soaked patches like a second skin, and your inner thighs are chafed and sensitive from walking to the shop and back in a skirt with no shorts underneath. And you can't be sure, but you are almost sure that the ice cream you bought has melted and spilled inside your bag.
"Are you okay?"
Your head snaps up at the question. Your neighbors are standing by the mailboxes. The succubus wears a smirk, and of course the goblin looks deeply disapproving.
"Yeah," you breathe out. "Everything is great." You can smell yourself, but everything is. just. great.
"You should take a shower."
You glare at the goblin. "What a great idea," you huff.
"And something is dripping from your bag."
"I know."
"Onto your leg."
You wiggle your toes. Ewww. "I know that too."
"Don't listen to him," the succubus grins, sharp teeth glinting. "You look good."
Yeah, you don't believe her for a second. You feel like a blobfish... in an oven. But her… you let your eyes linger. She had cut her hair into a sleek bob with bangs that frame her face perfectly. Her skin looks smooth and not sweaty at all. Her black tank top shows off her flat stomach and her belly button piercing.
And here you are, looking like something half-melted.
It's not fair.
The entrance of the apartment building groans open behind you. "It's hell outside!"
You turn to see a guy stepping in. For a second, you almost frown. After living around so many monsters, running into another human sometimes feels surprising.
His gaze drops straight to your leg. "Something is dripping on your foot."
Now your frown settles in fully. "Who the hell even are you?"
The guy looks up at you. "Your neighbor."
Oh
The wolf-shifter.
"I knew that," you lie.
"Sure you did," the wolf-shifter says with an amused grin.
"You can come to my place to take a shower," the succubus offers, her grin turning wicked.
The goblin frowns. "What happened to your shower?"
You sigh. "Nothing."
"Then why-" He snaps his mouth shut and glances up at the succubus. "Girl…"
The succubus just shrugs. "You can't blame me for trying."
"Whatever happens," the goblin says, turning back to you, "keep it in her apartment." He points at the succubus.
You huff. "You can't tell me where I can have sex!" The audacity of this man…
"Who will have sex?" comes the elderly minotaur's voice from the end of the hallway when the elevator doors hiss open.
Oh no. Not in this heat. You can't deal with this right now. Maybe on a breezy spring day, but not today.
"No one," you breathe out and adjust your grip on your bags, determined to get in the elevator despite the succubus's disappointed expression.
The minotaur lady smiles at you as you rush past her, then-
How about experiencing both one of the best and worst dates of your life?
Fem reader is going on a first date at a restaurant. Your date can only be described as a walking red flag. She's someone who's not really good at speaking up so her boundaries are pushed. Fortunately the owner, a big (in height and especially width) dullahan, notices and promptly kicks him out…and kicks him to the curb when he doesn't listen. He's apologetic to her and tells her the meal is on the house. When he asks if there is anything else he can do for her she asks if he can be her date. He's a sucker for puppy dog eyes so he agrees.
dullahan!Kurz x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: shitty date, but no warnings
_
"We should do something."
Kurz's eyes linger on you a second longer. "Not our business."
The wolf-shifter next to him exhales through his nose. He definitely doesn't like the answer he got. "But-"
"Just do your job," the dullahan says with a nod to the group of newcomers.
They both stand behind the bar; the wolf-shifter handles the drinks while the dullahan just stepped out of his office for a quick check, but now he is stuck here thanks to his bartender pointing out you and your so-called date.
Kurz still isn't sure that the guy even qualifies as a date.
His pub isn't exactly a place for a first date. Or second. Or third. It's a hole-in-the-wall squeezed between two abandoned buildings in the rough part of the city. The food is the cheapest microwave fries and greasy burgers money can buy. They are mostly to soak up alcohol, not win any awards. The drinks are stronger, but they are made for getting drunk, not tasting good. Everything in here is just good enough, clean enough, and functional enough to keep the place from shutting down. And even then, they pray the health inspector never drops by on a bad night.
Your date fits right in; old, worn sweats and patchy stubble. He is the kind of guy who belongs with the younger regulars who come here because it's cheap. But you… you are wearing pretty heels, a matching dress, and shiny makeup. You are dressed for a completely different environment. And clearly, you know it too. You are perched on the edge of your chair because it wobbles, clutch your bag tight in your lap, and whenever you rest your elbow on the table, you make sure there is a napkin underneath.
So why the hell are you still here?
The more Kurz thinks about it, the angrier he gets. You are a sweet thing. Pretty and soft. You deserve a picnic where the birds sing with you. The dullahan snorts at the thought but doesn't correct himself. Or a cute family restaurant where the owner calls you darling. And you definitely deserve a date who opens the door for you, puts his jacket over your shoulders, and it's still just the bare minimum. You definitely don't deserve... whatever this is.
No matter how much he tries to keep his attention on wiping the wooden surface of the bar, there is a point when he just drops the wet rag and folds his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing as he stares straight at the two of you.
"So yeah, like I was saying," your date says, mouth full of fries, "my ex was crazy. Real psycho shit. Used to be a bitch every time I went out with the boys. You're not like that though, right?"
"I-"
"Anyway," he cuts you off without missing a beat, waving a greasy hand, "I make decent money. Not rich or anything, but I got my own place. Well… mostly. My roommate is barely ever there, so it's basically mine. You should come by sometime. I got a big TV. We could watch something after this."
