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I will reblog Monster stuff on here, NSFW so no minors please! (also to all the bigots, racists and terfs... Fuck off)

[domestically-loving-monsters]

Cold Blooded & Warm Sheets

(Heavy Smut ✨️ 9k ✨️ M!Lizard Monster x F!Reader) -previous story here

Warnings/Themes:

Male Lizard Monster x Female Reader, smut, heavy smut, smut with no plot, double penetration, double penetration in the same hole, P in V, oral- female receiving, dirty talk, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, cum play, mentions of cum, portal pussy, jealous monster, territorial monster, modern time universe, handjob, strange dick descriptions, monster dick description, monster scales, monster tail, cock warming, sleeping while still inside, reptilian monster, spiked dick, panty sniffing

Notes:

Hiya! This became a much bigger smut fest than I expected. Massively self-indulgent but also a little challenge to myself to make a decently in-depth scene.

Feedback or criticism is welcome! I'm trying to improve in any way I can.

Enjoy!

For writing context, anything written like this, is the Lizard's past dialogue during your time together with the portal ❤️

Ping! - The phone notification startled you. Almost causing you to mess up your careful application of eyeliner.

“Oh Gods! Really!?” You had but a moment to prepare yourself before you felt an all too familiar tongue dive into your portal.

You braced against the sink, manicured nails clawing at the porcelain surface as your velvety walls were assaulted by a heated attack barely reaching your cervix.

He felt hungry. Maddeningly desperate to brush the tip of his pointed tongue against that part of you that had your walls clamping down on him.

Within seconds your Regular had your breaths turn to gasps and your thighs parting, as if waiting for a thicker intrusion.

"Getting one last taste in before I close for the night, huh?” You asked no one in particular. It wasn't like the hunk of a reptile on the other end of your portal could hear you.

You squeezed around him, rolling your hips in time with the strokes of his mouth. You were rewarded by two fingers spreading you wider and your back arched with the welcome penetration.

Your legs nearly buckled out from under you when his claws scraped along your inner walls. A cry bouncing off the bathroom walls as the Regular began fingering you at a rapid pace.

Even when this man was stuffing you with his long, slender digits- he was so utterly careful it was sinful.

Other Monsters had attempted to use their hands while pleasuring themselves with your portal. But every time their talons caused discomfort or pain. Twice your Handlers had to remove a Patron that had gotten too frisky with your portal, causing small cuts in areas you found excruciatingly painful.

But this Regular? A Lizard-Man who visited your portal every Friday evening, paying for a full afternoon in a private room- was the exception to your ‘no claws allowed’ boundary.

He was just…so dominantly tender with your pussy it made your head spin. He took his pleasure from you like you owed him a life debt. But he was always mindful of your body’s limits.

On days your walls couldn't handle both his cocks- he wouldn’t shove them in or get aggressive. Instead, he’d work you up to it. Talking you through it, even if he thought you couldn’t hear him.

You occasionally stayed in the Portal Hostel on your shifts, especially on a Friday, just to watch him. You used to think he knew you were there behind that one way mirror. But your Handlers explained that was impossible. Their Workers, unless they asked otherwise, were kept anonymous. And the rooms you could use to watch were completely sound proof- there was no way the Lizard-Man knew you were watching.

Meaning every praise and compliment, every tease, was for his own enjoyment.

He was your faverite…and you would admit you had a fleeting bubble of disappointment when you had to close your portal off this afternoon. You kept the option for oral open- but ultimately closed all appointments so you didn’t reek of sex on your date.

You didn't expect anyone to take the last slot. Oral appointments weren’t usually that popular. But your Regular never did like to disappoint you.

The Lizard-Man’s fingers didn’t stop their rapid thrusting until your bathroom filled with the sloppy sounds of your sex. He then withdrew them with deliberate slowness, making you groan out a frustrated curse, before his tongue returned.

Messily- greedily -slurping up your slick until he forced your climax from you. You felt him purring. Making you writhe until you were sitting on the tiled floor, twitching and moaning with the steady vibrations from his lips crushed against your portal edge.

He licked you clean.

A habit your Regular commonly performed after your sessions together. Taking care to swipe his tongue along the rim of your pussy before withdrawing from the portal with one last careful nip to your folds.

The portal closed with a notification from your phone displaying the session was over and your portal had been disconnected from the Hostel.

What should have been a quick trip to the bathroom instead turned out to be a thirty minute long stand-off between your body and the Lizard-Man’s mouth.

He won. Every damn time.

“Gods…you’re going to ruin other men for me.” You laughed, breathless, while hauling yourself up by the edge of the sink. Your legs trembled and every inch of you tingled with a fuzzy heat.

You had to take a second shower to remove the mess from between your legs. Having half a mind to choose a different outfit in case the material reeked of your arousal.

But despite the hassle of washing yourself down again, you felt a lot less nervous about tonight now your body was buzzing with post-fuck endorphins.

“I should thank that man with a free session.” You joked to your reflection in the mirror. It was getting harder and harder to keep the pre-date jitters down now the reservation time was getting closer.

At least you had something to keep you relaxed- the afterglow of your Regular’s tongue ravishing the deepest parts of you.

It wasn’t exactly a great thought to have when you were on your way to a blind-date set up by a friend.

But anything was better than spiralling into a mess of nerves and exaggerated thoughts of how horribly this date could go.

You only knew two things about the man you were on your way to see.

The first is that your friend Joane spoke nothing but good things about him. Her exact words being; ‘He’s really charming! Super sweet. He helped me out of a few problems at work and I have a feeling you’d both get along great! You’re both workaholics! I promise he’s not some weirdo.’ It had been a playful jest. But you weren’t sure how to feel about this ‘amazing guy’ that your friend has kept all hush-hush about. She gave almost nothing away about him.

The second piece of information given to you was that he was a lawyer. You weren’t sure how good of a lawyer or any smaller details; just that Joane had said he was very good at what he did.

“And what happens if he’s a creep?” You asked Joane one time. During one of her long and nagging attempts to get you to agree to a blind-date with her ‘awesome, very handsome lawyer’ friend. “It’s even worse that you are setting me up with nothing, Joane. What’s wrong with him? Why can’t I see a picture of him?”

“Because that’s no fun!” Joane had huffed in return. “Come on! You can have me on speed dial and I will pick you up no questions asked if you feel things aren’t going well. I’m doing the same for him too. No offense.”

You had rolled your eyes and brunted another hour of constant begging until you finally gave in and agreed to the stupid date.

For a while, you tried not to think about it. Happy to continue your life pushing back the rising dread of stepping out of your comfortable routine and meet someone completely new. With how popular your portal was and your job doing well, dating had been put on the shelf for a later time.

Previous relationships were either lacking or downright horrible, you didn’t mind taking some time for yourself. Your sexual desires have been met almost every night. And you had your own money flying into your account every week.

You were in no rush to meet someone new.

But alas, time moves on and before you knew it; you were approaching the restaurant Joane had reserved a table for the two of you.

You’ll definitely give it to Joane, she knows how to pick a good place for a first date.

The establishment was beautiful. Fancy enough that you needed a reservation dating back weeks but casual enough that you didn’t need a million dollar outfit to fit in.

Your waiter was Humanoid, with dark fur neatly combed flat against his tanned arms and a face similar to a wolf’s. He greeted you with a smile and led you to an outdoor table when you gave Joane’s reservation name.

And there, bathed under the warm glow of the countless strings of fairy-lights, was your date.

And Joane had been right, he was handsome.

But you already knew that. Because he was a Monster you recognized immediately, having had him balls deep in you on more than one occasion. His attire was much more elegant than your usual appointments- a dark emerald suit with a black tie and white undershirt.

But those liquid gold eyes gleamed just the same. And the scales peppering his dark leathery skin along his neck, were just as tantalizing here as they were back in the Hostel.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Xavier.” His smile was as warm as his words and a soft purr layered his tone. When he stood from the table to greet you, he towered over you. Easily so, even in heels- you only reached his chest in comparison.

Fuck this pussy feels so good…A-Ah! I-I’ll pay extra- please -let me cum inside you.

He didn’t harbor the same heavy husk that usually made your insides liquify. But when you shook his hand- larger than your own and with a strength hidden under a gentle embrace - introducing yourself, your little horny mindset came screeching forward. Reminding you of the many times you’ve fantasized about the feeling of his palms on your skin.

You had to beat back the heated flush that crept through you with a mental bat. Smiling through your inner thoughts of absolute insanity “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” You offered as an ice-breaker. Xavier pulled out your chair and then slid you smoothly back against the table when you sat down. “I rarely visit this part of the city.”

“I only just got here myself.” Xavier replied, dismissing your words with a chuckle. “I was looking over the menu. Did you have a drink in mind?” He let you order a beverage first, still deciding himself.

You tried not to stare.

You really, really tried not to. But it was difficult when you’ve watched this man come undone with your walls suffocating his thick cocks.

Not to mention that he had eaten you out only half an hour earlier. You were still deciding if it was worth fussing over; that your date had gone to a brothel, used a portal and in the same hour arrived to have dinner.

But a part of you swelled wickedly knowing that it had been you he licked clean. Whether it was a means of exhausting some pent up nerves or a greedy hunger- you might later find out.

“Have you visited this restaurant before?” You asked as the waiter took your orders and hurried away.

“It was all Joane’s doing.” Xavier sighed. A knowing curl pulling at the corners of his wide mouth. “I’m sure she also wrangled you into agreeing to let her pick the place?”

You nodded, kicking a leg over one knee and it was a thrilling sight to see how his primordial gaze followed the movement. Almost as quickly returning his attention back to you.

You pretended not to notice.

“I didn’t bother fighting her on anything once I agreed. She has an uncanny ability to annoy me into doing what she wants. Lovingly, I should clarify.” You said laughing. “I don’t think she’s fought so hard for anything more than getting us to go out.”

Xavier nodded, taking a sip from his drink. And you hated how closely you watched his throat bob with the swallow of the amber liquid. You forced your eyes to move elsewhere.

“The moment she told me about you, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be something I can wriggle out of.” His claws clicked against the glass nestled between his fingers. It looked so small.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. But I..did agree to this to get her off my back.”

Some part of you wobbled with relief. Your shoulders even relaxed a little, to your surprise.

You quickly waved away his worried expression, “Don’t worry about it. I was dubious about this date as well. I haven’t had the motivation to date or go looking for dates lately. I was trying to figure out a way to let you down nicely. Nothing against you. I guess you could say I’m in my ‘me era’.”

Xavier released a breath. Heavy, and on a sound like you felt deep in your stomach. “By the Gods, I’m glad to hear that. I was very worried there would be an awkward miscommunication tonight.”

You couldn't help but smile at how genuinely relieved this Monster looked. His tail, once resting tightly around the legs of his chair, now swooped along the floor beneath the table. Out of the way of anyone walking by but with enough room between you two it wasn’t impeding on your space.

“Well, we can at least have a nice meal out.” You said, raising your glass towards Xavier. “There’s no harm in that.”

Xavier’s smile showed a row of fangs thicker than your fingers. And his eyes had a sparkle to them that made the ghostly brush of a shiver run up your spine.

“To a nice dinner.” He clinked the glass to yours and you very quickly hid yourself behind the rim of your drink.

Come on beautiful- I know you can take both of me. Just a little more…Good girl..that’s it…

That husk was there. On the edge of his tone and you internally screamed because of it.

You damn well nearly combusted when his tongue made an appearance to lick his lips after placing down his glass.

You chatted while waiting for your meal. Going through the usual topics of work and hobbies outside of the office.

Xavier answered your month-long question of what type of lawyer he was. It somehow didn’t surprise you that he worked in criminal justice.

You had half the mind to somehow slip in about the portal side-hustle, but it just didn’t seem appropriate. And you were still unsure how Xavier would handle such news.

Would he even be the type of guy who was ok with knowing who was on the other side of the portal?

He’s so different here outside the Hostel. You found yourself thinking as Xavier bashfully told a story of an embarrassing work story. It was endearing. He was endearing. He had a smile that was too cute to be real and his whole face was so frustratingly nice to look at, you wanted to take him home after the date.

But he’s not looking for anything outside this nice meal. You grumbled to yourself.

Don’t you dare clean up. I’m going to go buy another hour and I’m going to fuck my cum properly into you.

I wonder if that confidence in the room is an act or if this is an act. You started wondering half-way through the date. With the alcohol starting to trickle a bit of fire into your veins, you didn’t mind the occasional horny memory coming to the surface.

And a part of you was juggling with openly asking Xavier if he would be interested in extending the date back to your place. He was open with you at the start, so you saw no reason why you couldn’t continue the communication further.

But after dessert. You cowardly decided. Unable to shake the worry that your idea of this Monster was a facade built by him and your fantasies.

Dessert came and went. Followed by some more drinks and more chatter. The conversation became friendly…very friendly. Jokes and banter started to flow from your lips and Xavier countered each one with a grin and a laugh.

“I’ve had more fun than I thought I would.” Xavier said after polishing off his latest glass. He had moved closer during the night. Subtly, in a way you didn’t realize until his hand reached over and brushed his fingers along the back of your palm.

When you didn’t flinch away from the scrape of his claws, Xavier grinned and properly intertwined his fingers with yours. “I don’t want to seem too forward…but would you be comfortable continuing this date elsewhere?”

There he was. Just when you started to think it was all a hoax, your hungry eyed reptile emerged through a half-dazed gentleman.

Either it was the alcohol that made his mask slip or he was feeling a little more comfortable with you, his body language shifted entirely. And you eagerly leaned towards him when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, breaking your thoughts with the soft brush of cool skin.

It took you a full second to recalibrate your voice under such a searing gaze, “I would be more than comfortable.” You nibbled on your lower lip. Your pulse galloped when his eyes bounced between the drag of your painted lips and your gaze.

