I’m Sunshine, and this is my yandere request blog! I write yandere oneshots, headcannons, and scenarios for your entertainment with a maximum character limit of four. Below is a list of rules and what I will write for!! :)
𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺
I will write for:
nsfw (fair warning, it may not be very good) ❣️on that note, I only write for sub characters. ❣️
suggestive content
fluff
most kinks, with exceptions for watersports, spit, and degradation
I will write for GN, afab, and explicitly fem readers only, because I don’t know enough to write about male readers to feel comfortably, sorry!!
𝐹𝒜𝒩𝒟𝒪𝑀𝒮
FNAF (games only):
Michael and William Afton
all animatronics (specify if you want human or natural form)
SLASHERS:
Asa Emory
Will Graham
Hannibal Lecter
OG!Michael Myers
Bo Sinclair
Vincent Sinclair
Bubba Sawyer
Thomas Hewitt
Candyman
Brahms Heelshire
PHANTOM OF THE OPERA
Erik
ARCANE
Silco
ATTACK ON TITAN
Levi Ackerman
Erwin Smith
Bertholdt Hoover (early 20s)
TWISTED WONDERLAND (actual college)
Riddle Rosehearts
Azul Ashengrotto
Rollo Flamme
HETALIA
Kiku Honda (Japan)
Kuro Honda (2p Japan)
Oliver Kirkland (2p England)
Ivan Braginsky (Russia)
Viktor Braginsky (2p Russia)
Berwald Oxenstierna (Sweden)
Lukas Bondevik (Norway)
Tino Väinämöinen (Finland)
BLACK BUTLER
Claude Faustus
Sebastian Michaelis
Ciel Phantomhive (early 20s)
William T. Spears
DEMON SLAYER
Tanjiro Kamado (early 20s)
Yushiro Yamamoto
Muzan Kibutsuji
DISNEY VILLAINS
Judge Claude Frollo
Captain Hook
NO I’M NOT A HUMAN
Coat Guy (Nikolai)
Pale Man (Laszlo)
MASTERLIST 💜💜
Erik Destler (Phantom of the Opera, Musical!Erik and Book!Erik, plus a sprinkle of Cherik.)
General yandere nsfw headcannons 💜
Self indulgent nsfw post💜: part one and two
Erik getting reader pregnant headcannons 💜
Desperate Erik oneshot with cowgirl and facesitting 💜
Erik with a mommy kink headcannons (cannon in all my works) 💜
General kissing with Erik 💜
Erik with voice kink, auralism, and scent kink headcannons 💜
Erik’s nsfw alphabet 💜
Would Erik like to be called babydoll? 💜
Forever and Always, You. Valentine’s Day oneshot (unless someone requests another part and gives some ideas 👀) 💜
Erik with a mommy kink oneshot 💜
A Chance With You series: one💜 two💜 three(in progress)
Cherik general yandere headcannons 💜
Musical!Erik with mirror sex oneshot 💜
Reader making Erik a scarf and he gets whiny because they aren’t paying attention to him 💜
Rollo Flamme
Fragile: Rollo slips you a sleeping potion so he can have your affection while you’re asleep 🔔
Ok first, love the new chapter of As Dusk Settles omg Second, I’ve recently started rewatching From from the beginning and I had a thought, but you don’t have to write this bc I know you have a long list and are really busy. But imagine reader x creatures where they’re put in the box and the monsters are clawing and snarling to get to them 🫣
Ugh, you have no idea how long I looked forward to writing this. I turned it into a tiny one-shot :D
And thank you for your sweet words! I really appreciate all your comments 🥹
Word count: 2.082
Warnings: Sorta established relationship. Creatures technically putting reader in danger. Spice, but reader is too scared to be into it. No non-con, the creatures stop when reader tells them to. Does this count as implied kidnapping?
Being put in the box and the creatures eager to get to you
-——————————————————————-
Perhaps, should you survive, you’d write a book about monsters and their deceptions and love for horrible games.
A tale of caution for anyone insane enough to actually consider befriending the nighttime hunters. Befriending might be a stretch when it was meant as information gathering for a time. Masters at manipulation as they were, they seemed to mostly laugh. Politely keeping it inward. Cruelly letting it shine through their eyes.
It did not stop them from coming back every night, attempting to lure you out with the lamest possible promises. It made you question their intelligence. Another ploy of theirs—making humans underestimate them. And considering their lack of talking, you sometimes just turned it into one-sided yap sessions.
All the while, the cruelty to their amusement faded at such a steady pace, it was unnoticeable. It developed a playful edge that invited you along instead of pushing you around.
Months rolled by.
And you made a mistake.
Someone caught you talking to them. It was planned, unbeknownst to you. The beginning of a lie, a game they should've told you about. Spun and crafted carefully. Planted with the dedicated hands of a farmer so thoroughly, no one, not even you, saw the seeds until it was too late.
Because no matter what you said to the sheriff they brought you to, any explanation you made would sound like an excuse the longer it echoed in anyone’s head. To gather information. To understand the enemy. Find a way out…
But… they’d think, why did you laugh with them then?
The ball was rolling, inching towards a dip so steep, it would not be stopped by anyone. Least of all you, the person that was followed by whispers and wary glares. The creatures didn’t need to do much at all. People were paranoid and paranoia reached for outlandish excuses if it had to to protect loved ones and oneself.
It happened so swiftly.
Someone died, someone who had done you wrong. The eyes were taken, the greatest anomaly in this death. And so the ball dropped. Suspicions were directed your way. The eyes found on your porch, staring at your door as if to condemn, was where it truly got out of control.
They barged in your home, finding anything they deemed evidence. Games you played with them, scattered over a table outside your window. Gifts in the shape of conveniences, or worse shapes—ribs, stupidly hidden out of fear someone would judge you if you revealed them. You should've buried it sooner, risked being seen as you did.
The resentment, the fear, would rot through even the sturdiest souls. The mass would bleat for your destruction, a wolf they now believe to have spotted amongst their midst. Hungrily putting all their paranoia on you. Maybe you had been the reason for other deaths too. Someone swore they saw you smile during the news of the massacre. Another claimed you were avoided by the monsters. Pitchforks were raised, fire ready to come down on you.
And the sheriff? He had no choice after the latest death, so close to your home, with ‘evidence’ you were to blame. He’d understand you would be killed by the mass, or he’d have to give you a winning chance. Slim as it was, the box was more hopeful to face.
The herd wouldn’t be satisfied if you survived, but they had no choice but to accept it if you made it. How amusing they did not understand they themselves had become the wolves and you a lamb prepared for slaughter.
You wouldn’t come outside willingly, only scarcely let one inside, but look at you now…
“Boyd, I swear I never helped them—”
“That’s why you need to be as quiet as possible,” he whispered, barely audible under the jeering crowd, demanding you be put away. Burned as if you were a witch.
The cuffs fell away from your hands as he guided you further within the confined, rust touched box of scraps. Face hard. Gaze regretful and tired. You wanted to spin, rush out and break free from the crowd falsely accusing you of deaths you had no hand in. The ache in your jaw and side proved how successful that would be. If it weren’t for Boyd, they may have beaten you to death already.
So you spun, but remained rooted in place, socks a thin protection from the cool wooden slab under you. Through the holes, you saw the people demanding your death, people that would trample even Boyd into a paste if it meant getting their justice. You met the sheriff’s gaze, pleading without a word. His hand shot forward, pushing you backwards, fingers clasping yours and… passing a round, uneven rock to you. Clasping your own fingers over it. Hope bloomed with a jump in your chest, eyes snapping up.
“Keep quiet,” he said. “Good luck.”
The door creaked shut soon after, the lock clicking as people cheered and mocked, spitting out cruel names.
You inched to the edge, the structure creaking with every shift, pushing fresh fear in your veins. They’d hear you so quickly. You held onto the talisman, thankful for the clothes you wore, fabric that you could use to hang it up.
Beyond the hole riddled box, Boyd rounded the crowd up—a crowd that probably wanted to see you die for the lies they believed.
And as the last ones left, withering, malicious glares thrown your way, Boyd giving one final glance himself… You were quickly alone.
Dusk neared already, streetlights and neon signs flickering on to bless you with some sight. Hastily, you snatched your ratty pantleg, pulling with gritted teeth. Ripping filled the tiny box alongside your contained breaths. Shaky fingers worked the torn fabric into the talismans loop, reflexively letting go as a screech came from the forest. Clattering as it slid over the floor.
“Shit, fuck,” you hissed, tone cracking, ducking down as you patted the ground, darkness rising swiftly within the confined space. Your slick palms stuck to the floor as you searched, landing on the odd shape of the rock, its carvings pressing up into your skin.
Quickly, you continued your earlier task of winding the fabric through, biting your cheeks as more howling pressed in. Then your gaze jumped over the door, the walls, landing on a jagged piece beside the door. Scrambling up, you stabbed the fabric against the rusty, broken piece that jutted outwards. It tore easily, holding the remaining fabric, and the talisman, up.
You stepped back, sweat beaded at your forehead, lower body warm and confused. It swayed from the force, but otherwise, the talisman hung. You raked your hair back, rubbing the back of your head. An incredulous laugh spilled like insanity from your mouth as you thumped against the farthest wall of the box. Sliding down until the cold floor grazed your butt.
They couldn't get you now. Whatever plot they had against you, failed. The crowd would absolutely try to kill you still, but hopefully Boyd had a plan. And otherwise, you simply had to make a run for it. Take the talisman and fuck off somewhere in the forest.
You weren't dying like this. You… wouldn’t be caught like this.
Closing your eyes, you breathed steadily. Waiting for them. Minutes passed. You counted them. As you opened your eyes again, most light had gone, the screeching calming down as they breached town. You held your breath, heart rising to your throat. You couldn't grasp why when you were safe. Perhaps because their voices wouldn't be muffled. If it were possible, they could easily reach fingers through the gaps of the weak structure.
The wall was thinner, contact more real. There was no choice from your side this time.
Footfall came from down the street. You kept your focus on the talisman. Not on the legs that soon passed closely, grass rustling underfoot. Soft snickering had you tense up worse, shoulders raising.
They circled the box, multiple figures moving like sharks around a cage. You shook as nails dragged over the metal, crooning whispers imploring you let them inside—remove the talisman—let them in, let them touch you, let them taste you. Heat seared through your body, curdling like sour milk with the stress.
Sweet little—
Don’t be afraid—
—good care of you.
Remove the talisman. Remove the talisman. Remove the—
You jumped in place, plastering yourself hard against the wall as a bang resonated through the metal contraption, pain snapping through your eardrums. A creature near the door stared through a gap, eyes wide and intent. Another thud and your eyes snatched on the talisman again. It swayed harshly, the fabric it hung on—
Tearing further, a small slip left to keep it up. In the split second needed to rush up, it tore fully. Your heart froze, eyes widening, hand outstretched to catch it—
Too late.
Metal creaked, wood splintered and you cried out as clawed fingers snatched your wrist midair. Snarling filled the air, more arms breaking through to grasp at your flailing body.
You twisted, trying to rip free from their unmovable grip. Only more latched on. And with each new body, the fight grew heavier, muscles straining but accomplishing nothing as they broke through.
“Let go of me,” you tried to yell. Your voice only conveyed a tremor of panic, fear pulsing against your ribcages. Pressing through your tightening throat to well your eyes up with tears.
Growling, monstrous beings burst inside, teeth clicking together, chittering, roughly pushing and pulling at you from each side until you were forced to lower. Even as you strained desperately, gazing beyond them, beyond the broken pieces of the box towards the sheriff’s station. Finding Boyd there, peering through the shutters before a muscular body blocked him, looming together with other monsters over your toppled form.
Yellow, beady eyes glared you down, the face of the bulky one roaring. Paralyzing terror coursed along your nerves
A sob broke free from quivering lips as they continued to wrestle you down. Not in any way gentle. Knees knocked to the hard floor, pain crackling up, arms bend at straining angles. Your limbs refused to listen, your strength gone as if you had ragdolled.
A single hand—human and warm—found its way to your scalp, raking softly through your hair.
Then there was tearing, a broken cry, most hands holding you pliant. But it wasn’t flesh. It was clothes, pulling taut, pulling painfully into your body until they gave away. Ripped to shreds, as purring chitters came from these humanoid beings pretending to be civil from a distance.
Only once your upper body was covered by scraps only, did they calm down. Hands claiming any skin they could, hunger in every touch. Some pressed their fanged face close to your head, nuzzling, purring, nipping at your ears or throat until you yelped and jerked away. Succeeding little in getting away as you leaned into another purring beast. Fingers gripped at your sides, chest, brushing over pebbled nipples. You jerked away from the small shocks of pleasure, another palm stroking down your spine, dipping lower—
“S-stop, please—”
The tears began falling, trailing to meet at your chin. Their touch softened, claws shaping back into perfectly manicured nails, growling becoming quiet until your barely suppressed sobs were shaking through your chest. Your nipples were released. None strayed too low for comfort again.
“Is it too much like this, love?” the milkman’s warm voice murmured beside your ear. You nodded jerkily, nausea coiling within your stomach. “We had believed it to be such a lovely surprise.”
“T-they tried to k-kill me.”
He stroked your hair back, brushing sticky strands free from your tear stained cheeks. “We wouldn’t let it go that far.” You tried to speak again, but another sob dislodged itself, fingers tracing the bruise along your jaw. “This, they will pay for,” he whispered, lowering his chin atop your bowed head.
A cardigan made its way around your shoulders. Another before you cradling your hands within hers.
They should've told you. Games are meant to be played by everyone involved.
And now…
“I want to go home,” you managed to whisper, soothing touches cradling your body in warmth.
…you lost without being aware you did. Bowed over as you were, you did not see any of the smugness glittering within their eyes.
Thinking about cowboy or any of the creatures, bagging on your window because you won't give them attention :C
Ignoring the creatures won't work.
But seriously, if they start banging on your window you must already be ignoring them for so long that they're getting impatient and will start scheming revenge plots sgdfjn
Unless it's Smiley who's just dramatic like that. He's like a cat that scratches at your door and yowls like you abandonded him and left him to starve.
Getting Cowboy so far that he looses his chill sounds honestly terrifying to me tho 💀
I just imagine he'd slam his fist down once out of nowhere, and really hard, while still keeping his voice completely jovial.
Hey it's Fayfay from AO3!!! I was gonna ask for a request. (Which you can then decide if you would like to do it.). And you can choose which one you feel best suits you.
How would the creatures be with a chubby reader, or how would the creatures react to reader ageing.(Bones starting to slowly ache after too much movement and growing smile lines.).
Love your work Queen Bee!!;
Fayfay!!! Sorry it took so long 😭
But I hope you'll enjoy these! I wanted something more wholesome for once, so I went for chubby reader :D
There's a reallyyy mild hint at something spicier in Smiley's part, and hints of people being assholes in Cowboy's part.
-——————————————————————-
Creatures with a chubby human
● Admittedly it’s not exactly in their nature to care for the appearance of humans. Appearance is typically registered in a more clinical manner. Are there weaknesses? Insecurities they can use to manipulate the human with? Attractiveness is never considered. Only the things beneath the wrapping. Blood, organs, bones, fear.
● With you, that changes, purely because they have found themselves drawn to you. Where once upon a time they mostly watched your face, now their eyes drift along your body. Soft. Squishy. More flesh to be marked, more warmth to press up against.
● With you... they trace your body with their gaze before their carefully retracted claws can. With you, they will eventually map every inch of your body, hungry to explore all you have to offer. Curious how you feel as they knead at your plush thighs or belly.
Your response?
It may vary…
With Smiley, your patience runs thin.
“Will you stop it already?”
It was a reprimand he received quite often. Every time, you witnessed how it rolled around in his head, how he contemplated it, and… ignored it. Without fail. Your face scrunched and the redhead’s glee only glinted brighter within those darkened eyes.
He liked to prod. Even if it was common sense to not give him fuel, too much prodding and squishing and you’d snap anyways. The glare thrown over your shoulder had him inch his hands further over your front. You glared harder. And…
He pinched, that awful ticklish shock forcing your lips up and a laugh formed within your chest. You slapped at his hands instantly.
You grumbled after the small outburst, struggling free from his grip, and backed away. A finger wagged in front of his nose, and the urge to nip at you fell in a contemplative sheen over his face.
“You, like your feline brethren, are a menace.”
And a menace he’d remain. Infuriating at times like these, but yours. The grin remained, as did his grabby hands, eagerly dragging you back in an embrace. Stroking lower than first, and…
Oh.
…He really had no respect for a kitchen, did he?
With the Tough guy, you melt a little.
The muscular creature quite literally purred on your lap. Sat down as you were, reading and distracted, you hadn’t anticipated how he’d splay himself over your lap, toned arms wrapped snugly around you. His head rested on your thighs, close to your stomach. The rumble from his chest reverberated through you, his warmth working as a wonderful blanket in the cool room.
His usual broad grin was absent. In its place, sat a small, content smile.
Tentatively, you carded your fingers through his short hair. The rumble grew louder and you smiled at the sight, something inside you melting. The creature had never gone this soft around you. He’d lay on your lap sometimes, but stiffly. Arms tucked at his sides, grin frozen and his eyes open.
He feared putting his whole weight on you for some reason. As if he was so sure you’d break. It was cute in a way. Disturbing in others.
This time, he relaxed. Reading aloud only seemed natural as you kept carding through his hair. And as thunder crackled outside, rain pouring down hard, your own muscles slackened under his warmth too.
With the Cowboy, you thaw quickest.
It wasn’t exactly that you were insecure. Not at all. But people could be cruel. Sometimes, they’d laugh at you when they believed you couldn’t hear. If they were even kind enough to consider your feelings.
So when your partner, unusual as he was, would stare, you’d tense up. He enjoyed watching you, not to judge, but to… know you. Standing to the side, silent, eyes rooted on your every move. It caught you off guard at times, made you self-conscious. You could reach up to grab something, shirt riding up to expose your stomach…
And that pang of insecurity would hit after all. Hushed comments replayed in your head. You’d tug your shirt down quickly.
Without fail, he’d notice.
You didn’t hear him, jumped when arms snaked around your front, a head lowering to rest against yours.
“Don’t hide from me, beautiful,” he murmured. Dead serious.
It tugged at the ache in your chest. It wanted to tear sloppy stitchwork apart, created whenever you said words couldn't hurt you, other’s actions didn't dictate your worth. But if they didn’t, his shouldn’t leave doubts flaring up.
He pulled you closer, fingers firmly curled around your waist. Never prodding at or teasing you for your stomach.
And maybe… just maybe, you let his words tug the stitches out one by one. So he, in his patient way, could one day leave a closed wound behind.
Not really an ask but a thought. I was thinking about protective Smiley and how cute it’d be if you (reader) got startled by something like a rabbit in the bushes or another human and grabbed his arm out of reflex. Especially if he’s attached enough that he instinctively shrieks at whatever it is in your defense. Cuteeeee.
Smiley being protective is super cute!!! I bet he acts like he wouldn't be, but if something genuinely threatens you, he'd instantly try to get rid of it. Only he gets to harass you >:(
Grabbing his arm short circuits his brain for sure. You? A human? Looking for safety in him? He'll get a funny feeling in his stomach that feels a lot like butterflies. He won't even tease you too harshly for it afterwards.
But he'll probably relentlessly make fun of you if it's a little bunny scaring you 😭
Oh, and he expects a kiss on the cheek if he does scare off any animal that frightened you. As a reward for a job well done :)
Stuck with one of the nightmarish creatures, you find he wants something a little different from you. Alone, closer than ever before, he opens your chest in a more figurative manner.
So, uh, I looked away for one second, and this thing became colossal, even though it was only meant to be smut practise 😭
Feel welcome to give feedback! Smut is hard.