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, and the chair wobbles at the movement. "Um, I was thinking maybe we could-"
He reaches over to steal one of your fries without asking. "You're cool though. Quiet. I like that."
Kurz feels like he is watching a car accident, and he has to watch himself not to shout at you to get out of that fucking car.
After a last fistful of your fries, your date stands up. "You know what? We should go back to my place. This place is shit anyway."
Your fingers tighten on the strap of your bag, but you stand up too. "I think I should go home instead," you say so softly that Kurz barely hears you through the noise of the pub.
Your date grimaces. "C'mon," he scoffs. "Don't be a party pooper. I thought you weren't like the other girls…"
What the fuck does that even mean? Kurz frowns.
You shake your head, still clutching your bag like a shield. "No… I think we should-"
"I didn’t pay for your food so you can just-"
"Hey!" Kurz's voice cuts through the alcohol-smelling, stuffy air. There is an eerie, hollow echo in it that makes every conversation die around. He leans over the bar, one bony finger pointing straight at your date. "Get out of my place!"
Your date stares at him, confused by all the sudden attention. "Don't piss your pants, man. We're leaving."
"No," the dullahan says firmly. "Just you. The girl stays."
"What the fuck did I even do?"
Kurz doesn't bother answering. He rounds the bar, the floorboards creak under his massive frame, and in one smooth motion, he grabs the guy by the hood of his sweatshirt and starts dragging him toward the entrance. It’s a bit dramatic. He's let people smash chairs during bar fights and only tossed them out after the third warning. But tonight he doesn't feel like being patient. And he doesn't have to. He owns this fucking place!
Cold night air rushes in when he pushes the guy out onto the street with one firm shove. "And don't come back."
"Fuck you, man!" But your date's voice is muffled by the closing door.
The pub stays quiet for another beat, then slowly returns to its original rhythm while Kurz rolls his broad shoulders once and turns back to your table, where you are still standing, weight shifting from one heel to the other.
His voice comes out gruff. "What were you even thinking with a guy like him?"
You glance up at the towering dullahan, fingers still curled tightly around your bag. "I don't know," you admit quietly. "He seemed nice enough through the internet."
Kurz groans, but even though his head is nothing but a skull, you can see the tension in his jaw ease just a little. "You should go home, girl."
You look past him toward the front door. Through the glass, you can see small groups already hanging around outside; drinking, shouting, and laughing too loudly. Your shoulders slump. You look like a kicked puppy, still tense and disappointed after the whole shitty evening in an equally shitty bar, completely out of place.
The dullahan huffs again. He can't send you out there like this. And he definitely can't leave the pub right now. Saturday nights are always busy. "C'mon," he mutters. One big hand gently touches your back as he leads you over and up onto a stool at the end of the bar where he can keep an eye on you the whole time.
The wolf-shifter slides a bright pink drink in front of you the second you settle down. "Here," he says. "This is our girliest girly drink I could make." Then catches Kurz's sharp look and quickly adds; "Without alcohol."
The smile you give the wolf-shifter is small, but it is the first genuine one Kurz has seen on your face all night. "Thank you."
"Stay here. I'll take you home once I'm done here." For some reason, calling a ride for you to take you home doesn't even cross his mind. After seeing you so mousy with your date, he doesn't trust anyone to take care of you.
You nibble on your lip, then pat the empty stool right next to yours. "Could you stay with me a little?"
Kurz exhales through the space where his nose should be. A firm no is already sitting in his chest, but then he looks at you; into your hopeful eyes, and the word dies in his throat. He glances at the wolf-shifter, who just gives him a quick nod and drops onto the stool beside you. The wood creaks threateningly under his weight.
"Fine," he mutters, trying to sound annoyed. "Just for a bit."
You sip from your drink. The pub doesn't feel so intimidating anymore with the big dullahan sitting right next to you. "So… do you own this place?"
"Yeah."
You tilt your head. "How long?" You seem much more relaxed, and Kurz wants to remind you that this place is still shitty and he is still a stranger, but he can't bring himself to do it.
"Too long," he says instead. "Ten years."
With a nod, you scoot just a tiny bit closer and let out a contented sigh as your shoulder presses against him.
"Would you… be my date instead? Just for tonight?"
Kurz's skull tilts down toward you, and for a long moment, he says nothing. Then- "Yeah. Alright."
You beam at him, and it hits him straight in the chest.
Girl, you really don't know how to choose them, huh?
Its February and I am locking in my mermay request. reader on her period and shark merman bf eating her out and getting pussy drunk
Thank you for reminding me that Mermay is a thing, so I had time to write for it. 😅
_
It's like a reward. For what, he isn't sure. Maybe because he is such a good mate. Capable and strong. Or simply, because he is handsome. Stupidly so, despite the scars and the missing part of his upper lip. Either way, he doesn’t care. Not when you are lying on your back with waves lapping up on your body, swimsuit already soaked and sticking to your every curve, and pretty toes curling into the sand under the water. Not when you are so pliant when he nestles himself between your thighs.