“There is something I should tell you first.” You bit the bullet before your nerves took the words away.

You weren’t sure what would have been worse; Xavier pulling away from you or how his tail grazed along your thigh under the table. Hidden beneath the tablecloth as it coiled around your leg, squeezing lightly.

With how easily you welcomed his touch, you almost begged him to lean away so you could properly breathe.

“If it’s your first time with a Reptilian, I don’t mind.” His gaze softened. Liquifying his jeweled gaze into something close to reassuring.

Your face went hot and you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “No. I’ve been with a Reptilian before…” You lowered your voice and motioned him closer with a stroke of your forefinger against the soft underside of his jaw.

His eyes fluttered closed but moved closer so you could whisper into his ear. “You used my portal just before our date.”

His tail tightened along your thigh and his body went rigid beside you. For a brief moment, you feared the worst. But just as quickly, Xavier relaxed and the cool breath of his throaty laugh fanned over your cheek.

“I thought you smelled familiar.” Molten fire flooded through your veins when his voice took on that proper husky drawl. He leaned away, just enough so he could meet your gaze again. “You’re not…upset that I used your portal before our date?”

He was so adorably worried. You gave his hand a squeeze, mimicking the way you gently clasped your thighs together around the rings of his tail against your leg.

“Are you upset I left my portal open before our date?” You countered. And you weren’t sure if he didn’t have an answer or you had distracted him too much with the warm embrace of your thighs.

You smiled and moved your legs so you rubbed his tail between them. He jerked with a low hiss and you chuckled lightly at the reaction. Rewarded with that returning want in his eyes again.

“At least you know I can take both of you.”

His nostrils flared and the darkened look turned your insides to puddy. “I’ve always tried visualizing what you might look like.” He said. You released his tail from your thighs when you felt him tug on it lightly. “I could never think of a face that could suit such a-” He caught himself before he spoke. Clearing his throat, he stood from the table. You caught a glimpse of his growing bulge as he led the way from the table to the counter to pay.

You followed after him. Unable to keep down your smug grin.

“And am I an acceptable face?” You said, meaning the question to be a tease. But the glance down at you created a very, very warm pool to form between your legs.

“Oh, yes. “ Was his replying growl.

You made it to his car. But you didn’t make it much further than that before Xavier had you pinned against a wall and his lips crushing yours.

It was a dance of teeth and tongues with your back pressed against a cold brick wall, standing on your toes and his large hands cradling your face to angle you up to him. Bent over like he was to reach you, you were completely shielded from the dark parking lot. The street-lights weren’t working. Giving the two of you the perfect shadowy corner to relieve some of your pent up need.

His thigh pushed between your legs and you eagerly welcomed the hard muscle pressing against your core. You’ve been wet for the majority of the date. And finally with some friction you could breathe a little more easily.

“Fuck- I can smell how wet you are.” Xavier hissed against your lips. Pulling away long enough to lick a long strip along the exposed ‘V’ between your breasts. “The scent of you is burned into my mind. I thought I was going crazy in that restaurant smelling your slick. What a small world we live in.”

You couldn’t reply like you wanted. His hand was now crawling up under your dress to rub hard against your soaked underwear. Tracing the curve of your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh once, before gliding under your skirt to eagerly feel the wet material. The feeling of his fingers down where you needed it most pulled a shaking gasp from your lungs.

And oh, how Xavier enjoyed that sound.

“I’m never going to be able to use that portal again without you being right here.” He emphasized his words by slipping his fingers around your panties and pushing the tips into your core.

You had to grip onto his arms to keep yourself from falling. “Can I take you home? Please.”

Through the fog of ecstasy, his begging fueled a needy part of you that had you nodding in earnest.

And in a fumbling blur of groping palms and sloppy lips against your throat and lips, you were in his car, one clawed hand between your thighs and your half tipsy fingers trying to undo his belt as he drove the late night traffic.

You rocked your hips against his hand. Uncaring of the light pricking of his talons against the supple skin down there. Whining when he withdrew his fingers once, hissing softly. “Slowly.” The word rippled through the air in the car like a prayer. And you nodded, impatiently lifting your hips towards his hovering touch until your skin was flush with the rough pads of his fingers.

You ripped down his zipper once the belt was free and with a slight shift of his waist, the first cock slipped from its confined prison.

It was no wonder Xavier could pull climax after climax from you

You got brief glimpses during your sessions at the Hostel; but now you could finally see what has been ravaging your walls so perfectly for the past few months.

They were a pale green in color that deepened to a black at the very tip. Thickest around the middle, rolling into an oval peak that curved with a slight sharp summit. Near the base, just before the beginning of the steep slope of Xavier’s shaft- were numerous waxy spikes. But you don’t ever recall feeling these against your walls.

The very thought of them had your thighs closing around Xavier’s hand and the smirk he shot down at you was viciously wicked.

“The portal was always too small for me to fit both of them to the hilt.” He explained, rolling his hips so you managed to glimpse the second, larger, member still trapped in his pants. “I hope you don’t mind if I try tonight.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” You replied and Xavier’s next breath rattled on a hiss-like growl.

Your mouth was near watering as a bead of pre-cum appeared on the apex of his cock.

He was much thicker than you thought. And cool to the touch as you wrapped an experimental hand around the girthy middle.

A whisper of a grunt escaped from Xavier’s lips and you grinned at the sweet sound. “I always wondered what you would taste like.” You murmured. Tilting the rounded peak towards your lips, you gave the bead of pre-cum an experimental lick.

You felt the car jerk and Xavier’s hand fisted around the back of your head. Holding you above his bobbing length. You felt the tip of his claws scratch against your scalp and something deep within you bristled keenly at the sensation of your hair tangled between his fingers.

Your core fluttered around the empty space that now replaced Xavier’s hand. And you looked up at him from where he held you near his hips.

But he didn’t push you down or pull you away, instead held you a tortuous inch away from his cock.

“We should wait until we’re out of traffic.” Xavier breathlessly laughed. His pupils were blown wide. A black pool rimmed by gold. “I can’t concentrate if you use your mouth.”

You pouted but lifted your head further away from him. You felt no restriction, but his fingers stayed curled around your hair. “Can I stroke you at least?” You asked.

Xavier nodded. The passing street-lights flashed him briefly in pools of white. Giving you the illusion of a fanged nightmare looming over your bowed body.

“Slowly…Please.”

The manners felt like an after-thought. As if he just remembered he should be using them.

But you obliged his command with a slow drag of your hand along his shaft. The hard muscle barely gave way under your tight grip. And your palm found smaller, unseen nubs coating Xavier’s cock. They were much softer than the spines near his base, but nonetheless massaged your fingers in a way that felt very familiar.

Looking up at Xavier, you noticed the dazed look overcoming him. The traffic at this hour was near non-existent but you still felt you needed to help the poor Monster concentrate on getting you both home.

“Why do you visit the Hostel only on Fridays?” You asked, moving your hand in a continuous squeezing, slow motion.

“Lets call it a little treat for finishing the week.” Xavier grunted. The bob of his throat seemed to be caused by your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his trousers. His breath hitching when you carefully scraped your nails along the second cocks firm spines. They felt…longer than what the first cock’s protrusions. And just a touch less pliable. “And a refreshing start to my weekend. Better than any stiff drink or spa-day.” He tried to joke, you knew he did. But with the heaviness layering his words, he sounded like he was spitting out his reply.

You hummed in agreement, resisting the urge to lick the thick teardrop of pre that was collecting on the valley of his slit. Instead you used it to wetten your palm so your hand stroked him more easily.

“I open my portal hours for longer durations for the same reason.” You told him. His cock throbbed in your hand, as if it grew more excited at the mention of the device. “You’re by far my favorite client. But being used late into the night by others does wonders after a stressful week.”

The hand around your hair tightened and your eyes watered in response. You peeked up at him, smirking when a passing light reflected off his ivory white fangs. “Don’t tell me you’re a jealous type.”

“I think territorial is more fitting with my kind.” Xavier nearly growled. Something whispered to you that he was restraining himself. And to calm him, you wrapped your other hand around the hilt of his shaft. Massaging the spines there while your first hand continued to stroke him.

“Is it horrible that I found that incredibly sexy?” You chuckled.

A shaking hiss whistled through Xavier’s jaw. His entire body seemed to vibrate against your waist. The thigh you were half draped over was as firm as a rock. “If I do start making you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me.” He said and he tugged on your hair to ensure your attention was surely on him. “When I use your portal, I always make sure I don’t do anything I would need your permission to do. But now we’re together, if you’re ok with it, I would like to fuck you properly.” You nodded but Xavier’s eyes sharpened when they glanced down at you, pulling his attention away from the road for a second to drill in how serious he was being. “Use your words.”

“I’m more than comfortable with us experimenting my limits tonight.” You said in equal firmness. Stalling your curious playing so nothing separated you or him from this discussion. “If you want, we can use a safe-word. Or a color code to help with our comfort levels.”

Xavier nodded. The car began to slow down and you felt the dip and rise of him driving onto a sloped driveway. When Xavier parked the car and switched off the engine, he lifted you onto his lap. In one smooth motion- unclicking your seat-belt then looping his arm around your waist to drag you over so your thighs straddled his waist.

“I need you to hide this.” He said and bucked his hips up so the hard length pressed sharply against your core. His eyes fluttered close when your warm slick coated panties rubbed along him.

And you laughed softly when he continued to grind up against you. Rolling his head back against the seat while you took the opportunity to kiss and nip along his exposed throat. “You’re so warm.” Xavier murmured. His arms tightened around you, caging you against his chest. “You’re incredibly distracting. What were we doing again?” He attempted to joke again but the clouded expression of his portrayed just how reluctant he was to move.

You couldn’t complain either. You met every lazy twitch of his hips with an impatient jerk of yours. Angled as you were, you couldn’t press him against the part of you that was aching for friction. But the spines on his cock were at least giving you an electrifying ride.

“Xavier, please…” You whimpered. Burying your face into the hard nook of his neck. “Can we go inside already?”

His laugh felt like a drum-roll through your body. And he finally opened the car door and stepped out into the dimly lit driveway.

Xavier held you tight against his body. One hand possessively splayed over the expanse of your ass, holding you with ease against his chest. While still cradling your clothed pussy forcibly against his cock. Your dress pooled around your legs. Perfectly covering the sinful connection between your waists.

When he reached the front door of his home, Xavier pressed your back against the cool wood and trapped you there. He kissed you deeply while fumbling with his keys. His tongue sliding tenderly along yours, tasting and swiping until you felt him reach the back of your throat. Your eyes watered as you fought not to gag on the tickling sensation.

The teasing chuckle made you push down on his cock. Making his tongue falter and him stumble into the house when he managed to unlock the door.

His tail slammed the door shut behind him. The kiss continued, needy and passionate, until you had to break away to breathe. Xavier chased after you. Growling about not being done tasting you as he walked through the house to a dark room.

With a flick of his tail tip on the switch, the overhead lights blazed to life. Bathing you in a cozy orange light that started to warm your skin almost immediately.

Your back hit the bed a second later and Xavier made no hesitation in removing your clothes. His claws slipped under the skirt of your dress to first hook under the thin material of your panties. When they came free of your legs, Xavier brought them up to his nose and breathed in the wettened patch.

His eyes rolled close to the back of his head. Then they focused on you and he threw the bundle across the room.

“Your arousal is intoxicating.” Xavier hummed against the skin of your neck. There he licked and nipped, leaving the beginning of small bruises along your throat as he guided the straps of your dress over your shoulders. “The first time I smelled your pussy I couldn’t help but immediately taste you. And now I'm going to be lucky enough to have my sheets coated in your scent.”

He was massive on top of you. Half hanging off the side of the bed, his tail sweeping across the floor lazily while he impatiently dragged your dress away from your body. Your hands wandered just as eagerly as his. Sweeping down the hard curves of his sides. Following the sharp ridges of scales trailing down his back that then spread out into softer skin above his tail and belly.

With each layer of his clothes he removed, you tasted with your mouth. Finding sensitive spots only where the skin was pale and supple under your lips.

You excitedly found a collection of rounded scales patterning the ‘V’ of his hips. Creating a trail of smooth bumps that disappeared into soft flesh circling the hilt of his cocks. When you shoved his pants down his legs, his tail whipped back and forth to help wriggle himself out of the restrictive clothing.

“Green for keep going.” Xavier panted through a kiss that had you crushed against the bed. “Yellow for slow. Red for stop.”

It took you a second to understand what he was saying. The fog of ecstasy had taken away most of your thoughts. But when you connected the dots, you nodded.

Quickly adding words when he started to pull away. “Green!” You yanked him back down on top of you and with a hearty laugh, Xavier shoved you further up the bed. Crawling after you, he parted your legs with his mouth. Giving your folds a slow, heavy lick before continuing up along your stomach.

You spread your legs wider and Xavier took up the space between them. Taking no time to press his two lengths against your aching warmth. He sagged on top of you. His weight held aloft by his elbows on either side of your head.

“Is this a lizard thing?” You lightly teased. Moving your thighs to better accommodate the vast width of his waist and roll your hips against the throbbing peaks. He shuddered above you. Frozen against your pussy. “Is it my pussy or the warmth?”

“Both.” He rasped. “H-human holes are..fuck..are unfairly addicting. And with your warm-blood, I instinctually want to be pressed against you all the time.”

As if to concrete his words, Xavier lowered his body until you were completely enveloped by him. His weight pressing down against you until you felt every breath he took. Every twitch and subtle jerk of his hips rubbing the pebbles of pre-cum through your folds.

You moaned against his chest when the textured underside of his cock nudged against your clit.

The two of you stayed like this until you were whining for him to go faster. “I'm close.” You gasped and Xavier hissed when he pulled away. Drawing himself up to sit on his calves, kneeling between your thighs while his hands trailed his claws down your sides. Making you squirm and wriggle until his palms locked around your hips and dragged you to settle on the slope of his thighs.