Cowboy creature x female! reader
Word count: 5.698
Warnings: NSFW. PiV sex. Oral sex (female receiving). Fingering. Cowboy is a little unhinged and mean at times. Reader is also a little unhinged at times. Threat of murder. Fantasy of murder. Rough sex. Mild overstimulation. Biting. Mild mention of blood.
-——————————————————————-
The creatures were warm.
It wasn’t what you expected when you eventually obeyed the command with no other viable option left. Thighs pressed against yours, warmth seeping through every layer. The palms on your hips pulled you closer, his mouth trailing a line of heat along your throat.
You shuddered, waiting for the eventual moment the facade would break. He’d fuel every foolish hope you developed with his nightly visits. And then…
Then he’d tear you apart.
He nudged the loose fabric of your shirt aside with his nose. This shirt was an ugly thing, thin with age and ripe for destruction. You fully expected a nail would’ve been its end, poking out from some of the beams, ready to accidentally tear into it.
Now… its fate was left muddy, together with yours.
Blunt teeth nipped at your collar, stoking the heat inside you higher. You gripped the backrest tightly, nails scratching along the wood. Swallowed when he hummed, pressing you firmer onto his lap. And—
Your breath snagged. He ground your hips against him, his length hard beneath you. The fingers on the hammer wavered, your fist resting indecisively in the air.
If his brain was destroyed…
Wetness darted over your collarbone. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut without proper input, a whimper trying to crawl up your throat.
…would he be slowed down?
Could you escape?
Your attention fell on the door and the sloppy work you did on it.
Soon others would come. Potentially breaking in to see—
You breath hitched. He nudged you forward, encouraging you to roll your hips over him. Fabric bunched in your fist,
The first one to come…
“E-ethan…”
A child.
His slow exploration of your collar came to a stop. He was so still beneath you now. But his lips… They pulled into a grin stretching over your skin. Your heart stuttered. His head moved again, tongue easily sliding up the side of your throat.
“Worried we’ll have an audience?” he murmured beside your ear. Teeth took your earlobe between them, tugging until you shivered. He pressed more firmly against your ear then. “He won’t come today.”
“...What?”
The male pulled back, eyes so vividly blown you flinched upon meeting them. “He got a little sick from dinner last night.” He flashed a nasty grin, teeth baring in delight.
But then… that meant—
Anger bloomed like searing iron in your chest, creeping red into your vision. He handed you the hammer, let you humiliate yourself, watched as you cried while you inched his way.
“You motherfucker!”
Your arm snapped up, ready to rain it down, blunt end of the hammer pointed at his skull—
He barely moved. Grin ticking up. Your wrist met a wall made of flesh and bone, clamping around your wrist. Bigger, stronger hands pried at the hammer, patient whereas you grunted, struggled, muscles pulling taut as you jerked and leaned back.
But he easily wrenched it from your grip. Threw it to the side with a nonchalance that rivaled a cat's after abandoning a half dead bird.
The fire rose up your throat in a cry, fist snapping forward. Again, he intercepted. Pinning your arms down to your sides, patiently holding you in place as you fought. Jerking side to side, glaring down at him with burning eyes, humiliation cutting deep under his laughing eyes.
It had your head pound, red pulsing at the corner of your vision. Your jaws ground together as you stilled, pain flaring in your molars. Attention lowering to—
You snapped forward. Teeth ripping into the exposed part of his throat just above his collar. He jumped ever so slightly, and a darker satisfaction poured sickly through your heart. You clamped down harder, shaking your head like a dog with a bone, flesh tearing, ripping audibly, dry and—
And—
Froze. A low growl filled the air, the grip on your arms tightening. He roughly bucked up, his hardness pressed against where you were—were wet, panging shame following as your underwear stuck to your wetness with how he pressed them to your skin.
“I wanted to be kind, sweetheart, I really did.” One of your arms was freed, only for your hair to be grabbed, fingers tightly twisting into the strands. Just shy of being painful. He tugged you away, slack jaws easily releasing the skin. An imprint of your teeth remained, glistening with saliva. “But if you do that again,” he whispered, head craning, the tiniest sliver of blue left of his irises, his other hand raising to brush a thumb over your lower lip, “I won’t be as patient.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, his lips smashing against yours, muffling your small cry. Your eyes clenched shut, fingers finding and digging into his shoulder. Wanting nothing more than to rip and tear the hollow body beneath apart.
For tricking you into shutting the door. For shattering all hope to pieces. Today. A month ago when they tore someone to shreds close to your home. Years ago when every night conjured fresh corpses for the survivors to find.
He moved slowly now, lips nudging your pliant ones apart. He licked inside your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from you. Your tongue met him without thinking, brushing back.
Gently, he released your hair, his palm resting on the base of your neck as he molded your lips together, the other lowering to rest over your pounding heart. Heat flickered to life in your loins, thighs squeezing against his as you attempted to relieve some of the ache. He squeezed your neck in return, a strange sound rumbling through you.
His purr reverberated through your chest when he pulled you even closer. Then the sweetness fell away, his mouth becoming more demanding, stealing your breath with every motion. Your body grew slack, weak, legs trembling on the bench.
Lungs burned, eyes watered, emotions raged within you as the ache seared upwards. Your heart stuttered as you bucked, heaving deep breaths when he finally released your lips and leaned back.
Heated eyes roamed carefully over your features, the grip on your neck firmly keeping you in place. The deep inky black of his pupils held an ancient weight to them, something indescribable longing to consume more than just your body. In what manner, you couldn’t discern. Nor could your mind ruminate any longer, because the palm on your sternum lowered. Stroking past your stomach, nails teasing through the thin fabric, until they traced the band of your pants.
“Do you want this?” he asked, a curious, knowing lilt painting his voice in certainty.
Again, your mind blanked. A creature asking for any kind of consent seemed ridiculous. They never waited once they reached their victim, the brutal murder that came after as natural as breathing. But as his fingers dipped underneath your waistband, it may not be that he asked for the sake of your comfort—but for his ego.
He wanted you to say it. Say that you want him, need him. Inside, keeping you open, keeping your spread exactly as you imagined whenever the heat followed you into the privacy of a shower or your bedroom.
“What if I say no?” you whispered shakily, winching at the rawness of your voice. Shifting when he stopped barely above your heat.
He stroked the base of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. Contemplative. Calculated.
“Then,” he began, tracing that same hand all the way along your spine, feathery light, deceptive, “I’d have to call you a liar. Again.” It came to rest in a lazy curl around your lower back, the creature sloughing back as if he had everything he could have and need not haste consuming it.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked next, his pads brushing over your—
You gasped, bucked away from the sensation sparking along your nerves. You glanced at where his hand disappeared beneath your pants, uncaring of the tight squeeze as it wormed further. Shoulders hunched as he touched your clothed cunt.
Denial was snared around the throat. The things he did were fully correspondent with his words. He wanted you like this. Wanted to fuck you.
And you…
“...No.”
“What was that?”
Heat flushed in your cheeks. “You heard me.”
…had been weak for a long time now.
A low chuckle met you. “You deprived me of your sweet voice this whole time. Can’t blame me for wanting to hear more,” he purred. His gaze flickered down, over your breasts, stomach and lower. “I suppose… you can show me then.” Flickered up. “Take them off.” He released you fully.
You stared at him, ignoring the disappointment at the loss of his warmth wrapping around you. “M-my clothes?”
The smile that grazed his face resembled nothing human. “What else, sweetheart?”
Rationally pushed from somewhere deep within, a quiet, urgent whisper that reasoned you still could run and escape. The heat took those thoughts and twisted them into an unrecognizable paste.
Because here he was, the creature you dreamt of in forbidden and completely unrealistic ways. Every moment you expected to reopen your eyes and have the walls and ceiling of your room where he sat. But every time it was him sitting there, waiting without hurry despite the hard member nestled against you. The sheer self control had shivers trail pleasantly over your skin, your hands moving into action. Hasty, trembling. So unlike him.
You grabbed the edge of your shirt, ripping it off, a bra the only thing you wore beneath. The way he took in the swell of your breast had you flush, reaching behind to unclasp—
He stopped you, hands stilling your fervent movements. No. Not stopping it. His gaze was too intent for that.
“Nice and slow now,” he murmured, more heat blooming between your legs. “We have all day.”
“Other’s will come,” you said, fighting the urge to quickly remove your bra, and have that mouth on your exposed skin. It was clear as day that he wanted to, his wide eyes lingering too long on the texture of your bra before meeting yours again. Hands balled into fists when they leaned on the bench.
“You just keep your pretty head on the here and now.”
The clasp opened, falling away as you released the band. If he were of a different nature, you’d have said he held his breath, waiting as you allowed the straps to slowly glide down, the bra toppling away before his hungry gaze.
Curious hands wandered up your sides, stroking up, down, up. Cupping your tits, squeezing once. Your spine stiffened, heart tumbling over into a pounding race. “Such a pretty girl,” he… mused? A cooler glint tainting the fire of his eyes. “So eager to give herself to a murderer.”
Your breath stuttered to a halt, ice flooding your veins in a shocking rush.
The gleam of his teeth shone with malignant intent. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You like knowing I killed? That I’ll do so again?”
Shame blanketed you, spinning over your head like a net, twisting a hot iron deep through your chest until something broke.
He chuckled, pressing his cheek against yours to whisper in your ear. “Maybe you don’t deserve to be treated kindly. I could leave you here, fucked out, for your pals to find, wet enough they’d know you wanted this.”
You shook your head, lips wobbling as pain stabbed through your chest. You went to cover yourself, trying to remove his hands with what little strength you could muster. He squeezed your tits again, ignoring your attempts to dislodge his hold.
“It would be fun,” he continued in that musing tone. “But it’s more fun to keep you with me, wouldn’t you say? You’re not the only one dreaming.”
“Let me go.”
“I don’t think so, little lady.” He pulled away, lidded eyes studying your face and the stinging liquid building along your lashes. “Aw, did I hurt your feelings, darlin’? Truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?” His head tilted, eyes narrowing. “And still… you want this. They’d call you a traitor. Know what I’d call you?”
You shook your head again, looking anywhere but at his intense gaze. The smile tampered, a shadow so serious falling over his features, your knees shook.
“Mine.”
The word simmered like electricity, crackling along your spine. One of the tears fell, trickling past your cheek. He thumbed the blotch as it streaked towards your chin. Brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it slowly as if to savour the salty taste. He tugged at one of the loops of your pants.
“Take this off. Let me show you what you’ve been touching yourself over.”
The shock inadvertently helped obeying his command, your body staggering, feet planting themselves on the ground to get away, heart thudding in your throat all the way.
He knew. How…?
“You can’t hide anything from us,” he said quietly, almost pityingly. “No need to pretend anymore when we both know how wet you are. No one else will ever find out,” he whispered in a promise that you doubted. But his face was set in stone, the only contract of truth signed.
Your hands trembled on the button of your pants, internally screaming as you worked it open, heart shaky from the horrendous truth he spoke so sweetly. Denim slid down your legs, goosebumps raising as cool air nipped at your flesh. It pooled at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but the thin cotton of your underwear.
Soaked through.
He made a low sound at the sight, something between appreciation and hungry, attention on the wet spot, his nostrils flaring.
“I’ve heard you many nights. Smelled you when we were invited into Colony House.” Blood drained from your face. He had searched for you. Found your temporary sleeping arrangements vacated as you escaped the carnage. “How ironic you led this little project. That it was you who collapsed the floor right above me. I could've taken you that very moment, but you weren’t yet ready, were you?”
You kicked your pants off with difficulty past your shoes, avoiding his imploring look, pretending not to hear the drawl of his smooth voice.
He chuckled. “Still refusing to talk much, hm? We’ll work on that.” He crooked a finger. “Come here.”
Hatred coiled inside your chest, ugly and fully directed at yourself, no matter what lies you told. That traiterous organ skipped a beat, adding an excited jump to your feet as they rushed to listen, that wet spot deepening. Your eyes fell on the hammer where it lay forgotten to the side. An useless tool without anyone to wield it. Much like your body, eager to be handled again despite the barbed wire wrapped around every touch of his.
Isn’t it what you craved? The monster at your window, performing the role of a grotesque version of a suitor? Gentlemanly, but without any softness, gifting things with full expectation he’ll get a return for his efforts eventually. Selfish, cruel, addictive.
It would have to be enough.
He caught your hips the second you got close enough, guiding you back onto his lap. “Good girl.” The praise shot through your core as his mouth found your throat again. Unhurried, savoring every inch of skin without the pesky barrier of your shirt slowing his descent down.
Returning to the task as if there was never an interruption. Nor an attempt to shatter your heart.
Kisses trailed lower, a few, sharp nips leaving dull pain behind in smattering spots. He was capable of worse, and you clenched at the thought of a proper bite—with monstrous teeth, his tongue lapping up any blood. His mouth closed around a nipple, licking the hardened bud gently, before sucking. Tentative at first, until you bucked without meaning to, sitting down properly.
What little fabric remained between you, had the hard line of himself pressing with startling vividness against you as you shifted closer. You bit your lip to muffle a gasp, pushing through as a quiet keen.
Any caution on his part flew out the window, sucking and licking on your nipple, a hand raising to play with the other breast. Your back arched to meet his lips, his fingers, the ache in your chest tightening together with your inner walls.
You wanted to sob, wanted to yell, wanted to tear any remaining clothes away and take him inside. He stilled your movements grasping your waist, keeping you shackled to his slow exploration when you needed fast and rough.
Quick, instant gratification so your heart wouldn’t crack first.
But he savored your body like he had nowhere else to be but here, his mouth moving to the other breast, leaving a hot trail of open mouthed kisses before he clamped down on your other nipple. Tugging playfully until your hands found courage to return the favor.
Stroking fervently along his clad shoulders, pushing his head away to work on undoing his western style shirt. He allowed it, darkness simmering beneath his human face, that ancient thing that deemed you interesting enough to keep. For how long, you could only guess.
The buttons were easy, the tremble in your fingers contained enough to pop them open one by one, pale, warm skin slowly revealing how normal he looked. There were lean muscles, but they meant little when even the tiniest of them could fling you through the air. It still had you take in his body with appreciation.
His lips quirked when you hesitantly touched the bolo, waiting for a moment as you tried to loosen it. Successfully after the hesitation fled, the string dragged over his head. He shrugged the shirt off, revealing more lithe muscles. He appeared stronger than you expected, arms bigger than the shirt revealed.
“Do you want this?” he asked, insistently chasing your voice, your words, your need.
One hand slipped beneath the last scrap of fabric clothing you, and whatever protest built up dissolved into a shaking breath. “Y-yes,” you breathed. He brushed over your clit, pressed down and watched your hips stutter. “God, yes.”
“Lie down for me.”
Confusion pulled your brows into a frown, his fingers rubbing light circles against you. Laughter crinkled his eyes.
“You can sit on my lap later.”
He helped you off, laid you down beside him, the bench long enough that you could lay down fully with some space to spare. Hard and uncomfortable against your back. The hand inside your underwear wasted no time pulling it down your legs, still partly splayed over his lap, his body leaning to the side with a more predatory quality.
You shuddered, raising your legs up to let him slip the wet fabric off. That smile of his had returned. Small, lopsided. Taking in his eyes… A quiver startled low in your body, heat soaring as his inflamed, dark gaze trailed along your legs, stopping at where your thighs pressed together.
Slowly, he shifted, as if tempering himself. Your heart pulsed harder, thumping against your chest. Hands trailed the length of your legs, claiming skin with shivering intensity. “Spread your legs for me, girl,” he whispered huskily. Flushing, you followed the command, unsticking your thighs, whimpering at the low, rolling sound that echoed in his chest. One foot slid off the bench, steadying itself on the ground.
The other…
The other was raised over his shoulder as he leaned sideways. Not to cover you wholly, but to—
You gasped, teeth embedding themselves into your inner thigh, jostled up. He licked at the stinging flesh as if to soothe the pain.
But it seemed even his eternal patience thinned. He planted himself between your legs, mouth hovering over your cunt. His breath should hit you. It didn’t. It didn’t exist until he needed it. Only the scalding heat of his gaze met yours as his head lowered, his irises almost completely gone under the black.
You couldn't look away. Not from the parting lips, the tongue dragging out to—
A quiet moan escaped you, wetness grazing your clit feathery light. Whatever held him tame, whatever restraint he held fell apart the second his tongue made contact with you. He dove down, a needy noise trembling against you as he parted your lower lips. Lapping at your wetness like a man starved. Your arms flailed, head thumping back.
There was no hesitation, no careful exploration. His tongue demanded more of your taste, delving deep inside, going up to lick at your clit in long stripes. He groaned against you, the sound vibrating straight through your core, and you fisted a hand in his hair without meaning to, unsure whether to pull closer or push away. He made the choice for you. Arm hooking beneath your thigh, pinning you open with no room to close yourself even if you wanted to.
His tongue pushed inside you, startling another moan from you when it grew longer within, inhuman as it reached places a tongue shouldn’t be able to touch. Insistent, chasing your taste at the very center. You keened, hips jerking against the intrusion, toes curling within your shoes. But he only groaned again, rougher this time, that inhumanity less contained now. He ate like he had been starved and this would be his last meal. No rhythm was left, only frenzied feeding.
Beneath your fingers, his scalp shifted. Strangely. Wrong. Skin rippling at his temple. As if the monster beneath struggled to come through, testing the shape it dwelled within. You froze, breath catching, and he pulled back just enough to drag his tongue in one long stripe up to your clit, dark eyes flicking up to catch your reaction.
The monster was there in those eyes, swallowing light away as the thing beneath snarled. Teeth bared as if he couldn’t decide whether to rip you apart or bend you in half.
Your breath froze for the duration of that moment.
When fingers parted your lower lips, a decision had been made. Quickly, with little time needed. They circled your hole, pressing hard enough that the sensitive tissue clenched. A pretense of control motivated his actions. The way his fingers entered was too rough and sudden to be intentional.
It was everything you ever imagined. And it snapped through your body, traveling up your spine to turn your thoughts into mush. You tugged him down again. Bringing that mouth back where it decided it belonged. Chasing the feeling he instilled, the edge he carried you to.
He rumbled in approval, fingers spreading you open while his tongue flicked over you. Fast, sloppy. Wet sounds filled the cold, damp burrow that would’ve shamed you in the quiet of your room. Now, beneath him, it poured fire on the coil deep within, wrenching taut with every lap.
You felt his nails then. The ones gripping your thigh, pressing crescents in your thigh. Sharper than they’d been seconds ago, edging past blunt into points that could easily tear your flesh asunder if he lost control completely. They dug harshly, intentional this time, the sharp sting making you whimper, and he made a chittering sound. Approvingly. As if your pain was another delicacy he would indulge in.
The pain coiled around the boiling pleasure, tightening the muscles of your stomach and thighs, fingers twisting into his hair harshly. He didn’t mind, only groaned gutturally.
Your climax build too fast to fight off, every nerve lit under his mouth. And when it broke, your mouth opened around a soundless plea, because there was no name. Nothing to call him by.
Thighs shook around a head that didn’t stop, pressing as close as they could as you arched, eyes wrenching shut while the fire licked up your spine, snapping taut in your stomach.
The rapid dart of his tongue didn’t stop, didn’t falter. Working you through the pleasure, through the breathless gasping. All the way as your high dwindled in dull aftershocks.
And beyond, when pleasure changed into agony.
You let out a strangled cry, hips jerking as the touch became too much. His eyes were on you, his head refusing to listen as you pushed and pulled and struggled. Chasing you relentlessly. Hungry, starved, growling in warning as if you should just lie back down and let him do as he desired, regardless of how your nerves screamed.