Your scent hits him hard. Suncream, a light sheen of sweat on your skin, and underneath it all, that rich, coppery tang that makes his large mouth water instantly. It’s intoxicating, the promise of your taste. It makes his pulse flutter with excitement. His gills open and close with every deep breath he takes while his cheek presses to the junction of your thigh. And you just brace yourself on your elbows and smile down at him like the prettiest fucking thing in the world he can't wait to devour.
He hooks two clawed fingers into the crotch of your swimsuit, peels the wet fabric aside, and his pupils blow wide at the sight. Deep red smears across your folds. The slow trickle mixes with the water that keeps both of you in a warm, lulling embrace.
It’s messy and so fucking perfect.
He leans in, more than ready to feast-
but then he feels them.
Other shark mers. Drawn in by the heavy and heavenly scent of your blood. Their dark shapes cut through the waves as they circle slowly in the distance and watch. And wait.
A snarl rips from his throat as his massive tail thrashes hard in the shallow water. White foam sprays around at the violent movement. He twists as much as he can between your legs, lips pulling back to bare several rows of razor-sharp teeth in clear warning, but before he can lunge or snap at them, you clamp your thighs tighter around him, locking him in place as much as you can.
"It’s okay," you murmur softly as you reach down to stroke the rough skin of his cheek. "They can watch."
His shoulders are rigid, muscles coiled like he is one second away from launching himself at anyone stupid enough to come closer, but you keep petting him until his attention is on you again. His gaze is still wild and possessive, but the murderous line of his jaw softens just a little. He doesn’t relax completely, though. His body stays locked tight, but the others stay at a respectful, and smart, distance away as your mate finally dives in.
The first broad swipe of his tongue makes his eyes roll back into his skull. Your warm and metallic taste explodes in his mouth. Your blood mixes with your arousal and the salt of the sea, and he laps it all up with greedy groans. He licks from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit in hungry strokes. You are so soft. So warm and plush in his carnivorous mouth. He seals his lips around your clit, sharp teeth threatening as he drinks you down.
But even like this, half-mad from your irony, salty taste, he can't fully lose himself. Not with the others behind. Every few moments, his instincts flare hot and violent. He feels the other circling, watching, and breathing in the same intoxicating scent that belongs to him. He knows what they want. Latching their mouth on your sweet, bloody cunt and take you from him. A deep, guttural snarl rips from his chest at the thought, and he twists his head sharply to the side, baring rows of gory teeth toward the open as his tail lashes hard behind him. Sand and foam swirl around both of you.
You lift your hips, pressing your bloody, dripping pussy firmly back against his mouth. "Focus on me," you breathe out raggedly. "They’re not getting anything. Only you are."
He looks back at you then. His tunnel vision rakes over your sand-covered skin and lingers on your hard nipples under the swimsuit. He snarls again, a half-warning, but obeys. His tongue plunges deeper now, pushing inside your tight heat, scooping out more of your slick. The taste of you floods his mouth, and a shudder rolls down his spine all the way to the tip of his powerful tail. You feel so fucking good. Your velvety soft walls flutter around his tongue, and your swollen clit pulses when he returns to suck and lick with renewed hunger. He moans into your pussy. The sound is muffled and desperate. His large hands grip your ass, claws digging lightly into your skin as he pulls you closer, burying his face deeper. His tongue works you relentlessly with long, firm strokes and with tight circles as he sucks and licks every drop of your blood and slick.
Even with the occasional snarls and the way his body stays locked in aggressive tension, he never stops devouring you. Every twitch of your thighs, every soft moan you let out, every fresh gush of warmth against his tongue only makes him hungrier. You are his. This taste, this softness, this perfect wet heat. All his.
And the others can only watch from afar as he claims you with his mouth, over and over again.
the idea of little spider children crawling around is a little gross but i think id just give them tiny metal shoes that go clack clack when they walk and that’ll make it adorable instead
turning my spider children into crab children scuttling about
"...Where did you find the metal to shoe them all?"
[sneak peek]
fairy x human!gn!Reader
Good to know: botanical and body horror, starving and obsessive eating
Summary: It would be wise to remember: Nothing good ever comes out of that forest, and if it does, you will always have to pay the price.
The hunger inside you roared.
It clawed up your throat like a monstrous creature, slashing your vocal cords before you could answer and grabbing onto your cervical vertebrae in a bruising, cracking grip before you could shake your head. It threatened to devour you if it could not have something else to feed upon.
The fairy watched your struggle with bright delight. "Are you sure?" they asked sweetly. Their grin stretched wide around their needle-sharp teeth. "It looks very much like you need it."
You knew the woods well enough to understand what stood on your windowsill. You knew better than to trust anything that called it home. Nothing good came out of that forest. Not the creatures. Not the wanderers, bruised and bleeding out, and certainly not gifts.
1. [zombie] Leander 1/3 - The first chapter of a story about love and grief.
Tumblr: 3. Request: [dullahan] Kurz - Your shitty date is saved by Kurz.
8. [monsters] Phantom Express + NSFW Alphabet - We will go back to the train for a quick NSFW Alphabet.
On Patreon:
[monsters] Phantom Express 1/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 2/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 3/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 4/4
15. [zombie] Leander 2/3 - Our story continues, and we will see how far you are willing to go to get your husband back.
Tumblr: 22. Request: [alien] Sconar - The fruit you eat on Sconar's farm has a side effect, but don't worry, because the alien is more than happy to help you out.