You relaxed your legs on either side of his waist. Whimpering when his fingers explored the crevasse of your core. Pushing the tips of his fingers inside you to massage your walls, gently spreading you until your breath left your lungs in heated pants.

“Color?” Xavier asked. Sounding as winded as you felt while he stretched you with his hand.

“G-Green.” You replied, unable to look away from where his cocks lay sprawled against your hip. Xavier had to move them to the side so he could watch his knuckles disappear into your velvety walls.

It felt crowded between your legs. But Xavier made no move to shift you. Keeping you flush against his hips.

That is until he wrapped a tight fist around his first cock and lifted himself to angle his hips towards your pussy. Your breath froze in your chest. Your eyes wide in anticipation as Xavier probed your entrance with his rounded peak.

Your head rolled back against the mattress- eyes fluttering close as your walls began to stretch to accommodate him. There wasn't a heavy burn. Just a sweet familiar ache that swept through your core and up along your lower back. Sparks began to sizzle along your skin when the thickest part of him pushed past your entrance.

Xavier watched you with a searing intensity. Aiding the careful glide of his length with devastating precision. When your walls spasmed, Xavier stalled and coaxed your calm forward with a brush of his thumb against your clit.

When your breathing evened, Xavier would move again. His hips pulsated with gentle thrusts until you felt the first row of spines jab at your soft skin.

When the prodding sensation prickled your flesh, your hands flew to latch around Xavier’s wrists. Helping ground you to the unusual feeling.

Xavier immediately stopped. Eyes heavy and lidded, but violently focused.

“O-Orange.” You managed to push the word through your leaded tongue.

Xavier nodded and drew out of you until only the head of his cock remained smothered by your heated body. “During our sessions together, I didn’t want to use them without your permission.” His voice sounded like a thundercloud in his throat. The sharp hiss of lightning sharpening each word. “They won’t hurt-”

“It’s n-not that.” You said. Cutting off his worried explanation. “They just felt weird. It surprised me.” You looked up from where the two of you were connected. His pale skin gleamed with your slick and you noticed that the small nubs were deeper in color now. Looking swollen against Xavier’s smooth length. “Green.”

Xavier sank into you in one smooth glide. And your back arched off the bed- a gasp breaking from your chest.

“Sorry.” Xavier whispered. So devastatingly focused on the last two inches that had yet to slip inside you. He held himself there while your walls attempted to suck him in. Greeding begging for him to go deeper.

“I want to be sure you’re comfortable taking these.”

You knew it was sweet. In the back of your mind, you appreciated this Monster and his cautious behavior.

But holy fuck, you wanted him to pound you into this bed. You were sure he could break this it if he unleashed himself fully onto you.

With a soft murmur, Xavier pushed against your heat and your eyes flew open when the first spines scraped past your entrance. It was a strange sensation. And every time Xavier moved, you felt him grinding against your walls. The protrusions gave way enough that the sharp peaks didn’t harm you. But caused just enough pressure that by the time Xavier was flush against your hole; you were trembling under his hands.

“F-Fuck…” The curse fell from Xavier’s lips like a prayer. His back was arched over you, lips occasionally brushing your brow every time Xavier rolled his hip. You had to bend your head back to kiss him. Sloppy and breathless, trying to ground yourself so you didn't fall too soon. “Color?”

“Green.” You said against his throat. Whimpering when he started to pull out. “Please, I’m so close…”

“I know baby~” Xavier hissed, trembling above you. Shoulders tight, muscles coiled as he braced himself against every slow curl of his hips that buried him snugly against your body. “Hold on for a little longer. And then I want you cumming on my cock as many times as you need.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Using him as an anchor while he slowly picked up speed. But you felt his impatience breaking his resolve. And the second Xavier realized you were taking him without any resistance, a ruthless pace was set.

Your body was rocked with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixing with your pitched cries as you clawed his back. Burying your nails into the nooks of his scales.

Xavier hissed above you, leaning low over your body in a possessive crouch of pleasure that made the bed creak with his rhythm. Your body tried to writhe, pressing your breasts against his cool skin as a searing pleasure flamed through your core.

His second cock bounced against your ass. A heavy weight that pressed against your cheeks and was crushed by his balls swinging in motion to his body.

And then you were undone. A strangled cry, muffled by Xavier’s chest, echoed through the room and Xavier’s chuckle was dark and vicious.

“That’s it.” He whispered between thrusts. Each slam of his hips now produced a wet, slick sound. “Such a good girl for me. Letting me use you like this. I knew you could take all of me. But now I need to stuff you properly.”

Xavier’s pace shifted, slowing into a lazy grind. He lifted himself off of you, just enough that he could move his legs and let your body fall to the bed completely. You felt a wet patch meet your skin but your mind was too dazed to care.

Then he reached between your driving bodies to adjust the angle of the second cock.

“Color?” The question was carried on silk wrapped around iron. Steady, but restrained.

“Green.” You told him. Beginning to find your focus again as you felt the heavy weight push against your entrance, bumping against the already stuffed hole. “A-Actually, orange.”

The eager prodding slowed. And Xavier leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss so tender your head spun. “Good girl.”

You forced your back to lie flat against the bed. Relaxing your muscles while the second cock massaged to stretch your walls. Xavier’s tongue did wonders to distract you. Carving a path down your chin, to your throat, brushing the sharp curves of his fangs against your jugular. Where you could feel your racing heart-beat against the thrilling presence of his maw.

You felt him apply pressure but then stopped. A heart-beat passed and his voice rumbled through your skin.

“Color?”

You smiled and tilted your chin up, “Green.”

The growl came from deep within his chest. And your body shivered on a gasp as his lips encased your throat between his fangs. He bit down gently. Applying just enough force that your skin prickled with discomfort but no pain.

Growing impatient, Xavier adjusted his legs and angled your hip to meet the slow push of his next thrust. He lifted your hips off the bed, driving in the head of his length until it popped inside your warm embrace.

The pressure of him filling you made something in you snap again and this time, your breath rattled on a groan-like whimper of his name.

Xavier’s purr was dark and triumphant. His teeth still possessively locked around your throat, he shifted his legs again. Spreading them further apart so he had a deeper angle to drive down into you until your ass was smooshed against the bed.

Tears blurred your vision. But you didn't stop him. Spilling murmured nonsense into the humid air while he set a brutally shallow pace. Burying inch after inch each time his hips swooped down to meet yours.

You were helpless beneath him. Sprawled open by his knees against your thighs. His left hand was locked on your waist to keep you still while you were stretched to your limits.

Xavier dragged the back of his knuckles along your arm. Gently pulling your grasping hand away from his body to rest against the bed above your head. His fingers slid between yours. Tangling your hand with his and you felt him squeeze your warm palm twice.

You mimicked the pressure. Sighing a long shaky breath at the first sharp touch of his thicker cock’s spines.

“Green.” You said before Xavier could pull away. You felt his lips curl in a smile and his body tensed above you. His back coiled like a spring, carefully restraining himself as he sank the last few inches into you.

Another climax ripped through your exhausted body and your thighs locked against his legs. Trembling and shaking, boneless under him while he buried himself until nothing was left between the two of you.

“You stretch so deliciously for me.” Xavier whispered into your skin. Nipping his way to your lips to bruise them in a kiss. Hungrily taking the taste of your tongue with his until your hand squeezed his fingers. Begging for breath. “Now consider my next words carefully- can I breed you” The words were said in a voice as velvety as dark chocolate.

Asked so plainly your befuddled mind didn’t realize he had asked it until he nipped your throat, yanking a startled yelp out of you.

“W-What?”

“Can I breed you?” He asked again. Said more softly but nonetheless just as serious. “When I use your portal, I only ever ejaculated out of one cock. The larger one secretes thicker semen. It feels indescribably good to ejaculate with it. But if I do that, I will want to keep you full of it. Instincts.” He said as if it explained everything clearly. “And because I…I might have a thing for it.”

You laughed quietly and relaxed your head against the pillows behind you. You hadn’t realized how far up the bed your thrusting bodies had climbed until you felt the doughy embrace.

“You can breed me.” You said quietly, the words sounding foreign on your tongue. “And please, fuck me as roughly as you do when you use my portal.”

Xavier’s smile was as eager as it was wicked.

He nuzzled roughly against your neck, a purr rattling your ribs as he crawled his way up your body until he was stretched over you like a living roof. Properly prone, your face nestled between the plates of his pectoral scales. And when he pressed his body against yours, the bundle of scales above his hips aligned deliciously with your clit.

So when he jerked his hips experimentally, your pitched gasp wasn’t just from his cocks spearing a deep part of you. But also the sharp twinge of pleasure from the grinding bumps over your sensitive nub.

Xavier halted. Stomach hard like a brick wall. “Color?” He asked. His cheek resting on a pile of pillows just above your head.

“Green.”

You barely finish the word before the coils in Xaver’s body sapped. And what you thought before of his rough pounding, was now thrown out the window. Replaced with the snap of his hips that was so devastating- so powerful -enough to drag your body up with him after every recoil.

A strangled scream tangled with the messy sounds of your sex. Skin slapping skin, slick with sweat and nectar from your centre with the profounding crack of his balls striking your ass. Each merciless curve of Xaveri’s hips felt precisioned to hit against the perfect spot. He was unrelenting. Ruthless with each strike.

Your walls were ravaged by the spines. Massaged and soothed by the small nubs before the sharp scrape of the hilts drove your walls into a furious flutter. Every time you clamped down, Xavier would groan and his rhythm would falter. For every deep thrust- he had to rut once so your walls wouldn’t lock him inside you.

The inter-changing pace unravelled guttural whimpers and bubbling moans from deep within your chest. You clung to him. Squeezing your interlocked fingers so tightly it hurt. His claws left marks on your skin.

His grip around your waist promised a belt of bruises for the following morning. All the while Xavier buried his face into the pillows. His snarls sounded like distant thunder as he took what he wanted from you.

You weren’t sure if the continuous grind of his pelvis against your clit was deliberate, but fuck, did it feel like he had control over every aspect of your pleasure.

As tears pooled from your eyes and your thighs cramped around his waist, your final climax crumbled your mind. Wave after wave of fiery heat blazed through you, convulsing your walls and suffocating Xavier between your pooling sex.

Xavier was unrelenting. The slam of his thrusts caused your breaths to turn to broken cries until his body coiled. Muscles tightening until it felt like he’d snap beneath your fingers- and you felt his cocks throb, pulsate and then spill a globulous liquid deep inside you.

Your eyes widened, startled by the flood of cool fluid that bathed your tinging walls like a soothing balm. Xavier’s roar shattered through his throat.. His tail whipped above your bodies like a mindless snake, whistling through the air with every stuttering thrust from Xavier’s hips.

You could only lay there, trapped and made from puddy, as Xavier milked himself between your legs. He had released your hand, his claws buried into the blanket to keep from crushing your fingers between his. But you kept your hand wrapped around his wrist. Squeezing him, helping anchor him as he chased the pleasure into a blind haze.

“Yes, yes! Such a good girl for me. I’ll fill you up so good. Make you leak with my seed…A-AH!” You felt his cocks twitch and then a second wave of cool liquid joined the first. Your walls swelled to accommodate the load and you whimpered when the hooks buried themselves into your entrance. Nothing that would cause pain, but the unsettling feeling of being locked together was alien.

“Hmm, feels so good- let me cum again. Just once more.” How could you say no to such a gravelly tone? Pitched at the end by a whine- desperate and pained.

“I need you again, Xavier.” You dragged your free hand up along his chest. Rubbing your palm against the soft skin under his jaw to then scratch your way down to where your clit was grinding against his small cluster of scales. “I can fit one more load in me. Come on, baby.”

A trembling hiss rippled from Xavier’s chest but your words fueled his hips into moving again. The rhythm was lazy this time. His hips trembled with overexertion. His breathing ragged, a string of praises tumbling from his lips as you rolled in tandem with him.

“That’s it, Xavier. Cum for me, baby.”

“A-Ah!” The splintered shout carried a hiss that made your hairs stand on end. But you ignored your fluttered pulse and traced the flexing muscles that clenched and relaxed with each lethargic spurt of his finish.

“Good boy.” You murmured to him. Pressing open mouthed kisses along the soft flesh of his chest and belly. Anywhere you could reach, you licked and worshipped. “Hmm, I'm so full. Fuck, Xavier…”

You finally allowed your body to relax. Sprawling over the expanse of the bed, wincing at your cramping thighs that refused to settle properly against Xavier’s crouched position.

Panting, Xavier lifted himself up enough to hunch over and sloppily kiss you. He cupped the side of your face, his palm encompassing your head as he eased you both down from your highs.

“That was…unreal.” He murmured against your puffy lips. “Unforutnately, we’ll be stuck like this for a while.” He gave his hips an experimental tug but his cocks were buried firm. You chuckled and petted a hand down your stomach, where a small bulge had now grown from the weight settled there.

“That’s ok. I need a breather.” You said. And Xavier tilted your chin so your eyes returned to his.

They were soft, searching your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked. Suddenly paranoid.

“Nothing! Nothing, I just…” A sound low in his throat made his lips vibrate when he kissed you again. “You can stay the night if you want.” Was all he said. But his eyes were conveying something else. Possibly something you were both thinking, but you weren’t going to ruin a perfectly good night by saying something stupid.

“Where’d that confidence go?” You teasingly asked. Stroking a knuckle along his jaw. “Don’t tell me I fucked the sexy lawyer out of you.”

Xavier laughed, jostling your swollen core, making you both gasp. He quickly quietened himself. Burying his face into the crook of your neck out of embarrassment.