Nails cut into your flesh, and you cried out again. You struggled harder, clamping your thighs hard around him. With one final, hard, spasm inducing suck that had you sob, had you arch, he released you. You slumped down immediately, trembling on the bench.
He stroked your thighs, rubbing soothingly at shaking muscles. Straightened with them planted on his lap, sliding you closer to him.
“From the moment I first smelled your wet pussy,” his voice held that roughness still, “I knew one day I’d taste you.” And if what he had said earlier was true… Then he had wanted to for a long time now. You swallowed, throat scratchy and dry even as your body floated.
The beams above creaked, holding dirt at bay. He tugged you closer, dragging you in a slow crawl back to his lap, an impossible trap you’d never want to escape. “Did you fantasize about having my cock in your pretty mouth too?”
“Yes,” you whispered instantly, letting him pull you up, positioning you on his lap again. Face to face—his glistened with your arousal, eyes still blown with desire. And as you sat, your own widened, darting down. Somewhere along the way he had unbuckled his belt, lowered his pants down enough to free himself. Now he sat flush against your belly, showing how deep he could be inside.
Interest twitched at your loins, warmth pooling slowly.
He hummed in consideration. Faux consideration. “You’ll have to wait your turn. I think… we both want something else.” Fingers clasped your chin, tilting your head back up to meet the near crazed look pulling at his features. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Something inside cracked. Not the forgotten ache in your chest. Something else. You fisted his hair tightly again, smashing your lips together. He laughed from under you, gripping your hips to help them up and up, hovering over his thick cock.
There he held you, your taste coating your tongue as you pressed harder against him, breathing heavily, pulse pounding so hard you worried your chest would burst.
He didn’t let you sink down, even as you whined into his mouth, bucking against his strength. Waited for the need for air to overpower your need to kiss him, watching you pant above him while his chest remained silent.
“Say it,” he rasped. “Tell me what you want.”
“I—” Your voice cracked. “Want you. Need you inside me, please. Please.”
A pleased smile grew on his face. “That wasn't so hard, was it?” he said, guiding your hips down, slow and deliberate, despite the tremor taken over his hands when your walls stretched around him. Inch by inch, until your breath turned ragged and his own groan rumbled low and long.
“There we go,” he said as you bottomed out, thighs shifting beside him. Rolling your hips had his face twitch in that odd manner. Your muscles tensed, preparing to lift up. Slick sounds followed as your walls slid along him, only the tip inside—and lowered, starting a slow, faltering rhythm. Fragile from how wrecked he’d left your legs with his mouth alone. The rhythm fell apart so pathetically fast, hips moving in weak, helpless rolls, damp forehead thumping to his shoulder with a whine.
He huffed out a laugh. Satisfied. “Can’t keep it up, sweetheart?” Warmth scalded along your cheeks, humiliating and bright. He stroked your sides, holding you, lifting the weight you couldn’t. “Then let me do the work.” Said as if he had already predicted this outcome, was more than happy to move you like a doll. He guided you down, thrusting up to meet you halfway.
Then you held him close, muffling your moans against his shoulder with every thrust. The pace wasn’t rough like you needed. Steady, and smooth as if he wanted nothing more than to prolong this moment, his own throaty growls sparse and bone rattlingly close.
Pleasure trailed up your spine, the coil relentlessly paving to your second undoing. The curls on his chest tickled your breasts, nipples chafing against him. You breathed desperately, inhaled the scent of his skin. Pine, soil, stone and cotton. Deep seated iron, as if pressed into his pores, drifted from beneath as a reminder.
He wasn’t safe.
Could be motivated to give what you wanted.
Lips parted, clenched teeth gliding over his skin in time with his thrusts. Your jaws separated. Then—
Snapped shut, biting into his trapezius.
The response was immediate. His hands yanked you down hard, bruising strength clamping tight. He growled, shifted so you leaned more over him, his tip threatening to slide out in this position. “I warned you,” he said lightly, blandly.
Then his hips snapped up, reaching deeper than before with the new angle. You grunted, biting harder, walls fluttering when he set a new pace. Harder, faster, skin slapping against skin, the loosened belt settled over his thighs clinking wildly.
An arm barred your spine, holding you in place, forcing you to arch your back. Nails dug in his skin, raking lines in his shoulders. The growl deepened, resonating deep in his throat like his vocal cords failed to remain human. Every thrust shook through you, hips driving into you with such force it had your whole body jolting.
“I can hear them coming,” he rumbled, freezing your skin. “Your fellow humans. What a feast it would be, fucking you, then killing those lambs. I’d fuck you again once they’re dead. Make sure this little pussy’s all sore and tender.”
Those words returned the ache to your chest. Horribly made the coil tighten faster. He laughed coldly, an echo of something other sliding over the wild cackle. “You like that too. Perfect,” he grunted. “Perfect for me.”
You clamped down, jaws and inner walls alike. He didn't bother to pry you off. Let you stay there, locked in place, teeth pressing deep in his flesh. It broke, sliced under your nails. You weakly met his thrusts, helpless noises tumbling from between clenched teeth.
“That’s it,” he ground out, voice fracturing at the edges. “Take what you want.”
The arm around your spine tightened, angling you exactly where he wanted, and each snap of his hips dragged a broken sound out of you that vibrated straight into the bite. You felt him shudder at that, actually shudder, something needier slipping past the composure he usually held so easily.
Skin rippled audibly beside your ear, and you let go instinctively, a string of saliva breaking as you parted to watch his face move between human and the beast that infected his movements. Heat snapped taut in your belly, a hand trailing down to rub at yourself, nestling itself between his stomach and yours.
His nails sharpened then to bite into your hip, enough to make you bleed, and his pace lost whatever rhythm it held. Faster. Harder. Less like a man and more like what he always pretended he wasn’t.
You clung to him, nails dragging down his shoulders, chasing the same edge he was aiming for. His thrusts turned erratic, a whine breaking loose, sharpening canines and incisors glaring up at you, something crazed befalling his eyes.
The people he claimed neared weren’t anywhere close enough for you to hear. The thrill, the hurried frenzy it instilled inflamed you painfully. You leaned in, his mouth met yours halfway, teeth clashing, tongue sloppily sliding against yours.
That, and one last circle over your clit was all it took. Sobbing, you broke apart around him, walls fluttering. He followed with a strangled sound that shook through both of you, hips stuttering to a halt as he buried his face against your neck, this time, his teeth clamping down onto you, hips flush with yours, rolling as he twitched inside you. A few, final harsh, shallow thrusts and warmth spilled inside you, coating your sensitive inner walls. He pulled you up, letting hot cum spill up against your slick skin, mixing with your own arousal.
He heaved a breath he didn’t need, head falling back with a more human moan.
For a moment neither of you moved, gazing into each other's eyes. Your chest heaved, sweat and blood trickling down. Even that didn’t move his gaze from yours, hunger still there, but less urgent. If anything… awe seemed to take up most in his eyes. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, stomach fluttering. He stroked your cheekbone, slow and tenderly.
You didn’t know what you looked like at that moment. What emotion sparked in your eyes the clearest. Perhaps it didn’t matter, because it clearly captivated him.
“I’m not letting you go back,” he whispered, cupping your jaw, “You understand that right?”
You swallowed, drowsiness settled in your mind, quieting the urgently down that had compelled you this whole encounter. You cupped his cheek as well, tentative, like he’d nip at you. He didn’t. You studied his messy hair, the impression of your teeth and nails, pale and bloodless, already closing back up as flesh knit together.
“What if I have to?”
“Then I’ll kill them all,” he promised, following the bob of your throat.
And that’s when you heard. Distant voices, murmuring, groggy and grumbling with fatigue.
“The choice is yours, sweetheart,” he murmured tenderly, eyes startlingly soft. Or as soft as it could get.
You glanced at the gap in the ground, the hole that had sealed your coffin long before you knew it. He stroked his thumb over your skin, a low purr spurring from him. Peaceful. Satisfied. Stroking down your sweat slick spine without disgust when his skin was dry. And just like that…
Your decision solidified.
“Take me with you,” you whispered, hating how your heart swelled as he leaned into your palm, nuzzling with a preen.
He stilled, eyes shining like you promised him the world. Then… He smiled, the final nail to seal the coffin
Managed to write this, part of pt. 2 of ‘The Home Underneath,’ am getting further with ‘As Dusk settles’ and have a growing framework for the human! creatures with creature! reader oneshot :D
Pretty proud of myself ngl
Summary:
Your town was never tidy and clean, but recent events were worse than anything that ever transpired before. Murder, missing people, and people missing organs. The new neighbours gain your suspicion. What they do when no one's looking is too terrible for words. And part of what they do is for you...
Creatures x gn! reader
Set outside Fromville
Word count: 4.059
Warnings: Murder. Implied stalking. Blood. Human experimentation.
—-—————————————————————-
The city was alive in its own way during the day. If one squinted an eye, and plugged their ears, things were almost normal. But nearly anyone you passed spoke of the same things. Murder, loss, terror. Distrust that had always existed among the mass had grown tenfold.
You went out of the way of anyone outside, keenly aware of them as they brushed past you. Their eyes flitted over you, that healthy dose of paranoia there invoking a strange sense of camaraderie. Don’t make eye contact with anyone too long, but make sure they know you saw them. They treated you the same.
It was stupid to assume anyone could be as those monsters when they were likely just trying to go about their day. At worst, they might be on the prowl for a purse. But your neighbours too had appeared human upon first glance. Instinct rattled like crazy the second they had met your eyes all those months ago. You tried to recall—it had been cool, but not freezing cold, flowers had begun blooming and the first insects braved the world again. Spring.
Had it really been that long?
Their hands had been firm as they shook yours, smiles broad and unmoving.
In hindsight, you should’ve stuck to your own place. Ignoring her after she asked for help with tools she held incorrectly could’ve saved you a lot of trouble. Should’ve told them both off when they made small talk whenever they saw you. Smiling. Always smiling.
But she had been kind, if a little strange. How often she expressed sympathy when you came out to leave, or help her, sore from the day before. Back straining and strength failing you. She’d frown, tilt her head and say odd things. Joking, but…
If only we could remain young forever without these aches.
You work too hard, dear. Perhaps you’d enjoy a vacation. A proper one.
Have you ever dreamed of being a stay at home—?
Your features twitched, feet sharply protesting with each and every impact on the pavement, flat shoesoles scarcely appropriate for the long trek. By the time you reached the better part of town, the sun had risen high in the sky, and your legs wanted to fall off and crawl in misery.
That man’s face sat burned into your mind, fighting with your neighbours monstrous ones for the spotlight. But he won purely because of the sheer dissonance. His agony, his complete disregard for himself as he tried to get you to leave.
As if he already gave up on himself.
Despite the chilly wind tugging at your clothes, brushing over clammy skin, it refrained from cooling you down. Sweat heated you and raked shivers along your spine, bumping up your heartrate for the sake of self preservation.
The crowd from the mainstreet dwindled as you neared more civilised neighbours and its restaurants. The difference was palpable. People never fully lost the flinty eyes, but shoulders sat a tick more relaxed and laughter rang freely. Their conversations were still infected with the same thing, the same dread.
A gaggle of mothers at a small cafe spoke of their children as proud hens, gushing over one or another accomplishment. But the fear sat threaded through their more loving commentary.
…doesn’t understand curfew…
…tries to sneak out to see his friends…
…mine are the same…
You quickly looked away, heart clenching. Children weren’t often found. But they certainly didn’t get the mercy treatment.
Underneath their fear sat a bitterness.
Not too long ago you shared the overall frustration stinking up the city. That for once in their damn existence, the police would actually do their job and catch the evil bastards responsible. That was before this morning. They’d need some fucking silver bullets or some shit to fight these fuckers, study them in a damn lab and contain them in Area 51.
Your back stiffened when a group of boisterous teenage boys, high on hormones, passed too closely. Shoving at each other, laughing obnoxiously and glancing at girls with the hope they’d be noticed. Their appearance cutting through your thoughts with the same elegance as their sagging pants, underwear on full display.
Shoving your hands deeper in your pockets, you pushed your legs on, ignoring the pain lancing up your calves and went to search for your hotel. Not the ones close to the mainstreet. Those wouldn’t tolerate you, nor would your purse their prizes. It may not be in their job description, but the faces of bellboys and other personnel twisted with distaste when seeing you, as if to scare anyone ‘pauper’ away. With your scuffed shoes and simple work clothes, you’d deter their usual clients.
Let them. Herman, the old son a bitch, wouldn’t pass a paying guest up, properly attired or not. As long as you got a place far from home, you didn’t care about the questionable stains in the carpet and mattress of his cheaper rooms. His place sat in a quieter spot, as if camouflaged, concrete walls hiding his motel away. The big red letters at the top of the building was the only thing truly distinguishing it from everything else.
You hurried up to the glass doors, ignoring the few seated guests outside enjoying their lunch. Warm air blew down as you rushed through the dimly lit hall, green carpet guiding you past dark oak walls into the reception area.
And there, frowning down his glasses at some papers, sat Herman, his greying moustache and beard neatly trimmed. He glanced up, did a double take, and lit up, face smoothening out in a broad, warm smile when you neared the counter.
“Kid! Finally decided to take up the offer?”
Your lips quirked up, the smile fighting its own existence as it trembled. “Still not brave enough to face picky eaters.”
The warmth on his face couldn’t hide the calculative glint in his eyes. “Damn shame.” The air around him turned serious as he studied your surroundings. “Is it about the, you know…” He made a clicking sound, slicing a finger across his throat.
Whatever expression you made, had sympathy grow on him. He nodded his head a few times, leaning back. “Was about time you developed some sense.” He ducked behind the counter, coming back up with some papers. “How long you staying for?"
“Just one day.”
His brows shot up, a searching look thrown your way. But he, and any other receptionist in this town, learned not to ask too many questions. He wrote out the papers for you, stood up and grabbed a key.
You frowned, then saw the number, eyes widening. “No, I can’t pay that—”
He gestured with it. “If this is the last time I see you, then take this. Pay is for a small room.”
The man was dead serious, silently imploring you take this small act of kindness. Your chest simultaneously warmed up and clenched. “Thanks Herman,” you muttered, voice thick.
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “If I’m reading you right, you need some damn sleep, kid.”
A huff blew past your lips. “You have no idea.” you rubbed at an eye, fighting the way they tried to flutter shut.
He send you off, but not without—
“And remember, if room service comes knocking at night—”
“Always check with reception first,” you interrupted, grinning over your shoulders.
He huffed out a laugh, fishing a cigarette from his chest pocket. “Damn straight.”
You turned away, trudging up the flight of stairs to the first floor, not for the first time cursing the lack of an elevator with every sting of your feet. Twirling the key with its blocky, wooden fob, you yawned, the fatigue slipping in as if it recognised a safe haven. The hallway was deserted, light green carpet cushioning your slumping feet.
Herman had been right. Sleep was all your head could think about. You opened the door, struggling with inserting the key as your actions grew sluggish. But inside, industrial laundry cleaner and a hint of bleach greeted you, the barest hint of citrus spicing things up.
Shoving the door shut, locking it, you trudged to the queen-sized bed, and plopped down on an actual clean and proper blanket. No weird stains or smells reserved for lowlifes unwilling to walk all the way home. You kicked your shoes off, promising yourself a warm shower later, and laid down. Your mind blipped out not much later.
Except.
Except…
Rhythmic, disruptive noise pierced the black nothingness of sleep. One, two, three. A pause. Then it would repeat.
Honking and skidding tires blew the blackness apart like a cloud of smoke, your eyes snapping open with a start. Your heart thrummed loudly, darkness having crept inside the room, streetlight pouring through open curtains. Blindly grasping, your fingers found your phone, turning the screen on. You blinked blearily at the light. At…
19:23
You had slept pretty long then. You licked your lips, grimacing at the dryness.
Tap, tap, tap.
Your head shot towards the door.
“Hello? Roomservice.”
The fatigue slipped its inky tendrils out of your mind. Ice burrowing deeply in its place.
Should you say something? But the man chose then to say your last name. “Herman sent me. The room hadn’t been fully prepared for a guest.”
Glancing at the phone on the opposite bedside table, closer to the window and small balcony. You inched over, muscles refusing to go any faster as you swallowed your heart rate down.
“Wait a moment,” you called, voice raspy with sleep, but kept stubbornly steady.
“Of course, standard protocol.” He chuckled, and your hairs rose at the quiet sound.
Your hand trembled as it wrapped around the plastic, lifting the receiver to your ear and pressing the button that would send you straight to reception.
Then waited. Hearing it beep. And beep. Your attention drifted to the outside. A light drizzle tapped on the window, racing to soak into the pavement. You followed it down—
Swayed as blood crept from your face, vision sharpening alongside your pulse. Standing before the hotel, clad in white with red stains smudging the front, was the same man from yesterday.
Looking right at you.
The receiver still beeped at your ear. But you barely heard. The man couldn't possibly see you, right? It was dark in here and the sheer curtains covered you partly.
Then he tipped his hat with a nod, his smile the same as the first time. You didn’t breathe as he looked away, shook when he walked out of sight and presumably inside the building—
You stumbled back, tumbling to the bed. The phone jostled, beeped then clicked.
“Hello, how can I help you?” A woman’s voice said.
Simultaneously, the man, whose voice was so familiar, asked, “Are you alright? I heard you stumble.”
“I, I—” You swallowed, sweat breaking out over your skin, forehead cold. She said something, tone concerned. “Where’s Herman?”
She paused. “He’s retired to his room. Is something troubling you?”
The phrasing was odd. Too formal. And Herman would’ve told you if any new personnel had been hired.
“Did you see a strange man enter the hotel?” you rushed out.
“...Strange man?”
“A milkman with bloody clothes.”
“I’m… afraid I haven’t seen anyone like that.”
Not? Your brows knit together, lip wrung between your teeth. But you swore he…
You shook it off.
“Okay, then… Did you send room service?"
There was some rustling on her end. Papers, a pen rolling over the counter. “You must be the one he spoke of.” She paused as if to read something. “Yes, Herman said you’d probably want a shower first thing in the morning. There aren’t any towels there, correct?”
“I… haven’t checked.” A nagging feeling churned inside your gut. There was something missing, something off. “You know what, I don’t need them.”
She remained quiet. “Are you sure? It is really no problem—”
“Yes, I am sure,” you snapped, sharply placing the phone down. Panting as if you ran a marathon. You glanced outside again, but no one was there. The drizzle having become a steady pour.
Your name, your first name, rang from behind the door. “Are you really sure? I can leave the towels outside for you?”
“Sure,” you said dismissively, frowning. Did you talk so loud that he could hear? Rustling followed, the gap below the door swallowed by more shadows as he crouched. You shivered. The shadow straightened, only a pair of feet visible.
“Then goodnight,” the gentle voiced man said as a final bid of farewell, footsteps fading and ceasing to bar the light of the hallway.
You stared at it. At the small sliver of light. No one walked there anymore, quiet settling in. You spun, grabbing onto the curtains and swiftly closing them. Only then did you click on the bedside lamp, blinking spots away. Dialing a well-known number, you waited for it to go over.
Seconds ticked by, the receiver ringing dully. As the seconds reached a minute, two minutes, the ice seeped deeper in your organs.
Herman would have picked up by now.
Swallowing, you peered over at the door. Locked, only offering an illusion of protection. Anyone dedicated could get inside if they wanted to.
Placing the receiver down, you rose, patting at the taser you had stupidly kept on you as you slept.
Herman’s room wasn’t too far from here. Above the reception area. But that place…
Was it safe there now? The milkman guy could've walked down the street, out of sight. The receptionist and the room-delivery however…
You went to the bathroom, flicking the lights on.
And as the coiling dread predicted—
White towels sat neatly folded inside the open sink cabinet. Your knees buckled, energy zapping away. One of your palms found the doorframe, steadying yourself before you could fall.