I got this request because of these:
[alien] Help[aliens] Friday special
29. [zombie] Leander 3/3 - You love your husband even if others have to pay the price for it.
1. [zombie] Leander 1/3 - The first chapter of a story about love and grief.
Tumblr: 3. Request: [dullahan] Kurz - Your shitty date is saved by Kurz.
8. [monsters] Phantom Express + NSFW Alphabet - We will go back to the train for a quick NSFW Alphabet.
On Patreon:
[monsters] Phantom Express 1/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 2/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 3/4
[monsters] Phantom Express 4/4
15. [zombie] Leander 2/3 - Our story continues, and we will see how far you are willing to go to get your husband back.
Tumblr: 22. Request: [alien] Sconar - The fruit you eat on Sconar's farm has a side effect, but don't worry, because the alien is more than happy to help you out.
I got this request because of these:
[alien] Help[aliens] Friday special
29. [zombie] Leander 3/3 - You love your husband even if others have to pay the price for it.
I like to imagine being some kind of offering to a monster or deity, like the kind where I'm beautifully wrap in white silk kind of offering.
Then the monster or deity takes me to their place and treating me like a delicate doll.
And when night falls, that's when their true selves are revealed.
I want them to rearrange my insides so their offsprings can perfectly form. I'll never be seen with a flat belly ever again. Everyone will know who I am and who I belong to.
deity!Florian x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: smut, breeding kink
_
"It is so exciting, isn't it?"
It definitely is. Your stomach is in a tight knot from thrill and fear both. Your palms are sweaty, fingers fidgeting, and your lower lip is sensitive from all the anxious nibbling you couldn't stop all day. It is slightly swollen by now with a faint gash. And even now, when it stings, you still suck it between your teeth.
"It definitely is."
You both stand in your own little gardens. They are separated by an old wooden fence and overgrown bushes. The blooming flowers among the lush greens smell sweet in the warm afternoon air.
Your gaze, from the wheat field stretching before you on the other side of the narrow path, turns to Maria. She is ready, you notice. She looks radiant in her white gown under the golden light of the setting sun. Pretty enough that you wouldn't be surprised if a god or goddess claimed her tonight. They would be fools not to.
"I like your necklace."
Marie's fingers rise to the string of small beads resting on her chest and dipping into her cleavage. Her smile blooms at your praise. "Really?"
You nod. "Yes."
She tilts her head then, studying you for a second. "Aren't you getting ready?"
You glance down at yourself. Your everyday clothes are still stained with fresh soil and wet patches from tending your garden all day. You had been too restless to do anything else. "I will soon."
"I can give you-"
But your attention drifts past her to the next house. Marcel stands on his porch with a freshly cut bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. Despite his best clothes, a crisp white shirt and black trousers embroidered with delicate patterns, he looks like a deer caught in the gaze of hungry wolves when he notices that you and Marie are watching him.
He gives you both an awkward nod. "Ladies."
You lift your hand in a small wave, and Marie lets out a small giggle.
"Have a good night," the man adds, already half inside his small house and completely disappearing behind the closing door.
Marie turns back to you with a mischievous spark in her blue eyes. "If someone chooses him," she says, "they will chew him up."
"And he will enjoy every second of it."
The woman's laughter rings out, then she offers you another smile; "Good luck tonight."
You stay alone in your garden while the sun sinks lower, all golds and pinks and oranges. Behind the field, the mountain rises, and it feels so close that for a second, you really think you could touch it. Its peak reaches into the clouds, and the longer you stare at it, the tighter the knot in your stomach becomes.
You can't stay still any longer. There is still so much to do.
Every four years, gods and goddesses leave their home on the mountain to choose their brides and grooms. They whisk them away in the middle of the night.
And you have a long night ahead of you.
By the time you finish your bath, it's dark outside, and the air in your small bedroom is heavy with the earthy scent of herbs and oils. You sit at your vanity for a while with a single candle burning next to the mirror. You wear a white gown similar to Marie's. It's made of soft fabric with baggy sleeves and a delicate, lace-trimmed hem. Your eyes are drawn to the window. Beyond the glass, the mountain looms, darker and more imposing than ever, yet, high above, wrapped in the clouds, there is a light; an ethereal glow that outlines the sharp ridges and steals your breath away.
You heard these stories all your life. Tales of deities on the mountain. You and your friends, flushed and giggling in your teenage years, whispered about powerful gods and goddesses of breathtaking beauty and endless luxury.
The candle flickers, and the time stretches.
Eventually, you lie down on your bed, but your eyes stay on the mountain.
You knew a girl... She was several years older than you. Then, one night... she disappeared in the middle of the night.
Your eyelids grow heavy.
Then your teacher. He just... didn't come one day. You ran home crying your eyes out, terrified.
Slowly, in the buzzing of cicadas and the occasional scuffle of the stray cat chasing shadows across your roof, you fall asleep.
And there was another story-
Sleep wraps around you so much so that even when something delicate brushes over your lip, you barely stir. The feather-light touch lingers on the small cut just for a second before strong arms slide under you; one beneath your back and another under your knees. You are lifted effortlessly from the bed, cradled against a chest, and into a scent of sun-warmed blossoms and honey. Ripe figs and fertile earth after rain. Life, you think, still asleep. You hum, and a warm chuckle answers. The sound rumbles against your cheek and settles sweet and sticky in your chest.