“Ugh, do not tell Joane that you sucked the smart-ass out of me. She’d never let me live it down.”

You scoffed a laugh, pretending to be insulted. “Are you seriously talking about another woman while still balls deep inside me?”

Xavier’s eyes sparkled like polished treasure. “You spoke about other Monster’s fucking you while my cock was in your hand!” He countered. “Count it as even.”

You tried to continue being petty, but you couldn't help but laugh. Having to stop rather quickly when a shiver of overstimulation sizzled through your skin.

“Alright, alright. Stop making me laugh.” You sighed and rested back against the pillows. Xavier shifted a few more around you to create a comfortable nest of support against your body. “So…how long does this normally last?”

Xavier winced. Tickling his claws along the area that was now swollen and red from the small marks he left on your hip. “A..A few hours.”

You gawked up at him. Then very lightly chuckled. “Guess I am staying here. I hope you don’t mind a needy cuddler. That’s my only demand as after-care.”

Xavier rested his head above yours. The brush of his lips against the crown of your head made you shiver. And his arms wrapped around you. Carefully pulling you flush against his body. “As long as you don’t mind us sleeping with me still inside you. My little demand as after-care.”

You shifted your hips and was rewarded by a throaty moan from Xavier. “Am I at risk of being bred again?”

“Keep moving like that and I’ll ensure you’re bred thrice before dawn.” He growled playfully in return.

[mxnsterbabe]

Do you have any like sub monster story recommendations? Cause I neeedddd it doesn’t have to be like femdom but if there is, great! Thank you!

Sadly I don't :(( I don't read/write a lot of nsfw on tumblr, and I haven't found any published books that fit the bill either.

If anyone has any recs, please let us know!

[monstersarefriends]

Oh I have one!

Berries and greed by lily Mayne

I think I read it 3 times so far!

[nepertenebras]

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Courting

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

I get asked a lot about courting, what's acceptable or what's off limits and how one may woo a prospective spouse. So let's explore how to win the hand and heart.

Meeting (not so cute?)

Firstly, it is really difficult to have a meet cute in the Edwardian era. Women and men are kept separate for most of the day, only really getting to meet at designated events: A dinner, a ball, a social event. Meeting in the park is a cute idea but a gentleman can't just approach a lady (or another gentleman) without being introduced by a third party, either a senior party or a mutual friend. However, an introduction at a ball is sort of like Cinderella's get up, it ceases to matter when the ball is over. Your gentleman must not approach a lady after that ball, he must be reintroduced. Once an introduction has been made, he can speak with her.

An Interest

When an introduction has gone satisfactory, a gentleman must make the first move by calling to her parents'/guardian's home and making a formal request to begin courting. Her parents/guardians must consent, usually leading to a short brief interview of the gentleman's family, his connections, his wealth (though in not so vulgar terms, they may inquire where he lives which is an indicator). The woman's opinion did matter, she could give her reasons for accepting or turning down the offer. When the interest is approved, the gentleman can start offering invitations.

Three's Company

Of course, just because the parents agree, doesn't mean the couple gets to be alone. The young lady will be accompanied by a chaperone either a lady's maid, a governess, her mother or another female relative. While the couple is together, the chaperone will always be a few steps behind or have them in sight. She's there to ensure that nothing more than a conversation happens. This is not only for her young lady's reputation but also to save the man from any claims of impropriety. The chaperone also serves as a sort of spy, gauging whether this relationship is worth pursuing.

Activities & Tokens

A gentleman may invite a lady out to lots of different activities. He can invite her for a promenade at a local park or gardens, out the theatre, visit her at home, invite her to galleries, to balls or to be his companion at sporting events such as the races, tennis matches or boat races. When visiting in the house, the gentleman would be expected to speak with all the family, be polite and courteous. This is how the family guages his suitably. The gentleman must provide transportation and funds for any excursion. Gifts are to be refined as well. Expensive gifts are considered vulgar and will likely be turned down. Small gifts such as flowers, books, cakes are acceptable. Gifts aren't as important as the time spent together.

Rules of Engagement

There are certain unspoken rules surrounding courtship that every gentlemen must follow for a successful courtship:

A gentleman should always pay attention to his lady, and not exclude her or cast her off for others

A gentleman never smokes in front of his lady nor forget to remove his hat.

A gentleman must always offer to refresh his lady on an excursion

A gentleman must defend his lady from any offense be it an insult or a scene unfit for her eyes or within an argument. Throwing in an apology for any offense can add a cherry on top.

However if she's the one giving offense, without any reason, the gentleman must seek to create peace, apologising on her behalf.

When walking, a lady will be placed in the inside of the pavement.

A gentleman should never spend above his means to impress his lady. Staying within his means is not only smart but a show of restraint and a glimpse of what life ought to be if they marry.

A gentleman should always offer his assistance when a lady is exiting a carriage or going up a flight of steps or carrying anything heavy.

If a man accompanies a woman to a ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

A gentleman must always make his intentions known and not string a lady along with no intention of marriage. He must never joke about his intentions or lead her on.

Marriage

Courtship usually promises marriage which is why a gentleman or lady should not enter into courtship unless they would consider marriage. Courtship may last a few months or a few weeks and while it is going on, both sides should consider whether marriage would be a viable option of either of them. Parents/guardians would be consulted, the gentleman must make his intentions known to her father or nearest male relative before approaching the lady and popping the question. A courtship that doesn't end in marriage is seen as a failure and may damage the reputation of both parties, leading people to wonder what happened and who is to blame. For example is a perfectly eligible gentleman will not marry a perfectly eligible lady or she turns down his offer, people will usually leap to the conclusion that there is something lacking.

LGBTQIA+ Courting

Gay people have always been here. They have courted and they have loved. Whilst it was illegal in this time in many parts of the world, love did prevail. (fun fact: lesbianism wasn't illegal because nobody wanted to explain what it was to Queen Victoria). The good thing to know is that courting whilst gay was likely easier in this period. Whilst there were restrictions and rules for straight couples and chaperones haunted their every step, none of this would happen if two people of the same gender stepped out together. Two gentleman going to the opera together or dining at a restaurant or attending a ball together (dancing in public was unlikely) or two ladies promenading in the park or attending a concert would not be examined like a courting couple. They would have more freedom to move around but of course, with legal impediments PDA was kept a minium. Whilst they wouldn't be allowed to marry legally, there was little stopping couples from moving in together. Nobody would say much about two spinsters sharing a home or two bachelors crashing together

[infectiouspiss]

if vampires can't come inside without permission does that mean that you can just keep riding that thang and they can't um . yknow

[s0up-for-sluts]

Reblog to edge a vampire

[betterbemeta]

You know what would be a good story? a fat girl vampire.

can you imagine?

“I’ve never seen you eat are you insecure” “no…”

“here let me lift that for you” “I got it, thanks” *uses inhuman strength to lift bags*

“I’ve never seen you go to the beach, do you have trouble shopping for a bathing suit” “haha… yeah”

“There’s no way that girl can catch me… she’s huge!” “Hello, dinner.” *running with super fast vampire speed*

“She can’t fit in here! I’m safe!” *turns into a gas and slips under the door*

“How come you never go out?” “Well, I never get invited to parties…”

“Come to the gym with me! We should lose weight” “Not in a thousand years.” (incidentally, that’s when she was last alive.)

“You need to go on a diet!” “I’ll start with you.” *literally eats that person*

[mayakern]

hello

[snowkissedmonsters]

You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.

In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.

A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.

The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.

Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.

You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...

Then annoyed.

I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.

The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.

Right, then. Good luck! Calls the liason as he hurries to the horse and carriage without you. You stand on the porch, embarrassed and confused, wondering what about you must be so undesirable.

After a few minutes the door opens again, and a gruff voice orders you inside. He knows you're not there by choice, he says, he knows the town elders probably forced you there to settle him. You try to explain that's not the case, but he doesn't believe you. He says you can stay for the night, as the sun is going down, but he expects you to fuck off in the morning.

You try to talk over dinner, but he's defensive and quiet. You try to convince him that you want to be there, but he scoffs that you have no idea what soothing a bear's heat even means.

Over the evening, you try different techniques to tempt him. Using his bath, undressing a few layers by the fire, sleeping nude in his bed. He expresses total disinterest the entire time, a steely lack of any desire towards you.

Disheartened, you're about to give up. You have no idea the reason he's being so aggressively stoic is because the moment he opened his cabin door, the moment he saw and smelled you, the beast inside him said Mine. Only mine. You have no idea that every breath he's taken since has been measured and cautious, every effort he's made not to pounce and claim you. Gods, he can barely stand to look at you without the saliva filling his mouth, the feral lust clouding his thoughts.

There's no way you're here by choice, he reasons privately. No way any nice, pretty human would volunteer for the social ostracism that would come with mating a werebear. And whatever those fuckers in the elder council did to leverage you into coming here, he can't let himself take advantage.

Because once he let's his control slip, once he let's the beast inside know that yes, you're his for the taking, nothing will be able to stop him. Not reason or conscience, not if you're kicking and begging, not any ounce of moral goodness in him. Once the beast has you, it's not stopping until it's filled you up over and over and over again.

So he can't let it slip. He has to remain cold and stiff and rude, and just pray you leave him alone and then leave in the morning.

Little does he know, you have one last attempt at seduction up your sleeve. Little do you know what the consequences will be.

[moonshine-nightlight]

i couldn't resist and i can't write short things, so please be patient while i retread some of what @snowkissedmonsters set up.

“Good luck!”

You stare after Anton, the liaison officer, as he rides away, at a complete loss of what to do now. You’ve felt a headrush of sorts, like sliding down a hill in winter, since you first resolved to volunteer to help Temar and his slamming of the door in your face was an abrupt stop before you even reached the bottom. You cross your arms, telling yourself its because of the mild chill, not out of anxiety or embarrassment.

But you are, so so embarrassed. You don’t know exactly what you thought his reaction to you might be, but stonewalled indifference and complete refusal to even entertain the idea of mating with you wasn’t one of them. Heat licks at your cheeks from the way he’d looked at you, his lip curled in a snarl, something more than even just annoyance in his eyes. You’d felt the urge to shrink right then and there and only surprise kept you frozen upright.

You know you weren’t as young as the other unaffiliated women in town, weren’t as pretty, weren’t as agreeable, but surely he couldn’t smell your infertility or whatever made you feel so out of place with everyone else. What about you had been so offputting he’d not even considered you for a mate? You’d almost hoped that whatever made you so unappealing as a human mate might make you more appealing to a werebear. So much for that.

You’re not one for much dignity as it is, no one to stand on high graces, and you try not to let others’ opinions bother you, beyond where they interfere with your own ability to make your living. But even you can’t bring yourself to try to convince him to mate with you when he so clearly has absolutely no interest. Did you sacrifice what little standing you did have a reasonable and respectable person by volunteering for this only to not even be able to manage it? Was it for nothing?

You had only found the courage to approach him because of the surface-level reason of slaughtered livestock and fear for a person’s injury, but now, now you felt almost responsible for not being able to prevent such an occurrence. All because Temar found you unappealing.

You can’t leave without even saying more than a hasty word to him though. Maybe there’s some other way you can help. You’ve wanted an excuse to get to know him better for years, since you first saw him. Even before that, when someone stopped by your shop with some of the pelts they’d bought from him.

Beyond his attractive appearance being more than enough to draw your attention, he’s lived such an interesting life. The liaison was liberal with his stories and his own accomplishments in the war, but he never short-changed his friend. You also found the stories of people who have crossed him or questioned him entertaining more than scary. His refusal to play along with the petty etiquette of the town was funny, as were people’s puffed up reactions. Perhaps you should have expected this reaction after all, maybe he just doesn’t like humans.

The thought against brings embarrassed heat to your face once more as you remember how he’d looked in the doorway. His beard and mustache, short but full, the scar across his nose, those dark brown eyes. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long in the middle, pulled back into a loose bun and peppered with gray like his beard. Tall as you remember, but stockier—his frame particularly broad in the narrow doorway. You’d always found him especially handsome. There was no question what sort of were he was.

Before today, the closest you’d been was at the general store, behind him line for some flour, putting to rest the rumors that werecreatures only ate meat. His presence had fascinated you, large but contained. Wild but settled. Immovable, but not aggressive. Deliberate. You’d found your mind drifting to thoughts of him that night. Your mind liked to turn the idea of him over, half speculation, half pieced together clues from overheard gossip. When you were particularly lonely or even just particularly cold, it was comforting to know he was on his own too. He seemed to prefer it even. You preferred your solitude most of the time as well—half caught between feeling like an outsider for the inclination, half relieved since that’s where you ended up. You wouldn’t mind another friend who felt so, a bit of company you didn’t need to perform in front of. And it would be nice, to be useful to someone else who had no one.

You know he needs help now, more than ever. The liaison had assured them at the meeting that Temar was making every attempt to contain himself. Which reassured you that you’d not missed a callous trend in his nature, but also made you want to help more—not help with the abstract problem, but help him. The next best solution that had been discussed—and would likely need to be implemented now that it turned out you’d failed, you realize with a sinking heart—was to institute a town wide curfew until this ran its course. But maybe there is still some way you can aid him, even if not by soothing his heat directly.

You stand up straight, pushing off the railing you’d been leaning against, and resolve to at least try to talk to him. After all, you understood his continued solitude, but it felt silly during the meeting, that he wasn’t there to lend his own input. Surely he had the most insight into his situation. He must know what he needed. You raise you hand to knock on the door when it opens before you even get the chance.

“If you ain’t gonna have the sense leave, then get in,” a gruff voice orders.

Your feet are moving before you fully register the words. Relief floods your veins. Well, that was easier than you expected. Perhaps things were turning around.