Herman…
You needed to find him.
Stumbling back, you shoved your phone in your pocket. It was at twenty-nine percent. Not ideal. Not yet panic-inducingly low. You cursed the lack of a peeping hole, placing your ear near the door to listen for a lack of better options. It was quiet aside from distant cars and the rhythmic ticking of rain on the roof.
Breathing deeply, you grabbed the key, twisted it as quietly as you could, the lock springing open with a click. Pushed the door open, peeking around the corner along both sides of the hall.
Nobody around. Stepping out, you locked the door behind you. If you needed to get back, the likelihood of someone waiting to ambush you would be smaller. That milkman freak might hide inside and steal your organs…
Could it be… that he was one of them?
You brushed it off for now. Herman took priority, the old bastard. Each step in the reception's direction was tentative, but the town’s rules refused you to show any of the nerves beating under your skin. Peering cautiously down the staircase, you found no one walking there. No creaking boards, no voices beyond the ones drifting from the restaurant in an ambient murmur.
The way to enter his room was down there. Beside the reception area. Your hands shook as it slid over the taser. Pushing your shoulders back, you took the first step down. Paused. Then continued a few more. Stopped. Continued. Reached the lower floor, still hearing nothing aside from clinking glass and cutlery and ringing laughter and conversation fueled by alcohol.
Standing against the wall closest to the counter, you sneaked a glance. A young woman sat behind the counter, wearing a grey plaid dress with a large white collar. Light brown hair curled loosely around her shoulders, her skin pale and fingers deft as she… did nothing.
She sat, lightly smiling at nothing, her hands pretending to busy themselves. But when you shifted to look past the counter—
There wasn’t anything on the desk. No papers. She wasn’t even fiddling with a pen, the computer screen had gone blank. Cold nails dragged down your spine.
Herman never let a woman have night shift. Especially not a pretty, younger woman. Made him feel uncomfortable with ‘all those drunk bastards’ and ‘greedy folks.’
You gulped, worry worming deeper inside your chest. Nothing added up. If you walked on, she’d see you immediately. But now that you had creepy milkmen running around and monsters pretending to be your friendly neighbours—you could really use a rich bat furry to solve this shit.
Reality was always a let down.
A distraction was needed. You couldn’t stand here, watching her fiddle with nothing forever. You scanned the area, but there wasn't anything to help you.
Then your heart stopped.
Creaking from above. Wood bending under weight. And again. Slowly moving closer.
Your cheeks twitched, fighting to remain neutral, remain in control. It could be a guest. It could be the man from earlier, cooperating with the woman here. You didn’t know his appearance, couldn’t know what he had on his person.
She appeared perfectly average, muscles undeveloped and nothing like a gunholster strapped to her person. From what you could see. She could be like them under the pretty disguise. Hairless. Fanged. But then again, your neighbours had been careful never to let anything trace back to them.
If she was like them… she wouldn’t risk drawing unnecessary attention. Nor would a criminal.
You almost barked a laugh. This couldn’t be reality. Shapeshifting monsters couldn’t actually be real.
A sharp squeek came from behind, raising your hairs.
You had to take the risk. You’d much rather take her on where it was open and people could see, than be cornered in this blind spot.
Firmly grasping your pocketed weapons, you rushed forward, you kept your head turned away from her, hands shoved deep inside your pockets.
From your peripheral, her head turned your way, smile in place. Muscles tensed, pulse skipping a beat. “Good evening,” was all she said, returning to her insistent front of doing nothing. Until her attention was called away by a frazzled looking woman, dressed as a waitress.
You didn’t linger on it, shot away as the person from upstairs neared. The hall was short, but the wall would cover you from her sight. But… had you been overreacting then? Was she simply bored and fucking around with air itself to relief the boredom? You gritted your teeth. No. She had tried to get the man inside your room.
She was not an ally.
Glancing back, making sure no one followed, you twisted inside the short hallway towards Herman’s room.
And faltered.
The door was open. A mere sliver of light poured from the crack, a news reporter rattling on about the news on tv. Inching towards the door, you dislodged your hand from the pepper spray, placing your slick palm to the cool wood.
Pressed, dread low in your belly.
Eyes shot over every bit of the room revealed. Clean, papers and books scattered over a dresser the only mess to be found.
Your pulse thudded against your throat, breath shivering. The man sat in his green lounging chair before the tv, back to you. Missing faces flashed over the screen, mourning people calling for justice.
Sickness curdled through your stomach.
Please.
You stepped forward, whispering. “Herman.” He didn’t respond, his greying head unmoving.
Please…
Stepping around the chair, your stomach plummeted. Warm brown eyes were cooled over. Dull and lifeless. Mouth slack, cigarette stubbornly clinging between his lips. Smoke curled from its lit end, ash floating down as it reached its end.
Below—
Red. Multiple neat lines had spilled blood over his crisp greenish blouse.
God—
He was dead.
Had been killed swiftly. Neatly.
You reached out a hand, fingers shakingly floating in the air beside his bearded cheek. Tears welled up to blur his pale face. Trailing down your cheeks and dripping down. Hitting…something on his lap. Sniffling, hastily wiping at your eyes, you took in a notebook. Free of blood. As if placed there after Herman was—
Your lip wobbled, a sob swallowed down.
Slowly, you picked it up, turning it to check both sides. Nothing. And despite the screaming inside, begging you to run, run, run—
You cracked it open. Read the neat, looping script that was almost impossible to discern. It niggled at your memory.
‘We were told that a great start to an experiment was to start with a hypothesis. That, if we are to start by trial and error, every step should be properly documented. Another should read this and be able to perfectly replicate it.’
The tugging at your memory got worse. It reminded of a conversation once held. You read on, clenching the book tighter. The first paragraph didn’t reveal much more beyond babbling insanity.
Except...
‘Can humanity be furthered into an immortal state. It hasn't ever truly crossed our minds to test such a hypothesis, but our bodies have been granted such a state. By sharing parts of ourselves, fueled by other substances, perhaps we will see the day where you, neighbour, can stand by our side in ways you had never imagined.'
Neighbour…
This was—
It was her writing. Her writing that had looped on a birthday card, wishing you a long and prosperous life. Blood drained from your face. A conversation sparked inside your mind. About school, running tests and what you’d learned. With him and his stupid fucking cowboy hat and shitty posturing.
That was you… You who told them how to write an experiment.
A floorboard creaked behind you—
The taser ripped free from your pocket, the book shoved aside. You spun. Pressed the button, hit a chest. It shook as the taser lighted up, zapping energy through the man.
But no cry left him.
Your eyes crossed, familiar eyes, a familiar wide grin. Pale cheeks curling up, ginger brows lowered in a mean expression.
The man who stalked the halls at work, busying himself with safety protocols. Quiet. Always smiling, watching. Sneaking up behind you, laughing at your jumps, listening to you as you ranted or simply made conversation
Now his chest shook under your attack, brows furrowing as he blinked down at you. The taser worked—it functioned—light snapped from it, the low rattle of electricity loud and clear.
But he didn’t react. Stood upright when he should’ve crumpled to the ground in pain.
You ripped your arm away, stumbling back, betrayal caving your heart into pieces. Him—it had been him at your door. Stumbling away. He looked down at his chest, back up.
“That felt funny.”
His pupils were blown. Like your neighbours. Unnatural. It never had been under the fluorescent lights at work.
Behind him came a shuffling sound. Deliberate. The receptionist. Smiling, eyes glittering. Blocking the entrance.
“You don’t need to fight us,” she said, warm and friendly. And now that you saw the front of her face, you could see the resemblance she had to a bartender of a place you used to frequent. A pretty woman, always happy to lend an ear. Any small talk shared faded into background noise as the daily drudge kicked back in.
One had been at your work. One a friendly face in a place you loitered about. Two were your neighbours.
How many more people were like them? How many had infiltrated your life and for what?
You backed away. To a window. Wind drifted from the gap, snaking through your clothes to worsen the goosebumps already there. But as you neared—
It squeeked. Snapping your head towards it, neck muscles tingling painfully at the awkward twist, your legs nearly caved.
The pleasantly smiling man, rain soaking through his white uniform, had pushed the window open all the way, stepped inside. Milkman cap proud on his head.
The tv droned on, having moved on from missing people to the weather. Rain, storms, thunder.
Perfect weather for a bat signal to be shot into the air, and for evil plots to be dismantled.
But…
As you pressed further into a corner, mind working and working, Herman’s wounds trickling fresh blood down his front, taser useless in hand, and the two males slowly closing in…
You would be on your own this time.
With a final bid resting on the last trick up your sleeve, fingers clenching on a canister inside, you held their smug grins in sight.
Hey queen I was going to ask a request from you that is a little on the NSFW side. You do not have to add it to your list if it makes you uncomfortable, you are the author and you make the decisions.
My request was your opinion of the creatures preferences in sharing.
To specify I mean which ones prefer privacy and which would like being watched/ watching and common pairings. (Like which of their fellow creatures they commonly share with.).
As I said you do not need to do this! It is just a request and the author always gets the final say!
I hope you are doing well! Love your work!
I handpicked a few and developed those mostly, because this would get really long otherwise.
Hopefully you'll enjoy! :D
-——————————————————————-
The creature’s thoughts on sharing
● The creatures are communal sharers when it comes to prey. But that prey dies. Played with and left broken beyond repair. You’re never supposed to. It complicates things.
● As a collective, they all want something from you—your company, time and even approval and affection. Individually, they may want different things. Some want you with them when you sleep. Another may desire the same but specifically inside their own corner within the cave, where it's just the two of you. Multiple want to… play with you.
● However… You are but one person, with limited energy and a body that can be overloaded. They need to be careful not to overwhelm.
● Usually they operate on first come first serve. That also doesn't quite work with you. Not if they mean to keep you willingly.
● Instead, they wait, they observe and note who you are drawn to most. After that, they fall into a natural order. You’ll spend most time with the ones you seek out, be that a platonic bond or not, and slowly they’ll integrate you into the collective.
● For some it’s integral that you get used to their touch. They’ll always test how far they can go, where the limits are and what they can do to ease you into your place amongst them.
● What they ask is a lot for a human. That much they can understand, despite how much fun it is to make you a little afraid every now and then.
● As for preferences… It depends on the mood.
● The Nurse may want to be intimate in a way that would feel wrong to show anyone else. She’ll want your attention on her while she devotes hers to you, her lips trailing along your throat, sternum, stomach and even lower.
● Curling up beside your naked form with an audience has always struck her as off. Not all things need to be shared when it can be just the two of you. Your fatigued body pressed to hers as she wraps you up in her arms, safe and sound.
● She likes more privacy in general. In this case, so you won’t be distracted. And while there is a charm in watching, she likes it more if you’re touching and clawing at her in need or desperation. Being present while others invoke that same response isn’t anywhere as fulfilling. Still fun, but not the same.
● If she is to share, she often searches out someone male. Having you bounce on a male, panting, thighs straining and brows knitted together while she rubs at you from behind, whispering in your ear… Yes, she enjoys that immensely.
● Another creature who likes a healthy dose of privacy is the Cowboy. There is something strange about kissing you when others are looking in. Everything else, he doesn’t mind sharing. If anything, you are the one who gets a little shy under all that attention. But kissing? Long, drawn out session with only your lips locked together, fingers grabbing onto him and your body flush against his? That’s not for sharing.
● Contrarily, he loves watching. Especially when you’re not on top, are fighting your own reactions, or are eventually flipped down and made to take. Not that you aren’t beautiful when in charge, but you don’t cry out the same way, don’t search for purchase and grip around you when reaching the brink.
● You melt beautifully, and having an audience has you either more flustered or performing more wildly. Either way, it’ll be a show he’d never forget.
● If he has to choose who to directly share you with, it’ll be the Handbag lady. Their desires align well, both enjoying putting you in your place or simply taking care of you. Tying you up, playing with cutting off your senses, seeking where pleasure and pain meet. That his lady friend likes dressing you up, just to turn you into a mess isn’t so bad either.
● The Tough guy is a little different. He enjoys having an audience. Doesn’t care who as long as they desire you as well. Having someone watch as he slowly picks you apart or roughly pounds you into the floor has his non-existent blood boil.
● Getting carried away is a risk when you cry out for him, your body taking him in even deeper. Those hungry eyes on you stir up a competitive streak within him. A sense of heady victory when he is the only one claiming you.
● He’ll growl at anyone getting too close. Not necessarily because he doesn’t want them touching you, but because he wants them to know he’ll fight to remain buried deep within your warm body. If they want a turn, they’ll have to wrestle you away from him. And he loves it when they try, so long as you do too.
● Occasionally, he does want true privacy with you. Not specifically to be intimate. He simply wants to be near, and be the one watching and listening as you do your own things. He’ll touch you softly if you do want intimacy, more gentle without an audience. He won’t grip to bruise, won’t slowly sink his teeth into your flesh or drag a nail down the center of your chest.
● Like nearly every other creature, showing genuine softness to a human in each other's presence feels strange. These moments are special.
● And of course, there are moments, if you are willing, where they all come together. Circling you. Trapping you. Testing your limits. Yes, they’ll be taking breaks when you’re close to shattering under the constant barrage of demanding monsters. They'll make sure you drink and eat as they deplete your energy and drain your blood.
● But if you’ll have them, they’ll collectively bear down on you for hours on end. Until you can’t take more, until sleep takes you from them, your slumbering body gently cleaned, bandaged and clothed. None will leave your side.
Your town was never tidy and clean, but recent events were worse than anything that ever transpired before. Murder, missing people, and people missing organs. The new neighbours gain your suspicion. What they do when no one's looking is too terrible for words. And part of what they do is for you.
Creatures x gn! reader
Trying to focus on Swingcoat creature
Set outside Fromville
I lied and wrote part of this idea that went to the backburner even though I loved the idea. I have it aaaall planned >:)
Anywayss, I hope you all enjoy :D
Warnings: Gore. Murder. Implied torture. Implied stalking. Reader does some stalking too. Breaking and entering. Or is it?
Word count: 2.783
-——————————————————————-
The latest report of violent crimes and gang activity found its way to your porch in the shape of a newspaper. The headline couldn’t be any more subtle. Drug Lord caught smoking at old Henny’s snackbar.
You snorted. Whatever nutjob made these papers probably took the same damn drugs.
The small town never slept. Your nightshifts were actually quite wonderful. Some of the more sketchier people were out and about then. Your own neighbourhood was unruly, college students loitering about seeking their next high or something to break, but recently…
You leafed through the paper, finding pictures of missing people. Many belonging to your corner of town. After finding more than one body in the nearby forest, mauled, horrifically killed…
You blew out air.
Yeah, night shifts weren’t so bad all of a sudden. Many of those students didn’t dare step outside anymore. Or their parents kept them shackled indoors, fearing whatever freak or freaks ran these murder errands to harvest organs.
Police officers were no exception, one officer found dead as well. It was probably why it got this much coverage now.
Quiet rustling startled you away from the face of a young man, his whole life in front of him—cut short brutally.
“Hi there,” the new neighbour called, well, new-ish. It had been a few months. Close to half a year. “Off to work again?”
“Like every other evening, ma’am.”
She thrilled a laugh, her painted lips stretched uncomfortably wide. “That’s not true, you used to be home during the nights.”
“Yeah, well, we all need money,” you said, straining not to roll your eyes. Her fancy earrings and handbag told you enough. Either she pretended to be of ‘class’, or she and her weird ass husband genuinely had money and chose this dump to live at for whatever inconceivable reason.
No one wanted to live in the shittiest corner of what might as well be Gotham city. All you needed was a green-haired freak and a rich punch-aholic furry and you’d be settled for life.
“Oh,” she crooned sympathetically, “but you are starting to look pallid, dear. Don’t work yourself to death.”
You snorted, folding the paper to take with you to the bus. “Think a murder clown might do me in first at this point. See you later…” you trailed off, brows knitting, her name had still never… been mentioned, “ma’am.”
Best not to ask. But during the day…
Maybe you could settle an awfully ridiculous hunch.
“Yes, we will.” She waved a steady hand, her grin barely faltering. Maybe she had been at old Henny’s too to get tweaked out. Her pupils sure were wide all the time. Cocaine then, easy to get from your opposite neighbours. “Maybe you could give me some more gardening tips.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, smiling slightly. She was strange, but kind enough. Pretty hot too, but even if she hadn’t been married, her husband scared the crap out of you. Weird ass hillybilly that one. Stared right at you the whole time you stepped inside your car, and as you left the road. Never ceasing with his freaky smirk. Yuck.
Your best shoes crunched on fallen leaves, the forest blessing you with its mess in your garden now that autumn rolled in. You threw a mournful glance at your car, its tires torn to shit by some jackass.
The bus could take you to work, and thankfully the metro station could drive you back most of the way. That fifteen minute walk had gotten simultaneously more terrifying as relaxing now that police patrolled more extensively. Not that you wanted to meet them on a boring night.
That’s why you stuck to the shadow as you walked back home, your workshift having been as mindnumbingly dreadful as always. At least it paid well enough. Your legs were sore, back wishing it was dead so it could curl up.
Your head was held high, your pace brisk and confident despite the screaming in your muscles. Never look like an easy target. Don’t look at your phone. No wearing headphones or earbuds. Don’t turn corners you couldn’t see behind.
Those rules were stomped in anyone’s head in this town.
But every night you shuddered inside, passing the cold, blocky apartment buildings leading to your small home pressed against the forest filled with vermin. Eventually, your luck had to run out. Whoever was behind these sick murders could already have you on their radar, learning your routine no matter how you tried to change the turns you took getting home.
Your pace didn’t change as your heart sped up, pavement grey and cracked and dreadfully long. Your eyes didn’t flick around more wildly even as a stray car raced past, splattering puddles of water around. Anyone who saw you had to believe you weren’t to be messed with. That meant not being a nervous wreck.
And—
You almost froze, feet stumbling a little after someone rounded the corner ahead. Your eyes strained as you took in the stark white cutting through the night with the harshness of a dull saw, streetlights catching on the clothes. His hat… A white cap, with a black brim. An equally black bowtie at his collar.
Was that… a fucking milkman? It wasn’t that far in autumn yet.
Accidentally, your eyes crossed, the close-mouthed, smiling man never bothering to break the contact as he walked down the sidewalk. Your way. As you neared each other—
A bloody handprint sat on his chest. Hairs rose at your neck. Was it real? Was this an early party and a mere costume?
He nodded as he passed, but you were too slow to react. Hopefully he didn't consider it a slight.
You fought not to hurry, calming yourself with his fading steps, the man growing more distant. Your grip on the taser loosened. Not fully, never fully.
The corner he had turned came next, the dark alleyway close to it too shadowy to peer inside. You glanced inside anyway, as if the earlier man would be spat out, a knife in hand—
You shook your head, swiftly reaching home without any more hiccups.
A light at your neighbour was on. As usual. Nothing ever moved inside the house though. During the day, they were absent too.
Glancing back, finally giving yourself that relief, no one had followed you. No one was around. Walking up your small porch, you unlocked your tiny hut cosplaying a house, that relief seeping into your bones as you closed it behind you.
Locking the horrors of the world outside.
And if everything went right… then hopefully you could lock that terrible gut feeling away too soon.
You did not sleep. You peeked past the cheap, flaky shutters at the neighbours house, soda in hand and snacks to the side. There was no one inside that house. One night, when your shift ran late, you had come to realize that.
That woman and her creepy husband went back indoors, either side by side—his hips swaying like he was in a movie and he played some schmuck, thinking he was hot shit—or with time in between.
They never looked at each other. Held their grin in place like it was plastered on permanently. Walked calmly. Didn’t speak.
The uncanniness did away any assumptions of it being a drug induced state. It was consistent, their return eerily timed nearly by the minute. Close to dawn.