When you wake up, the world feels softer than any dream.
You are in a bed that is definitely not yours with all the finest fabrics in a room that is definitely not yours either with its dome ceiling. It's made of colorful glasses that paint the early morning sky in gold, rose, and pale lavender.
You sit up and glance around, eyes following the curve of the walls adorned with murals of flowers and vines. Rich textures surround you: plush rugs underfoot, heavy velvet drapes tied at the sides of tall windows, and furniture carved from wood. A mirror framed with pearls. Bookshelves overflowing with leather-bound volumes. Plants are bathing in the sunlight wherever you look.
But you are alone. And you hear nothing from outside either when you go to the door and lean close, listening.
But when you open it-
"Good, you are here," Maria greets you, fist raised mid-knock and surprise melting into a bright smile. "Elias told me you would be."
"Elias?"
You can see her cheeks darken as a silly grin spreads across her lips, lips you now notice are slightly swollen.
"My god."
"Oh," you reply, still lost. "So you met him?"
Marie frowns lightly, then steals a quick glance behind you. "You didn't?"
"No. I just woke up."
"Well, I'm sure you will-"
But again, your attention drifts behind her. The door across from yours opens with a soft click with Marcel behind. The man is half-naked, his black trousers hanging low on his hips. His smooth skin is littered with dark, blooming bruises. Marks scattered across his neck, collarbones, and all over his upper body like a passionate constellation of a too-eager mouth.
Your gaze moves past him into the dimly lit room.
Or mouths.
There is something about them that sends a shiver down your whole body. They are truly breathtaking. One has horns curling and twisting from his temple. While the other is his complete opposite, with round features and soft, golden locks. And in his hair, you recognize the flower from Marcel's garden.
Where the first is sharp, this one is gentle. "Ladies," he says with a polite nod. "Can we help you?"
His partner answers before either of you can speak. "Florian should be here soon."
"And Elias is already waiting for me," Maria says, snapping out of her daze with a warm smile. She glances at you. "I just wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine," you reply, though you aren't sure if you are still dreaming. Especially when you look down the corridor. The walls rise so tall they disappear into the clouds above where golden chandeliers hang with twinkling crystals.
It must be a dream.
And beneath it all stands your god.
"You are awake."
Are you?
"My name is Florian," he murmurs, bringing your hand to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss when he leads you back to the privacy of your, well... probably his, room. "God of fertility, of growth, and now... of you."
He is patient and amused as he helps you through your daze.
He brings you to the large bed and eases you down to rest. "Sit, little bloom," he says softly like a caress. "You must be hungry after such a long night."
"I don't remember much."
Florian smiles at you. "I didn't want to wake you." He settles down next to you on the edge of the bed with a silver tray on his lap. He picks up a ripe strawberry between his fingers and brings it to your lips. "Open for me."
He offers you fat cherries, dark green grapes, and slices of cheese with fresh bread, and watches you chew obediently like you are the most precious thing he has ever seen. Like a pretty doll he intends to spoil and cherish.
"From the first moment I saw you in your little garden tending the soil with such care, I wanted to bring you here. To watch you bloom under my hands."
He chooses a slice of peach next, and when you accept it, his long fingers linger on your lips, then trail down your jaw.
Heat warms your cheeks, but you can't look away.
He is beautiful. Like the wheat field in front of your home on warm summer days. Like the first rays of the sun after a long night of rain. Like your god with deep green eyes, dark skin, and black hair with white blossoms growing among the tight curls.
He smiles at you, and the room feels brighter for it.
The day stretches lazily into the afternoon, and you bask in Florian's attention. Your nervousness slowly turns into something warm and fluttering as you two talk for hours. It feels like a sacred ritual, the way he takes care of you and the way you lean for him like flowers towards the sun.
And later, when the light above turns into warm amber, and you swear his golden freckles across his cheekbones do the same, he helps you out of the bed. "Come here, my sweet blossom."
"What are you doing?" you ask, but before you know it, you are bare before him with your gown pooling at your feet and him taking his sweet time helping you into another dress. The fabric is blush pink, embroidered with tiny golden vines that shimmer when they catch the light.
"Look at you," he hums, lips pressing against the curve of your shoulder briefly. The small contact is enough to make your breath hitch. "I wonder how loud you will sing for me when I finally taste you properly."
He dresses you himself, sliding the silk down your body with care as though wrapping a precious gift he can unwrap later. His fingers brush your nipples as he adjusts the neckline, lingering just long enough to draw another soft gasp from you.
"You were made to be pampered like this, weren't you?"
And maybe he is right. You could definitely get used to all this care and attention.
He pulls you close again, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just beneath your ear.
"The day is still young," he says, fingers tracing idle patterns along your silk-covered waist. "And I have so many more ways to spoil you. Tell me, my sweet… what would you like me to do with you next?"
At his question, you feel a shy warmth spread across your chest, but you still force yourself to reply. "I would like a kiss."
Florian's eyes sparkle with playful delight. He tilts his head, and a teasing smile curves his lips as he looks down at you like this is the sweetest thing he has ever heard. "That's what my little bloom wants?" he murmurs, low and warm with gentle mockery. "Just one kiss? How modest you are…"
Soon, you are back on the bed with Florian's warm body beside yours. And his lips... He kisses you as though he has all the time in the world, savoring every brush, every sigh you give him. He teases and nips. Licks and chuckles into your mouth.