-/-

per this lovely post, i combined the two in the second set of sketches, but feel free to imagine whoever you'd like ^^ i'll see if i can keep my momentum going if people are interested lol

[moonshine-nightlight]

have i done anything more than the bare minimum for what i should actually do today? no.

have i written more of this story instead? absolutely.

/

They were not. Any hope you had for some softening of his attitude was quickly dashed.

It had seemed promising: the smell of cooking food, the heat that filled the main room from the large fire, the sound of crackling logs. All ease some of the tension in your bones immediately—not to mention that same deliberate air Temar had, the one that made you feel steady and safe. Safe enough to want what you want, without your usual instinct to hide such thoughts and feelings until you were alone lest others use them to hurt you.

You try to focus on the room itself, from the handmade furniture—you’d have recognized Ben’s work if it was—to the scant decoration. The cabin was simple, unadorned, but solid. It suited him. It made the few personal items he had stick out all the more. The large blanket and rug to make the room feel lived in. The well-cared for hunting gear in the corner. The collection of copper kitchenware, clearly used often.

Nearly as soon as you finished your preliminary survey of his home, he makes it very clear he still did not want you. “No notion of what’s going on in that fool Anton’s head, leaving you on my porch like bottles of milk,” he sighs, looking disgruntled and you fight the urge to apologize. He tucks a strand of hair that escaped his bun behind his ear and your fingers itch to do the same. You clench them tighter behind you, upset at how wild your thoughts are in the face of his rejection. “Fess up, what did they tell you? I don’t know what those old fearmongers at the counsel did to make you come here, but I’ll not hold it against you—only them.”

You tilt your head as you watch him pace over the fire, trying to keep your eyes on his head, not how well he fills out his trousers. You realize belatedly that you must still need to clarify. “There was a town meeting, but I volunteered, like Anton said,” you reply tentatively. He’d heard what his friend said. Right? Maybe that was why he’d refused? Not because he found you so abhorrent.

Temar scoffs. “Anton wouldn’t recognize subtle coercion if it stabbed him the back.”

You frown, starting to get a little frustrated with his seeming inability to hear you properly. “Be that as it may, I can. It’s the truth.”

Temar raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just like five years ago, when I moved here and Miss Ketevan was left on my doorstop around harvest time. She just wanted to offer some apples before high tailing it out of there once her grandfather was out-of-sight. Must have been crying and yelling for some other reason.”

Your frown deepens. The last of your family had died around then and you’d not joined a town meeting for a full year, plenty busy with grief and figuring out how to run the dye shop without any guidance. Keti was a younger than you but had a reputation as a troublemaker so she had been in the gossip plenty. Her grandfather, Carlos, was on the counsel and had seemed to consider her something of an embarrassment.

You thought she’d run off with the milkmaid, not because she was a failed sacrifice to the new werebear neighbor. It does throw into relief some other statements at the meeting. Like Anton’s emphasis on volunteers as he’d stared Carlos’ down, which had led to no one but you speaking up—not even the brothel workers. They’d not said but you knew they feared clients shunning whoever they sent, let alone however they felt about the stigma and fear associated with werecreatures.

 “I have no idea what did or did not happen five years ago, I wasn’t at any of those meetings nor at your house,” you say with a shrug. “Keti’s moved to the other side of the river, according to her sister, and is quite satisfied there. None of which was brought up at the meeting today.”

“What do they have on you?” Temar asks, squatting to stoke the fire, as if you just didn’t want to tell the truth his face. Ignoring everything you were saying while still trying to get answers from you. You liked tell about how stubborn he was in gossip. You liked it less at this moment. “If I can aid you and you can go on home, you’re welcome to ask.”

“They don’t have anything on me,” you reply slowly, trying to match his even tone so he doesn’t think your lying. The embarrassment that comes with volunteering so plainly to mate with him comes and goes in waves, but having to repeat it to him is a different flavor all together. “I am here of my own free will.”

Temar scoffs and huffs. “If you don’t want to tell me then fine.” He heaves himself back to his feet and peers out the window. “Sun’s going down. You can stay here for dinner and for the night. That better satisfy them, because you’re leaving first light in the morning.”

You turn away from his back, staring blindly at the countertop covered in ingredients for dinner. The one you interrupted with this piss-poor intrusion. He was likely just trying to give you an out, an excuse to save some dignity. You should’ve known you’d have no skill at seduction, not that you’d believed you’d need it. You’d hoped he be satisfied enough, in need enough that you’d suffice by being willing and not unattractive. Or so you thought. How pathetic. “I just wanted to help,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

You sigh before walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you manage, your voice stiff with discomfort, but unwilling to completely give up yet. “Allow me to assist with the food.”

-/-

why does this keep getting long? why am i cursed?

thanks for the lovely tags everyone, at least someone's enjoying to chokehold this story has on me now lol

[moonshine-nightlight]

i tried sleeping on it, but no luck. still possessed by this idea. oh well

/

Dinner preparation is tense, quiet, but a relatively smooth affair. Temar’s already got the chicken dumplings nearly done so you leave that to him and handle the rest.

He only speaks to point you toward where things are when you ask. You’re happy he’s letting you do this much as you’ve more than got the message he’d prefer to do it all alone. You try to concentrate hard enough not to think about anything else.

“These dumplings are delicious,” you say belatedly, after you’ve already scarfed down two of them. They really are, hot and flavorful.

Temar grunts in response and you can’t help but pout, wondering if he thinks everything you say is a lie. You try at some other small talk, but nothing gets more than a yes or no out of him—after the first few, he just makes some vague noise of acknowledgment as he steadily eats through three times the portion of food you got, which had been more than generous. You’d been skeptical of how much he was making until you’d seen how much he was eating.

Did he also have to eat more before winter, like a normal bear? Was he going to sleep through it too? You swear he still came in with pelts, but you don’t really know. You’re more than aware that he’s not likely to give a straight answer if you ask. You ask anyway.

He gives you a look like you’re touched in the head. “No, I don’t hibernate. I stay in more, sleep more since its dark more, but I’m not actually a bear.”

“I know!” you protest, blushing, “but I’ve heard there’s overlap of some kind, forgive me for not being an expert. You’re the only werebear I know by name.”

“You know nothing,” he retorts, words finally bursting from him in a fit of frustration. You’re taken aback, but eager for any information given his recent impression of a clam. “You say you volunteer and yet you don’t know the first thing about werebears, let alone heats. You expect me to think you know what you’re saying you got yourself into when its clear no one explained anything.”

“Well, then you tell me,” you bat back, fed up by now with being treated as a criminal for even entertaining the notion you might be a suitable mate for him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have called me a liar even if I’d written a book on werebears and their heats.”

As his way seems to be, he ignores you to keep focus on whatever incorrect train of thought he has stuck in his head. “Even if you’re ignorant, didn’t your family object? Doesn’t someone have sense or self-preservation?”

You glare. Of all the—. “No—” you reply hotly before he cuts in.

“I thought that was something y’all paid attention to,” he drawls, waving with his fork. “ Fraternizing with the werecreatures is still a no-no right?” He leans forward, eyes bright, like a predator finally spotting their prey. “Is it them that the council is leaning on?”

Unfortunately for him, its a false sighting. “Don’t have any,” you reply bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “They died. About five years ago.”

You wonder if he’ll make the connection and to your surprise, he seems to as his brow furrows. “I see.” He leans back in his chair as if surrpised to notice he’d moved at all.

“Besides, I’m grown,” you’re annoyed you even have to remind him. He’s treating you like a child, ignoring you, calling you ignorant, making you out as a liar. Like a fool. You’ve long resolved not to let anyone treat you like a fool. “I make my own choices.”

He scoffs in that same manner that’s truly getting under your skin. “Right. How could I forget.”

“I don’t know,” your voice is sharper than its been all evening. “Seeing as I keep reminding you.”

Discomfort creeps into his frame and he looks down at his plate to mutter, “What even made them come up with this plan? Was this Anton’s idea?” He warms up to this new wrong idea—it was Jessaly on the council who had mentioned “heat soothers” seconded by Carlos. Anton only stepped in to mention volunteers. “Because if so, I’ll be having words with him next chance I get, strong words. I anticipated an order to leave town or to be taken to jail or a fight. I’m surprised the council even risked the chance for cubs.”

That last part completely derails you from your planned support for Anton. “Oh,” you can dismiss that concern easy, so you don’t hesitate to, “I can’t have children.”

That stops him completely, freezes him in his chair. “What?”

His reaction surprises you. “I thought…” You thought he could smell the infertility on you. You thought that was part of why he’d refused, like the others. If he couldn’t tell, you still didn’t think he’d have a reaction like this, like everyone else. “I can’t. My monthlies stopped only a few years in and a doctor confirmed the nature of the issue. It’s noted in the records because my engagement to—” You don’t even want to say his name, for all you don’t blame your former fiance. You hadn’t even been that excited about the marriage, but the reality of no marriage ever, well, that had been more of blow the coming years dealt to you. You manage a shaky smile. “No risk of children with me.”

You meet his eyes valiantly and he stares back. You hope you’re right when you don’t see any blooming realization that you’re broken, that you’re any more undesirable, but you’ve long given up trying to tell. Still his focus makes you babble, “I don’t want children anyway.” That at least is the truth and the reminder steadies you. You thought you’d gotten over the worst of this self-recrimination years ago. You were happy not to have that burden, that expectation, that danger in your life. You just want Temar to think well of you, and this always changes how people perceive you, no matter how much you wish it didn’t. That is what truly gets under your skin. Your shoulders drop some tension as your smile softens, becomes more genuine. “Better me than someone who did. It worked out for the best that way.”

If only it meant no partner, no chance for sex beyond work at the brothel—which you were not interested in despite them asking—or  visiting one, which you have in years past. Or the affairs some of the less reputable had tried for in the past. They always made it clear in the end, even if you were alright with the infidelity—it was only because you were ‘safe’ that they wanted you.

“Neither do I,” he says, causing you to look up at him. His expression turns defensive as he clarifies, “That doesn’t mean anything anyways. Still the most foolish idea I ever heard.” He stands up abruptly to refill his plate with a fourth helping.

You eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

[moonshine-nightlight]

managed to get the next part down before bed, enjoy!

/

Finally, you plate is clean and your belly is full. You manage to take Temar by surprise by snatching up his plate in addition to yours, bringing them over to the wash basin before he could do some himself. You’re determined to do something useful while you’re here and he’s feeding you.

Maybe all lack of eye contact was for him and not you. Maybe you’ll have better luck staring at the water. “So, is there anything you’ll actually let me do to help?”

Another huff, almost a growl of frustration, and Temar replies, grit in his tone, “I told you I ain’t taking a mate just because the town’s made my heat their business this year.”

You don’t even bother arguing the point again and consider his words. You hadn’t thought about other years. There’d never been notice of it so you assumed it wasn’t actually an annual event. What made this year so different? Instead of asking, you return his own volley. “I heard you. I didn’t mean that, though I must mention that the town is only involved because it has become their business this year.”

Temar doesn’t answer, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Being the focus of his attention is electrifying. “Other than having a mate,” you remind yourself outloud. “Are there other things that I can help with? Measures to be taken, information to be shared. Anything?”

There’s silence behind you before he stands up from the table, the scrape of his chair loud. You hope to the gods he’s actually doing something, thought of something in response to your question rather than just leaving. Although technically, you suppose, that would also be a response to your question.

You methodically scrub the dishes while you listen to him move about the main room of the cabin. He sits back down at the table, bringing something with him. You can’t dry this tankard any more thoroughly so you turn around to see if he’s simply ignoring you or not.

He’s bent over something on the table, a piece of paper? You frown and walk over to get a closer look. As if he can sense you, once you’re close enough he points one thick finger at the paper. “Who’s land is this?”

You frown as you study what you realize is a map of the town. Unlike most you’ve seen, it doesn’t have roads or even real buildings on it. Abstract symbols represent structures—you think—and the town center and main street buildings are one big marker. Nothing indicated for individual stores. It takes another minute to realize the outlined shapes covering the map are the property lines, not buildings, roads, or rivers, though some overlap with where you know those to be. Leave it to a werebear to have a map of the town by territory.

“If you don’t know—” he says, huffing per usual.

“Apologies if I need more than a minute,” you huff back, more than fed up and far more assured after the time spent with him that he has no plans to kick you out tonight. “I’ve never seen a map like this.”

He quiets down and you manage to follow your memory of the road out to… “The Meskal’s Farm, Evanna and Leon.” You also manage to make the connection, although you’re not sure he meant for you to. They’d been the most recent farm that had suffered from slaughtered livestock.

Temar brings over a slate with some notes in chalk already written out. He’s got shorthand notes, similar to those on the map, but all unlike any you’ve seen before. He jots down what must be their name above some already existing notes. You squint, trying to make sense of the letters and numbers. “Two ewes and one lamb,” you correct, hoping you decoded right.

He freezes and you hold your breath for annoyance or anger, but instead he merely erases one number and writes in another. “I assume this was discussed with the council?”

“Yeah,” you see no reason to beat around the bush. As you continue to squint at his notes, leaning over his broad shoulder to see better. “The Oche’s steer had to be put down, but they salvaged the meat. Anton reassured them it was edible and bought some himself so the rest of the town followed suit.”

“Still, I’ll be paying my debt, it just might take some time,” Temar replies gravely. “I’ll not have anyone say I don’t pay what I owe or think I don’t owe it, like some uncivilized beast.”

“I can pass that along,” you offer, still reaching for some way to contribute, to help. His integrity touches your heart, makes that urge to give aid stronger. Anton had something vague to the affect, but the town had little confidence in Anton’s assurances. You have confidence in Temar’s.

“I would appreciate that,” he sounds a little belligerent, a little abashed.

You smile, happy to have found anything useful to do and lean in again, to study his map more closely. You mentally map out the other families who had damage and notice they’re all in a line from his property west and against the forest. He does seem to be attempting to keep to limited area. How much control does he have? Could you help corral him somehow?