You zipped from your drink, darting from one of their windows to the next, each lacking curtains. Except for the lower floor, near where a basement sat. The former inhabitant had you over once when she needed help carrying a couch inside.
Watch your step, honey, basement’s right there.
Close to the back entrance.
You glanced at your phone, the time lighting up in broad letters. It was getting close. You peered back outside, counting the seconds, and—
From the corner they appeared, walking down the streets from opposite sides, meeting smoothly at their porch, turning towards their home. Your skin crawled as they robotically went inside, your attention zeroing in on that one peculiar detail;
The door was unlocked. Each and every night.
Your gut clenched, nervous sweat slicking your palms.
They moved around the house, passing one window, two windows, then stopped appearing.
You sat, rooted on your chair, keeping the shutters pried open. But like usual, nothing else was out of place. Their, comparably, picture perfect house stood proudly amongst decrepit buildings, their garden snatched into a solid example of addiction to appearance and public approval.
As if they wanted to appear worthy of a thief’s assessment.
Your eyes roamed the building, dry and itchy with how little you blinked. Watching as the sun eventually rose up, slowly rising along the walls, catching on the windows when it spun over the roof tiles, and hopefully revealing that nothing’s off about your potentially vampiric neighbours—
A shuddering breath escaped you, the shutters finally snapping back in place as you leaned back, chair creaking. The snacks on the white bureau table, scored from a thrift shop, had long cooled down. Your stomach churned. Not out of hunger.
Out of fear.
You rose, pocketing the taser and pepper spray inside your jacket. Big pockets were a savior for when you needed to pull a dirty trick fast.
Making your way downstairs, you left through the backdoor, their backyard connected to yours and the wide forest beyond.
Where you once enjoyed a drink on the tiny steps leading to your backyard—now was avoided entirely during the evening and night. There was that sensation of being watched. Being catalogued. And not by raccoons or squirrels or a rare black bear.
By something more intelligent.
The newspaper didn’t lie. The locations of the murders were disturbingly close to your home occasionally.
You shook it off, swallowing as you quietly closed the door, staring at their dark green one. A mere few feet away. So close, yet the distance seemed insurmountable as you took the first steps, heart thudding with a screeching panic to stop, turn back, call the cops who were useless and corrupt—
All too soon your feet stopped before the simple door, light yellow panels reaching above you as you craned your head up. Powdery algae grew in patches and streaks up the walls.
Your head twisted back forwards. Like with nearly any other windows, there was no curtain here either, letting anyone see inside their home. No movement. No sound. Nothing to signify life.
Slowly, you grasped the handle, the shake in your hand well-contained. Twisted the handle—winching as it creaked. Stilling to listen. Still nothing.
You pushed onward, the door opening smoothly. Unlocked as well.
But why…? Who would keep their doors unlocked at all times? In this city? Unless… They wanted people to come looking.
You shuddered, taking the first step inside, pausing, straining your ears. Continuing as no creepy cowboy lassoed you inside to press a sawblade against your ribs and harvest your insides.
The small utility room held an old washing machine and dryer, the white exterior yellowed. The washing bin sat empty in the corner, collecting dust. Peeking beyond the opening leading to the combined, spartan, kitchen and living room area, you still were alone.
And neither had gone upstairs. Which meant…
You twisted your head to a closed door. A door that led to a staircase.
They had to be there.
Courage fled your frame, your bladder nearly caving as heavy dread fell upon your shoulder. You clamped down on the taser. The white door stood between the truth and you.
Unless they merely slept there, and this was all a misunderstanding.
But they never spoke of a job, never showed up during the day, never yawned, barely blinked, and one time you swore you heard screaming—
Your feet spun away before your brain caught up. Away from that door. Moving back—
A soft groan came from downstairs, a dry sob.
You stilled again. Head slowly swiveling to that door, quiet settling after the disturbing, hair raising sound of misery.
This time, you went forward, using that momentum of bravery to open the door, revealing the cement stairs that led to an unknown space. Grabbing your phone, you shuddered in some air, clicking on the light. It wasn’t a deep space, wasn’t wide, but—
It reeked.
Slowly, you moved over, getting closer to the entrance.
The stench hit you, like rot and stale sweat mixed with feces. A gag tightened your throat. Something shifted at your stifled noise and your muscles locked. Completely. Unmovable as your eyes jumped over what you could see of the small basement.
“Leave,” a croaky voice whispered, as if their throat was too destroyed to muster more. “Don’t…” A deep, shaky inhale interrupted the words, followed by wet coughing.
Holy shit…
Holy fucking shit.
Someone was there. Someone who clearly needed help. More noise startled you. Creaking boards coming from upstairs.
On instinct, you stumbled forward, the door closing quietly behind you as whatever moved up there settled again. Sweat beaded down your temples. You almost coughed as the stench touched even your tongue.
Spun when another set of lungs heaved a wet breath, raking nails down your spine.
Without proper input, you already moved downstairs, the short staircase swallowed within no time, within an eternity. Your meager light held your taser in sight, pulse thudding in the back of your head.
To the left, someone shifted, to the right, a deeper part of the basement, there was nothing but crates with things you couldn’t properly distinguish. Odd, shadowy shapes sat along the wall.
And that person to your left…
A young, tan man, tied up, upper body bare and ripped open and, and—
Bile rushed up your throat, acrid as it flew inside your mouth. You forced it back down. Blood, dried out and fresh coated his skin, his chest splayed open so terribly, you could see his sternum. His thigh had been torn into by an animal, thick stripes raking down the side.
He should be dead.
This wasn’t possible.
Fear sat deep in his sunken in eyes, a desperation in them that called to your innermost sympathy. You wanted to reach, wanted to run.
His cracked lips opened before yours could. “Leave,” he repeated in that weak, croaking voice. Looking behind you at—
Twisting, you nearly dropped both the phone and taser, stepping back.
The odd shapes…
Monsters…
Those were monsters.
Hairless, pale, blotchy skin and sharp rows of teeth marring their mouths angrily. Dressed in all too familiar clothes. Curled up against the far wall.
Side by side. Asleep.
“Leave.”
You didn’t need to be told twice, instinct kicking in to save your own skin. You fled up the stairs, trying, failing to be entirely quiet. Fled back outside, back to your home, back inside. Sliding down your door with vomit in your mouth and a tremble in your bones.
You had guided that woman’s hands when planting a bulb. Had shook their hands when meeting them. She had patted your shoulder, stroked your back, and held her palm there. Nauseau curled at your stomach.
That man… How wasn’t he dead? Had they done something to him? Was he a monster too?
Cold sweat coated your skin. The tremble reaching your soul, shaking sense into it.
“Fuck this,” you muttered, springing up. Rushing through your house, grabbing a backpack, you gathered any and all necessities.
You weren’t staying.
Fuck your shitty job. Fuck this town. An evil clown would've been preferable to this shit. The stench, the grime and stains coating the cement—they were too real for it to be fake.
Practically running outside, you went to the bus stop. And waited. And waited. Checked the time every few seconds. Until your insides went cold as you checked the website to check if any routes had changed.
They weren’t driving today. No public transport at all. How had you forgotten? You had taken the shift off tonight for a reason.
Glancing around the neighbourhood, you had no one who’d loan you a car. You had no cash to pay for a taxi, ubers weren’t a thing in this fuckass town invested with petty theft and vandalizing assholes.
You had legs. You had time. But autumn had rolled in and the days were short.
You wouldn’t get out of town.
But you weren’t sleeping beside those freakshows. No. Never.
Your brain raced with a solution. Only one really made sense.
Destination in mind, you took your belongings and sped walked to a hotel. Opposite your neighbourhood and the hive of murder activity. A place filled with people.
Spacey, when Smiley is being bratty, is there any punishment that genuinely gets to him enough to make him regret being a brat? Like, not in the sense he regrets being submissive, but in the sense that he wishes he had behaved better? Is there a punishment that has the chance of making him clingier/more needy for affection and/or reassurance after? Just more bratty subby Smiley crumbs I beg-
At your own pace and if it interests you, of course!
Someone else asked for more bratty Smiley as well a looongg time ago, so here we finally are :))
It's mostly suggestive this time.
-——————————————————————-
Brat! Smiley and which punishment would truly get to him
● Smiley had no real need for these things. Such human needs had fled from him many years ago. He, however, did enjoy sharing his body with you. It was fun. Messy. Your little noises and involuntary movements were especially fun. If he truly pushed, you could be louder, wilder, whinier.
● But he had managed to break past that, surprising even yourself with how mean you could get. He let you pin him, let you tear his clothes off and explore ways to make him ‘shut up, take it back, stop killing those that are mine’.
● You got the luxury of truly exploring ways to make him pay. You did not handle it well. Usually, you hurt yourself more than him. If not in the moment, then later when you choose to agonize over your out of control actions. Partners don’t harm each other, is what you’d say. It was silly.
● He felt no pain. Not like you would when he pierced his teeth deliciously slowly through your body. Deliberate, unlike some of your deeds. That’s what had you hurting—the loss of control. Trying to hurt him out of anger and pain instead of passion.
● Regardless, having his muscles pulled taut did get a touch uncomfortable when stuck for hours on end. He liked it. Liked letting you find the extremes his body could handle. The time his muscles tore when bent too far, was when beautiful horror shone brightly on your face.
● And now that he had a taste, he needled at you, relaying all the things you could do to his body without permanent repercussions. You could cut into him, crack his bones, tear his tongue or voice box out to keep him quiet. Until it regenerated, that was. None of it would harm him. It was your own fragile stomach that twisted at his suggestions. He wanted to spark your human imagination. To experience the things you could come up with, with your mind shackled by moral boundaries.
● Your attempts to make him think twice about his abhorrent deeds never stuck. They were fun. Ironically, you had no qualms about using a whip or a wooden ruler to put him in his place. He only lifted himself higher to receive your thrilled rush of power or enraged barrage.
● No, your attempts on his body never worked. He never felt a shred of remorse over killing. Merely paused after witnessing your descent into chaos after he needled too much, adjusting his play to keep you from truly cracking. He did not want to break you.
● Over time, no matter how he enjoyed your body, whether in submission or domination, you never invoked a sense of genuine remorse. He was convinced you’d never find a way, even decades into the future, and, if he had a say in it, centuries.
Or so he thought.
You found a way after all, and he craved you even more afterwards, in ways he never conceived possible.
For once, he would find himself truly longing for your softness.
-——————————————————————-
He would’ve panted had he the need, euphoria singing under his skin as you slid off of him with a slick sound. He zeroed in on you. The crescent he managed to bite into your chest as you leaned over him to tie his hands, standing out against your clammy skin. It caught his eye, a different desire coiling deep in his shriveled organs. To stroke his fingers along the mauled flesh, prodding at frayed nerves until you flinched, snapped and pinned him again.
The desire scattered like humans did upon seeing him—well, humans other than you—when he met your gaze, expecting the long-suffering fondness you harbored for him.
He found none of that.
Your face was devoid of warmth as you stared down at him. You pulled away, taking your physical warmth away as well. His grin strained as you left the bed. Without a word, you gathered your clothes. He rose when you made to leave, not even taking the time to complain about feeling gross or how he was insufferable.
“Where are you going?” he asked, genuinely perturbed when you failed to look his way once. But still you did not glance over. Not even a tiny peek. You opened the door of the small hut. Left. You hadn’t even put on your shoes. He did not worry about your safety. His kin would let you pass, uncaring of your current state.
What wormed in his chest instead left him standing there, staring at the door you closed. Quietly. It hadn’t been slammed shut in rage. You had left as if he was nothing but a stain you wanted to hide the existence off.
His smile froze, brows furrowing. Your arousal clung to him still. Your anger and disappointment lingered in the scent.
You’d shower, he was certain. Wash him away as if you hadn’t taken him inside and let him tarnish you for another night.
The corners of his mouth dropped slowly, lips covering his eternal grin.
The euphoria slipped from his withered veins.
He had no true need for these things. But the idea that you’d come to despise him, thinking him a disgusting addiction you needed to shake from your legs…
It had an unknown feeling stir in his stomach.
Alone, naked with your drying wetness on him, smelling of rejection, he felt cold for the first time in centuries.
how do you think Handbag lady would be under sex pollen?👀
She'd be so different from the others!
Her self-control is far greater than most creatures. She is too classy to show herself with even one strand of hair out of place. So you'd barely notice anything's off about her. You'd have to look closely to see the cracks. The strap of her bag is held too tightly, fingers trembling lightly. Her voice comes out softer, as if worried it would shake if she tries any louder. Her teeth would snap together more often mid-sentence.
But none of that would be all that obvious. It's time that does the job. If she's influenced for days on end, her cool veneer will eventually snap. Her appearance becomes miraculously tidier, like she tries to put all her energy into something, anything.
Everything would be normal as she talks with you, until her palm smacks against the window, her grin pressed close. She doesn't do begging, doesn't do whining or whimpering—she demands.
She wants you, and she wants you now. Her patience is out of the window, so you better come out now, or she won't be kind once she catches you :)
Mind you, her muscles are weakened, and if you truly push, you can break her a little, hear her whimper after all.
Wrote this pretty quickly. I wanted to explore reader not returning interest at all, and instead pursuing another relationship and how that would play out. Except I chickened out a little, because I can't write full on non-con.
Where are Fatima and Ellis in this, you may ask? No clue, but they're safe with the creatures hunting your fine ass down :)
Unrequited creatures x gender-neutral! reader
But mostly Smiley and Handbag lady
Word Count: 1.909
Warnings: Unrequited attraction. Threatening behavior. Mentions of corpses and body parts. Mild nsfw. Threat of non-con. Possessive behavior.
-——————————————————————-
“Who were you with?”
The voice filtered from beyond the door, ringing quietly after the panicked slam traveled along the hall of Colony House, eerily still now that all life vacated after the anniversary. A voice you couldn’t, shouldn't answer. For too long this bullshit had gone on, and now you began to sample the consequences.
You flinched as three steady knocks resonated through the wood, an echo of those knuckles rapping against your spine. Hairs rose along your neck as you jumped forward, clutching the shirt tighter to your chest as you spun. As if it would help to keep the being hidden by the fragile wood and glass in sight. Sweat beaded down your temple. He was no closer than any other moment.
At the same time… he was.
“My dear,” he said, awfully gently, acting as their spokesperson, “who was it?” It had cold fingers grip your beating heart, making every thud push ice down your veins.
No matter how softly spoken, the anger beneath was nearly tangible in the air between you and them. The statues standing guard around your prison. Even separated as you were, did his words taste like ash on your tongue, turning your mouth dry.
“What does it m-matter?”
The floorboards in the hall were cold, a stinging numbness biting along your soles to creep up your bare legs. You shivered, pushing further towards the side, into a corner. Away from the doors. Away from him. Them. Your attention shot to the talisman, still at the front door. The faces hidden by pieces of ripped fabric and frosted glass.
Keeping you safe. And you alone.
But from what exactly?
Wetness still clung to your underwear from earlier. The one inspiring it having gotten lost somewhere in the chaos of stumbling bodies and wailing cries. People that had either fled successfully or died trying. Aside from the overwhelming tension pressing onto your ribs, it was only your racing heart bringing a cacophony inside your head.
Created by whatever simmered between these monsters, waiting to surge and swallow all you knew.
Even those precious, private moments.
At the exact moment you and your lover had finally decided to take the next step, nervous and giddy and happy for once, the terror, the warning cries, began—they’re inside, they’re inside, they’re—
All those days of innocent hand holding and stolen glances at lips, to braving a first kiss in the sweetness of the sun, to finally choosing to share the night, were cast aside for the moment. One palm being ripped from the other by the stampeding mass of panic and survival instinct packed in human skin.
A palm you wished sat nestled in yours now, arms working like a shield against the terrors outside. So close. Always cloyingly close.
Whatever or whoever brought them inside, led them to you. Not only pressing to the front door, but also against the doors inside. Inside Colony House, where it was supposed to be safe.
Nearly naked, you hadn’t been able to ignore the glances for once. They barely resisted the path you carved toward freedom, to safety. Watched as you went as if the sight caught them off guard. Roving glances, grins that were predatory still, but in a manner of a different kind, followed you. Never rushing. Never impatient.
But another sensation rolled over their stagnant, blood soaked figures.
Anger.
It settled in the tenseness surrounding the eyes you glimpsed, the slow crane of their head, every other muscle alarmingly still as gears had turned in their heads. As they did, realisation struck.
You had been with someone. Almost shared skin and pleasure and awkward fumbling limbs, a hickey on your throat working as proof—
You hoped your beloved was safe. That you wouldn’t find any remains in the morning, but a relieved, watery smile, hands warm with life cupping your cheeks as you embraced. Among the fleeing residents, more than one had been underdressed. They couldn't know who belonged with you. That was your only hope.
They’d find out still, a buried part whispered. They’d tear that palm from mine forever.
“You can still confess.”
Heat flared in your chest, knotting tightly. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“You do.”
The self-assured tone broke over your skin as hot and cold terror. The grinning ginger had always been a devout stalker of yours. No matter where you went, he found you. Him and a small posse, eager to catch you out on your supposed crimes.
They had a list—ignoring them, shutting them out, speaking with certain people, rejecting their kindness, bringing yourself in danger. But the one that truly changed them, the one that genuinely infuriated them, was when you spoke to others with the intention of dating. If this was to be home, then you’d make it so. They didn’t get to ruin that.
The gifts began then. Rewards if you listened. Vile things if you didn’t. Corpses, body parts, eyeballs and tongues and pieces of bones—from hands—thiefs—or the ribcage—signifying the breath shared unrightfully with yours, even if they had been no one to you.
“Haven’t we been patient with you?”
You were a mule to them. Stubbornly resisting the bit forcefully placed into its mouth.
“Kind?”
Creatures stood outside your little sanctuary, akin to mannequins. You could count three, four… six… You tried to swallow, muscles too tight and frozen to manage it.
“Do you want us to be kind?”
Chills traveled along your skin, burrowing deep into the sinew. Your attention snapped back to him. Even the smiley ginger barely moved as he spoke. Were they so angered they became motionless?
“Leave me alone,” you whispered, sliding down to the ground, huddled beside the table to the side, finally taking the shirt and putting it back on. It stuck like the feeblest form of armor to your skin, bringing no real distance between them and you. It was no different from the walls.
“Let us in and all will be forgiven.”
The hairs on your neck stood on end, goosebumps trailing down your arms and sides. You could sense the lie in the calm. Heard them speak truthfully so often, that every lie shone brighter than the sun.
Their lies had grown so rare. Potentially non-existent by now.
“I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re just—”
—crazy.
You swallowed the word, the beat of your heart snaring it off as terror pushed at your tongue. You held your breath as you waited for their insanity to continue.
But…
Nothing. Quiet so loud entered the hall, you could believe they’d died. But as always, they remained, monoliths of despair to all who came to this wretched place.
To you… they had been distractions once. Beings you indirectly confined in by sharing sarcastic quips and overdramatized tales. To you, they had been almost friends. It only turned into a mistake once you asked about them. Their interests, if they had any, and if they had dreams and nightmares as they slept. Or whether they had aspirations beyond killing.
Which, you eventually found, they had. The lack of pushing for access should’ve set you off. How many began to fail to show up as you got a steady fanclub of creatures sharing the early to late evening hours with you. Six of them.
Four males, the three wearing hats standing to the sides. Two females, one younger looking with light brown hair.
All here.
So close to having caught you. Ignoring them made them more insistent. Punishing them with vitriol didn’t work. Every interaction turned into a weapon in their hands. Anger could be twisted into guilt, guilt into a chain that tugged you forward by the heart. And once they had a piece of your heart…
You shook your head.
Your solace was found in your fellow survivors. One especially.