And hours slip away like this, and you aren't sure how your poor little heart can handle it.
He kisses your lips again and again, then trails lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His mouth is warm, his breath hot, and every time he finds a spot that makes you shiver, he lingers there, sucking gently until you grow putty in his arms. Then he returns to your lips, claiming them once more with unhurried hunger. All the while, his hands explore you. They glide over the delicate silk of your gown, then slip beneath it, fingertips tracing the curves of your waist, your hips, the soft swell of your breasts. He pinches your nipples lightly between his fingers and swallows your gasps and mewls.
Outside the glass dome, the sky deepens from amber to twilight, and then to full night. And as the darkness settles, Florian's passion deepens.
"Look at you," he whispers against your swollen lips. "My pretty blossom is already dripping just from a few kisses and touches. I wonder how wet you'll get when I finally spread these pretty legs and bury my tongue inside you." He nips at your lower lip, then soothes it with another slow kiss. "Would you like that? Or should I keep you like this a little longer?"
His green eyes darken, the golden freckles on his soft, dark skin turn to silver, and the delicate vines of his horns twist and thicken. They curl longer, more wild, like ancient branches. And his body seems larger, too, more imposing.
"You are so perfect like this." He kisses down your body. He presses his mouth open and wet over your collarbones and the valley between your breasts. "My fertile little bride, made to be filled and cherished." He settles between your spread thighs. "I want to breed you." The confession slips free shamelessly as his lips brush just above your mound. "Watch your belly grow round and heavy with life I plant inside you." He lowers his head and licks a long, slow path up your folds. Then he groans at the taste while you rip onto the covers around you, fingers digging into the soft fabrics. "So sweet… already so wet for your god's cock."
Then he feasts.
His tongue is relentless; broad, hot, and skilled. Florian circles your clit before dipping inside you, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. He hums in pleasure, and the vibration shoots straight through you. Your back arches off the bed, and you cry out when two fingers join his mouth. They slide and curl just right while he sucks and laps over you.
"Come for me," he coaxes between licks. "Let me feel this tight cunt squeeze around my fingers. I want to taste every drop of your pleasure before I fill you properly."
And how could you deny your god?
You shatter in his hungry mouth, but he doesn't stop. He guides you through your orgasm.
Then through another one.
While you still tremble from the aftershocks, chest heaving, thighs squeezing, he rises above you. He is naked and magnificent as his horns cast dramatic shadows across the bed and the wall while the mountain glows white above the glass ceiling.
He positions himself between your legs, rubbing his heavy length along your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness.
"Look at you," he breathes, eyes glowing with feral adoration. "Made to take everything I give you."
He pushes inside you in one smooth motion, and you open for him willingly, wide around his girth.
"Florian-" His name is a gasp between your lips.
A low, guttural groan escapes him as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, arms flexing beside your head. "So tight… so warm…"
He moves with deep, powerful strokes, angling every thrust to hit that sweet, sensitive spot inside.
"Gonna fill you up." It's a promise. You have no doubts about it. "Pump this fertile womb full until it takes. You will look so beautiful with my offspring growing inside you."
His passion is a storm, and you are caught helpless in the center with no will to fight the overwhelming pleasure that crashes through you like a flood. You simply lie there beneath him, fingers digging into his shoulders, legs tight around his hips, lips trembling around every moan, and back arching with each thrust.
"You'll grow round and heavy with my children, breasts full of milk, belly stretched tight with the life I breed into you." His pace turns punishing. He grips your hips hard enough to leave marks as he lifts you so he can drive even deeper, rearranging you with every savage stroke. "Cum on your god's cock. Let me feel this pretty cunt milk me dry."
Your walls clench hard around his thick length as you cry out his name. You can barely breathe at this point, and every spinning, dizzy thought you have fizzles out on your tongue.
"Yes- Just like that. Such a perfect doll. So perfect to be fucked and bred and spoiled until you can't think of anything but my cock and my seed."
He flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so you're kneeling, face pressed into the silken sheets. Your startled squeak is muffled by the pillows. The new angle lets him sink even deeper. The slap of skin on skin fills the room. His free hand reaches around to rub your clit again, forcing another orgasm from your overstimulated body while he chases his own release.
"Florian!" you pant. "Please-" The image he put into your head is driving you crazy; your belly round with a new life, your god's fingers drawing over the stretch marks.
Your pussy clenches with delirious need.
Florian's orgasm feels like an earthquake. It rumbles through you, flipping your world upside down as he buries himself to the hilt. Pulse after pulse, he fills you up so much you have no choice but to feel claimed and utterly his. The hot, thick spurts paint your walls over and over again, and he keeps rocking through it, pushing his seed even deeper.
But he is not finished, you notice through the fog of your mind. He stays hard inside you, cock still throbbing.
Without pulling out, he flips you onto your back and continues moving, slower now, but just as deep. He fucks his cum back into you with long, possessive strokes.
"Look at the mess we made. And I'm nowhere near done. I'm going to breed you all night, little blossom. Fill you over and over until your belly looks swollen with me. Until you're sobbing and cumming and begging for more of your god's seed."