You reach to point. “Is this the river or—” You start to lose you balance from the awkward angle you’re at. Your other hand reaches for the next closest thing to steady yourself—Temar’s shoulder.

Next thing you know you’re knocking into the table and he’s standing several feet away, a snarl on his face. “Don’t.”

You’re stricken by the vehemence from a such a small, almost-touch of his person. It had been too easy to forget he disliked you so, is so offended by your very presence. “I’m sorry!” It’s as if he thinks you were attempting to trick him. You hasten to clarify, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t trying—”

Temar leaves the room before you even finish speaking.

/

spoiler alert: the next part will be from Temar's POV so stay tuned

[moonshine-nightlight]

who ordered Temar's POV? everyone including the original prompt? fair enough

/

Temar braces himself before he goes back in the main room, his forehead pressed against the solid wood of his walls.

He’s hoping he’s gotten used to your scent, built up a tolerance, but knows it’ll only have gotten stronger for each moment you’ve been here. Gods know he’s only become more susceptible to it. How anyone in all his life has such a bewitching scent, he’ll never know.

The second he’d opened his front door, he’d wanted to drag you inside and never let you out. The beast inside instantly proclaiming Mine. Only mine. He’d barely heard anything Anton said over the roaring in his ears. The slam of his door had been as much panic defensiveness as it had been frustrated aggression.

The line between those two does seem to blur most during heat.

You stayed out there, looking so lost and somber on the porch, lip caught between your teeth as you thought. He’d had to get you to stop before he took over the task for you. An early sign of heat madness surely because of fucking course it was far worse having you in his home. Where his beast said you belonged. Where you could say all the words he was salivating to hear as truth even though he knew them to be false.

Those council assholes would pay for putting him through this torture. Temar knew he was a werebeast and yet this was inhumane even for his kind. He tried to find a proper target for his aggression, but you’d given him nothing to work with, persistent in your tale. As if a kind, quick-witted, pretty thing like you would ever subject yourself to a beast like him unless you felt you had no other option.

Distractions haven’t been helping, trying to keep his eyes off you was impossible to sustain, and stonewalling didn’t ever seem to deter you for long. It’s as if you were perfectly designed to get past all of his defenses. There are still so many hours until sunrise—if Temar’s even going to last that long, even be able to let you go at that point. After you’d seeped into his home, his life. You seem to fit so well.

You play at being kind like a master actor and he hopes that’s not all a front. You’re smart, independent, but oh so willing to help. Duress, he reminds himself, you’re here under duress. The fuckers in town must have forced you here somehow. He can’t believe how low they’ve stooped, taking advantage of your lack of family, of your infertility to make you into a sacrifice. The perfect sacrifice.

His beast still wants to try to breed you, undeterred by logic, but it’s his human head that’s unfairly tempted by the knowledge. When he’s in his rational mind, he stands by what he said. The risk of children, others with his condition, his ostracization from society is something he’d never condemn an innocent soul to suffer. Not mention he likes his solitude, likes only being responsible for himself and only answerable to himself. It’s why the council involving itself is so frustrating. Its why the idea you might be here of your own free will is so appealing. Lack of such a child-bearing risk is even more appealing, more alluring than he’d ever realized it would be. Than it had any right to be. Why are you so damn perfect for him?

Clearly distance was not helping. Perhaps it was even making his beast stronger, without you to look at him and, for all your knowledge of his nature, expect a rationale man to look back.

Temar walks back into the main room, feeling like a man condemned, only to immediately regret his choice as he rigidly locks every muscle he can to prevent his beast from pouncing. He’d thought you’d stopped trying to seduce him with your faux willingness and pretty eyes. Your soft, steady kindness…

Even he’d admitted to himself once alone that you likely hadn’t meant anything by hovering so close, by trying to steady yourself on him. Your fall onto the table, not to mention the complete startlement on your face from his reaction. But what the fuck is this?

“What are you doing?” he asks through clenched teeth, hoping the beast inside isn’t giving away the feral lust coursing through his veins.

“What?” You look up, surprised he’s back, but there’s no embarrassment in your face. If anything, your expression smooths back to usual faster than he feels it has a right to. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how wet my apron had gotten from the dishes, sorry about the wasted water.”

“Why have you removed it?” Temar’s voice was strangled as the words passed through his lips. Ordinarily, he knows it would barely register with him, but you removing any article of clothing has his beast pulling at the chains he’s trying to use to keep it inside where it belongs.

“Well, I didn’t know how else to dry off,” you reply, brow furrowing in confusion as you dab at yourself with part of the folded-up apron. Temar can see the damp stains where the water had soaked through the light green fabric underneath. “Besides, I don’t want to catch anything, sitting around in wet clothes. It’ll be dry by morning if I leave it by the fire.”

Temar’s mind is already overrun by the reminder he’d invited you, like the numbskull he is, to stay the night. You’re unlikely to sleep fully dressed. You’ll take more than just your apron off in his home. You’ll strip down to your chemise. He can see the edges of it under your dress—white cotton poking out. Nothing more under that except soft skin—skin he isn’t allowed to touch.

Temar tries to combat the pleasing images of you splayed naked in his bed with images of your bruised and bloody from his claws, his strength, his carelessness. They’re impossible to sustain with you so hale and unbothered in front of him. The comfort of his den discourages such violence from his thoughts, his heat poisoning his mind against him. You aren’t here by choice, he reminds himself.

It’s hard to believe when you cross his room with self-assured confidence, bending down to arrange your apron by his fire, acting as if you’ve no fears to worry you. Your hair is ruffled from either the dishes or taking off your apron and you pat at it absentmindedly. Temar wants it spread across his sheets, his pillow, mussed and messed by his hands while he claims you for himself. The town clearly doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t value you what they have. He’d treat you right. He’d make sure you loved being his.

With a shake of his head, he blinks and the image before him resolves to you seated on a chair, delicately rebraiding your hair. He can’t keep his eyes off the swift movements of your fingers. Temar imagines what it would feel like if you did the same to him, this simple careful, everyday task. You look up at him from under your full eyelashes, looking perfectly innocent and not a creature pulled from his greatest nightmares and most sincere dreams. “So do you have a plan for managing however many days are left? Have you gone into heat in previous years? How did you manage then?”

The flush that blooms on your face is endearing and attractive. Temar wants desperately to know what you’re thinking when you say ‘heat’. You’ve avoided saying the word nearly the entire time you’ve been heard. Temar knows the rumors that fly about the human population about werebeasts, about heats, he’s overheard it all. From eating human mates to potent fertility and everything in between. Which ones have you heard? Which do you believe in? Likely none of the violent ones or you’d find the prospect far more intimidating than whatever bullshit the council is using to coerce you.

“Temar?”

“You’re right, I’ve already managed to work out a solution on my own, making you presence doubly wasteful.” You flinch at his words and every instinct screams at him to sooth you, to take it back—whatever is needed to make his mate stay. Temar turns rather than continue to watch your reactions to his harsh words. Despite knowing its necessary, it hurts to see your hurt and only encourages the beast to want to soothe, to steal your mind from any hurt by drowning it out with lust and heat. “Follow me.”

/

split this in two so the next part will also be Temar POV, hope u lik it!

[moonshine-nightlight]

here's the rest of Temar's POV

dedicated to @snowkissedmonsters poor burnt pizza - sorry lol

/

“You’ll sleep here,” Temar points out, continuing to refuse to look back at you or his bed for that matter.

His control would surely shatter if he saw you so close to it. He imagines how easily he could push you down on the furs and sheets until he had you spread out like a feast for him and him alone. How he would savor you. How he wouldn’t let you up until he was more than satisfied. A glutton of lust.

The cold metal of the door knob jolts him out of his thoughts. “I’ll be out back.” The crisp air, the brisk breeze, blow your scent from Temar and clear his head. He nearly sighs with relief as he walks off to the right, purpose in his steps, a reminder of his duty as he follows the familiar path.

“Here.” Its clear no matter where you thought he was leading you “pit” was not on the list. Your eyebrows lift nearly to your hairline as you stare down, allowing him precious seconds to gaze at you without a mask of stoicism or frustration, only naked hunger.

“You asked where I weathered heats of the past?” Temar neglects to mention that the first couple years in town rendered his heats short and taxing. Just a handful of nights around the late summer full moon, when the first chill to the air heralding the coming winter. Between his beast’s discomfort with new territory and his own war memories haunting him, his heats were not a concern. It’s only last year that his heat was how it used to be in his youth.

Wild. Hungry. Enduring.

This year is worst yet, not only because of the tight grip it has on him and how he can tell, despite more than a week in, that he has days to go, but also due circumstances outside of his control.

You’re smart enough to spot it. “Did something happen to this…?”

Temar puts you out of your awkward misery. “There was a flood after that storm a couple weeks ago. It dislodged that tree and a wall collapsed.” He’d hoped his heat wouldn’t return with the vengeance it did and so had put off excavating. “In the end, the den took longer than I thought to rebuild, to dig deep enough again. Still not sure I have,” he confesses when you look at him with such open, receptive eyes.

You frown and squint down at the den and Temar doesn’t like the reminder of how dark it’s getting. This entire evening has been a distraction, from the knock on his door, to the meal, to now. He ought not neglect the den any longer, not let his beast draw this out until it can overpower his conscience.

He puts down the ladder, hands grateful for something to do besides itch to settle on your hips. “I’ll be needing to get everything out of here, before the moon finishes rising.” Temar descends as quickly as he can, jumping the last few feet and turning to survey the den.

It was nicer before, he thinks with some dismay, some shame at you seeing such a bare hole in the ground. It’s primarily filled with tools for digging and fortifying, none of the minimal furs and blankets that should be givens for a den. The roof had been damaged when the tree fell in so he hopes it doesn’t rain. Temar resigns himself to waking up covered in dew. It’ll still be better than waking up covered in blood, even after verifying it was all from livestock.

“Temar?” His name on your lips draws his attention back up, like a flower to the sun, like a fish to water, like blood to a bear.

“Can I help you clear it out?” Temar just stares at you, part of his mind still surprised you’re here. Still here. Still offering to help. Help him. You cross your arms again and Temar wishes it didn’t look so good on you, the way it pushes up your chest, makes your arm muscles more prominent. What sort of shop did you say you had again? “Look, I’m another pair of hands, ain’t I?”

“Technically,” he allows, speaking without thinking. All his thought concentrated on your form above him, ripe for the plucking.

You seem to take that as permission and start climbing down the ladder. Temar turns so quickly to avert his eyes from your ass that he forgets to forbid you from coming down. You touch down lightly and Temar reluctantly faces you again, a puppet on the strings of his inner beast, to soak in the sight of you in its den.

The cabin belongs to Temar, the man. The den belongs to Temar, the beast.

Something of that must come across on his face as you pause, one hand on the ladder. “Does it break a rule, for me to be down here?”

A den is a personal, sacred space, with only those closest allowed entry. The beast does not allow you to lie. “No.” A prospective mate is more than a natural allowance. It’s expected.

You nod with satisfaction. The beast preens in approval at your persistence, at your ease in its den. “Then I’m helping. What’s next?”

Wordlessly, you point to the table with the hand tools.

“All of these?” you ask, even as you begin to gather them.

Temar turns away, unable to watch you ascend, and focuses on the final wheelbarrow he needs to move out, the planks he’s using as ramps he’ll need to remove. “Gotta get everything out of here so it don’t get broken.” Also so he can’t use it to escape. When he’s more beast than person, the use of tools doesn’t come naturally, but he’s relentless. Safer to keep them out of reach. That’s the real challenge—keep himself out of reach.

“Right.” There’s a pause while you move around behind him. Temar tries to focus on the feeling of the smooth wood of the wheelbarrow handles, the shudder of the wooden planks below as he moves it out of the den. “How come the walls are like this?”

You must be gesturing to the flat stones embedded in the dirt walls. “Harder to climb, although I haven’t had time to finish the back wall that collapsed yet. Claws don’t do well on smooth stone. A lot if the grout needs to be redone. Something for tomorrow.”

“Smart,” you say, sounding impressed.

Temar grunts in response, trying to focus on pulling the crude ramp out of the den and not on puffing up at your approval. Not seeing how else he might earn your esteem, might otherwise impress you.

“What’s it like,” you ask, quietly but clearly. Temar had been wondering if you’d ask. Waiting. “When…”

You trail off so he’s not sure if you meaning being a werebear or being one in heat. He supposes the answer isn’t terribly different. “Simpler, harsher, more vivid,” he says, “Less control when in heat than the rest of the time. In the army, we were trained to control the transformation, taught how to keep our minds more intact—it doesn’t work like that for heat. Getting locked up is how it was dealt with even there.” Not that they lasted long back then for anyone.

“I’ve heard of the loss of control.” You don’t specify if you mean in general or in heat, but Temar supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Perhaps this would be a good time to remind both of you what’s at stake, how dangerous Temar is in heat to anyone vulnerable around him. “Just a beast at that point.” Temar doesn’t look you in the eye as he keeps talking, heading back down into the den now the planks are out and it’s the only way down. “Can’t understand human speech. Can barely tell human from animal. No reasoning with me. I’ll do what I want when I want to. Damn anyone else.”

Not that you’re as intimidated as he wishes you were. “What about other weres?”

“Aye.” Temar doesn’t mind confirming that, not when he knows it can’t encourage you. “Thats a mite different. We can handle each other better, can find that sliver of common ground. Family can calm you, your own territory, and of course, if you’ve got everything you want, you won’t go roaming for it. Won’t get angry and frustrated you can’t find it.”