A loud bang rattled through the small space, making you jump with a small cry. A palm sat on the glass. Planted there violently. It was all they could do now. Scare you from behind the doors.
“Sorry, dear, we know you’re frightened, but we can’t tolerate this,” a feminine voice continued from inside the building.
Her gentle cadence trickled over you, daring to take a tiny edge of fear away in its familiarity. Her silhouette watched you, your shape blurry to her as she was to you. Hair sat styled perfectly, a headband keeping the strands from falling down.
“Why don’t we try this—I count to five, and you open these doors.”
"You can’t touch me.”
“Yet,” the ginger whispered with a humourless giggle, fingers tapping rhythmically against the door. A dull, relentless drum, twisting your nerves taut as it rapped against the inside of your skull.
Ignoring you both, the female creature began her count down. “One.” She stretched the syllable out, like you were a child still learning numbers. “Two.”
Her counting was undercut by the insistent tapping of those fingers. Blending together in the still of the night, under the watchful gazes of the quiet monsters. All bearing down on your frazzled mind, churning out possible outcomes should you disobey.
“Three.”
But you were frozen, blood like lead holding your limbs in place.
“Four.”
You whimpered, soft and pathetic, knees pressing together.
The quiet stretched out, the second having passed already. They were giving you extra time to decide. As if you were truly idiotic for ignoring this last warning.
And that got your muscles thawing. Barely. Minimally. You stood, hovered, hesitated as you met her gaze through the frosted glass. Closed your eyes, screaming and crying on the inside—and sat back down, back thumping against the wall as you slid to the floor. Hoping you hadn’t doomed your beloved.
The final number, when it finally came, tasted like cold pins and pricks and cool fury. Draping a clogging sense of dread over you like a stifling cloud. It was short. Stripped of pretence.
“Five.”
The tapping stopped. Abrupt. Cutting your breath off.
They waited, letting the dread settle deep under your skin.
Your breaths pulled from your lungs with rejection of oxygen, vision blurring and zoning onto things too closely.
The palm still pressed to the glass. Their continuing presence despite fleeing people potentially being out, waiting to be caught. Her red lips pulled in a too wide grin. Mirroring the one you couldn’t see.
The anger you still tasted. Turning cold. Turning sharp. Turning fully against you.
“It’s such a shame you chose the hard way, dearheart,” he murmured.
“We’ll find the one who stole your pretty heart.” She chuckled, the laugh anything but kind. “Find it, and take it.”
“No—”
“Too late,” she sing-songed. “One day you’ll be in our hands. I hope you know what that means.”
Your brain tried to—refused to imagine what would happen. That type of violence had never been dealt out by them. Why would that change? Why you?
Why me, why me, why—
“Sleep tight,” the male creature said after you failed to say anything in time. Not that you had anything prepared.
You wanted to go home. Wanted the floor to swallow you up and never spit you out. If it meant you’d be safe, meant you never had to fall into those hands—
Tears pricked at your eyes. Feet twisted, shoes tapping away. Each branching off in their own direction.
All you wanted was a sliver of home. A person you could build something with.
Do you think any of the Creatures are ass eaters in addition to being munches? Not in the prepping for anal kind of way, but in the they just genuinely enjoy it and know it feels good kind of way
Short answer: yes.
Long answer: absolutely yes, but for very different reasons depending on the creature!
I’ll talk more below
Reader is AFAB.
Cowboy first, Smiley below.
18+
• One of the Cowboy’s favorite things is tasting you. His absolute favorite place to be is between your legs, your thighs clamped on either side of his head, your warmth seeping into his skin, blocking out everything but the heat of your core, your scent thick and heady, full of want directed at him.
• he absolutely loves when you tangle your hands into his hair and try and force him where you want him, as if you could ever command him if he didn’t choose to let you. But you’re you and so he does, chasing your taste with his tongue, licking into you with a growling, whining desperation that grants him his reward in the form of another gush of wetness seeping out of you and into his mouth.
• this is a dance he’s done since he first caught you, wide-eyed and frightened in the dark, your screams of fear turning quickly into pleas of desire beneath his touch.
• he’d enjoyed that too. The hunt and chase, stalking you slowly through the streets, enjoying the way your fear grew as his kin joined him, cutting you off from escape in their quest to help him, not that he needed it.
• you were always his, it just took you a little time to realize.
• but, what he hadn’t thought of, what he hadn’t even realized was an option, was your ass.
• another perk of offering you that slightest bit of control; you showed him the most wonderful ideas.
• you were overstimulated, your pretty clit a swollen, pulsing mess, each nerve lit up with pleasure and pain from the too-many orgasms he’d pulled from you, his tongue seeking still, lips wrapping around it, suckling, too much, too much, too—
• you moved, ignoring his snarl, the sting of claws burying into thighs as he started to tug you back to his mouth, and hovered your ass over his mouth instead.
• there was a split second of hesitation, of confusion—and then his tongue, long, warm, and wet ran gently over your rim, a quiet chuckle resounding through your skin at the sharp intake of your breath, the tensing of your thighs
• sensitive little thing, aren’t you?
• he’ll have to… see just how deep that sensitivity goes.
• can he make you shake and cry this way too?
• he’ll have to find out.
—
• Smiley knows exactly where to dig his claws to make a human beg to die while still keeping them mercilessly alive. He knows where to sink his many jagged teeth to taste the most fear while spilling the least blood, dragging it out until his prey bucks and cries and screams against him, unable to escape his grasp
• he’s had years—decades, centuries—to study what happens when each nerve is sliced, to find out just what happens when he peels the skin from a skull, or how a limb moves when he’s tugged on it until it’s hanging on by strips of skin and tendon
• but you’re not prey.
• you started out that way, sure, a funny way to pass the time, a refreshing change from the usual humans too frightened to entertain him, but by the time you’re drawn outside, your human heart pushing you to save the poor, unfortunate bodies his kin has already started to tear into, well… you’ve piqued his interest.
• so it’s only fair he shows you the same fascination and attention he shows his kills.
• your body’s a fragile, warm thing, the frantic beat of your heart loud enough to drown out the temptation of the hunt, and he takes his time once he’s got you pinned to the concrete, peeling away your clothes, studying each twitch of your face. the way your breath catches when his fingers brush against the hard nubs on your chest, the way you bite your lip to hold back a whimper when he slips his hand into your underwear, cupping you in his palm, fingers gliding through slick curls.
• interesting.
• your panties fall away in a quick slice of fabric, the sound causing your to whine, thighs threatening to close before he spreads them apart once more, trailing a finger slowly—teasingly—down your slit, savoring the frightened, needy sounds you make.
• he’s never heard them quite like that before. it’d be a shame to waste you like the others before he’s heard more.
• he turns you around, hands curling around the gloves of your ass, massaging so very gently, fingers tracing along the goosebumps that break out across the skin.
• it’s the way you clench that draws his attention to the hole there, kept hidden away from him.
• he presses his fingers against it first, a gentle, circular motion against your rim, and then a curious thought comes to him.
• his hand lowers, dipping into your sopping folds, fingers coming away slick with wetness. It sticks to his fingers when he spreads them experimentally in front of his face, bringing them to his lips and trailing his tongue along the sticky string.
• your taste is exquisite, a deep, salty manifestation of your want, and he tilts his head, a thoughtful hum echoing out of him.
• the sound makes you whine, squirming in his grasp, and he catches your shoulder, thumb pressing lightly into the tense flesh, pushing you back down.
• not now—he’s studying, don’t be rude.
• he massages your slick in soft circles around the puckered hole, shifting his body until he’s laid over you, before he slowly, experimentally, leans down, his tongue dipping gently into your entrance, eyes widening in surprise when your nails dig into the concrete, your ass bucking back against his face as if seeking more of the sensations he’s brought you.
• his grin widens, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes.
• he wonders how he should move his tongue to make you beg
• he licks a circle around your rim, teasingly flicking his tongue against your hole before pulling away altogether, leaving it ignored and wanting.
• you answer with a whine, falling right into his trap.
for the first few months you got trapped in this town, you've been observed by one of the creatures that seemed to grow fond of you to a concerning extent, gaining a twisted kind of obsession towards you till one night when a resident let one of the creatures inside the colony house—and you were kidnapped that night.
now he has you, and you have him, and that's final.
______________________________
HEADCANONS:
- when you first got captured, you've been wailing and screaming your heart out for him to let go as he carried you on the way to the caves, tears staining your cheeks as you flailed your arms around, grabbed his hair, his clothes, his face, anything that you convinced yourself would make him drop you, but he didn't budge.
he tried calming you down but you were far too absorbed by the fear of death that your cries drowned out his voice.
- you'd sit silently huddled against the farthest corner of your brand new "home", too afraid to make a move, like an inch would immediately call him over, so you sat like a statue.
- he'd try poking you into talking, even tug at your sleeve in an attempt to grab your attention, but you wouldn't move, that made him take the next step: pinching your cheek. that startled you out of your frozen state with a shriek as he grinned softly.
"there you are" he'd jovially comment, your reaction leaves him beaming.
- it'd be impossible to be alone, he'll keep you where he can see you at all times since he loves you now. and he'll be frequently around especially when you need to eat, he'll be there, might even hand feed you.
- the nicknames would be "Darling", "Dear", or "My Beloved". he'd call you any of these as he plays with your hair or cuddle with you; doesn't mean he'll tone down on the ridiculous ones like "scaredy cat" whenever you try to sneak through the tunnels to escape and he randomly appears out of nowhere, carrying you back to the room he specifically made for you.
- whenever he goes to sleep, he'd cage you with his arms around your torso and bury his face in the nape of your neck, and you'd shiver whenever you feel his face transform which you're kind of glad you can't see, given your position
you can't deny the teeth poking you sometimes though, it leaves you a nervous wreck till he wakes up.
and if he were to get credit for anything, it would be that he's mindful of his face shifting in sleep and has to have you facing away from him so he doesn't scare you into oblivion, still you lose sleep due to the fangs behind you.
- he'd take you outside once in a while to allow you a moment to breathe in the air, and of course you'd try to break free the second the air hits you, but the chance is slim to none when he's carrying you with a firm grip, he's that confident.
- he'd love hearing your heartbeat. when it accelerates every time he's near, when it's steady during sleep, he'd cuddle with you just so he could rest his head right where your heart sits to listen to it, a sound the shriveled one inside him will never resonate with.
- he'd like to have you sleeping on top of him sometimes (similar to otters). doesn't matter if there was already a soft bedding for you to lie on, he wants to look less threatening to you, he'd even ruffle your hair as you fight your sleep, too alerted by the idea you're that damn close to something that likes tearing people apart with a sadistic smile.
you'd eventually lose the battle, slipping into slumber as his fingers finally whisk you into a deep sleep, gently tangling themselves in your locks. you'd admit you like the tenderness he somehow possesses.
- his kisses are gentle, he'd give you one on the cheek, on the forehead, even nuzzle your face, you'd forget for a second that it's a creature showing you affection. he'd caress your face with his thumbs over your cheeks, occasionally calling you sweet names.
- don't assume that he doesn't need some affection back, you've plagued his non-beating heart into capturing you, so least you can do is show him some appreciation for not killing you right away.
he'd love for you to hold his face in your hands, he'd melt like butter though it won't show. mess with his hair, kiss him, bite him (yes bite him) he'll appreciate anything you give him, even a small hug would do.
________________________________
i feel like i flopped somewhere pls let me know what you think i'm exploding
I bet the noises the cowboy would make when eating someone out would be so damn hot like I can’t imagine him being quiet about it. I feel like he’d growl and snarl and trill into their pussy the whole time, especially if they tried to pull away when it got too overstimulating, just a low, deep warning growl that he’d follow with teeth before even giving them a chance to correct themselves because no, he’s gonna punish that particular mistake now so they don’t think they can do it again, he doesn’t stop his feast until he’s ready.
I kinda feel like he’d be oddly frantic about it too like he’s usually so cool and collected but the second he tastes them on his tongue that goes out the window and he’s purring at their taste after he’s made them cum and trying to lick deeper into them in search of more and whining ugh
Noisy cowboy my beloved.
He’d deny it all if they ever called him out though like noises, what noises, must have been them, he was in control the whole time
—Fromthetreess
Dangggg, I had to reread this a few times, for, uh, science.
I genuinely believe the Cowboy would happily spend hours between his human's thighs everyday. Especially after he just woke up. He craves for his human as if he's dying of thirst. He won't mind waking you up with his tongue either.
He might be able to keep his cool when going down, but usually only at the beginning. He'd get so overwhelmed by everything. From your scent, to your taste, to your gasps and moans. Then he pulls you as close as possible, pressing you all the way to his face without any chance of escape. Oh, and he'd probably love if your full on sit on his face and grind on his tongue. He'd be practically humping the air, growling and purring in content.
But now imagine what he'd be like afterwards 😏
He'd be so needy and eager to be inside you. Digging nails in your thighs and hips in his attempt to bring you closer. I think he'd be just as vocal about this as he is about going down on you. And he wouldn't be shy about using a little force if you whine about being a little too numb and overstimulated all at once.
He knows he can pull at least one more orgasm from you, and with the lingering taste of you on his tongue, cumming inside or over your pussy and chest would be all that's on his mind. He'll be far rougher after going down on you first. The things he'd say in that moment are less cloaked by his usual suave persona, and can appear downright unhinged.
And afterwards, after he's done kneading at you and purring against you, he'll act like nothing happened 😭
Donning his beloved hat and fucking off while whistling—
Been thinking about Stalker! Reader. maybe she used to do it before coming to fromville. Now their attention is on the monsters. Like to the point she can sneak up on the creatures.
Somehow, reader has things from the creatures they've taken. And gets embarrassed when they find it. Pictures, clothing items, also hair? Things where theyd wonder when reader got it without them noticing. Extremely absurd close ups that there like??When did you take this? I never saw you??With any creature of your choice, (plus smiley cause i love him)
I just imagine reader coming into Fromville with those creepy camera sunglasses and mourning the fact they won’t work anymore.
Also, to summarize this:
Normal people getting stalked: 😨
The creatures: 😍🥰🥰
-——————————————————————-
The Creatures with a Stalker! reader
It’s unusual for them to be caught off guard. The human with the camera slung around their fragile neck managed it. Multiple times. No one, including the other residents, knew of the things you hid. Neither did the creatures.
You merely made pictures and shared them freely. Who’d expect you hid so much?
● Smiley had been curious about your hobby. Mainly because nothing he could see from your room showed where you kept some of the collections you spoke off. You had appeared embarrassed after you mentioned them. The reveal had been a mistake then.
● Your room was tiny. Closer to a broomcloset than a bedroom. He could give you more than this. Somewhere with space for the collections you did show, plastered on the walls.
● In this tiny room, there shouldn’t be a single spot where you could hide anything significant. The exception would be your bed. Underneath was plenty of room. You were too smart to hide valuables there, but it was the only spot he currently saw. And he smelled a secret.
● The night Kevin gave entrance to them, was when he finally had the chance to find out. He was nearly as giddy about that as he was over the lives he got to snuff out, their fear thick on his tongue. Alas, after opening the door to your room, he couldn’t find you. It was as if you had vanished. Odd. He was sure you had been there from the rustling noises.
● His gaze went to the bed. Peering underneath, he almost expected to find you there. You couldn’t have fled so fast. But you weren’t there. What he found instead was one of those polaroids. It lay there as if forgotten in a moment of haste. Dislodged after scrambling to collect anything of value, left to flutter down under your bed.
● He took it, eager to see if it was part of what you hid. He blinked the second his eyes landed on the picture, a reflexive motion that served no purpose beyond showing his surprise.
● The polaroid… It was one of his brethren depicted there. Close and without anything between that revealed it was taken from inside. Nothing that suggested the interior of a building. No windows, no doors, no walls. You had been outside. His pupils blew as excitement twitched in his chest.
● He went to look around your room, sparse as it was. There were no other pictures. That mattered none. He had a piece of the puzzle and he’d selfishly keep it. That unfortunately meant placing it back where he found it. If you believed someone took it, you might stop with your collections altogether. He’ll figure you out. Wait you out.
● The next nights, he watched you not up close, but from afar, studying you as you interacted with his brethren. His new approach piques both your and his brethren's interest.
● Now that he knew to watch… He found you sneaked out at least once every night. With your camera in tow. You were quiet. Quieter than even them. Swift and precise. Stalking your prey without their notice, raising your camera with consideration, adding more to your forbidden collection. Leaving with your price while his brethren questioned where some of their most beloved possessions had vanished.
● Heat snapped under his skin, hunger tightening in knots. Had you been of a more violent constitution, you’d make a wonderful killer.
● And there was something within him that wanted that part of you. You may covet mere pieces of them. But he knew your game now… He’d have to be the better still, and show you, you can have everything of him.
● All it would take was the pretence he never knew of your ambush skills. Then he could finally sate his curiosity regarding your taste.
● Contrary to what you believed, he had picked up on some strange changes. The Cowboy kept his possessions carefully ordered. He knew all his priced trophies by heart. None of his brethren would have moved his things around. So who did?
● The question bothered him during his waking hours. Worse when he’d settle down to rest. He had gone through his possessions prior to sleep. When he woke… another item was gone. The pocket watch he’d treasured.
● Someone was taking his things. A human. If the time the watch vanished wasn’t a tell, then the lingering scent was. The darkening sensation in his chest was neither fury nor amusement.
● Whoever this human was, they had been subtle at first. Taking smaller things that would be invisible to many. But not to him. He has collected his hoard over time, adding only the best or pieces of his most enjoyable kills.
● He’d catch the little thief in the act. If they were still brave enough to return.
● And brave they were. He had kept his eyes closed, seated against a wall as he always did. He hadn’t heard anything. No shuffling feet. No breathing. Until rummaging began. This time… not with his things. But another’s possessions. He was not your only victim then.
● Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding a human clothed from head to toe. Unidentifiable. But the scent…
● Had he a beating heart, it would've thrilled with excitement.
● It was you. The strange human who talked with them. The human he swore he glimpsed outside on rare occasions. A sweet thing. And apparently a little needy for pieces of him. You’d even began taking what was his. As if clothing yourself with him.
● The question changed. No longer centered on identity, but on what. What did you do with your stolen goods?
● You rummaged quietly through the pile. Stilling after picking something up. You turned to his companion, a pair of scissors in hand. One with a swan-like handle.
And…
● She had been just as awake as the other. He had not been alone in his observations. Her prettiest earrings had gone missing. The Handbag lady understood why you’d take those. She had done the same to the woman they used to belong to. It was alright to borrow them, but keeping them all to yourself? Now, that was simply not done.
● At Colony House, she’d tried to find you as well. Perhaps she shared this defect with you, as she had wanted to add you to her collection. You could have her earrings, clothes and more, just as you had mumbled about when especially fatigued. She liked the idea. It would be adding one possession of hers to mark the other.
● Your, frankly, barren room had been empty of life. But the window had been untouched. Your door closed as if no one had left. A panicking human wouldn’t be closing anything behind them in their attempt to flee. Looking under your bed was natural then, as the only hiding place left.
● But the picture under your bed—touched by another curious soul—had been an unexpected twist. She flipped it in hand, smile freezing. She blinked at the image of herself. It had been taken from the side, her red lips stretched in a grin, fingers grasping the strap of her bag as she wandered. It was taken from the trees. Outside.
● It had captured her intrigue. Your camera wasn’t merely for making still lifes of anything mundane and your fellow humans. You must’ve been capturing their image more often than not. All without anyone’s knowledge. And, oh, she burned a little at that. How talented you were, how quiet. It would be lovely to shatter that quiet.
● The pair of scissors nearing her hair intrigued her far less. You knew how she adored her hair, and yet you’d tarnish it? Greedy humans like you require proper punishment.