He fucks you like that for what feels like hours. He eats you out between rounds, licking his own syrupy-thick, and just as sweet, cum from your dripping pussy before sliding back inside and sealing your lips with a kiss.
"My fertile little flower… taking everything I give you so beautifully." He praises your every moan, every tear of overwhelming pleasure, and every time your body clenches and spasms around him.
By the time the white glow outside the glass dome begins to soften with the first hints of dawn, you have lost count of how many times he has filled you. Your body feels used and worshipped, pussy leaking, skin marked with love bites and fingerprints, and still, he hovers above you, hard and hungry. And you can do nothing but bask in the merciless love of your god.
mothman!Moros x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: no warnings
First request: [mothman] Moros
"Are you sure you want to come with me?"
No.
He really shouldn't.
He is going to regret it.
"Sure."
"You can wait in the pool, you know."
Moros adjusts the towel around his waist. "No. I want to try it. How bad can it be?"
You earned this vacation thanks to an unexpectedly large fat bonus you received at the end of last year. When you asked Moros if he would like to join you, the male was already packing in his mind. So after months of planning, you chose Mirage Resort; a sun-drenched oasis with endless golden dunes. And the past several days have been pure bliss. Lazy mornings with room service, long afternoons floating in pools, and spa treatments that left Moros's dark fur impossibly soft and glossy.
And now he is about to ruin all that hard work within a few, sweaty minutes.
You stand together on the winding stone path that leads to one of the resort's small sauna cabins with bright, colorful flowers spilling at the sides. Their scent is sweet in the warm afternoon air.
"Okay then."
The moment you open the wooden door, steam rolls out and slaps you both in the face. You blink, startled, then step inside, and Moros follows. His tall, winged frame ducks slightly as he pulls the door shut behind him.
For several seconds, Moros sits still across from you, antennae twitching as he adjusts to the unfamiliar heat. "Okay… It’s not that bad," he mutters. "Just warm." It wraps around you both, dense and fragrant with eucalyptus.
Then it begins.
His coat starts to react to the moist heat. Slowly, the carefully groomed fur across his chest begins to puff up in soft, rolling waves. The moisture sinks deep into the dark strands all over his body, and what was once sleek and elegant slowly transforms into something... voluminous.
Moros glances down at himself, then back up at you with wide, luminous eyes. "This is worse than I expected." He tries to smooth down the tiny curls around his neck, but they spring back, even fluffier than before. "I look like something a kid would cry for in a toy shop."
You try not to laugh, but a soft, affectionate smile curves your lips anyway. "You look cute."
You lean back against the warm wooden seat behind you and sigh. You look peaceful. There is a quiet glow of contentment around you that makes something warm bloom in Moros's chest. It's okay, he thinks, it's worth looking like a giant plush toy for the sight of you so relaxed.
anglerfish!merman x human!gn!Reader
Good to know: fluff
Summary: You volunteer at Grimbrook Aquarium because of one clingy merman.
The anglerfish merman latches on you whenever you volunteer at Grimbrook Aquarium.
It started when the workers moved the anglerfish mer into a new tank. The poor guy was smaller than the others, shorter than you from head to tail, and the staff had to separate him because the others kept bullying him.
You were standing in front of the empty tank, peering inside, when chaos erupted above. The little mer was thrashing wildly as the others tried to lower him into the water.
Then he spotted you through the glass.
He froze mid-thrash. His huge black eyes locked onto you. And a second later, he launched himself into the tank. He swam straight over to you and slammed both palms against the glass right in front of your face. With his mouth slightly open, he stared at you like you were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
You smiled and gave him a small wave. "Hey there."
That simple little wave apparently sealed your fate at the Aquarium.
The moment you left that day, the tiny anglerfish mer threw an absolute fit. He refused to eat, barely moved, and caused such a ruckus that the staff eventually had to hunt you down. One of the caretakers practically begged you to take a volunteering position: come help with him whenever you could, and they would give you free entry plus free food from the café.
You accepted.
And ever since then, the small, clingy anglerfish has been completely obsessed with you. The second you walk through the doors, he presses himself against the glass like he is trying to melt through it to reach you.
The first time the staff sat you down at the edge of his tank with your legs dangling in the cold water, you nearly jumped out of your skin. The mer shot up from below and grabbed your ankles with his webbed hands. You thought he would yank you down with himself. But instead, his fingers slid smoothly up your calves, head resting on your lap, and you found yourself raking your fingers through his soaked black hair while he chirped happily and tried to climb higher onto you.
And his attachment never eased.
Now he latches onto you every single time you visit. Whenever you get into the water with him, no matter what you are wearing, he finds a way to cling. His arms curl around your body, his lips seal onto whatever bare skin he can reach. The first time he did it, you panicked. You knew how real male anglerfish latch onto females and basically merge with them like parasites. The staff had to pull you out of the tank and calm you down while the poor mer cried and wailed in the water.
That day, you learned that he can't actually fuse with you.
But he can leave marks.
And he does. A lot.