“That all the time, or just in heat?” He can still hear the shyness in your voice whenever you say heat, but its obvious your curiosity is too great. Temar surveys the den while he considers his answer, hands you left over plates and cutlery from his noontime meal, eaten down in the den while he worked furiously to get it ready for tonight. He’s careful not to let his fingers brush yours, not to look you in the face, lest he see some fear there that hadn’t been before. Lest the beast see a lack of such fear. Temar truly felt caught between a rock and hard place.

He can see the question you’re dancing around and cuts to the quick, praying you’ll be sensible and leave since he wouldn’t be able to make you anymore. He’s not sure he even could back on the porch. “Its dangerous for any human to lay with a werebeast. Injury from strength or claws or teeth is impossible to prevent. Even if you’re mates.” He reminds himself as ruthlessly as tells you. It was rare, but it happened. Heartbreaking accidents. “Even if you’ve known each other for years. Someone in my troop had killed their husband in a heat frenzy once.”

“Not always though,” you reply, too hopeful by far, too logical not to notice the exaggeration. “It can’t be or weres would have died out.”

“No, not always,” Temar allows. “The tendency towards multiple children in a litter helps. But usually longer held relationships fare better. If the were isn’t in a bad mood, isn’t stressed—if the partner cooperates right.”

He hands you the last item that needs out and once you get to the top, he says, “Pull up that ladder, now.”

You pause, standing stock still and for a second he wonders if you’ll even listen. Temar’s not sure he has the strength to ask a second time.

“Sure.” You pull up the ladder.

His human mind eases at that, at the sight of you more than seven feet overhead, out of reach. His beast disagrees, seething in displeasure and unfulfilled lust. Naturally, you can’t leave well enough alone and sit down, legs dangling into the den. He knows he could grab your ankle at this, yank you down and—

Temar turns to study the den once more. It won’t stick in his mind with you clouding his judgment the way you are. He narrows his eyes, forcing himself to assess if its deep enough, the walls defended enough. “I still need to get the cover fixed, if that damn blacksmith ever manages to be around when I stop by. The back wall needs to be stoned, but if I try to climb it like it is, it’s just as likely to crumble which’ll keep me in just the same. It’ll do. It had better more than satisfy those bastards on the council.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose it will.” You shrug, as if you’d forgotten about them. “Will you let me visit? After I leave in the morning—” you add swiftly as if to cut off a correction Temar for once wasn’t offering. “In case there’s anything else I can help with? I meant it when I said we could help each other out. I admit I do not relish the chore of fetching all fuel for my fire in these coming months and perhaps I can provide something for you? I’m a skilled weaver in addition to my work with dyes. If you would not be opposed?”

How can you forget the council so easily? Dismiss them offhand like that. Why do you speak of ‘after’ so lightly? As if you expect to see him again, as if that’s something you might want. Temar’s thoughts turn in circles once more over your duress. He must remember you cannot be here by choice. It’s getting harder by the minute. By each minute you sit on the edge of his den, not a care in the world. Not a notion of his steadily deteriorating self-control. His lack of giving any indication of his growing need has gone from helpful to sinister, a wolf in sheep’s clothing no longer trying to reassure, but to lure closer its prey.

“Perhaps,” he manages to say.

You continue to talk, but the words’ meaning slip through his fingers. The change is pushing itself on him while he wiles away a few more minutes in your presence. Just to try to burn off excess energy, Temar turns to push one of the stones in better, to align it flat with the rest of them. Except… he can feel your eyes on his back while he does so.

Your scent to spikes.

He wheels around, wildly, and belated realizes the height you’re at, brings your loins far more to a height with his nose than ever before. Did his display of strength inspire something of lust in you? His beast roars for you once more at this indication of receptiveness.

The moonlight colors your hair, emphasizing your etherealness, the wonder at your very presence. How much Temar wants to hold you in his hands, claim you for his own. How much he wants to bring you down to earth, push you under him and take his pleasure from you.

He takes a step closer and it feels like the first sprung leak in a dam. The first domino to fall. The spark of fire on dry, dry tinder.

“R-un.”

/

i think there will only be one more part, but we'll see how far i get tomorrow

[tassodelmiele]

~I swear I'll drown into the deepest dark to find you.

And I'll love you, in every scattered piece~

....................................

I swear to every god, when I started this mermay thing I had all the good intentions to draw a happy, shiny Ghostmaid.

CoDdammit

Dunno what get wrong, but I can assure you he's happy and good in this universe, even with spikes and scars.

Here's a modified version that i also like.

Good MerMay everyone~

[pieckyghost]

shooooo!

[void-my-warranty]

I blacked out.

[void-my-warranty]

@void-my-warranty

Why does Johnny think he's unlovable?

@fur-claws-and-eyeballs

I personally head-canon him as having that ADHD RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.)

(This is very rambling, off-the-cuff, hope it makes sense)

As someone with ADHD & RSD; you are so correct that it makes my heart hurt.

Everything he has to offer, he's poured into the Army, and done it for so long he simply believes no one *could* love him. There's not enough of the good parts of him left to make a whole person.

All his passion went into the Army: he is the youngest SAS officer ever.

He's always been close to the teams he's worked with, but none more than the 141, and Simon is practically his (mostly) platonic partner.

Any desire for physical affection or a lover he's able to fulfill with dating and brief flings.

In addition: yes, he was raised Catholic, and with that came a level of guilt and homophobia. He never agreed with it, but it didn't really affect him till he met Simon, at which point his emotions got a lot more complicated.

He has a big heart-- but it's so fractured it doesn't seem feasible that someone could find enough leftover pieces and be able to glue then all back together to make him into someone worth loving.

So he takes what he can get from the other relationships in his life, and tells himself it's alright, even when the loneliness is a fire that hollows out his chest. He can be there for other people, and that's good enough.

All of the answers on that post were excellent, but I agree, this is the one in particular that kind of smacked me in the chest with something I could connect with and easily visualize.

I’m still not sure how to finish this story out for him, because nothing sounds right just yet. Johnny is a far more complex character than I originally believed.

I mean— how many options are there???

• Throuple (troublesome because I feel like both Johnny and reader would be too insecure and needy for that, and it’s unrealistic for Simon to be equipped for that dynamic)

• Johnny sad and alone at the end

• One of them dies (!!!) or breaks up (!!!)

• Johnny finds someone else

• Simon never gets to the point where he can be physical, and Johnny just continues donating dick indefinitely

What else is there???

Basically I was not expecting to fall in love with Johnny and now I’m up to my eyeballs. I didn’t even have him talk in the very first part because I didn’t really give a shit, and wasn’t sure how to write his speech, and now I’m agonizing over if he’ll feel bad if reader sits with Simon instead of him.

[monstersarefriends]

Johnny gets an ace partner, and is the perfect boyfriend because he gets it due to Simon.

And the dick-donations continue.

All 4 are extremely happy and content with the arrangement and go on double date holidays frequently. Reader and Johnny's Partner become the BESTes of friends (I don't know if Simon managed to deal with his traume enough to fuck reader in this scenario. I just think it's incredibly cute to have Johnny with an ace partner that doesn't want to have sex. And maybe it even gets some pressure of Simon, because. Look! A non sexual person with someone with a high sex drive! And still both are happy!)

[void-my-warranty]

Void’s Guide to Writing Smut (18+)

This may be obvious, but have sex and orgasms. If you can’t do one, do the other. Nothing compares to personal experience, and you really need some kind of base knowledge to expand into things of the imagination. Try a variety of things if you can. You know, for the plot.

Pay attention to the limits of your own body, what you’re uniquely able/unable to accomplish, what you like/dislike. All bodies are different, and you may find that typical smut doesn’t line up with how your actual body works. THAT IS GOOD. Write that. There will be people who have the same experience and they will appreciate the representation. Even if they don’t share your experience, the realism will build trust with your readers.

Watch other people cum (not in porn) and pay attention to how their bodies flex, the types of noises, cadence of breathing, areas of trembling, etc. For a lot of people, finishing is a deeply introspective action, and there won’t be “screamed his name” anywhere in the vicinity. Realism is more interesting than cookie cutter smut, because real life offers variation. Lean into imperfection.

Know your character, their backstory, their trauma, and think about how that affects what they enjoy. Think about what they might not be brave enough to ask for, embarrassed about, expecting, proud of, or self conscious about. Let something unexpected happen, force them to communicate or adjust to their partner in a new way.

Have your characters talk during the scene. If dirty talk feels forced, have them talk normally. Have them flirt, confess, beg, argue. Have them stutter, or use the wrong words, or let something slip that they didn’t mean to say. Silent smut is boring smut. Sex is a unique opportunity of vulnerability for your characters, take advantage of it.

Emotional intelligence is what takes smut to the next level. In what way is each character feeling connected? Feeling adored? Feeling understood? Feeling affirmed? Feeling safe? Write the intangible and the messy tangle of thoughts and tiny ways that your lil guys relate to each other. Smut is where (imo) too many writers zoom through the scene without lingering on the details. The details are sexy.

Switch up the expected sequence of events. If you can’t think of any reason X might want to stop mid (act) to do (act) to Y, invent one. Create plot through disruption. Have someone accidentally finish. Have someone be unable to finish. Have the power dynamic flip. Have someone refuse to do (act) in favor of (more kinky act). But always know why X made the choice, and how it made Y feel. Make your characters play while they play.

Be aware of what needs trigger warnings. You can literally write whatever you want (on AO3), but please TW it responsibly. I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve been upset at finding unexpected coercion in the middle of a smut because the author doesn’t understand what qualifies as non-con. People live through all different kinds of SA, and more “socially acceptable” breaches of trust can be just as triggering to survivors as overt non-con.

If you’re not confident on your grasp of consent, it’s a great opportunity to educate yourself. Your writing will vastly improve, because understanding consent will solidify your character’s motivations, and allow you to dip into dub-con or non-con intelligently if you so choose.

I like to be specific with my trigger warnings because often times people’s triggers are specific, and it allows readers to make an informed decision. Yes, it can spoil the plot. Make the fic so interesting that they forget what’s going to happen.

If there’s something you don’t like writing, it’s okay to gloss over it. Kissing is hard to write. If you know how to write prolonged, detailed frenching that isn’t gross… I’d pay for that information so hit me up.

Decide what’s important to you as a writer. Explicit consent always? Feeling of safety? Loss of control? Pushing boundaries? Forced enjoyment? Power dynamics? If you’re not sure, think through the spicy scenes you’ve written or want to write. Typically there is some theme that will be present, and that can say a lot about what you as a writer find interesting and important. That’s your niche, so to speak.

Sex is mental. People fuck with their brains. All you have to do is write it.

[vaya-writes]

I wanted to add to this fantastic post with some tips when it comes to line editing your smut, and making sure you get the vibe right. (Also how to write negotiation scenes, and things to keep in mind with dialogue).

Honestly the best way you can do this is to be mindful of your word choices, and what synonyms you might use. 

I get the frustration when you write a sex scene and you read it over and suddenly you notice you’ve used the word ‘moan’ like ten times. And it can be useful to use the find tool and go through and change a handful of these. But the point I want to make is to be mindful of what you change these words to. Because while it might be tempting to use an assortment of other sounds that people use during sex (moan/groan/whimper/gasp/cry/shout/whatever), I think it’s really important to ask a few questions before you do this. 

What is the purpose of the sound, and what does it tell us about the character? What is characteristic of your characters? What is your scene trying to do, other than showcase some fun sexy times? 

I know we like to use the trope ‘porn without plot’ but, you can cram so much character development and even plot into a sex scene, of even the smallest length. And some of the most effective ways to do this is to use the most appropriate synonyms. Doing this can help you stay concise and keep the tension of a scene, while also giving the reader additional context to what’s happening. 

I’m going to drop some examples of what I mean by this. In the first example, I’m going to change out only a word or two to describe how a guy moves his hand in a direction, and what the word choice can imply: 

His hand creeps upwards. (Creep tells us that the motion is soft and slow. It can also be insidious or without permission, and further context could show this.) 

His hand trails upwards. (This one is also soft and slow, however the intentions behind the movement are more neutral.) 

He drags his hand upwards. (Dragging of the hand implies some resistance against skin or clothes. The motion is harder, more intense. Another one that is neutral with the intentions and the speed of the motion.) 

He jerks his hand upwards. (This is a fast movement. More context would be required to get the intention, but it could be a startled movement, or somebody grappling for control). 

Do you see how a single word can change how you visualise a scene unfolds? 

Let’s go back to talking about moans. If we dig into why and how a character is moaning, we can then pick another synonym that fits better. I’m going to drop some sexy vocal noises, and explain what those noises can imply. 

Moan / Groan (These can be sexy sounds, or sounds of discomfort or pain, depending on context. These are valuable in their own way, because they don’t have any connotations of volume or intention or how a voice changes. 

Pant / Gasp / Sigh (These in particular are breathy sounds. They’re probably going to be quieter than moans and groans. A pant is an exerted sound, a gasp is a sudden sound, a sigh can be relaxed or it can be disappointed.) 

Words can show a lack of control – Wail / Mewl / Whimper / Growl – these words all have variety in sound level or intention but they’re all things most people are hesitant to do when in control. 

Words can indicate volume – Gasp / Cry / Shout / Wail. Intention varies on whether or not somebody is in control, but they’re all implied to be loud sounds. 

This is why it’s so important to think about what’s actually going on with the characters. Not just which body part is where and who is doing what, but why. 

Is this the first time your character has had sex in a long time? Are they self conscious around their partner? Could you imply this by having them start out quiet before becoming more vocal as they relax? 

Is your character being performative? Trying to impress a partner with dirty talk or loud sounds? Are their moans fake?  

Are they embarrassed by their reactions? Covering their face or body, or holding back noises? Should you add descriptors to the moans? (Muffled moan, stifled gasps, etc) 

Basically, ask yourself what is the relationship between the characters on the screen, and use the right words to reflect this. Having a large vocabulary is great, sure, but don’t be afraid to look up synonyms and consider a couple. As long as you chose them deliberately, and not randomly. Don’t pick a word if you don’t know what it means, how it sounds, what it implies.  