● She wouldn’t be delivering it on her own. Curious steps wandered over, too quiet for you to hear in your distraction. Your heart must be thrumming so loudly in your pretty head, blood rushing and blocking your hearing. The confidence in his steps told her he had caught on as well.
● You had gotten comfortable.
● How fortunate they all had different uses for your life beyond that of a toy ready to be discarded.
● She let the scissor inch closer, your fingers slowly raising a few strands. She could barely contain her response, desire aching in her teeth, curling lower in her body at your proximity. Such a talented little hunter you were. So close to your target.
But they had played this game far longer. Patience was always rewarded. And in the dark, your human eyes failed to notice the two shadows falling over you.
Inspired by our lovely Kevin thinking he should shoot his shot with Jasmine, just as reader does with Cowboy here :)
Cowboy creature x afab! reader (though gender is never mentioned)
Word Count: 7.866
Warnings: Dubious consent only because of the sex pollen premise (cowboy is the one affected). Face-fucking. PiV sex. Rough sex. Biting. Plot.
-——————————————————————-
“These are really pretty.”
Plucked flowers sat arranged in the girls hands, their fragrant petals fully bloomed. You inhaled the subtle sweet scent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this species before.”
“I don’t think I have either. They look like a type of orchid.” The girl beside you adjusted her glasses with a demure smile. “Do you like them?”
“Absolutely,” you said, accepting the bouquet with a quick grin. “They smell really—”
A buzz neared, followed by a bee hovering close to the flowers. You tensed, sitting more akin to a statue as it landed on one, then the next and the next in search of nectar. Its stinger way too close to your fingers. You exhaled once it finally left after finding none.
“They do seem to attract attention.” You glared halfheartedly at the girl. “Sorry,” she said, looking down. “But they smell good, is what you were going to say?”
The pinkish petals shone bright under the sun. As though they lit up with joy… For your anniversary of being here. It seemed quite bitter to celebrate being stuck one more year. You had believed you'd escaped the tradition after leaving Colony House. “Yeah…”
“Were you hoping someone else would give you flowers?”
Heat flushed in your cheeks. “What?” You dropped your arm back down to the log beneath you two, the breeze rustling at your clothes. “No. No, that’s… ridiculous.”
“Well, I think that if you like flowers, maybe you should try giving them yourself.”
Confess first? To him? Fat chance.
“...Most guys don’t seem to like flowers though.” And the ‘guy' you had in mind especially not. Not that you could even properly grant them to him anyway.
An odd little smile pulled at her lips. “Try. I’m sure if he likes you, he’ll adore anything you’d give him. I can help make a bouquet.”
-——————————————————————-
Hope was a cruel thing.
The sweet scent had dulled to your senses, though everyone you came across stated the flowers smelled wonderful. Asking where you got them from and from who especially. Only to wind up teasing you over the lucky recipient after you stated their purpose, much to your consternation.
You stared at the red ribbon keeping the bouquet together. Was it too much? Too girly? Would it offend him? With a sigh you leaned back in your chair, taking a sip from your water and wringing the clammy glass between your fingers after.
He’d arrive soon. His first stop was always your window. Sometimes it seemed to be his only true stop.
A false form of flattery. Worse—an effective form of false flattery.
The bouquet drew your attention again. It was delusional to leave something like this out in the vain hope it’d be appreciated. Your fingers twitched with the urge to snap them back up. Glancing further down the street, it was well past the time to linger on regrets. Shapes drifted through the town like pale ghosts, spilling from the forest and from between houses. Eerily human until you got too close. You searched amongst them, for the one that had your heart currently racing.
And you didn’t need to search for long. One peeled away from the road, casually beelining for your window. The sway of his hips brought a smile to your features. His already sat in a smile—another facette—and if you used your imagination you could say it looked happy. Your stomach flipped, eyes drifting down.
Perhaps he was happy. You couldn’t imagine it was for the same reason. His cold heart didn’t beat for you, nor could it hope to effectively pretend to.
His gaze never left you the second he paved his way over. It was the same every night. Except as you glanced back up, his piercing gaze had turned towards the flowers instead.
“Howdy, darling.” He nodded at the bouquet, something cooler falling over his features. A pretence? Surely, it had to be. “Should I be jealous?”
“O-oh, no.” You scrambled with your glass, clicking it down too hard on the table, its contents nearly sloshing over the side. “They’re not for me. I… I got them for you.”
His smile became lopsided, sending a twisty, curl in your stomach. “For me,” he mused. “Color me surprised.” The creature’s head craned down, his brim hiding his eyes from view as he studied the gift splayed out over the window sill. Then he glanced up, an emotion flashing through his eyes that you couldn’t read. “Making me look bad for not getting you anything first.” His hands left his belt to cradle the bouquet, amusement clearing whatever had lurked beneath.
One of your shoulders lifted in a shrug. “There’s not much I need.”
That focus sharpened. “Maybe there is something,” he murmured. “Shame you won’t let me inside.”
Warmth surged in your belly in time with an icy stab, your eyes averting. “You know that’s impossible.” Your fingers found one another, wringing them.
He remained quiet for a long time, studying you as creatures behind him went about their rusted routines. “Lot’s of things are possible, sweetheart. Sometimes,” he said, stepping closer to the window to whisper, “you just have to be brave.”
Your mouth opened, hand twitching with an urge you struggled to deny—
A knock had you jump, head snapping back to the door. Your name rang muffled from behind the wood. “Can we talk?”
Quickly, you grabbed the curtain.”Yeah, just a sec, Sophia.” You turned back to the creature whose face had fallen back into a familiar bland smile. “We’ll talk later.” He nodded, holding the flowers in one hand. The sight had butterflies fluttering inside your belly. Even if the way they hung at his side seemed a disservice to their beauty. “Goodnight.”
He tipped his hat without a word. But as you closed the curtains…
You swore his eyes were more intense than any prior interaction.
-——————————————————————-
“Did you try it?”
You nodded with a slight smile.
“And?” The girl leaned forward, curiosity alight on her features. “What did he think?”
“He accepted the bouquet, so I think he likes them?”
Her eyes crinkled. “I’m glad. I could help arrange another—” She leaned on the table—
It creaked.
Flipped.
Both of you gasped as glasses went flying and shattered on the ground. The girl stumbled, fell, grabbing hold of your reaching hand—pulling you down as the chair toppled, your other arm reaching to catch yourself as the floor rushed up—
Sharp pain flared up your palm, followed by a hot sting. You hissed, redness slicking up your shaking fingers when you lifted it.
“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. Here—” She grabbed a cloth from the bar, bringing it over to press to the wound. “I’m so, so sorry. I am always so—”
“It’s fine, Sophia. Accidents happen.”
She helped clean up, the wound turning out to be barely worthy to be called a cut. It had simply bled a lot. Sure stung though. After making sure it wouldn't reopen, you both stared at the mess.
“I’ll clean this up,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”
You turned her way. “I’ll help. It’s really no problem.”
She smiled. “Alright.”
And while you were busy clearing shards from the floor…
You failed to notice her pocket the cloth soaked with your blood.
-——————————————————————-
Another bouquet was lifted from the window sill, close to gently. Astounding for a being like him. As if the hands holding it were afraid to ruffle even a single petal.
“I’m starting to think you really like me, sweetheart.”
“I do enjoy your company.”
The creature’s attention lingered on the flowers. It was a different mix this time around. A common occurrence after Sophia began helping with the search of flowers. She had a better eye for what looked well together. A skill she’d picked up from her mother, she had said.
“I enjoy yours as well.” His expression flattened, threading tension through yours. “I’d… hoped you’d trust me by now.” He searched your face. “Not all of us are the same.”
You bit your lip. “I can never know that for sure.”
“I don’t blame you.” Your eyes widened with surprise. The sight brought a small, crooked grin back on him. “None of them have given you a reason to believe me.”
Your lips rose in an answering grin. Tentative, after you spotted how his eyes darkened. “Murder does reflect badly on you.”
The cowboy chuckled, an emotion more genuine simmering beneath. “Sweetheart, I’ll make sure you’re surrounded by them flowers when I get you.” He lifted the bouquet, studying them with a peculiar glint. “You’d look good pressed onto them.”
Heat crept up your cheeks. “You kept them?” You chose to ignore the implication. Not that you could be sure if it was the one rose colored glasses demanded. If you took them off… perhaps you’d instead see the funeral he had prepared with your gifts.
He grinned, that glint remaining. “All of them.”
-——————————————————————-
“My mother always said that men sometimes need a little push.”
“To…?”
The girl arranged the flowers, bringing them together into something beautiful. A few of them stood out amongst otherwise sweet notes. They almost reeked off… spoiled meat. She turned to you, that mysterious, little smile playing on her lips. The one that had your spine stiffen and chills crawling over your skin.
“To understand.”
Whatever retort you had died, a whisper of discomfort wrapping around your neck as she tied a deep red ribbon around the stems. The scent… it turned your stomach, a part deep down whispering there was something off about this.
-——————————————————————-
The creature arrived later than usual despite his kin roaming the streets. It was nearing the time when others would start to make their attempts.
If things followed any kind of order still, that was.
Lately they stopped coming over. At most, you’d get a jaunty wave from a few.
It was only the cowboy now.
The creature appeared longer at your window. Sometimes sticking to the point your heart jumped with the idea he might be reluctant to leave. The emotion in his eyes could only belong to a monster longing to kill, however. And perhaps it should unnerve you that other creatures avoided you. As if the cowboy had staked his claim.
It shouldn’t make your heart leap up, because he…
You suppressed a sigh, watching the lady in the swingcoat curl her fingers in a wave, her smile pleased for reasons unknown. Perhaps she knew where the cowboy had gone.
The strange bouquet would wait for the whole night if it had to. You wouldn’t. Not even for him. You’d have to explain why the gift hadn’t been received. Though, Sophia didn’t know what ‘man’ you were talking with. Strangely, she never asked.
The ribbon on the bouquet stood out harshly amongst green stems, the red seemingly bleeding into the stems. That strange scent of decay had mixed over time with something tangy. It truly smelled like rot now. The sweetness of surrounding flowers couldn’t mask it anymore.
You hadn’t mentioned it. Neither had Sophia. Maybe she hadn’t smelled it, though you were hard pressed to believe that. But you had been curious, so curious to find out whether he’d like the scent.
You took a swipe over the streets again, but the one you sought still wasn’t there.
As the moon steadily rose, disappointment nestled somewhere in your chest. You reached, grasping the curtain—
Stilled to crane your head. Listened.
Footsteps got closer, softened by grass. Your hand dropped with a stumbling pulse. From the side, he appeared. Smiling with his hands on his belt as always.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, taking his hat off and placing it over his chest. His combed back hair rustled lightly with his head tilt. Those wide eyes appeared painfully sincere. “Tried to get you something special, but all things special take time.” He fished something from his pocket, presenting it.
Nestled in his palm sat a crooked thing. Pale, slightly yellow in tint, rounded and slimmer at one end.
A… tooth?
You blinked at it, getting closer to the glass. And yes, it was indeed a tooth. A big canine. Root and all.
“Where did you get this from?” The answer spun like dread through your mind. He must have—
His smile twisted, gaze eagerly taking you in. “I had to search far and wide for it. Bears are pretty rare around these parts.”
A bear… He killed a bear for you. The strangest combination of flattery and horror twisted into a concoction of pure speechlessness.
“...I’m not sure what to say.”
“A ‘thank you’ would be nice for starters,” he said smoothly, cheeks creasing.
Warmth flooded your body, eyes averting long enough to take a steadying breath. “Thank you,” you said quietly.
The creature tilted his head. “What was that?”
“I said—you know what, no. I’m not playing this game.”
He chuckled, eyes drifting to the bouquet. “You might consider it a strange gift, but yours are no different.” You turned to the flowers as well. The white and pink sparsely broken by some yellow.
A laugh startled out of you as a thought popped up. He looked at you curiously, head swaying lightly. “I’m not giving you teeth.” His smile gained a smug tilt. His usual way of laughing. Then he pressed closer to the window, settling his hat back in place with a single motion.
“I do expect a little teeth,” he said sweetly, his index finger pointing to the side of his throat. “Here.” Then pointed lower to his collar, focussing on your widening eyes. “And here.” When his finger lowered only further, you rushed up from your chair, the thing wobbling in place.
“Woah, woah,” you whisper yelled, hands flailing, “we get the message.”
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Would you like teeth?”
You spluttered for a second. “Listen here, mister cowboy man, why don’t we finish up exchanging gifts for now and go to bed.” That dastardly smile only widened further. “W-well, no, not together—I’ll go to bed and… sleep, yes, sleep.” You nodded to yourself, heat clinging to your skin like sticky humidity.
He hummed, head tilting in thought, amusement bright in his countenance. “I did come a little late,” he mused, but thankfully stopped with the deadly teasing. The massive tooth was placed on the sill beside the flowers, tenderly as though it were precious. The odd sight worsened the fluttering sensation low in your body. The way he, a being so inhuman, carefully lifted the bouquet. Like he thought your gift even more precious.
He brought them closer, face mostly hidden by his brim.
And…
Grew stiff. The barely there—soft, your mind supplied—smile dropping. His shoulders tensed, muscles snapping visibly taut.
“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, an edge in it that set off a slow shiver, “you didn’t make these alone, did you?”
“...You got me. I’m not that skilled yet.” You chuckled, froze and shuddered. “Why, can you smell that?”
His posture was ramrod straight, only his head remained craned down. “Maybe… it’s time to prove it.”
A crease settled between your brows. “Prove it?”
“Open the window for me.” His voice became slightly gravelly.
There was a whisper inside that zoned in on the way he dropped the flowers to his side. Not letting go, but certainly not bringing it close to his chest as he was wont to do.
“Sara and Sophia wouldn’t appreciate that, I’m sure.”
A close mouthed chuckle shook through his shoulders, his face lifting up. What you saw made you step back, heart dropping. His eyes weren’t merely blown, they were close to wild.
“Don’t care ‘bout them,” he said, that rare Western accent peeking through. A phenomena that you associated with… emotion. Stress. “I only want to see you without that damn window between us.”
You studied him for a second, your pulse thudding louder. He had never cursed prior to now. “I don’t know what brought this on, but I won’t let you inside.”
The way he stared, you could only describe as predatory, fingers curling at his side as if ready to sling his hypothetical gun up. “Darlin’.” His jaw twitched. “What's a man gotta do to get you to step outside?”
The corner of your lips tugged up, a hollow pang following. “Well… be an actual man, I’d say.”
Something colder and older than you understood passed like a dark shadow over his eyes. Making you swallow. Hard. “I’m sorry.” You reached for the curtain, ignoring him as he stepped even closer to the window. “I have to go.” You ignored the call following after you. Snuffed out the lights and pretended to sleep as he remained standing.
You kept your eyes closed, but your ears…
Lazy knocking filtered through perfectly.
…Noise could not be shut out.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “didn’t mean to frighten ya. Could we talk a bit more?”
“I do need to sleep,” you replied in a whisper.
“You never answered my question.” You inhaled slowly. “Whether you like teeth.”
And promptly stopped breathing mid exhale. "What's with you, tonight? You…”
…were never this bold.
Your pulse beat louder, reaching your throat as you watched the curtain, his shape hidden fully from view.
“It’s the thought of having to wait all day to see you again.
That beating organ inside you softened, painful longing mourning with it now. “I think the tooth is worth a few hours less.” His first gift. Strange, but oddly fitting for a being like him. It took effort to the point he was hours late. “But please, I need to sleep. You know you kept me up last night too,” you joked, stifling a yawn.
The quiet that followed sat heavy between you, his own laughter or sassiness nonexistent when it shouldn’t be. Tension snaring tighter the longer he remained close.
“...Sleep well, sweetheart.” The tone was wrong. Strained and nearly shaky.
Before you could say anything, his steps faded. And you swore they did so with more haste than usual.
-——————————————————————-
“What did he think of our latest bouquet?”
“He… I don’t know. He acted strange. I swear he liked them, but he got a little… insistent?” You traced the tooth in your pocket, invisible to all but your touch. “He did get me something this time though.”
Sophia’s eyes grew wider. "Really?" She leaned towards you. “What did he get?”
You chuckled, cleared your throat, thinking of the madness you could say.
He found an animal I wasn’t aware existed here, fucking killed it, took its tooth and cleaned it thoroughly before dumping it on my sill. Oh, and he was somehow not even soaked in blood despite, and I repeat, killing a bear.
Instead you turned to her with a crooked grin and said, “It’s a bit special to fully explain, but he did put a lot of effort into it.”
She hummed. “Something he could’ve been planning for a long time, you mean?”
That had you pause, fingers stilling. The creature might've been searching far longer than you knew. Maybe for multiple nights. Using a predator's logic, killing and presenting a tooth from such a dangerous and rare animal was likely extremely meaningful. That hope inside you bloomed into a familiar ache.
“Yeah.”
Sophia looked up in thought. ”Maybe by giving you something, he… uhm, expects more?”
“Like he thinks he can buy me, you mean?” you stated, raising your brows. Wondering not for the first time why you were discussing these things with a kid. A weirdly wise one, but a kid all the same.
She looked down, flustered. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No. I think you could be right. Maybe,” you said, insides churning, “he does think I’m easy.”
Easy prey, that is.
-——————————————————————-
Like any other night, you grabbed a glass, filled it with water and went to your room, biding the other two inhabitants goodnight. The only difference was how you’d ignore the glitter in Sophia’s eyes. She couldn’t know that the bouquets she helped make all found their way on the windowsill.
Not that there was one tonight.
You clicked the door shut behind you. Sighed wearily as you approached the curtain. First placing your glass down, then reached to pull the fabric aside—
A gasp pushed from between your lips, a hand darting to your chest.
"Holy shit.” It came out shrill enough that your muscles tensed. You strained your ears, but the house remained silent afterwards, showing no indication anyone heard.
Expect for him.
The creature opposite you more or less stared you down, eyes darkened and even wilder than the previous evening. If anything, you’d say he looked haggard. His hair was ruffled in places beneath his hat, as if he had clawed at it. His collar sat rumpled around his neck, the bolo slightly askew. Your eyes trailed a tear in the front of his shirt. Not bad enough to split the fabric wholly, but visible all the same.
“Sweetheart,” he said, tone husky, stirring a well known heat low in your body. “How have you been?”
“No different than yesterday.”
He stepped closer. “Slept well?” You nodded after a while, wondering why he asked these things. His eyes trailed over your form, darting quickly over everything and seemingly nothing. Lingering on—
“Eyes up here, buddy.” And that’s where they went. Locking onto yours as if he wanted to swallow you whole. Your throat tightened.
“Did you keep it?”
You blinked at his bland smile, but it appeared off. As if his teeth didn’t fully fit his current form. You gulped, then fished the tooth from your pocket. His head craned forward, a—a fucking rumble of approval coming from his chest.
“I keep yours too. I meant that.” He said, grin sharper than you’d ever seen. “Let me show you.”
“Haha.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you think giving me one thing would make me jump all over you? Don’t get me wrong, you must’ve put in a lot of effort in finding a bear, but—”
Your mouth snapped shut. He… began pacing, hands on his belt, gaze fixed like a shining beam onto your form. Back and forth he went along the short span before your window.
“If you were that easy,” his teeth snapped together, lips lifting to bare them, “I’d have you ridin’ me already.”
A shock of heat pulled at your nerves, flashing through your whole face. “That—, I…”
His fingers curled tighter around his belt, a sound close to a whine hissing past those clenched teeth. And when you let your gaze drop—
“Oh…”
There was a very obvious… problem… there.
“Are you in heat or something?”
The look he shot you sent a different kind of warmth to your cheeks. You averted your eyes momentarily, but like a magnet, his seeming desperation drew them back. His pacing was like clockwork. Exactly six steps to the right, and six back to the other side, head swiveling to keep you in sight.