Ever since you started coming weekly, your skin is almost always decorated with dark little hickies where his lips have sucked and clung. They are all over your neck, shoulders, chest, hips, thighs, everywhere. You learned to just let him do it. It’s honestly kind of cute in a weird way. He is so happy and content whenever he is attached to you, sighing and drooling softly, half-asleep and relaxed in a way the staff says he never is with anyone else. They tease you about it, too, they call you his favorite human. And you just laugh and shrug, because yeah, probably you are.
orca!merman x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: foot fetish
Summary: No summary, the warning tells you everything you need to know.
Pathetic, pathetic orca merman who is completely obsessed with your legs. And he is not ashamed of it. Not even a little. He is a shameless pervert for them; for the soft skin of your thighs, for the way his hand fits perfectly to the back of your knee, for the curve of your calves, for that delicate little bracelet with the tiny shell dangling around your ankle, and for the cute colors you paint your toenails.
The obsession in his chest, quiet and innocent at first, more curiosity than attraction, until, somehow, it moved south and turned into a filthy, burning need to feel your pretty feet wrapped around his cock.
And you are such a sweet thing, of course you give him exactly what he wants.
The merman is already panting, his slit parted and cock jutting out, pale at the base, flushed pretty pink at the swollen tip.
And the second you press your soles together around his erection-
he loses it.
"Look at them squeezing me like that-" His black eyes are glued to the sight; your pretty pink toenails smeared with his sticky precum, and the little bracelet bounces and jingles with every thrust of his hips. Water splashes wildly around you as he ruts between your feet, webbed hands gripping your calves to keep you in place for his own pleasure.
"You’re too sweet to me…" he moans, gaze flicking up to your exposed pussy every few seconds. "Fuck, I don’t deserve you…" He is getting louder as he keeps dripping onto your feet.
"Fuck, I’m so close- gonna-" A broken, pathetic moan tears out of him as thick ropes of cum erupt across your legs. He keeps thrusting through it, shaking, chirping weakly, painting your arches, your toes, and that jingling little bracelet in messy, sticky white streaks. Cum drips down your ankles in fat globs as he rides out every last spurt, completely lost in his pleasure.
When he finally slows down, he nearly collapses forward onto your lap, trembling, face buried against your thigh, still twitching between your cum-slick feet.
And he is not done.
He is already grabbing your thighs, eyes wild and hungry as he stares straight at your exposed, dripping pussy because, after your legs, the second thing he loves most is the sweet cunt between them.
Your peacock hybrid boyfriend, who gets off when you praise him
peacock hybrid!boyfriend x human!gn!Reader
Good to know: I love writing about pathetic men
Your peacock hybrid boyfriend, who gets off when you praise him, struts through the hallway of your shared home like he struts through life. Like a living jewel; vibrant, and impossible to ignore. And tonight, he is dressed to fucking kill.
In a pressed navy suit, perfectly tailored to show off every lean, elegant line of him, he stands by the door, checking his cuffs and adjusting his collar with a smug little smirk playing on his lips. He looks good, and he knows it. His feathers are sleek and glossy, and his tail is tucked around his narrow waist on one side. The long, green plumes drape along his legs, swaying and shimmering with every step he takes.
You have only one problem, though.
It’s your anniversary tonight.
And he is not dressed up for you.
No, your peacock is on his way to some high-powered business meeting, and while you told him it's fine, you are nothing if not a bit vengeful.
So, you wait.
Wait until he is almost out the door.
Then you strike.
You let your eyes roam over him like you are drinking him in, and there is nothing subtle or casual about it. Just pure, slow-burning admiration. You even reach out to smooth the lapel of his jacket. There is no wrinkle, but you do it anyway.
Then you look up, eyes locked with his, and say, "You are gorgeous, you know that?"
He freezes. The smug smirk vanishes like it never existed. Instead, his breath catches in his throat, his lips part, and his pupils blow wide.
"Fuck-" he breathes, voice cracking right down the middle. His hands flex uselessly at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to grab you or hold himself back. "Don’t- don’t say it like that, I- I can’t-"
Your hand drifts lower, fingers brushing a phantom speck of lint from his chest. "You really don’t know what you do to people, do you?" you murmur. "You walk around looking like a goddamn fantasy."
He groans, and you smile just a little wider. Just a little crueler and sweeter.
"So handsome," you breathe, letting your palm rest lightly over his stomach. "So elegant. All dressed up for… someone else?"
He whimpers, high and choked. "I- fuck, babe- please-"
You hum, your eyes roaming over him again like you’re admiring art. "Please? What’s wrong?" Your hand drifts to his neck as if adjusting the dark blue feathers there. "Too much for you, pretty boy?"
He whimpers again. Whimpers.
"So handsome," you tell him again, like you’re oblivious to the chaos unraveling inside him. Like you don’t see the strain at the front of his slacks. "All dressed up like a dream."
He moans, breath coming in quick little gasps. "F-fuckfuckfuck-" He is trembling, hands clenched at his sides. "I- shit- I can’t-"
"Can’t what?" you tease, brushing your lips close to his tense jawline. "Can’t take me telling you how fucking perfect you are?"
That does it.
He shudders. His legs buckle, and a guttural moan rips from his throat as his hips snap forward, soaking the front of his expensive pants. His face twists, and he gasps your name like a prayer and a curse all at once.
"Fuuuuck," he groans, shaking. "You-goddamn it-"
You lean in and kiss his jaw, slow and possessive, then murmur against his skin, "Guess that meeting is canceled."
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