Another thing I want to talk about is not breaking emersion. Do you ever read smut and then suddenly the words ‘throbbing sausage’ (I’m exaggerating. probably) make you blink and nope out? And if you don’t nope out, you still have to ask yourself ‘why did the author use those words’ before you continue? 

Yeah, this is when the emersion is broken. And if it happens too many times, or too egregiously, then there’s a good chance that readers will stop reading.  

So lets talk about language choices when it comes to genitals and body parts. Yep. Because it needs to be said. 

Now I’m not going to tell you what is and isn’t sexy. Because honestly, this varies from person to person. Instead, I’m going to tell you to lean into the vibe, and consider your word intentions once again. 

Let’s use some examples. Here, we’ll use some dialogue to complement a vagina. And I’ll break down what the different word choices do. 

“What a pretty pussy.” (this is straightforward and simple. A bit honest, a bit flattering. I’d probably consider it a baseline for sexy language.) 

“What a pretty cunt.” (this is way more vulgar. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you want your language choice and your character dialogue to match the vibe of what you’re writing. I’d use this to possibly be teasing, mean, or degrading. It’s also a bit jarring to hear the word ‘cunt’ and you can use this sometimes, like if you’re not expecting a character to talk like that, or you want to shock the reader or the character being complimented) 

“What a pretty flower.” (When you are using fluffy or floral language you always run the risk of breaking emersion. That said, it can still be useful. It might suit a character that uses language like this on the regular. They could be inexperienced, lack the vocabulary, unused to calling things by their proper names, etc) 

“What a pretty vagina.” (This one can also be emersion breaking, as hearing it referred to as a vagina is not particularly sexy. But once more, this could still be viable in some circumstances. Medical play? The talker trying to embarrass the listener? The same reasons somebody would use flowery language? Your choice. Just be mindful.) 

Last point I want to bring up on my own is dialogue. 

Do you ever read a sex scene and lose interest because all the action kind of just blurs together? Is that just me? Idk. But one way to offset this is to use dialogue. 

I also want to fold into this point something I know some people don’t find interesting, but can have a lot of payoff if done well: negotiation. 

Negotiation can be sexy! Negotiation can be fun. Discussing kinks with another person is something that does not have to be boring or long. Here are some ideas on how to engage with this some more: 

When does this conversation (or series of conversations) take place, and what does that say about your characters? When the conversation happens before sex it implies an element of planning, intention to fuck, people who are comfortable with boundaries, or who are afraid of boundaries being crossed. When the conversation happens in the middle of or after sex, it can show poor planning, impulsivity, possible lack of control or respect of boundaries, characters who are comfortable with improv and doing things on the fly, etc. 

The length of the conversation. Unless you are writing some detailed BDSM lifestyle stuff, you probably don’t need to discuss more than a kink or position or two at a time. The first time some characters fuck, honestly you can get away with ‘can I touch’, ‘can I kiss’, ‘is this okay?’ etc. You don’t need to be detailed when setting boundaries.  

“Is there anything I should avoid doing?” Is perfectly respectable and perfectly concise if you don’t want to get bogged down in the details of limits. 

Consider what language is used. When one character asks another if they can touch them. “Can I touch?” is vague. Open ended. Possibly bashful, with a character not wanting to voice the whole thought. “Can I touch your dick?” Is more specific. It takes a less bashful character, or one working up some nerve, or somebody who is comfortable, to use more specific language. 

When one character tells another what they like, how does their personality impact this? Are they self-conscious about their likes? (hiding or shielding body, wording things vaguely, otherwise embarrassed or ashamed) Are they direct and demanding? (understanding of their limits and their body, a bit of confidence). Are you wording things so that there’s a clear difference between a character instructing somebody, making a suggestion, or making a request? (“Do this”, “Can you do this”, “Maybe try this”) 

Basically, if you are bored writing negotiation, there’s the likelihood that the reader will be bored reading it. But that doesn’t mean you have to skip it entirely. Feel free to break it up and use bits and pieces instead of a whole scene of discussion. 

Here are some suggestions and tips for dialogue that don’t relate directly to negotiation: 

A relaxed and comfortable character is probably going to talk more. Whether by peppering little words of appreciation in (‘fuck, god, yes, there,’ etc), or dirty talking, or praising their partner, whatever is typical of them.  

Once again reiterating that everyone finds different things sexy. But there might be such a thing as too much praise/degradation. If you want to lather it on because you’re leaning into the praise/degradation aspect, be sure to use variety and break it up with some actions. Unless your character is really fuck drunk and too stupid to think of new things to say at the time. It can happen.  

If your character is embarrassed, they might not be putting together full or detailed sentences. If your character is exerted or panting, they’re also going to find it hard. 

Pet names are good during sex. This might just be a me thing but do consider if you call your partner’s name during sex, or your endearment for them. This includes kinky titles.  

Banter is always fun, but horny brain can interfere with how clever you sound. Do consider that the further that people get into sex, the less likely they are to sound coherent. Though this would vary from person to person. 

Anyway, these are the points I really wanted to hammer in, that I think I’m good at talking about and going into detail with. 

I did want to add one thing to void’s take’s up above when it comes to writing realistic sex, and that is please consider the relationship between your characters a little and how this impacts what they’re doing. In particular, have they had sex before? 

Are their actions comfortable and sure, or more exploratory? If one character is really good at getting another character off, why? Have they done it before? Have they watched it before? Do they have transferable skills (good at getting other people off). Please have a reason. Sex can be really awkward. Bad sex happens all the time. So if you’re going to write good sex, please consider why it is good. 

Anyway, thanks for letting me indulge with this ramble.  

[snowkissedmonsters]

Part Two of This

[monstersarefriends]

@void-my-warranty made me think of your bed time dreams :D in case you haven't seen this yet

[writing-prompt-s]

“The stone corrupts all those who wield it, it is fueled by their ambitions and dreams. So we need someone with no ambitions, no dreams, someone who doesn’t care about what the future holds for themselves. That’s why we found you.”

[shady-tavern]

The first thought, in a moment like this, probably should not have been what came to your mind. Well, fuck you too, you thought, half incredulous and half apathetic. You leaned against the doorframe with one shoulder and eyed the group of three wizened people before you. Why was it always the elderly who came with big quests or brought important items that had to be hidden away?

Also, if you didn’t care about the future, didn’t that mean you didn’t care about the stone either? You might as well give it to someone else. Maybe someone better suited than you. There was this little girl across the street who had an acorn necklace and played in puddles and always sat very still until the every last stray cat felt safe enough to eat what she brought them. Maybe the stone should go to her, she at least gave a shit.

You debated arguing or refusing, but your disinterest won out in the end. “Sure,” you answered, holding out a hand for them to plop the stone into. You weren’t scared of it, especially since it looked utterly unremarkable. If you tossed it into a river, no one would be able to tell it apart from the other rocks.

The three wizened elders, apparently the smartest of their magic circle, exchanged grave looks and you waited until they were done with their silent communication and their leader stepped forward.

“We entrust you with the Stone of Possibility, never use it and always hide it,” they said, voice solemn and carrying the sort of undertone that spoke of great importance. You blinked slowly. “Give it to no one, no matter how noble their hearts, how pitiful their tale or how silver their tongue.” You couldn’t help but imagine a genderless person sticking out their tongue dripping with mercury.

Weiterlesen

[void-my-warranty]

I have avery important question!

When did Simon know he wants her like that. To keep her forever, to wake up to her every day. When was his

Oh ✨

-Moment.

Also how much did he Panik, about talking to her about his trauma 👀👀👀

People in Ghost’s line of work tend to place everyone they meet into 2 categories:

Sheep or wolf.

Either they’re a potential threat, or they’re not. It’s as automatic now as registering someone’s hair color, the way he clocks everybody he meets into a category.

And in the same way, he sees everyone as either a threat or as harmless, in a sexual sense. Sometimes they overlap with the sheep and wolf groups, sometimes they don’t. It’s complicated in his head.

The little old lady at the corner store sure as hell isn’t going to try to touch him, but there’s a reason she keeps an empty beer bottle within arms reach behind the counter. Your friend Laney can’t do much more than scratch him if she gets provoked, but in the other sense, he doesn’t want her anywhere in his proximity. Too unpredictable, and she has this air of sexual entitlement that makes his skin crawl.

He goes about his life constantly assessing who’s off limits and who’s not. When they fall into both harmless categories, he can relax a little. Can make surface level friendships with some of the guys at work, the middle aged lesbian couple next door.

But he doesn’t want to fuck them.

That’s where things get messy, you see. A part of him can be deeply attracted to a sexual “threat,” even as his self preservation locks into place and walls go up. They make him feel out of control and almost insane, as he gets yanked through this cycle of attraction and self doubt and shame and guilt, never finding an answer to it, never finding peace.

You wouldn’t know it from the outside, of course. Externally he’s as bored as ever, arms crossed and blinking insolently above the heads of everyone else. But the wheels of trauma are always turning, his nervous system skittering pain across his skin at the threat of contact, at even the idea of it.

So he gets to want, but never have. Never have, because it isn’t safe.

So he knows he’s screwed when he meets an anomaly. Someone who’s not only a neutral threat in both regards, but for some unexplained reason goes out of her way to make him even more comfortable than she found him. And he wants to see what’s under her clothes so bad, it’s burning his skin off.

This isn’t how things go. Warning bells are screaming in his mind, only to be met with pretty eyes and the most calming aura he can conceive.

Screwed, absolutely obliterated.

[void-my-warranty]

Getting flooded with anons voting for or against Simon/Johnny romance and I’m going to stop posting them because I fear I have nothing else to say on the subject.

But I hear you, and you all have excellent points. 😅

[monstersarefriends]

Love that we are all so obsessed with this story, that we are flooding you xD

[void-my-warranty]

“Si.”

He looks up from his breakfast, hair rumpled and eyes a little bloodshot. There’s a bit of panic in them, though, at your deathly serious voice which he basically never hears.

His stomach clenches with dread, forcibly swallowing down the bite of food that’s not nearly chewed enough, and straightening up in his chair.

You sigh. “Why don’t you want to marry me?”

He’s so tunnel-visioned in on losing you that he has to blink a couple of times, mentally shoving one issue away and wrenching something unexpected into its place.

“What—“

You cut him off with a rushing tide of anxiety. “If it was just needing to wait, then I would understand. I totally, totally get wanting to be sure, you know? But everyone thinks we’re married already, and that’s weird, Si. And you never let me pay for anything, and it’s starting to make me feel like you want to keep things separate, like you have one foot out the door already.”

Your chest heaves with the pent-up emotion of working these things over and over in your head for the last few days and coming up with no other logical answer.

He frowns in confusion. “You… want to marry me?”

You laugh at first, shocked and bitter, thinking he’s got to be kidding. But then his face smooths over into that unreadable, self preservation expression which you hate, and you realize he’s just an idiot. “Yes! Of course I do.”

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking like he’s not quite sure this conversation is really happening.

“FUCK!” You stand up and slam your palms on the table in frustration, then point at his tea. “Take a drink.”

At first you think he won’t. His eyes are tracking over your face, your aggressive posture, and then they finally drop to his mug. Simon obediently gulps a few swallows of tea, then sets it back down to have both arms free for self defense.

You step around the table, no matter that you’re quite unthreatening in your little PJs and no bra, and plant your hands on each of his shoulders.

“Simon. For fuck’s sake. Why are you telling everyone we’re married?”

Oh, god. You never see that. That ruddy flush blooming in the bottom of his cheeks? You never see that.

“Cause…” he swallows, his eyes flicking down to his tea you made for him, and then back to your face. He’s struggling, hard. “You are something like that, to me.”

You let out a relieved breath, sliding your hands up to his hot cheeks. “Okay. Then why haven’t you asked me to marry you, Si?”

“I’m sorry—“ he starts, but the crack in his voice makes him hide it by clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, if that’s something… you’ve been wanting, love. Didn’t think... you’d say yes to… a bloody…” He trails off, unable to come up with the proper derogation.

“A bloody idiot,” you supply, sliding your ass onto his lap and looping your arms around his neck.

He blinks suspiciously fast, clearing his throat again and hooking his elbow around yours to drain the last of his tea.

“A bloody idiot,” you say a little softer, kissing his scarred cheek, “who makes me so happy that I can’t imagine loving anyone else like I love you. Of course I want to be your wife.”

"Mmm," he wraps his arms around you, almost painfully tight. "Say it again."

"I want to be your wife, you silly Englishman."

"Ahh," he nuzzles his face into your neck, mumbling against your skin, "didn't catch it. Once more?"

You laugh and twist away from the tickle of his mouth. "You. Me. Married or else."

"Don't need to twist your arm?"

"No." You drop your chin down to find his mouth with yours. "Just ask nicely."

(part 1 here if you missed it)

[void-my-warranty]

Service Dog au: Johnny is single because—

He’s in love with Simon

He doesn’t have time for a relationship

He has commitment issues

He hasn’t found the right person yet and he’s picky

He’s happy being single

He fears for the safety of anyone he connects himself to

A secret other thing

Show me the results 🐶

Voting ended onMay 4, 2024

[void-my-warranty]

@monstersarefriends look at you cooking! Love your brain.

[monstersarefriends]

Thank you, it needs to go through a power wash or pickled in saltwater, but otherwise I'm quite fond of it 🥰

[void-my-warranty]

Service Dog au: Johnny is single because—

He’s in love with Simon

He doesn’t have time for a relationship

He has commitment issues

He hasn’t found the right person yet and he’s picky

He’s happy being single

He fears for the safety of anyone he connects himself to

A secret other thing

Show me the results 🐶

Voting ended onMay 4, 2024