“Your little gift did this.” He still managed to talk steadily. Using that overly cheerful tone.
But your gift… The rot scented flowers…?
Blood seeped from your face. This must’ve started yesterday then. The sudden change wasn’t because of his gift and his belief he could persuade you—it was because of yours.
“I think you should take responsibility." Those words dropped like a bomb stubbornly keeping itself from exploding.
“Woah, they were just flowers! I didn’t know they’d do this,” you rushed out with some near stumbles, hands raised up. Dropping them quickly as the submissive quality blew a deeper blackness into his eyes. “I’ve been giving them for months now.”
His gaze roved over your body, the burn heated and invasive as if he had already claimed the skin hidden under admittedly very little clothes. Shorts and a top with slippers.
“What you got between them legs gets compared to flowers too, you know.” Your lips parted, eyes widening. “You have no others prepared.” He nodded to the empty sill.
“You’re asking for a lot there,” you said, voice pitching higher, a stilted chuckle cutting off when you turned back.
“Whether today, tomorrow or years into the future, one day you’d be caught.” You gulped, unable to ignore how he followed the motion. “Why not now? I can show you what I’ve prepared for you.”
The bait was set, waiting to be bitten. And even though you saw it being placed, you already felt wetness trickling in your underwear, those wide eyes and bared teeth an alluring, yet poisonous scent that drew you in all the same. Your hand drifted to the latch, shaking as fingers took hold of it. He stilled in his pacing, twisting rigidly your way. Following the way you pulled it up and open.
You reached to push, froze with your heart in your throat, staring at creatures beyond him. Creatures who’d kill you without hesitation. The cowboy stepped forward to fill your sight, gaze starving and piercing and raising that heat higher. You almost made a sound.
“Just one little push, sweetheart, and I’ll be yours.”
The window groaned in a high pitch, rusted metal fighting back against said final push. One you hadn’t consciously made.
The glass lifted, its sheen no longer dulling his shape. That pale skin touched by distant streetlights, shadowing his face partly. Teeth that gleamed, eyes that shone.
He smiled, cheeks twitching as if containing the sharp teeth hidden impossibly beneath. Reaching a steady hand to you. Waiting for you to take it. Your mind still screamed you could turn back. It planted itself in his anyway, shocking warmth seeping into your skin.
Fingers clasped over yours and with a gentle tug, he pulled you forward. Helping your legs sling over and out. Guiding your feet to land before him.
And you shook.
Shook as his grin appeared more a snarl up close. Throat tightening under that animalistic hunger. His gaze dipped down to follow the bop of your throat again. Weight settled on your shoulders.
Pushing.
Trembling knees gave out immediately. Eagerly. You never broke eye-contact, craning your head to stare past his chest to his wild expression. He worked on his belt, slowly looping it loose. Excitement zapped up your spine, kicking your pulse straight into overdrive.
This was really happening.
“You gave me quite a terrible day’s worth of sleep.”
You had dreamt of this.
“I think you should apologize, dollface.” His member was freed, not flushed like you had expected, but painfully hard. Thick. Too big to fit in your mouth. You’d try anyway. Saliva pooled at the challenge. “Open your mouth.”
It wasn’t a request.
You hesitated to follow through. Not because of the vulnerability, the cruelty he had to be capable of—but because of the other creatures out there. You tried to look sideways—
Fingers firmly grasped your jaw, digging in with unnecessary force, twisting you back.
“Don’t look at them. They already know to leave you be.” Those fingers slid down, wrapping around your throat. “Now… don’t make me repeat myself.”
His hold kept you in place, your walls clenching at the subtle strength, already aching for him. His eyes promised a more forceful approach if you denied him. Tempting as it was… your lips parted. “Stick your tongue out.” Heat flared in your cheeks, but you complied, panting already. “Good.”
His cock slapped on your tongue, heavy and tasteless, the wet sound a small taste of what would follow. Those eyes were close to pitch black as they watched your tongue wrap around his head.
Air flowed with growing difficulty past his tightening grip. Your pulse fluttered against his fingers—a subtle shake in them that you couldn’t resist pushing. Holding onto his thighs, you tried to take more inside your mouth.
He didn’t let you, his free hand snapping up to grab the back of your head. Rumbling came from his chest, face morphing into a snarl. Not yet morphing into the nightmare lurking under his skin. You hoped to see it. The other face that he staunchingly hid.
The muscles of his thighs tensed beneath you, his feet shuffling wider apart. The grip on his jeans tightened—preparing, jaw slack and throat fighting not to clench—reflexively shutting your eyes when his hips thrust forward. Not rough like you expected, but slowly sliding over your tongue as if to test the waters.
He still tasted like nothing. No scent came from him beyond that of old clothes and nature and something like cool stone underneath.
That grip on you tightened as you sucked on his head, massaging the underside of his head. Nearly snaring of your breath. Your vision blurred, head growing wonderfully fuzzy. A soft sound, akin to a gasp, fell beautifully from his lips. Hips stuttering as if they didn’t know whether to push forward or to pull away. And that was reward enough.
He must be sensitive. All night and day he must’ve suffered.
You grinned as much as you could around him, looking up to meet his shadowed eyes. Ignoring the throbbing ache below, you reached for the hand behind your head. Tracing tight knuckles and an iron hold. Placed your hand flat over his. And applied pressure. Pushing.
Showing him what you want.
As if something snapped within him, as if he needed that permission, he thrust deeper, a low snarl rattling from him. Filling your mouth with no mercy until he hit the back.
Your throat squeezed, a wet gag pushing past the cock pushing too deep, hitting the back insistently. There he remained, making you fight not to struggle.
You moaned, his thighs trembling minuscously harder underneath you. He wasn’t deep enough. Not anywhere close to being all the way inside. Your nails dug into his jeans, your other inching down your front to the joint of your body.
Blinking up at him, his gaze burned into you, his cock twitching the second you made eyecontact. He followed your hand as it disappeared beneath your shorts, watching as if mesmerised by the motions your fingers made hidden from sight.
The touch of his gaze alone invoked sparks.
Without that wildness, that urgency, you were sure he’d have stopped you from touching yourself.
“Take a deep breath,” he murmured, voice deeper, breathier, than you’d ever heard in the past. His face strove to remain passive. You wanted to shatter that resolve.
So you listened, inhaled, heart beating with exhilaration. Then you held on, his thighs tensing.
His length slid back. Only his head rested inside. Burying back in as deep as you could handle with nary a second between. Groaning came from above, his hips quickly finding a rhythm.
Without giving you any time to get used to the invasion. Thrusting without even a second spared for you to take a much needed breath, head spinning and emptying deliciously with every push and pull.
The heat inside you seared at the roughness, your core tightening in time with his fingers. Cutting of more air. You gagged wetly. But he pushed harder against you, unable to pop inside your throat.
Had he been clearer of mind, you’d expect teasing, guidance, sudden roughness or unexpected gentleness.
But he wasn’t.
Mindless growls and whimpering left him when you gagged a second time. His hold on you tightened when you tried to pull back, shackling your head in place like you were nothing but a stubborn toy. He pulled back, sped up, keeping most of his length inside. Humping more than thrusting, keeping you on the verge of gagging. His body tilted forward, curling over you as if he’d topple anytime.
Your tongue wrapped around his length, saliva wetting your chin. Raking nails down his thighs, harshly, warningly, had him whine, hips shaking as his knees nearly buckled. Electricity shot down your spine, goosebumps rising at the sounds he made, the wet sounds coming from you.
Pride rushed through your struggling chest, every breath preciously sparse, yet plentiful to keep taking him, having him slide along your tongue. Desperate to get as deep as possible like he was nothing but a rutting beast.
He’d hate seeing himself like this. It’s why you loved it. Why you wanted the tears pricking at your eyes.
It was why you struggled against his hold. Pushed forward to wrap your lips further and further. It didn’t take much. Breaking his hold, relaxing your throat for his thick cock.
His hands shot up to the window for stability after you took the reins from him, the glass shaking with a thud.
Despite pushing as much as you could, there was still a third left. It almost saddened you that you couldn’t go deeper.
So you made up by sucking.
Hard.
A beautiful, high-pitched keen chittered past his clenched teeth. Urgent and fragile and everything he shouldn’t be. He bowed forward, cock pulsing in your mouth. You eagerly leaned back, pumping his wet cock over your tongue, panting and roughly twisting him so you could finally taste him. But—
Nothing came. Despite how his cock twitched. There was nothing on your tongue beyond cool air. He only whined louder. Sounding more like a wounded animal than the suave, in control cowboy you knew.
He slid down, and you let him, growing slack yourself as confused shock lodged deep within your muscles.
Did… he not cum like a human man would? Or…
His face fell to your neck, nuzzling—no, hiding—there, arms slumped beside your seated form. Uncaring that his hat floated down with a whisper. He inhaled, the tremble pushing further along his body.
…was the flower's effect messing things up?
You shifted, froze at the tiny growl reverberating against you. For a second, your hands hovered. Then you wrapped your arms around him, reaching to card through soft hair. “I’m not leaving.”
It inspired another keening sound. He shuffled closer, pressing against you with near desperation, as if he wanted to crawl inside your skin. Which meant the ‘problem’ was now nestled flat to your stomach. Your walls ached, imagining that urgency bearing down on you.
Swallowing, clearing your raw throat, you reached, trembling, for one of his slack arms. Tracing down his forearm, until you could clasp your hand with his. You guided him to your front. To where you wanted him most.
The instant his skin grazed your stomach, he latched on. Dipping low, beneath clothes without any help. Slipping easily further, past your sensitive clit. You jumped, mouth parting when he pushed two fingers inside.
“So wet fo’ me,” he near slurred. He lapped at your skin. Close to your artery. It had you shiver. Imagine the sharp teeth he could bury into you.
“Yeah,” you breathed, pushing at his shoulders. Unexpected as it was, the creature lost balance. Toppling back, elbows barely catching him. The first sign of anger threaded into his face, gums baring, eyes widening in an uncanny manner—but mellowed out when you crawled after him, your lips lifting up at such unbridled emotion. He had never shown it so cleanly. “All for you.”
Maybe you looked hungry to him, cheeky. All you heard was a bristle like he was offended by his own trembling desire. The twitch of interest of his cock. The curl of fingers with too sharp nails.
“Want to be inside me?” you whispered, climbing over him. Purposely rubbing your clothed pussy over him. His teeth gritted, something dangerous flashing through his eyes. “Want to cum for me?”
The flash returned. Brighter. Nails biting into the ground, grass blades splitting. You braved grabbing those tense arms. His wrists, holding them down with the certainty he’d snap.
And by the looks of it, by the shadow of madness flickering wildly in his impossibly wide eyes—
You sat down. Right over him.
—he was too far gone to care.
The response was immediate. His face changed, teeth protruding like jagged blades. His upper body shot up. A screech roared into your face, chittering up his throat. Claws clamped down onto your waist. You had no time to admire his other face.
He drew you up as if you were nothing. Dragged you past the house, behind it, the steady glow of street lights fading, to the garden you tried to tidy and make into something more inviting.
You gasped as he lifted you up, roughly seating you onto the picnic table you had placed there. A more private spot, thankfully. The wood dug into your flesh. His claws followed, yanking on your shorts, ripping it and your underwear down impatiently. Baring skin to cool air and beady eyes. An appreciative chitter met you.
What could be playing in that head of his?
With the steady roll of growls that left the creature, more beast than man now, you had a pretty good guess. His shoulders were raised, stiff. Still, you spread your legs, heat searing in your core at the sight of his bristling need. Melting you from inside out. Dropping your gaze, his cock had those same dark veins. Same texture as his skin.
Would it feel different? Taste different?
He made to move, grasping your thighs with the intention of parting them wider—but your hand was faster, encircling him. Tugging. As if the touch shocked him, his face reverted. Not smiling. Not showing anything but hunger in the pits of his eyes.
Wetness dripped down to the table as you guided him forward, slotting him between your legs. He followed like a thrall, hands planting themselves beside your hips.
“Come on then.” Your eyes narrowed. You rubbed his head against you, the slick sound making you grin. His head nestled against your hole, waiting for that one final push. “You’d be mine is what you told me.”
“Always,” he whispered.
You faltered, muscles weakening—
Gasped when he pushed forward, entering you smoothly. Your head fell back as he stretched your walls, heat snapping up your spine. The creature didn’t stop until he was flush against you. His eyes had closed when you straightened. Lips parted.
“Always,” he repeated. Heat flared up your cheeks at the reverence in his tone. Was it… real? For you?
“Then show me.”
His eyes snapped open. Whatever spell came over him broke like a lock. Searing hunger returned from its cage, making your breath stutter.
“You,” he hissed, “will bear this until the end of time.”
Your top was lifted off before you could comprehend it. Back slamming into the wooden surface below you, knocking air out. The cool surface had you yelp as it touched heated skin.
Fingers grabbed your hips, bringing you closer to the edge of the table. To him. There was no hesitation in his movements, nothing but a sense of urgency as he pulled back, only to fill you again. Slamming into you, jostling the table with the force.
You sought purchase when the next thrust proved equally as harsh, digging into wood, grasping the edges, his hands—even as he growled in warning. You only held onto him tighter.
The pace he set was brutal, chest bouncing with every thrust, the picnic table squeaking as it skidded. All you could do was bite your lip, keep your cries quiet, and hope no one in the house heard.
“Good,” he murmured, frustratingly even. “You already understand no one else gets to hear you. Next time I’ll make you loud.”
A whine pushed past your lips. Latching onto his quiet promise. Heat coiled in your belly fast. The creature looked at all of you as if he didn’t know what he liked seeing most. Your face. Your heaving chest and tensing stomach. Thighs that trembled. Your pussy that wrapped around him perfectly.
He groaned as you clenched harder, bending over you to clamp down on a nipple. You cried out, but his hand shot up to muffle it. Teeth snapped into your skin, a ring of pain circling your bud. Another cry tried to find passage. He only pressed down harder. Same as his teeth. All until skin broke, flesh splitting. Hot liquid trickled over your chest.
Muscles convulsed underneath his weight, your hands trying to push him away. His teeth slid free, human and blunt and red. The sting fueled the fire in your loins. Walls clenching until you were sure he’d get stuck.
He didn’t. His hips pistoned against you still, the cowboy rising with a triumphant grin. He watched the bleeding ringlet, purring and unblinking. Having found a spot to focus a little longer on.
Then he released you, pulled you up. Spun you around to bend you over. Too fast for you to comprehend. One second you saw him, and now—
Smooth wood and potted flowers and the back of the house—
He slammed back inside, hitting too deep like this. You lifted with a whine, feet kicking out. A warm palm shoved you down.
“Take it,” he growled, words rumbling with an odd undertone, grabbing your hip. Drawing back, filling you without mercy, his head hitting a painfully sensitive spot. “Take all of me.”
And you did. You lied down. Kept your ass up. Despite the table digging cruelly into your thighs, the bleeding ringlet. Despite the stinging slap he delivered to your cheek.
Once.
You babbled, heard him chuckle.
Twice.
A scream formed and died.
Thrice. Harder. Both hands grabbed your hips. Fucking inside your fluttering hole as if he wanted to melt into you
The wet slide would embarrass you in the morning. Currently, it spun the coil tighter. And tighter. His length dragging over sensitive walls, hitting places you couldn’t reach with your fingers alone.
Pain and pleasure entwined, meeting at your core.
Rising when he bent over you, his clothed front flush to your back. Close to cresting when his hand wormed between wood and skin to find—
You gasped. That one touch tipped the heat into an inferno. This time you couldn't bite it back down. The scream that stuttered in your throat, growing louder with every merciless thrust. Until fingers slipped over your cheek, under your jaw. Two entering your gaping mouth. Pressing your tongue down. You bit him. Skin tearing as you shook and clenched and—
He shushed you, whispering things you couldn't comprehend, but quietened you down. Enough to see light burst behind your eyes. Light that traveled down your nerves, licking a path of fire to every nook. Gathering hot electricity in your loins. And as your walls milked him—he groaned, human and broken—stilling, buried deep.
His cock twitched, warmth filling you up. You whimpered, knees knocking together at the sensation. The emptiness in your head flooded out, cracking you open to reality.
The cowboy—a monster—draped over you. Purring reverberated against you, caged as you were beneath him. He nuzzled against you, massaging your hip. Slipping his fingers free from you in time with his softening cock.
Soreness floated up like an afterthought. There the second you focussed on it. Whispering quiet agony over most of your body.
Your heart didn’t calm from its crescendo. It rose. Understood what lay over you. What no longer was influenced by a drug of sorts. You stiffened. He noticed. Of course he did. The purring stopped. His motions ceasing.
“I suppose it's time to show you now.”
Blandness infiltrated his words like poison. As if nothing had happened. He pulled back. Not fully. He spread you open, gaze burning into your most vulnerable parts. Puffy, sore and slick from his roughness.
"Beautiful."
You didn’t struggle when he lifted your feet one by one, drawing your clothes back on. Nor did you complain when he pulled you up, helping you back in your shirt—not without gently tracing the bleeding bitemark first. His healed fingers disappeared behind you, returning clean. Your toes curled, heart skipping a beat. He kept you steady on your shaky legs.
Offered an arm as if he hadn’t pounded you within an inch of your life.
The creature appeared fully back in control. If anything… he looked calmer.
A shriek nearby is what had you grab the crook of his elbow. What had you huddle closer when he steered you back to the front of the house. Other creatures still roamed, paying both of you no heed.
“Mind picking that up for me?”
You blinked, looking down… at his hat. A jitter went through your arm as you reached for it. Touching something so entwined with his persona had a forbidden tinge to it. You picked it up, handing it over.
The hat found its way back to his head as if it never left. He implored you to put your slippers back on, lost somewhere between him using your mouth and getting dragged away.
Then he tugged you along. Further from civilization. Away from safety. You had already signed your fate the second you placed your hand in his the first time. And now you did it again, accepting his guidance.
He didn’t speak, paving a sure path straight to the forest. You weren’t sure what to say yourself, overwhelmed as you were. Your mind tried to make sense of it. Of the ache between your legs, shooting down your thighs. The chafing of fabric over a bitemark. Of him.
Him and his calm. His spend dripping from your pussy, ruining your underwear.
Perhaps that was why you barely noted the cool air or how much time passed. Trees growing thicker and plentiful the deeper you went. Fatigue pulled on your eyelids, draping them shut. Not once did he let you stumble despite it.
Eventually, under the careful watch of a lowering moon, you came across a small hill, a crevice beneath. He tugged you in front of him. “I wanted it to be here,” he murmured, gently pushing you to the dark crack, wide enough to fit through. Your feet wanted to skid, to dig heels into the leaf covered soil. You stopped that urge. Facing whatever lay behind that shadowy darkness.
The stone walls prodded at your skin as you went inside. The creature followed closely, as if worried the rabbit would escape his maw.
What hit you first was the scent. Sweet. Floral.
Inside, the moon cut through from an opening above, lighting the small cavern. You faltered in the middle, gazing around. Flowers, pressed and dried decorated the rounded walls. Fresher ones lay in the middle. Surrounding what was an imitation of a bed. Blankets and pillows crowned by flowers.
Your flowers.
And that was what hit you next.
“You were going to kill me here…”
He stepped closer, his body heat touching you.
“I was.”
His arms wound around your waist, face dropping to your shoulder.
“Not anymore.”
The sickest part was… you believed him. Trusted him. It shouldn’t be rewarded with loyalty. Not from a being like him.
Shakily, you placed your own hands on his. Head leaning against his. A quiet purr left him.
That small piece of inhumanity is what hit you hardest. Tears welled in your eyes, freely dripping down your cheeks to splatter on soft petals and cold stone.
